Found!
They were about to start, when the Kaffir suddenly gave vent to an exclamation, at the same time inclining his head in a listening attitude.
“What is it?” asked Webster.
“Hush!” muttered Hume.
The Kaffir slipped away into the bush on the left, and Hume, with a word to Webster, ran off to the right.
A moment later Webster heard the gallop of a horse, and rushed forward with his rifle cocked, expecting he knew not what. Rapidly the hoof-beats struck sharper through the air, there was a crash of branches, a cry from the Kaffir, and a white horse cleared a bush and drew up. His rider lurched forward, and would have fallen had not Webster leapt forward in time. It was a slight boyish form he took in his arms, but as he was stooping with his burden to the ground he saw the face.
“Laura—Miss Anstrade!” he cried, trembling as he laid her head on his knee.
“Have you stopped the horse?” cried Hume, as he darted up.
Webster held up a hand warningly, and Hume went down on his knees, and the two of them, with white faces, gazed at the insensible figure.
Her short riding-habit was torn to shreds, her hands were scratched and bleeding, and across her white forehead there was an angry red weal. Her hat was gone, and the heavy plaits of her black hair had broken loose from their bindings.