“I have it!” he almost shouted, “they are not coming to attack us; that noise you hear is made by the people above sounding the alarm with their horns.”
“But the Zulus are coming this way,” said Webster.
“They may turn off before they reach the ridge.”
On came the band of warriors, walking in column of six abreast, with their Indunas on their left. A ribbon of white ran down the dark line, made by the mark on their shields, and presently the nodding plumes could be seen. Suddenly they wheeled to the left and wound their way up to a spur of the mountain, until the long column of about six hundred men was marching parallel to the ridge where the fugitives hid, and bars of light shone between the ranks. As the shadows darkened the column was hidden by the rising ground, and, except for an occasional horn blast echoing from the mountain, there was nothing to tell of the presence of savages near.
So the long day drew to its close, leaving the three uneasy and wearied in spirit from the recurring strains, and they waited with fresh suspense for the return of Sirayo and Klaas. Happily, however, they were not kept long waiting, for soon after the night had fallen a low whistle sounded below them, and Hume responding, the two suddenly appeared out of the darkness.
They were overwhelmed with questions, for the joy of the three at their safe return broke down the barriers of reserve observed in intercourse between them.
“We have not eaten,” said Klaas practically.
“We may build a fire,” said Sirayo, and throwing down their assegais, they were about to bring in wood and water.
“Rest,” said Hume; “we will do this,” and very soon a fire was made under the shelter of a rock, the kettle was put on, and the food brought out.
The two natives were left to their repast, and when at last they filled their pipes they were again questioned.