"I have got a bit of a scratch on the back, but it's nothing serious. I will get off in a moment, Mary; the horse has an assegai in his quarters, and I must get it out."
"Take me down, too, please; I feel giddy now it is all over."
Ronald lifted her down, and then pulled the assegai from the horse's back.
"I don't think much harm is done," he said; "a fortnight in the stable and he will be all right again."
"You are bleeding dreadfully," the girl exclaimed, as she caught sight of his back. "It's a terrible wound to look at."
"Then it looks worse than it is," he laughed. "The spear only glanced along on the ribs. It's lucky I was stooping so much. After going through what we have we may think ourselves well off indeed that we have escaped with such a scratch as this between us."
"It's not a scratch at all," the girl said, indignantly; "it's a very deep bad cut."
"Perhaps it is a bad cut," Ronald smiled, "but a cut is of no consequence one way or the other. Now let us join the others. Ah, here they come, with Kreta showing them the way."
The troopers had chased the Kaffirs back to the bush, and, led by the Fingo, were now coming up at a gallop to the spot where Ronald and Mary Armstrong were standing by the horse.
"Ah, it is you, sergeant," Lieutenant Daniels exclaimed, for it was a portion of Ronald's own troop that had ridden up. "I never expected to see you again, for we heard the day before yesterday from the officer who came in with the ammunition waggons that you had gone off to try to rescue three ladies who had been carried off by the Kaffirs. It was a mad business, but you have partly succeeded, I am glad to see," and he lifted his cap to Mary Armstrong.