"Partly, sir," Ronald said. "The wretches killed the other two the day they carried them off. This is Miss Armstrong. I think you stopped at her father's house one day when we were out on the Kabousie."
"Yes, of course," the lieutenant said, alighting. "Excuse me for not recognising you, Miss Armstrong; but, in fact——"
"In fact, I look very pale, and ragged, and tattered."
"I am not surprised at that, Miss Armstrong. You must have gone through a terrible time, and I heartily congratulate Sergeant Blunt on the success of his gallant attempt to rescue you."
"Have you heard from my father? How is he?"
"Your father, Miss Armstrong! I have heard nothing about him since I heard from Sergeant Blunt that you had all got safely away after that attack."
"He was in the waggon, sir," Ronald explained; "he was hurt in the fight with the Kaffirs, and Mr. Nolan brought him back in the waggons."
"Oh, I heard he had brought a wounded man with him; but I did not hear the name. Nolan said he had been badly wounded, but the surgeon told me he thought he might get round. I have no doubt that the sight of Miss Armstrong will do him good."
"Perhaps, sir," Ronald said, faintly, "you will let one of the troop ride on with Miss Armstrong at once. I think I must wait for a bit."
"Why, what is it, sergeant?" the lieutenant asked, catching him by the arm, for he saw that he was on the point of falling. "You are wounded, I see; and here am I talking about other things and not thinking of you."