He said no more, but in his eyes burned the fire that meant death, instant and without reprieve.
First he looked to his automatic; but, alas, not one cartridge remained either in its magazine or in the pouches of his belt. The fouled and blackened barrel told something of the terrible story of the past few days.
“Gone, all gone,” he muttered; but, with sudden inspiration, bent over the girl.
“Ah! Ammunition again!”
Quickly he reloaded from her belts. One belt he buckled round his waist. Then, pistol in hand, he thought swiftly.
Thus his mind ran: “The first thing to do is look out for Beatrice, and make her comfortable--find out what the matter is with her, and give treatment. I need fresh water, but I daren't go down to the river for it and leave her here. At any minute H'yemba may appear. And when he does, I must see him first.
“Evidently the thing most necessary is to gain access to our home. How can it be locked, inside, when Beatrice is here? Heaven only knows! There may be enemies in there at this minute. H'yemba may be there--”
Anguish pierced his soul at thought of his son now possibly in the smith's power.
“By God!” he cried, “something has got to be done, and quick!”
His rage was growing by leaps and bounds.