“It was not till nightfall that Mapana sent for me. I supped with her again by the fire in front of her hut, and again we had coffee and much laughter together. She was in curious spirits; sometimes rippling over with fun and a sort of naïve coquetry; at others, looking serious and thoughtful, and even, as I thought, a little askance at me. I lighted my pipe and began to smoke. Presently she sat herself a little nearer to me and spoke.
“‘My headmen,’ she said, ‘want to know if you have come to stay long among us, Kareesa,’ (so she pronounced my name); ‘I could not tell them this morning. What does Kareesa say? I tire of ruling these people alone. I want a man to help me. Seleni hopes to become that man; but Seleni—well, I love not Seleni over-much. Why should not Kareesa join his lot with mine and share my power?’ Mapana looked more beautiful than ever, I thought, at that moment; she was very serious, and her dark eyes were turned almost beseechingly to mine. Half barbarian though she was, I never could forget that white blood ran strong within her; and in mere looks alone there was enough to tempt many a better man than I, who was already more than half in love with her.
“I knew not what to say, but was about to stumble into some sort of speech. She leaned yet nearer, and placed a hand gently upon my arm. At that instant a sharp whistle, which I knew to be April’s, and April’s only, smote my ears. I half turned round. As I did so, an arrow grazed the breast of my flannel shirt and drove deep into the left bosom of Mapana. She uttered a little choking cry, and fell into my arms, a dying woman. I could not let her go in her last agony, poor soul; yet I knew there was deadly danger about me even as I supported her. Those moments were like some vile and terrible dream. In a second or two another arrow transfixed the fleshy part of my upper arm. Almost at the same instant the report of a rifle rang out; there was a cry, and a fall, and I knew Mapana was avenged—by April.
“Next came April’s voice: ‘Baas, Baas, are you there? Come quickly.’
“I cried out: ‘All right; I’m coming;’ and then looked into my poor lost Mapana’s face again. She had given a shiver or two, a last struggle, and was now dead in my arms. I laid her quietly upon the earth and kissed her brow. She had in her hands, poor thing, as she often had, the old sword. Her grip upon the scabbard was so strong that I could not easily loosen it. I drew the blade quickly from the sheath, and with one last look at her as she lay, still wonderfully beautiful even in death, I left Mapana.
“Meanwhile, the whole town was in a frightful uproar. Poor Mapana’s women were shrieking in her hut. Men’s voices were yelling excitedly in different directions. War-drums were beating already.
“I rushed to the kotla entrance. April was there with the two horses, saddled and bridled, and our rifles both loaded. First, I made him break and draw the arrow from my arm. He pointed to the body of Seleni, whom he had shot dead just as he fired his second arrow at me. We jumped into our saddles and galloped straight for the river. It was our only chance. By great good luck we reached the banks safely, swam our horses across, and chanced the crocodiles. Once on the other side, we cantered steadily, all through the night, due south. At early morning we swam the river again, much against the grain, and then, after an hour’s rest in thick bush, steadily continued our flight, now more to the eastward. To cut a long story short, by dint of nursing our nags, we made good our escape, reached the wagons in safety, and trekked hard till we had put a hundred and fifty miles between us and Umfanziland.
“Whether the Umfanzis followed us or not, I don’t know. Quite possibly, the death of Mapana, and the consequent turmoil, so bothered them that they never did. Thanks to my idea of keeping our nags always saddled and bridled, and to April’s bravery and smartness, we escaped with our lives.
“Poor dead Mapana! I shall never cease to mourn her as a good, and true, and most bewitching woman. I admired her beauty and her kindly heart. May she rest in peace!
“Well,” ended Cressey, “that’s my yarn. It’s a curious one, isn’t it? If you are as dry as I am, you must want a whisky and seltzer. After that, if you’ll come to my bedroom, I’ll show you the relics—the two coins, the sword, and the book—I brought from Umfanziland.”