“The horse is wounded. We will catch you both before the sun sets.”
Then they passed over the crest of a rise and lost sight of them for a while.
“Thank God!” gasped Benita when they were alone again in the silent veld; but Mr. Clifford shook his head.
“Do you think they will follow us?” she asked.
“You heard what the fellow said,” he answered evasively. “Doubtless they are on their way to attack Bambatse, and have been round to destroy some other wretched tribe, and steal the cattle which we saw. Yes, I fear that they will follow. The question is, which of us can get to Bambatse first.”
“Surely we ought to on the horses, father.”
“Yes, if nothing happens to them,” and as he spoke the words the mare which he was riding dropped sharply upon her hind leg, the same that had been struck with the spear; then recovered herself and galloped on.
“Did you see that?” he asked.
She nodded; then said:
“Shall we get off and look at the cut?”