“Think not of us, Father,” murmured one of them, the man who had a mortal hurt. “If it is best, kill us and begone that you may live to bear the Axe in years to come.”
“Well spoken!” said Umslopogaas, and again stood still a while, then added, “The word is with you, Macumazahn, who are our captain.”
I set out the situation to Robertson and Hans as briefly as I could, showing that there was a chance of life if we ran, but so far as I could see, none if we stayed.
“Go if you like, Quatermain,” answered the Captain, “but I shall stop and die here, for since my girl is gone I think I’m better dead.”
I motioned to Hans to speak.
“Baas,” he answered, “the Great Medicine is here with us upon the earth and your reverend father, the Predikant, is with us in the sky, so I think we had better stop here and do what we can, especially as I do not want to see those reeds any more at present.”
“So do I,” I said briefly, giving no reasons.
So we made ready for the next attack which we knew would be the last, strengthening our little wall and dragging the dead Amahagger up against it as an added protection. As we were thus engaged the sun rose and in its first beams, some miles away on the opposing slopes of the mountain looking tiny against the black background of the precipice, we saw a party of men creeping forward. Lifting my glasses I studied it and perceived that in its midst was a litter.
“There goes your daughter,” I said, and handed the glasses to Robertson.
“Oh! my God,” he answered, “those villains have outwitted us after all.”