“At this pace we shall take as long to reach Bull-Head’s kraal as did the cow you followed,” said Sihamba presently. “Say, now, can you find the way to it?”
“Without a doubt, lady; Zinti never forgets a road or a landmark.”
“Then lead me there as fast as may be.”
“Yes, lady, but Bull-Head may have taken the Swallow somewhere else, and if we do not follow his spoor how shall we know where he has hidden her?”
“Fool, I have thought of that,” she answered angrily, “else should I have spent all this time looking for hoof-marks in the dark? We must risk it, I say. To his house he has not taken her, for other white folk are living in it, and it is not likely he would have a second, or a better hiding-place than that you saw. I say that we must be bold and risk it since we have no time to lose.”
“As you will, mistress,” answered Zinti. “Who am I that I should question your wisdom?” and, turning his horse’s head, he rode forward across the gloomy veldt as certainly as a homing rock-dove wings its flight.
So they travelled till the sun rose behind a range of distant hills. Then Zinti halted and pointed to them.
“Look, lady,” he said. “Do you see that peak among the mountains which has a point like a spear, the one that seems as though it were on fire? Well, behind it lies Bull-Head’s kraal.”
“It is far, Zinti, but we must be there by night.”
“That may be done, lady, but if so we must spare our horses.”