At this moment, Zinti, who was watching the plain over which they had travelled, uttered a cry of warning. Looking back, they saw the reason of it, for there, crossing the crest of a wave of ground, not more than a mile away, were five horsemen riding hard upon their spoor.
“Swart Piet and four of his men,” said Sihamba, “and by my Spirit, they have fresh horses; they must have taken them from the kraal of the half-breed which we passed at daybreak, and that is why we lost sight of them for a while.”
Now even as Zinti helped her to mount the schimmel Suzanne turned so faint with terror that she almost fell to the ground again.
“Have no fear, Swallow,” said Sihamba, “he has not caught us yet, and a voice in me says that we shall escape him.”
But though she spoke thus bravely, in her heart Sihamba was much afraid, for except the schimmel their horses were almost spent, whereas Van Vooren was fresh mounted, and not a mile behind. Still they galloped forward till they reached a more broken stretch of veldt, where trees grew singly, and here and there were kloofs with bush in them.
“Mistress,” cried Zinti, “my horse can go no more, and Bull-Head is hard upon us. Of your wisdom tell me what I should do or presently I must be killed.”
“Ride into that kloof and hide yourself,” answered Sihamba, “for Bull-Head will never seek you there; he hunts the white Swallow, not the black finch. Afterwards you can follow on our spoor, and if you cannot find us, make your way back to the Baas Botmar and tell him all you know. Quick, into the kloof, for here they cannot see you.”
“I hear you, lady,” said Zinti, and the next minute they saw him leading his weary horse into the shelter of the thick bush, for the poor beast could carry him no more.
For the next three miles the ground trended downwards to the banks of a great river, beyond which were the gentle rising slopes that surrounded the foot of the high peak. On they galloped, the schimmel never faltering in his swinging stride, although his flanks grew thin and his eyes large. But with the grey mare it was otherwise, for though she was a gallant nag her strength was gone. Indeed, with any heavier rider upon her back, ere this she would have fallen. But still she answered to Sihamba’s voice and plunged on, rolling and stumbling in her gait.
“She will last till the river,” she said, seeing Suzanne look at the mare.