Now Rachel had no more doubts. Clearly the tale was true, and the question was—what must be done? She thought a while, then bade Tamboosa and the child to follow her to the mission-house. On the stoep she found her father and mother sitting in the sun and drinking coffee, after the South African fashion.
“What is it?” asked Mr. Dove, looking at the man anxiously.
Rachel ordered him to repeat his story, and this he did, addressing Rachel alone, for of her father and mother he would take no notice. When he had done the child told her tale also.
“Go now, and wait without,” said Rachel, when it was finished.
“Inkosazana, I go,” answered the man, “but if it pleases you to save your servant, know that you must come swiftly. If you are not across the Tugela by sunset this night, word will be passed to the King, and she dies at once. Know also that you must come alone with me, for if any, white or black, accompany you, they will be killed.”
“Now,” said Rachel when the three of them were left alone, “now what is to be done?”
Mrs. Dove shook her head helplessly, and looked at her husband, who broke into a tirade against the Zulus, their superstitions, cruelties, customs, and everything that was theirs, and ended by declaring that it was of course utterly impossible that Rachel should go upon such a mad errand, and thus place herself in the power of savages.
“But, father,” she said when he had done, “do you understand that you are pronouncing Noie’s death sentence? If you were in my place, would you not go?”
“Of course I would. In fact I propose to do so as it is. No doubt Dingaan will listen to me.”
“You mean that Dingaan will kill you. Did you not hear what that man Tamboosa said? Father, you must not go.”