Now Rachel’s heart sank in her, for it might well be that a trick had been played on her, and that this was true. Or perhaps this tale of Noie’s death was but a trap to test her powers; moreover, it was not likely that the King, who had promised that she should live, would dare to break his word to one whom he believed or half-believed to be a spirit.
For a moment she thought; then, after her nature, determined to be bold and hazard all upon a throw. Therefore she did not argue or reproach, but said:
“She is not dead. I have questioned every spear in Zululand, and none of them is red with her blood.”
“Thou art right,” he answered; “the spears are clean. She died in the river.”
Now Rachel was sure, and answered in her clear voice:
“I have questioned the waters, and I have questioned the crocodiles, and they answer that Noie has passed them safely.”
“Thou art right, White One. She died by a rope in yonder huts.”
Now Rachel looked at the huts and cried:
“Noie, I hear thee, I see thee, I smell thee out. Come forth, Noie.”
The King and his councillors stared at her, whispering to one another, and before ever they had done their whisperings out from among the gloom of the huts crept Noie.