In finding this, fortune refused to favour them for the second time. The country through which they were now passing was an open plain, presenting no natural advantages for anything but a “fair field and no favour.” This was not what they required.
“We have gone far enough,” said Hendrik, after galloping about a mile. “Our friends can hardly reach this place before being overtaken. We must turn back to them.”
“Of course we must,” mechanically replied Arend, who was earnestly gazing across the plain.
Hendrik turned his eyes in the same direction, and to his surprise saw from twenty to thirty men coming rapidly towards them.
“We are going to be surrounded!” said Arend, as he turned his horse to retreat.
Without further speech, the two galloped back to their companions.
“Macora was right,” said Hendrik, as he joined Groot Willem and Hans. “We should not have left the place where we were able to keep these Matabili at bay. We have made a mistake.”
While Macora was being informed that warriors had been seen ahead, several of the scouts driven in reported that a large body of the Matabili was rapidly approaching from the rear. For a moment Hans, Hendrik, and Arend were not quite certain that the white traders they had met the day before were much to blame for withdrawing from the scene of danger. To them life seemed of too much value to be relinquished without some powerful reason.
Hopes long and dearly cherished were now before the minds of our young adventurers. They could not avoid thinking of their own safety. But they had too much honour to think of deserting the brave Makololo, whom they themselves had been instrumental in bringing into trouble.
They all looked to Groot Willem, who would not abandon the brave chief, to whom they were so much indebted,—not even to save his own life. They faltered no longer. Macora’s fate should be theirs.