The chief was now urged to order a halt of his people; and, in compliance with the request, he gave a shout that might have been heard nearly a mile off.
It was answered by several of those in advance, who were driving the cattle; but amongst the many responsive voices was one that all recognised with a frenzied joy.
The sound of that particular voice was heard at a great distance, and only indistinctly, but on hearing it the Makololo commenced leaping about the ground like lunatics, several of them shouting, “Sindo! Sindo!”
All hastened forward as fast as their limbs could carry them, and in a few minutes after were met by a large party of Makololo warriors, who communicated the pleasing intelligence that more were coming up close behind.
Sindo and his companions had succeeded in the accomplishment of their mission.
Ma-Mochisane, just at that crisis, chanced to be on a visit to the southern part of her dominions, and to have with her many warriors of different tribes of her people.
Macora, a friend of her childhood, was remembered. The desire of aiding him was backed by the hereditary hatred for the Matabili, and not a moment was lost in despatching a party of chosen fighting men to his assistance.
They had arrived just in time. Two hours later, and those they had been sent to rescue would have been engaged with their enemies without the advantage of a position favourable for defence.
The result was that, instead of encountering a small band of outcast and wearied Makololo, Moselekatse’s men found themselves opposed by a large force of warriors fresh and vigorous for any fray,—men who had often been led to victory by the noble chief Sebituane.
Moselekatse’s soldiers saw that there was but one way of saving themselves from the disgrace that threatened them; that was by a sudden change in the tactics they had been hitherto pursuing. They resolved on an immediate onslaught.