They hoped to get fresh horses from him, but Jafta had already been terrified by the British and feared he would be shot if he helped or sheltered any Boers. He explained his position to my brother and begged that the party leave immediately. His horses had already been confiscated and he could give them no remounts.
But the Boers decided to rest awhile and off-saddled their worn horses, who soon found their way to the river bank where they could drink and graze on the tender grass. Jafta was very nervous and urged the party to saddle and get away.
His anxiety proved justified, for while they were arguing they saw the squadron of British horse coming at a gallop less than a quarter of a mile away. It seems that kaffirs had seen the Boers and betrayed them.
Jafta was in a quandary. The safe thing for him to do was to order his impi to seize the Boers and then turn them over to the English. While he was making up his mind one of my uncles ordered his companions to pick up their saddles, bridles, and rifles, and duck into Jafta's royal hut. As they were doing this he shouted some instructions to Jafta.
A moment later the Britishers reached the entrance to the kraal. Jafta, escorted by his indunas, went to meet them. Their officer was impressed with his regal air and recognized him as king of the Mapors. They shook hands, and then, through his interpreter, the officer asked about the four Boer fugitives.
"Yes, Nkoos, they were here," Jafta admitted, "but I was afraid to give them any food or help. They were very tired and their horses were tired also. But they went on."
"How long ago was that?" the Englishman asked.
"When the sun was over there," said Jafta, pointing. He indicated a space of about an hour.
"Well, we must pursue them," said the officer.
"But you look tired," suggested the wily Jafta, "and your horses are over-taxed. Won't you rest a while and have some tswala and refresh yourselves? Already it is the hour when there are no shadows (midday) and it is time to sleep."