gn voice of Meyer
speaking his words of sarcastic greeting. Next oblivion fell upon her,
and after it a dim memory of being helped up the hill with the sun
pouring on her back and assisted to climb the steep steps of the wall by
means of a rope placed around her. Then forgetfulness again.

The flap of her tent was drawn aside and she shrank back upon her bed,
shutting her eyes for fear lest they should fall upon the face of Jacob
Meyer. Feeling that it was not he, or learning it perhaps from the
footfall, she opened them a little, peeping at her visitor from between
her long lashes. He proved to be--not Jacob or her father, but the old
Molimo, who stood beside her holding in his hand a gourd filled with
goat's milk. Then she sat up and smiled at him, for Benita had grown
very fond of this ancient man, who was so unlike anyone that she had
ever met.

"Greeting, Lady," he said softly, smiling back at her with his lips and
dreamy eyes, for his old face did not seem to move beneath its thousand
wrinkles. "I bring you milk. Drink; it is fresh and you need food."

So she took the gourd and drank to the last drop, for it seemed to her
that she had never tasted anything so delicious.

"Good, good," murmured the Molimo; "now you will be well again."

"Yes, I shall get well," she answered; "but oh! what of my father?"

"Fear not; he is still sick, but he will recover also. You shall see him
soon."

"I have drunk all the milk," she broke out; "there is none left for
him."

"Plenty, plenty," he answered, waving his thin hand. "There are two cups
full--one for each. We have not many she-goats down below, but the best
of their milk is saved for you."

"Tell me all that has happened, Father," and the old priest, who liked
her to call him by that name, smiled again with his eyes, and squatted
down in the corner of the tent.

"You went away, you remember that you would go, although I told you
that you must come back. You refused my wisdom and you went, and I have
learned all that befell you and how you two escaped the impi. Well, that
night after sunset, when you did not return, came the Black One--yes,
yes, I mean Meyer, whom we name so because of his beard, and," he added
deliberately, "his heart. He came running down the hill asking for you,
and I gave him the letter.

"He read it, and oh! then he went mad. He cursed in his own tongue; he
threw himself about; he took a rifle and wished to shoot me, but I sat
silent and