A scarlet river flowing, flowing--oh!
His lips were red, his hands--the plains were red!
She knelt beside him, spoke him loudly so
He needs must hear. She bound his wounds in vain,
That nerveless heap would never speak again.

Dawn came at last. No need to wail or cry,
Dick was beyond all help, and none would hear.
She clasped him in her full-souled agony,
Feeling the young gold morning, fresh and clear,
Yet seeing nothing. Stunned to outward things,
She only knew the dullness sorrow brings.

And in her numbness heeded not the red
Tall grasses swaying as they bowed and bent
Beneath a crawling Kaffir, or his head
Rear up, a cringing caterpillar sent
To rob the great white Baas; for plenty slow
Some white men take to die, as black men know.

But if the Baas were dead, beyond all doubt
Slink could be brave. His belly clave the ground.
Had anybody heard the white man's shout,
Caught by the kopjes, echoed in rebound?
Ach! how he wriggled! Now the cart was Slink's,
The scoff, the silver watch, the fiery drinks.

And look, the mules outspanned were plenty good,
So was the stolen gun. He reached the pool
Of crimson where the two-wheeled Cape-cart stood.
He slithered nearer, wet in dewdrops cool,
His rough patched trousers soaked, then sneaking round
Peeped from his vantage to the bleeding ground.

Spooks!--His eyes bulged, down dropped his brutal jaw.
Rooted to where he clung, a-sweat with fright,
The cramps of terror gripping at his maw.
Spooks!--Pallid spooks! He shrieked away the sight
Till the wide veld was reeling. Blurred and pale
A spook arose, to follow on his trail.

It glided nearer, nearer--nearer yet,
Tall as the English mysi far away!
His tongue stuck in his throat, and bleeding wet
He saw the master sitting up at bay!
He heard his name, he heard the still air crack,
Then dropped astonished, wondering, on his back,

Till every spook had vanished. Slink had gone
To make a longer trek, where plains were dim.
And haggard-eyed and worn, stern vengeance done,
Beth huddled by the poor stiff clay of him
She loved, the smoking weapon in her hand
To scare the scavenger of carrion brand.

The hours crawled by. Soaked through with thunder rains
She kept her vigil, loosening her hair