I was informed that all doubt upon the subject had
been removed by a party of natives who had passed the Mission station,
and who pretended an acquaintance with all the particulars of the
massacre. We had been traveling the whole day, and night had come on; I
was most anxious to proceed, that I might relieve the mind of my dear
wife, but the earnest remonstrances of my little party, who represented
it as certain death to all of us to cross the plains, which were
infested with lions and other savage beasts who were prowling in every
direction, at length induced me to wait till the next day. But scarcely
had day begun to dawn when I sallied forth, without either arms or
guide, except a pocket compass, leaving my fellow-travelers to bring on
the wagon as soon as they should arouse from their slumbers. This
impatience had, however, well-nigh cost me my life; for having to wade
through many miles of deep sand with a vertical sun over my head, I had
not accomplished half the journey before my strength began to fail, and
an indescribable thirst was induced. Nevertheless, I reached the Mission
in safety, and with truly grateful feelings to the Preserver of men. A
few minutes prior to my arrival, the wife of one of my brother
missionaries, little imagining that I was at hand and alive, had entered
our dwelling, to apprise my wife of the latest intelligence, confirming
all that had been said before respecting my fate, and to comfort her
under the distressing dispensation. At this affecting crisis, while
both were standing in the center of the room, the one relating, the
other weeping, I opened the door, bathed in perspiration, covered with
dust, and in a state of complete exhaustion. 'Oh, dear!' cried our
friend; 'is it he--or is it his spirit?' I must, my dear sir, leave to
your imagination the scene that followed."

"Yes, sir," said Mr. S., folding up the letter, "a missionary's wife,
who follows him into such scenes and such perils and privations, does,
indeed, 'cleave to her husband.'"

"Indeed she does," replied Mr. Swinton; "but we will tax you no longer,
my dear sir. Good-night."

CHAPTER XII.

On the following day, a little before noon, loud shouts and men dancing
and calling out the titles of the king of the Caffres announced his
approach. These men were a sort of heralds, who invariably preceded him
on a visit of ceremony. A band of warriors armed with their assaguays
and shields, next made their appearance,