e very earth itself. As a matter of fact
this was nearly the case. The place she found herself in was a shallow
donga, almost concealed by long grass and brambles, and these her
companion was quickly but noiselessly dragging over her and himself.
Then had come the sound of footsteps, the hum of voices. She could see
out through the grass that was over her, and that without moving a
muscle. An _impi_ was approaching, and that in a line which should
bring it right over their hiding-place; an _impi_ of considerable size,
and which might have numbered some hundreds. The warriors were marching
in no particular order, and she could make out every detail of their
equipment--the great tufted shields and gleaming assegais; rifles, too,
many of them carried, and knobkerries and battle-axes. Some were
crested with great ostrich skin war-bonnets covering the head and
shoulders, others wore the _isiqoba_, or ball of feathers, fixed to the
forelock; a long wing feather of the kite or crane stuck through this,
and rising horn-like above the head; and catskin _mutyas_ and anklets of
flowing cowhair. At any other time she would have admired the spectacle
exceedingly; now, however, in the grim dark faces and rolling eyeballs
she could see nothing but the countenances of bloodthirsty and pitiless
fiends. Oh, Heaven! would they never pass? The throb of her
heart-beats seemed loud enough to attract their attention and cause them
to stop. But no sooner had one squad glided by than another appeared;
and with the advent of each, to those who lay there, it seemed that the
bitterness of death had to be gone through again. Several passed so
near to their hiding-place that the effluvium of their heated bodies
reached the fugitives, musky and strong, but their attention was fixed
upon the conversation of their fellows on the other side, and that peril
was over. But not until nearly an hour had passed since the last of the
savages had disappeared, and the lingering drawl of their deep-toned
voices had died away, would John Ames suffer his companion even so much
as to whisper, let alone move.

Well, that peril had passed over their beads, and now, in the well-nigh
uninhabited fastnesses of the Matopo, they felt comparatively safe. And
Nidia, remembering, and observing her fellow-fugitive and protector,
would find herself twenty times a day making comparisons between him and
all the other men she had ever known in a sense which was sadly