the stream. What had happened was this: they had drifted
across a rock that projected from the bed of the river, the force of the
current having washed the dead horses to the one side of it and the cart
to the other. Consequently they were anchored to the rock, as it were,
the anchor being the dead horses, and the cable the stout traces of
untanned leather. So long as these traces and the rest of the harness
held, they were safe from drowning; but of course they did not know
this.

Indeed, they knew nothing. Above them rolled the storm; about them the
river seethed and the rain hissed. They knew nothing except that they
were helpless living atoms tossing between the wild waters and the
wilder night, with imminent death staring them in the face, around,
above, and below. To and fro they rocked, locked fast in each other's
arms, and as they swung came that awful flash that, though they guessed
it not, sent two of the murderers to their account, and for an instant,
even through the sheet of rain, illumined the space of boiling water and
the long lines of the banks on either side. It showed the point of rock
to which they were fixed, it glared upon the head of one of the poor
horses tossed up by the driving current as though it were still trying
to escape its watery doom, and revealed the form of the dead Zulu,
Mouti, lying on his face, one arm hanging over the edge of the cart and
dabbling in the water that ran level with it, in ghastly similarity to
some idle passenger in a pleasure boat, who lets his fingers slip softly
through the stream.

In a second it was gone, and once more they were in darkness. Then by
degrees the storm passed off and the moon began to shine, feebly indeed,
for the sky was not clear washed of clouds, which still trailed along in
the tracks of the tempest, sucked after it by its mighty draught. Still
it was lighter and the rain thinned gradually till at last it stopped.
The storm had rolled in majesty down the ways of night, and there was no
sound round them save the sound of rushing water.

"John," said Jess presently, "can we do anything?"

"Nothing, dear."

"Shall we escape, John?"

He hesitated. "It is in God's hands, dear. We are in great danger. If
the cart upsets we shall be drowned. Can you swim?"

"No, John."

"If we can hang on here till daylight we may get ashore, if those devils
are not there to shoot us. I do not think that our chance is a good
one."

"John, are you afraid