Spirit,
they have fresh horses; they must have taken them from the kraal of the
half-breed which we passed at daybreak, and that is why we lost sight of
them for a while."

Now even as Zinti helped her to mount the _schimmel_ Suzanne turned so
faint with terror that she almost fell to the ground again.

"Have no fear, Swallow," said Sihamba, "he has not caught us yet, and a
voice in me says that we shall escape him."

But though she spoke thus bravely, in her heart Sihamba was much afraid,
for except the _schimmel_ their horses were almost spent, whereas Van
Vooren was fresh mounted, and not a mile behind. Still they galloped
forward till they reached a more broken stretch of veldt, where trees
grew singly, and here and there were kloofs with bush in them.

"Mistress," cried Zinti, "my horse can go no more, and Bull-Head is hard
upon us. Of your wisdom tell me what I should do or presently I must be
killed."

"Ride into that kloof and hide yourself," answered Sihamba, "for
Bull-Head will never seek you there; he hunts the white Swallow, not the
black finch. Afterwards you can follow on our spoor, and if you cannot
find us, make your way back to the Baas Botmar and tell him all you
know. Quick, into the kloof, for here they cannot see you."

"I hear you, lady," said Zinti, and the next minute they saw him leading
his weary horse into the shelter of the thick bush, for the poor beast
could carry him no more.

For the next three miles the ground trended downwards to the banks of a
great river, beyond which were the gentle rising slopes that surrounded
the foot of the high peak. On they galloped, the _schimmel_ never
faltering in his swinging stride, although his flanks grew thin and his
eyes large. But with the grey mare it was otherwise, for though she was
a gallant nag her strength was gone. Indeed, with any heavier rider
upon her back, ere this she would have fallen. But still she answered to
Sihamba's voice and plunged on, rolling and stumbling in her gait.

"She will last till the river," she said, seeing Suzanne look at the
mare.

"And then----?" gasped Suzanne, glancing behind her to where, not five
hundred yards away, Swart Piet and his Kaffirs hunted them sullenly and
in silence, as strong dogs hunt down a wounded buck.

"And then--who knows?" answered Sihamba, and they went on without more
words, for they had no breath to spare.

Now, not half a mile away, they came in sight of the river, which had