shing and leaping
forward madly, cleared what was left of them and, open-mouthed, their
lolling tongues hanging from their dry jaws, rushed downward to the
water, goring or trampling to death some of those who worked at the
wall.

"The schanzes are down," screamed the people, seeing the long line of
cattle move, and immediately they began to press forward also.

At Suzanne's side was a young woman so weak with thirst that she could
scarcely walk, and on her back a year-old boy, insensible but living,
for a red froth bubbled from his lips. A man thrust this woman to one
side and she fell; it was that aged councillor who on the yesterday had
brought news of the surrender to Sihamba. She tried to struggle to her
feet but others trampled upon her.

"Sister, sister!" she cried, catching Suzanne by the hide blanket which
she wore, "I am dead, but oh! save my child."

"Let it be," whispered Zinti, but Suzanne could not deny those piteous
eyes, and as she passed she snatched up the boy and the sling in which
he was carried by the dying woman, setting the band of it beneath her
own breast. So she went forward, bearing him upon her hip, nor did that
act of mercy lack its reward, for as shall be seen it was her salvation.
Also the child lived, and to this day is a faithful servant in our
house, though now his beard is white.

Down the narrow way surged the crowd, scrambling over rocks and dead
cattle and crushed women and children, till at the last Suzanne
drew near its opening, where stood Swart Piet and some twenty of his
followers, watching the multitude pass out.

"Lady," whispered Zinti into her ear, "now I fall behind, for Bull-Head
may know me. If I win through I will rejoin you on the plain, or by the
saw-edged rock; if I do not, throw away that child, and follow the road
of which I have told you, you can scarcely mistake it. Go on, showing
no fear, and--stay, let that blanket hang open in front, it is not the
custom of these women to wear their garments wrapped so closely."

Suzanne groaned, but she obeyed.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE PASS OF THE QUATHLAMBA

Like wild beasts escaping from a pen, that red-eyed, gasping mob rushed
and staggered to the edge of the water, and, plunging their heads into
it with hoarse grunts and cries, drank and drank and drank. Indeed,
several lost their lives there, for some filled themselves so full that
their vitals were ruptured, and some were thrust into the river by the
cattle