He told of how he had followed the impi to the Great
Place, of the story of Noie as he had heard it, and
the reports that had reached him concerning the interview
between the King and this white Inkosazana, who, it
was said, advised him not to fight the Boers.
“And where is she now?” asked the old
Dutchman.
“There, at Umgugundhlovo,” he answered,
“ruling the land as its head Isanuzi, though
it is said that she desires to escape, only the Zulus
will not let her go.”
“I think that we should find out more about
this woman, especially as she seems to be a friend
to our people,” said the old Boer. “Now,
who dares to go and learn the truth?”
“I will go,” said the young man who had
brought in the spy, and as he spoke he turned, and
lo! his face was the face of Richard Darrien,
bearded and grown to manhood, but without doubt Richard
Darrien and none other.
“Why do you offer to undertake so dangerous
a mission?” asked the Boer, looking at the young
man kindly. “Is it because you wish to see
this beautiful white witch of whom yonder Quabi tells
us such lies, Nephew?”
The shadow of Richard nodded, and his face reddened,
for the Boers around him were laughing at him.
“That is right, Uncle,” he answered boldly.
“You think me a fool, but I am not. Many
years ago I knew a little maid who was the daughter
of a teacher, and who, if she lives, must have grown
into such a woman as Quabi describes. Well, I
joined you Boers last year in order to look for that
maid, and I am going to begin to look for her across
the river yonder.”
As the words reached whatever sense of Rachel’s
it was that heard them, of a sudden, in an instant,
laager, Boers, and Richard vanished. In her sleep
she tried to recreate them, at first without avail,
then the curtain of darkness appeared to lift, and
in the still water of the pool she saw another picture,
that of Richard Darrien mounted on a black horse with
one white foot, riding along a native path through
a bush-clad country, while by his side trotted the
spy whose name was Quabi.
They were talking together, and she heard, or, at
any rate, knew their words.
“How far is it now to Umgugundhlovo?”
asked Richard.
“Three days’ journey, Inkosi, if we are
not stopped by flooded rivers,” answered Quabi.
For one second only Rachel saw and heard these things,
then they, too, passed away, and she awoke to see
in front of her the pool empty save for its lilies,
and above to hear the whispering of the evening wind
among the trees.
RICHARD COMES
