It occurred to me to ask the boy where the horses came from, a question that he happened to be able to answer, as he had brought them home when they were bought the year before.  Having learned in what direction the place lay I rode for it at an angle, or rather for the path that led to it, making the boy run alongside, holding to my stirrup leather.  About three o’clock in the afternoon I struck this path, or rather track, at a point ten or twelve miles away from the Temple, and there, just mounting a rise, met the two horses quietly walking towards me.  Had I been a quarter of an hour later they would have passed and vanished into a sea of thorn-veld.  We caught them without trouble and once more headed homewards, leading them by their riems.

Reaching the glade where the other two were tied up, we collected them also and returned to the house, where we arrived at five o’clock.  As everything seemed quiet I put my mare into the stable, slipped its bit and gave it some forage.  Then I went round the house, and to my great joy found Anscombe and Heda waiting anxiously, but with nothing to report, and with them Footsack.  Very hastily I swallowed some food, while Footsack inspanned the horses.  In a quarter of an hour all was ready.  Then suddenly, in an inconsequent female fashion, Heda developed a dislike to leaving her father unburied.

“My dear young lady,” I said, “it seems that you must choose between that and our all stopping to be buried with him.”

She saw the point and compromised upon paying him a visit of farewell, which I left her to do in Anscombe’s company, while I fetched my mare.  To tell the truth I felt as though I had seen enough of the unhappy Marnham, and not for #50 would I have entered that room again.  As I passed the door of the hospital, leading my horse, I heard the old Kaffir screaming within and sent the boy who was with me to find out what was the matter with him.  That was the last I saw of either of them, or ever shall see this side of kingdom come.  I wonder what became of them?

When I got back to the front of the house I found the cart standing ready at the gate, Footsack at the head of the horses and Heda with Anscombe at her side.  It had been neatly packed during the day by Heda with such of her and our belongings as it would hold, including our arms and ammunition.  The rest, of course, we were obliged to abandon.  Also there were two baskets full of food, some bottles of brandy and a good supply of overcoats and wraps.  I told Footsack to take the reins, as I knew him to be a good driver, and helped Anscombe to a seat at his side, while Heda and the maid Kaatje got in behind in order to balance the vehicle.  I determined to ride, at any rate for the present.

“Which way, Baas?” asked Footsack.

“Down to the Granite Stream where the wagon stands,” I answered.

“That will be through the Yellow-wood Swamp.  Can’t we take the other road to Pilgrim’s Rest and Lydenburg, or to Barberton?” asked Anscombe in a vague way, and as I thought, rather nervously.