the sudden and awful destruction of their spokesman at the hand of Jacob Meyer.  The scene would not leave her eyes, she saw it again and yet again:  the quick transformation of Meyer’s indifferent face when the soldier began to insult and threaten her, the lightning-like movement of his hand, the flash, the report, the change from life to death, and the slayer’s cruel laugh.  He could be very terrible, Jacob Meyer, when his passions were roused!

And what had roused them then?  She could not doubt that it was herself—­not mere chivalry towards a woman.  Even if he were capable of chivalry, merely for that he would never have taken such risk of future trouble and revenge.  No; it was something deeper.  He had never said anything or done anything, yet long ago instinct or insight had caused Benita to suspect the workings of his mind, and now she was sure of them.  The thought was terrible—­worse than all her other dangers put together.  True, she had her father to rely on, but he had been somewhat ailing of late; age and these arduous journeys and anxieties had told upon him.  Supposing that anything were to happen to him—­if he died, for instance, how dreadful her position might become, left alone far from the reach of help, with savages—­and Jacob Meyer.

Oh! if it had not been for that dreadful shipwreck, how different might be her lot to-day!  Well, it was the thought of the shipwreck and of him whom she had lost therein, which had driven her on to this adventure, that in it perhaps her suffering mind might be numbed to rest; and now she must face its issues.  God still remained above her, and she would put her trust in Him.  After all, if she died, what did it matter?

But that old Molimo had promised her that she was safe from death, that she should find here happiness and rest, though not that of the grave.  He promised this, speaking as one who knew of all her grief, and a very little while afterwards, in the case of the Matabele soldier, he had proved himself a prophet of awful power.  Also—­she knew not how, she knew not why—­now, as before, her inmost heart seemed to bear witness that this old dreamer’s words were true, and that for her, in some strange manner unforeseen, there still remained a rest.

Comforted a little by this intuition, at length Benita fell asleep.

Next morning, when she came out of the hut, Benita was met by her father, who with a cheerful countenance informed her that at any rate as yet there was no sign of the Matabele.  A few hours later, too, some spies came in who said that for miles round nothing could be seen or heard of them.  Still the preparations for defence went on, and the hundred best men having been furnished with the rifles, were being drilled in the use of them by Tamas and his two companions, Tamala and Hoba, who had learned how to handle a gun very well in the course of their long journey.  The shooting of these raw recruits, however, proved to be execrable; indeed, so dangerous were they that when one of them fired at a mark set upon the wall, it was found necessary to order all the rest to lie down.  As it was, a poor trek ox—­luckily it was sick—­and two sheep were killed.