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Updated: May 22, 2025
Sihamba, these were the words, as all can testify: "'Thus say the spirits of your fathers, and thus speaks the Snake of your tribe.
On the day following the attack Sihamba learned that Swart Piet lay very sick, having lost much blood, and sought to persuade her people to attack him in turn, and make an end of him and his robbers.
Then she travelled on sadly, wondering what was that plan of escape of which Sihamba had spoken, and why it was that she stood there by the corpse and did not put it into practice, wondering also when they should meet again and where. A third time she turned, and now the dead woman on the rock was but as a tiny point of white, and now it had altogether vanished away.
Presently she came, followed by Zinti, who was in good case, though somewhat thin, for Zinti was clever and provident, and, foreseeing what would come, he had hidden water for himself among the rocks. "Zinti," said Sihamba, "I would speak with you of secret matters."
This was strange news to Sihamba, who had heard nothing of the whereabouts of the Trek Boers, so strange that she would not speak of it to Suzanne, fearing lest it should fill her with false hopes.
So the Umpondwana blessed the name of Sihamba and the White Swallow, and these two ruled over them without question, life and death hanging upon their words. And there, a chieftainess among savages, Suzanne was fated to dwell for more than two long years.
"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.
Now, before Suzanne could answer, Sihamba broke in eagerly, "Nay, lady, let not your lips be stained and your heart be shamed for the sake of such as I. Better that I should die than that you should suffer defilement at the hands of Swart Piet, who, born of white blood and black, is false to both and a disgrace to both."
It was the voice of Sihamba that broke the spell, and it issued from her parched throat with a sound like the sound of a death-rattle. "Ah! devil and torturer," it said, "did I not tell you that doom was at hand? Welcome, Ralph Kenzie, husband of Swallow." Then with a roar like that of a wounded beast, Ralph sprang forward, in his hand the uplifted spear.
"Three more days," she thought to herself, "and they will all be dead unless rain should fall. Yes, the cowards, and those whom their cowardice has betrayed will all be dead together." As she thought thus, Suzanne entered the hut, and there was tidings in her eyes. "What is it, sister," asked Sihamba, "and whence do you come?"
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