Now the sun had set upon that home of thirst, and all was silent in itsave for the sound of the hoofs of the galloping cattle as they rushedhither and thither, and the groaning of the women and children, whowandered about seeking grass to chew, for the sake of the night dampsthat gathered on it. Sihamba went into the great hut where she alwaysslept with Suzanne, whom she found seated upon a stool, wan-faced, andher eyes set wide with misery of mind and body.
"What passes now?" asked Suzanne.
The little woman came to her, and throwing her arms about her neck shekissed her, answering:
"Alas! sister, all things pass, and with them our lives," and she toldher of the surrender of the Umpondwana and its terms.
Suzanne listened in silence, for grief and despair had done their worstwith her, and her heart could hold no more pain.
"So it is finished at last," she said, when Sihamba had spoken, "andthis is the end of all our toil and strivings and of our long fightagainst fate. Yes, this is the end: that we must die, or at the least Imust die, for I will choose death rather than that Van Vooren shouldlay a finger upon me. Well, I should care little were it not that nowI believe my husband to be still alive, and it is hard to go before himinto yonder darkness, though I believe also that the darkness which wefear will prove such a happy light as does not shine upon this earth,"and she laid her head upon Sihamba's breast and they wept together.
Presently Sihamba said, "My mind, that was wont to be so clear, isdarkened. Pray to your God, you who are of His people that He may sendlight upon it, so that I can think once more while there is yet time.Now we wander in the forest of despair, but never yet was there a forestso thick that it cannot be passed. Pray then that I may be given light,for your life hangs upon it."
So Suzanne prayed, and presently, as she prayed, her weariness overcameher and she slept, and Sihamba slept also. When Sihamba awoke it waswithin an hour of midnight. A little lamp of oil burnt in the hut, andby the light of it she could see the white face of Suzanne lying at herside, and groaned in her bitterness to think that before the sun setagain that face must be whiter still, for she knew that the Swallow wasnot of the mind of the Umpondwana, who preferred dishonour to death."Oh! that my wisdom might come back to me," she murmured. "Oh!Great-Great, God of my sister, give me back my wisdom and I will pay mylife for it. Oh! Lighter of the stars, for myself I ask nothing, who amnot of Thy children. Let eternal death be my portion, but give me backmy wisdom that I may save my sister who serves Thee."
Thus prayed Sihamba out of the depth of her untutored heart, not forherself but for another, and it would seem that her prayer was heard;though many among our people think that God does not listen to the blackcreatures. At the least, as her eyes wandered around the hut, they fellupon certain jars of earthenware. Now during the years that she dweltamong the Umpondwana Suzanne had but two pastimes. One of them was tocarve wood with a knife, and the other to paint pictures upon jars, forwhich art she always had a taste, these jars being afterwards burnt inthe fire. For pigments she used certain clays or ochres, red and blackand white and yellow, which were found in abundance on the slopes ofthe mountain, and also a kind of ink that she made by boiling down thekernels of the fruit of the green-leaved tree which grew by the banks ofthe river.
Now it was as she gazed at these jars of pigments and the brushes ofgoat's hair that the wisdom which she sought came to Sihamba; yes, in amoment it came to her, in a moment her plan was made, and she knew thatit would not fail. To-morrow at the dawn the Umpondwana, to the numberof several thousands, would pour through the pass on to the plainbeyond. Well, Suzanne should go with them, she should go _as a blackwoman!_ Already her hair and eyes were dark, and with those pigments hersnow-white flesh could be darkened also, and then in the crowd who wouldknow her from a Kaffir girl, she who could talk the language as thoughshe had been born a Kaffir. Stay! Bull-Head was artful and clever, andperhaps he might be ready for such a trick. How could she deceive him?
Again she looked at the jars, and again wisdom came to her. It wasthe habit of Suzanne to sit in her dizzy chair of rock and watch thesunrise, hoping ever that in the light of it she might see white menriding to rescue her, and this Van Vooren knew, for she could be seenfrom the mouth of the pass below, where from hour to hour he would standgazing at her five hundred feet above his head.
Well, to-morrow at the dawn another white woman should be seated yonderto satisfy his eyes, or at least a woman who seemed to be white. On thecliff edge, not far from this very rock lay the body of a poor girl whothat day had died of thirst. If its face and arms and feet were paintedwhite, and Suzanne's cloak of white goat's hair were set upon itsshoulders, and the corpse itself placed upright in the chair, who,looking at it from hundreds of feet beneath, could guess that it was notSuzanne, and who, seeing it set aloft, would seek for Suzanne among thecrowd of escaping Kaffirs? The plan was good; it could scarcely fail,only time pressed.
"Sister, awake," whispered Sihamba. Suzanne sat up at once, for thesleep of the doomed is light. "Listen, sister," went on Sihamba, "thatwisdom for which you prayed has come to me," and she told her all theplan.
"It is very clever, and it may serve," answered Suzanne, "for Iunderstand these paints and can stain myself so that if my hair is cutnone would know me from a Kaffir. But, Sihamba, there is one thing whichI do not understand. What will you do? For if you attempt to escape yourstature will betray you."
"I?" hesitated the little woman, "nay, I do not know, I have neverthought of it. Doubtless I shall win through in this way or in that."
"You are deceiving me, Sihamba. Well, there is an end, I will not gowithout you."
"Can you think of death and say that you will not go without me?"
"I can Sihamba."
"Can you think of your father and your mother and say that you will notgo without me?"
"I can, Sihamba."
"Can you think of your husband and say that you will not go without me?"
"I can," faltered Suzanne.
"Truly you are brave," laughed the little woman. "There is more couragein that white heart of yours than in those of all the Umpondwana. Well,sister, I also am brave, or at the least for these many moons I have setmyself a task, nor will I shrink from it at the end, and that is to saveyou from Piet Van Vooren as once at a dearer price you saved me. Now,hearken, for myself I have no fear; as I have said, doubtless in thisway or in that I shall win through, but it cannot be at your side. Imust rejoin you afterwards. What, you refuse to go? Then, Lady Swallow,you send me down to death and your hands are red with my blood. I amweary, I will not live to see more trouble; life is hard and death iseasy. Finish your own battle, Swallow, and fly out your flight alone,"and drawing a knife from her girdle Sihamba laid it upon her knee.
"Do you mean that you will kill yourself if I refuse your prayer?"
"Nothing less, sister, and at once, for I thirst, and would seek someland where there is water, or where we need none. It comes to this,then: if you consent I may live, if you refuse I must die."
"I cannot do it," moaned Suzanne. "Let us die together."
Now Sihamba crept to her and whispered in her ear:
"Think of Ralph Kenzie and of what his life must be if you should die.Think of those children who will come, and of that first kiss of lovefound again which you must miss in death, whatever else it may have togive. Think of the knife's point that you would change for it, or thelast sick rush down a mountain height of space. Think of your husband.Hark! I hear him calling you."
Then Suzanne yielded.
"O woman with a noble heart," she murmured, "I listen to your tempting;may God forgive me and God reward you, O woman with the noble heart."