"Do what I bid you, you ill-omened beast," I said, "instead of croaking
of death like a crow. And listen: I am going to walk forward to that
camp; you must follow with the wagons as fast as they can travel."

"No, baas, it is not safe that you should go alone. Kaffirs or wild
beasts might take you."

"Safe or not, I am going; but if you think it wise, tell two of those
Zulus to come with me."

A few minutes later I was on the road, followed by the two Kaffirs armed
with spears. In my youth I was a good runner, being strong of leg and
light in body, but I do not think that I ever covered seven miles, for
that was about the distance to the camp, in quicker time than I did that
morning. Indeed, I left those active Kaffirs so far behind that when I
approached the trees they were not in sight. Here I dropped to a walk,
as I said to myself--to get my breath. Really it was because I felt so
terrified at what I might find that I delayed the discovery just for one
minute more. While I approached, hope, however faint, still remained;
when I arrived, hope might be replaced by everlasting despair.

Now I could see that there were some shanties built behind the wagons,
doubtless those "rude houses" of which Marie had written. But I could
not see anyone moving about them, or any cattle or any smoke, or other
sign of life. Nor could I hear a single sound.

Doubtless, thought I to myself, Hans is right. They are all long dead.

My agony of suspense was replaced by an icy calm. At length I knew the
worst. It was finished--I had striven in vain. I walked through the