I suggested that some of the native servants should drive the herd along
the valley of the river till they reached a friendly tribe or some other
place of safety. Of course, if the Zulus saw them they would be taken,
but the nature of the ground was favourable, and it was possible that
they might escape if they started at once. The proposition was promptly
agreed to, and, what is more, it was settled that one Dutchman and such
of the women and children as could travel should go with them. In half
an hour's time twelve of them started with the natives, the Boer in
charge, and the cattle. Three of my own men went with the latter, the
three others and Indaba-zimbi stopped with me in the laager.

The parting was a heart-breaking scene, upon which I do not care to
dwell. The women wept, the men groaned, and the children looked on with
scared white faces. At length they were gone, and I for one was thankful
of it. There remained in the laager seventeen white men, four natives,
the two Boer fraus who were too stout to travel, the woman in childbed
and her baby, and Hans Bother's little daughter Tota, whom he could not
make up his mind to part with. Happily her mother was already dead. And
here I may state that ten of the women and children, together with about
half of the cattle, escaped. The Zulu Impi never saw them, and on the
third day of travel they came to the fortified place of a Griqua chief,
who sheltered them on receiving half the cattle in payment. Thence
by slow degrees they journeyed down to the Cape Colony, reaching a
civilized region within a little more than a year from the date of the
attack on the laager.

The afternoon was now drawing towards evening, but still there were no
signs of the Impi. A wild hope struck us that they might have gone
on about their business. Ever since Indaba-zimbi had heard that the
regiment was supposed to belong to the Umtetwa tribe, he had, I noticed,