the world I hated it was Sihamba's nonsense about birds and omens and
such things, whereof, indeed, I had had enough on the previous night,
when she made that lump Jan believe that he saw visions in a bowl of
water. And yet I did not--for the black crow's sake. The cruel hawk had
seized the swallow which I loved, and borne it away to devour it in its
eyrie, and it was the crow that saved it. Well, the things that happened
among birds might happen among men, who also prey upon each other,
and--but I could not bear the thought.

"Take the mule, Sihamba," I said; "I will answer for it to the Baas. As
for the two cows, they can run with the other cattle till your return."

"I thank you, Mother of Swallow," she answered, and turned to go, when I
stopped her and asked:

"Have you heard anything that makes you afraid, Sihamba?"

"I have heard nothing," she replied, "still I am afraid."

"Then you are a fool for your pains, to be afraid of nothing," I
answered roughly; "but watch well, Sihamba."

"Fear not, I will watch till my knees are loosened and my eyes grow
hollow." Then she went away, and that was the last I saw of her for many
a weary month. Ah! Suzanne, child, had it not been for the watching of
little Sihamba, the walker-by-moonlight, you had not been sitting there
to-day, looking much as she used to look, the Suzanne of fifty years
ago.