"Yes, Richard," she answered, placing her slim fingers into his big brown
hand, "we shall meet again, I am sure--I am quite sure. And I think that
it will be to say, not good-night," and she looked up at him and smiled,
"but good-morning."

As Rachel spoke a puff of wind blew down the donga, rolling up the mist
before it, and of a sudden shining above them they saw the glorious sun.
As though by magic butterflies appeared basking upon the rain-shattered
lily blooms; bright birds flitted from tree to tree, ringdoves began to
coo. The terror of the tempest and the darkness of night were overpast;
the world awoke again to life and love and joy. Instantly this change
reflected itself in their young hearts. They whose natures had as it were
ripened prematurely in the stress of danger and the shadow of death,
became children once again. The very real emotions that they had
experienced were forgotten, or at any rate sank into abeyance. Now they
thought, not of separation or of the dim, mysterious future that stretched
before them, but only of how they should ford the stream and gain its
further side, where Rachel saw her father, Tom, the driver, and the other
Kaffirs, and Richard saw his horse which he had feared was lost.

They ran down to the brink of the water and examined it, but here it was
still too deep for them to attempt its crossing. Then, directed by the
shouts and motions of the Kaffir Tom and Mr. Dove, they proceeded up
stream for several hundred yards, till they came to a rapid where the
lessening flood ran thinly over a ridge of rock, and after investigation,
proceeded to try its passage hand in hand. It proved difficult but not
dangerous, for when they came near to the further side where the current
was swift and the water rather deep, Tom threw them a waggon rope,
clinging on to which they were dragged--wet, but laughing--in safety to
the further bank.