By this time Mr. Ishmael had arrived, and was dragging his horse to its
haunches; also she saw that evidently he was much more frightened than she
had been. The man's handsome face was quite white, and his lips were
trembling. "Perhaps that rhinoceros is after him again, thought Rachel,
then added aloud quietly:

"What is the matter?"

"Forgive me," he answered in a rich, and to Rachel's astonishment,
perfectly educated voice, "forgive me for disturbing you. I am ashamed,
but it is necessary. The Zulus--" and he paused.

"Well, sir," asked Rachel, "what about the Zulus?"

"A regiment of them are coming down here on the warpath. They are hunting
fugitives. The fugitives, about fifty of them, passed my camp over an hour
ago, and I saw the Impi following them. I rode to warn you all. They told
me you were down by the sea. I came to bring you back to your waggon lest
you should be cut off."

"Thank you very much," said Rachel. "But I am not afraid of the Zulus. I
do not think that they will hurt me."

"Not hurt you! Not hurt you! White and beautiful as you are. Why not?"

"Oh! I don't know," she replied with a laugh, "but you see I am called
Inkosazana-y-Zoola. They won't touch one with that name."

"Inkosazana-y-Zoola," he repeated astonished. "Why she is their Spirit,
yes, and I remember--white like you, so they say. How did you get that