Her features
were finely cut and intellectual, and her eyes, shaded by long lashes,
somewhat oblong in shape, of a brown colour, and soft as those of a buck.
Certainly for a native she was lovely, and what is more, quite unlike any
Bantu that Rachel had ever seen, except indeed that dead man whom she said
was her father, and who, although he was so small, had managed to kill two
great Zulu warriors before, mysteriously enough, he died himself.
"Noie," said Rachel, when she had completed her observations, whereon with
a quick and agile movement the girl rose, sank again on her knees beside
her, took the hand that hung from the bed between her own, and pressed it
to her lips, saying in the soft Zulu tongue,
"Inkosazana, I am here."
"Is that white man still asleep, Noie?"
"Nay, he has gone. He and his servant rode away before the light, fearing
lest there might still be Zulus between him and his kraal."
"Do you know anything about him, Noie?"
"Yes, Lady, I have seen him in Zululand. He is a bad man. They call him
there 'Lion,' not because he is brave, but because he hunts and springs by
night."
"Just what I should have thought of him," answered Rachel, "and we know
that he is not brave," she added with a smile.
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