Therefore
be merciful to us when the spear of thy power is lifted."
Before Rachel could answer Ishmael's voice was heard asking why they did
not bring the Inkosazana as the horses were ready.
"I pray thee come, Zoola," said the man hurriedly "or he will shoot more
of us."
So Rachel walked down the steps of the stoep in front of them, holding her
head high, leaving behind her the house of Ramah and its dead. At the gate
of the garden stood the horses, on one of which, his own, Richard was
already mounted, his arms bound, his feet made fast beneath it with a hide
rope. Her path lay past him, and as she went by he said in a voice that
was choking with rage:
"I am helpless, I cannot save you, but our hour will come."
"Yes, Richard," she answered quietly, "our hour will come when his has
gone," and with the spear in her hand once more she pointed at Ishmael,
who stood by watching them sullenly. Then she mounted her horse--how she
could never remember--and they were separated.
After this she seemed to hear Ishmael talking to her, arguing, explaining,
but she made no answer to his words. Her mind was a blank, and all she
knew was that they were riding on for hours. Her tired horse stumbled up a
pass and down its further side.
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