With it went the black-shielded Umcityu and with
them went Nahoon, the son of Zomba. A bullet struck him in the side,
glancing from his ribs, he did not heed; a white man fell from his horse
before him, he did not stab, for he sought but one face in the battle.
He sought--and at last he found. There, among the waggons where the
spears were busiest, there standing by his horse and firing rapidly
was Black Heart, he who had given Nanea his betrothed to death. Three
soldiers stood between them, one of them Nahoon stabbed, and two he
brushed aside; then he rushed straight at Hadden.
But the white man saw him come, and even through the mask of his madness
he knew Nahoon again, and terror took hold of him. Throwing away his
empty rifle, for his ammunition was spent, he leaped upon his horse
and drove his spurs into its flanks. Away it went among the carnage,
springing over the dead and bursting through the lines of shields, and
after it came Nahoon, running long and low with head stretched forward
and trailing spear, running as a hound runs when the buck is at view.
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