"
Hadden looked at the stream; it was in flood. He could not swim it,
so followed by the evil laugh of the prophetess, he sped towards the
forest. After him came Nahoon, his tongue hanging from his jaws like the
tongue of a wolf.
Now he was in the shadow of the forest, but still he sped on following
the course of the river, till at length his breath failed, and he halted
on the further side of a little glade, beyond which a great tree grew.
Nahoon was more than a spear's throw behind him; therefore he had time
to draw his pistol and make ready.
"Halt, Nahoon," he cried, as once before he had cried; "I would speak
with you."
The Zulu heard his voice, and obeyed.
"Listen," said Hadden. "We have run a long race and fought a long fight,
you and I, and we are still alive both of us. Very soon, if you come on,
one of us must be dead, and it will be you, Nahoon, for I am armed and
as you know I can shoot straight. What do you say?"
Nahoon made no answer, but stood still at the edge of the glade, his
wild and glowering eyes fixed on the white man's face and his breath
coming in short gasps.
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