"That is so, Lamonti, and it may be that we shall sit down side by side once more. Yet for the present, be not slow to get well, for, as you did now say, I am not chief over the whole nation, and others may come in here at any moment. Then the way out will be hard. Now, rest." Rest! After the chief's departure it seemed to Lamont that restfulness had fled from him for ever. He was aroused indeed. It was evident that Zwabeka meant to contrive his escape. Happiness again--which spelt Clare. During his long, weary march into this captivity the thought of her had simply maddened him, until the fever had reached its more prostrating stage; deadening, perhaps mercifully, the more acute mental throes. He was being led to his death, he had told himself, and she in the years to come would forget him, and find happiness with somebody else. Not even in the next world would they belong to each other. And then the effect of the fever had rendered him careless whether he lived or died. CHAPTER THIRTY. OUT OF THE WHIRL. "Ujojo!" "_Nkose_?" And the chief of the guard went over to where lay his former master. "You did well to keep those Abantwana Mlimo off me last night. They might have pricked me with a poisoned blade, or have done anything." The speaker little guessed he had hit the actual mark. "And now, Ujojo--why are you fighting?" The man laughed, turning aside his head. "_Nkose_, I have been taking care of your cattle for you," he said. "I have them, all but three, and those the people took, wanting meat. Afterwards I will return them." "But--if you thought I was blown up with the house?" "I could not think that, _Nkose_. Anyone else yes--but--well, the cattle are there." "You will not be the loser, Ujojo, no, nor Zwabeka. Now, when am I to be allowed to depart?" "_Nkose_ is sick." "No; I am well now." It seemed like it. Hope once more rekindled--powerfully rekindled-- seemed to have infused the sufferer with new life. His bruised leg was still terribly stiff and painful, but the fever had almost left him. That is a peculiarity of this up-country malaria. A man may be shivering under eight blankets in the evening and the next morning be standing about in his shirt loading up his waggons or donkeys. Lamont, chatting thus with his guard on the morning after his visit from Zwabeka, felt almost as if he had never had anything the matter with him in his life. "There is the doctor, _Nkose_," said Ujojo, with a sweep of the hand beneath. Zwabeka's runners had been swift. Crossing the stony hollow was a horseman, and in a minute or two further Lamont and Father Mathias were shaking hands cordially. "Why we never expected to meet like this again, did we?" said the latter. "Now show me where you have hurt your leg--you have hurt it, I am told. You know, I have a medical diploma in my own country."