“Yes,” he said, when he had recovered a little, “so I suppose did Seyapi and his people, but you have been burying them this afternoon—haven’t you?—all except the girl, Noie, whom you have sheltered, for which deed Dingaan will bury you all if you go into Zululand, or rather throw you to the vultures. Don’t think that your being an _umfundusi_, I mean a teacher, will save you. The Almighty Himself can’t save you there. You will be dead and forgotten in a month. What’s more, you will have to drive your own waggon in, for your Kaffirs won’t, they know better. A Bible won’t turn the blade of an assegai.” “Please, Mr. Ishmael, please do not speak so—so irreligiously,” said Mr. Dove in an irritated but nervous voice. “You do not seem to understand that I have a mission to perform, and if that should involve martyrdom——” “Oh! bother martyrdom, which is what you are after, no doubt, ‘casting down your golden crown upon a crystal sea,’ and the rest of it—I remember the stuff. The question is, do you wish to murder your wife and daughter, for that’s the plain English of it?” “Of course not. How can you suggest such a thing?” “Then you had better not cross the Tugela. Go back to Durban, or stop where you are at least, for, unless he finds out anything, Dingaan is not likely to interfere with a white man on this side of the river.” “That would involve abandoning my most cherished ambition, and impulses that—but I will not speak to you of things which perhaps you might not understand.” “I dare say I shouldn’t, but I do understand what it feels like to have your neck twisted out of joint. Look here, sir, if you want to go into Zululand, you should go alone; it is no place for white ladies.” “That is for them to judge, sir,” answered Mr. Dove. “I believe that their faith will be equal to this trial,” and he looked at his wife almost imploringly. For once, however, she failed him. “My dear John,” she said, “if you want my opinion, I think that this gentleman is quite right. For myself I don’t care much, but it can never have been intended that we should absolutely throw away our lives. I have always given way to you, and followed you to many strange places without grumbling, although, as you know, we might be quite comfortable at home, or at any rate in some civilised town. Now I say that I think you ought not to go to Zululand, especially as there is Rachel to think of.” “Oh! don’t trouble about me,” interrupted that young lady, with a shrug of her shoulders. “I can take my chance as I have often done before—to-day, for instance.”