Then, all at once, she stopped, swayed
like a reed, and would have fallen if his arms had not caught her.
"Splendid!" he cried.
She lay gasping for breath, her face against his breast. Her heart was a
swiftly beating little dynamo.
They had gained the edge of a shallow ravine that reached within half a
mile of the kloof. It was this shelter he had hoped for, and Mary's
splendid courage had won it for them.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her again, as he had carried
her through the nigger-head bottom. Every minute, every foot of
progress, counted now. Range of vision was widening. Pools of sunlight
were flecking the plains. In another quarter of an hour moving objects
would be distinctly visible a mile away.
With his precious burden in his arms, her lips so near that he could
feel their breath, her heart throbbing, he became suddenly conscious of
the incongruity of the bird-song that was wakening all about them. It
seemed inconceivable that this day, glorious in its freshness, and
welcomed by the glad voice of all living things, should be a day of
tragedy, of horror, and of impending doom for him. He wanted to shout
out his protest and say that it was all a lie, and it seemed absurd that
he should handicap himself with the weight and inconvenient bulk of his
rifle when his arms wanted to hold only that softer treasure which
they bore.
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