How could she deceive him?
Again she looked at the jars, and again wisdom came to her.

It was the habit of Suzanne to sit in her dizzy chair of rock and watch the sunrise, hoping ever that in the light of it she might see white men riding to rescue her, and this Van Vooren knew, for she could be seen from the mouth of the pass below, where from hour to hour he would stand gazing at her five hundred feet above his head.
Well, to-morrow at the dawn another white woman should be seated yonder to satisfy his eyes, or at least a woman who seemed to be white.

On the cliff edge, not far from this very rock lay the body of a poor girl who that day had died of thirst.

If its face and arms and feet were painted white, and Suzanne's cloak of white goat's hair were set upon its shoulders, and the corpse itself placed upright in the chair, who, looking at it from hundreds of feet beneath, could guess that it was not Suzanne, and who, seeing it set aloft, would seek for Suzanne among the crowd of escaping Kaffirs?
The plan was good; it could scarcely fail, only time pressed.
"Sister, awake," whispered Sihamba.

Suzanne sat up at once, for the sleep of the doomed is light.