But back to that unhallowed kraal I was resolved I would not go.

He was armed, and I was helpless; he was strong, and I was dizzy with weakness; he was mounted, and I was on foot: it seemed a poor hope that I should get away.

There was little chance from a wandering patrol, for I knew if we were followed I should have a bullet in my head, while Laputa got off on the Schimmel.

I must wait and bide events.

At the worst, a clean shot on the hillside in a race for life was better than the unknown mysteries of the kraal.