Now we were peering round the hut, and its shadow hid us, so that the man saw nothing.

For awhile he stood still, then he spoke to himself, and his voice was strangely soft.
"Here are many huts," said the voice, "now how may I know which is the house of my brother?
Perhaps if I call I shall bring soldiers to me, and be forced to play the man before them, and I am weary of that.

Well, I will lie here under the fence till morning; it is a softer bed than some I have found, and I am word out with travel--sleep I must," and the figure sighed and turned so that the light of the moon fell full upon its face.
My father, it was the face of Nada, my daughter, whom I had not seen for so many years, yet across the years I knew it at once; yes, though the bud had become a flower I knew it.

The face was weary and worn, but ah! it was beautiful, never before nor since have I seen such beauty, for there was this about the loveliness of my daughter, the Lily: it seemed to flow from within--yes, as light will flow through the thin rind of a gourd, and in that she differed from the other women of our people, who, when they are fair are fair with the flesh alone.
Now my heart went out to Nada as she stood in the moonlight, one forsaken, not having where to lay her head, Nada, who alone was left alive of all my children.

I motioned to Umslopogaas to hide himself in the shadow, and stepped forward.
"Ho!" I said roughly, "who are you, wanderer, and what do you here ?" Now Nada started like a frightened bird, but quickly gathered up her thoughts, and turned upon me in a lordly way.
"Who are you that ask me ?" she said, feigning a man's voice.
"One who can use a stick upon thieves and night-prowlers, boy.