One flash struck a tree quite near the kraal, and I saw that tree seem to melt in its fiery embrace, while about where it had been, rose a column of dust from the ground beneath.

The horses were so frightened that luckily they stood quite quiet, as I have often known animals to do in such circumstances.

Then came the rain, a torrential rain as I, who was out in it holding the horses, became painfully aware.

It thinned after a while, however, as the storm rolled away.
Suddenly in a silence between the tremendous echoes of the passing thunder I thought that I heard voices somewhere on the brow of the slope, and as the horses were now quite calm, I crept through the trees to that part of the enclosure which I judged to be nearest to them.
Voices they were sure enough, and of the Basutos who were pursuing us.

What was more, they were coming down the slope.
The top of the old wall reached almost to my chin.