I could get no more out of him.
I wondered if it would be worth while to make him quite drunk and then attempt to escape on the horse, but gave up the idea.

To begin with, his men were at hand and there was not enough brandy to make them all drunk.

Also even if I succeeded in winning away here in the heart of Zululand, it would not help Anscombe or Heda and I should probably be cut off and killed before I could get out of the country.

So I abandoned the plan and went to sleep instead.
Next morning we left Nongoma early in the hope of reaching Ulundi that evening if the Ivuna and Black Umfolozi Rivers proved fordable.

As it chanced, although they were high, we were able to cross them, I seated on the horse which two of the Zulus led.
Next we tramped for miles through the terrible Bekameezi Valley, a hot and desolate place which the Zulus swear is haunted.