A body of natives was crossing the rise and the glitter was caused by the rays of dawn striking on their spears and gun-barrels.
I came down out of that tree like a frightened wild cat and ran to the wagon, thinking hard as I went.

The Basutos were after us, meaning to attack as soon as there was sufficient light.

In ten minutes or less they would be here.

There was no time to inspan the oxen, and even if there had been, stiff and weary as the beasts were, we should be overtaken before we had gone a hundred yards on that bad road.

What then was to be done?
Run for it?
It was impossible, Anscombe could not run.