The camel corps, or what was left of it, oblivious of our plight which the dust of conflict had hidden from them, was travelling on to the north, more or less victorious.

That is to say, it had cut its way through the Black Kendah and was escaping unpursued, huddled up in a mob with the baggage animals safe in its centre.

The Black Kendah themselves were engaged in killing our wounded and succouring their own; also in collecting the bodies of the dead.

In short, quite unintentionally, we were deserted.

Probably, if anybody thought about us at all in the turmoil of desperate battle, they concluded that we were among the slain.
Marut came up to me, unhurt, still smiling and waving a bloody spear.
"Lord Macumazana," he said, "the end is at hand.