Between Snow and Fire — page 225: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

— + / a] “Who is their chief?” he asked, tugging at the last strap. “ Sigcau ?” “No. Ukiva.” An involuntary exclamation of concern escaped Eustace, For the chief named had evinced a marked hostility towards himself during his recent captivity; indeed, this man’s influence had more than once almost turned the scale in favour of his death. No wonder he felt anxious. Eanswyth had gone into the house to put a few things to- gether, having, with an effort, overcome her reluctance to let him out of her sight during the few minutes required for inspanning. Now she reappeared. ““T am ready, Eustace,” she said. He helped her to her seat and was beside her in a mo- ment, ‘““Let go, Josane!”’ he cried. And the Kafir, standing away from the horses’ heads, uttered a sonorous farewell. ‘What wiil become of him, dear?” said Eanswyth, as they started off at a brisk pace. “He is going to stay here and try and save the house. I’m afraid he won't be able to, though. They are bound to burn it along with the others. And now take the reins a moment, dearest. I left my horse hitched up somewhere here, because I wanted to come upon you unawares, [I'll just take off the saddle and tie it on behind.” “But what about the horse? Why not take him with us ?”’ *“ Josane will look after him. I won’t take him along now, because—well, it’s just on the cards we might have to make a push for it, anda led horse is a nuisance. Ah—there he is,’ as a low whinnying was heard on their left front and duly responded to by tie pair in harness. In less than two minutes he had the saddle secured at the back of the buggy and was beside her again. It is to be feared Eustace drove very badly that night. Had the inquiry been made, candour would have compelled him to admit that he had never driven so badly in his life. Fanswyth, for her part, was quite overcome with the thrill- ing, intoxicating happiness of the hour. But what an hour! They were fleeing through the night—fleeing for their lives—their way lighted by the terrible signal beacons of the savage foe—ly the glare of flaming homesteads fired by his ravaging and vengeful hand. But then, he who was dead cS FROM DEATH AND—TO DEATH. 219 | ~~? 7 7 - q ‘ thet Eomicboo | Vile ] a * ell ’ . _— a é a Fa