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Seven Years in South Africa.

through his ignorance of the Serotse dialect, had quite misunderstood their errand. It turned out that instead of being bailiffs acting on behalf of Sepopo, they were two of Kapella’s own servants, whom their master had sent to beg for some food.

The 12th was quite a day of bustle; both in the morning and in the afternoon several troops of Masupias arrived from Impalera with ivory, and one of Westbeech’s servants passed through on his way to Panda ma Tenka to fetch bullocks for the waggons. That night I slept better than usual; the feeling that Westbeech was really on his way towards me revived my drooping spirits, and I was inclined next morning to rise at an early hour, and as soon as Narri had dressed me, I took my seat upon the box of the waggon, enjoying the morning air, which although probably by no means healthy, certainly seemed very refreshing. As Narri was preparing the kaffir-corn coffee, he drew my attention to the sound of voices a long way down the valley. I inquired of the other servants what it meant, and after listening for a few seconds they unanimously affirmed that it was Westbeech’s cavalcade, carrying their burdens of ivory and singing as they marched.

As I sat pondering, only occasionally saying a word to Narri, my attention was suddenly arrested by the dusky form of a man advancing towards the camp, and within fifty yards of us. He was quite unarmed. I hardly believed my eyes, and yet I felt that I could not be mistaken. The man undoubtedly was Kapella, no longer the powerful commander, but a sad and dejected fugitive. I was too weak to alight from