'What wilt thou do?' I asked.
'Run,' he answered, seizing my stirrup-leather.
Then off we went again, almost as fast as before; and oh, the
relief it was to me to get that change of horses! Anybody who
has ever ridden against time will know what it meant.
Daylight sped along at a long stretching hand-gallop, giving
the gaunt Zulu a lift at every stride. It was a wonderful thing
to see old Umslopogaas run mile after mile, his lips slightly
parted and his nostrils agape like the horse's. Every five miles
or so we stopped for a few minutes to let him get his breath,
and then flew on again.
'Canst thou go farther,' I said at the third of these stoppages,
'or shall I leave thee to follow me?'
He pointed with his axe to a dim mass before us. It was the
Temple of the Sun, now not more than five miles away.
'I reach it or I die,' he gasped.
Oh, that last five miles! The skin was rubbed from the inside
of my legs, and every movement of my horse gave me anguish.
Nor was that all. I was exhausted with toil, want of food and
sleep, and also suffering very much from the blow I had received
on my left side; it seemed as though a piece of bone or something
was slowly piercing into my lung. Poor Daylight, too, was pretty
nearly finished, and no wonder.
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