Then they began the work, for much must be done before the daylight came. First Sihamba took a sharp knife, and with it cut off Suzanne's beautiful hair close to the head, over which what was left of it curled naturally. To disguise it further, for though it was dark it was too fine for the hair of a native, she put grease upon it and powdered it with the blue dust that Kaffir women use. This done, the poor girl stripped herself, and with the help of Sihamba smeared all her body, every inch of it down to the soles of her feet, with the ink-like juice mixed with the black earth and grease, which when it was dry made her the colour of a Kaffir. Next Sihamba dressed her in a native woman's moocha made of skin and beads, and gave her an old skin blanket to wear upon her shoulders and hide sandals for her feet, together with anklets of beads and copper wire. Then having examined her all over to see that no sign of her white skin could be seen through the pigments, and burned the long tresses of her hair, Sihamba went to the door of the hut.
"Where are you going?" asked Suzanne.
"To find Zinti," she answered, "for now we must have his help."
"No, no," cried Suzanne, "I am ashamed to be seen thus by any man."
"Wherefore, Swallow, seeing that for some days you are but a Kaffir woman, and this is their dress, of which none think harm? Nay, you must, for remember that if you show doubt or shame, you will betray yourself."
Then with a groan Suzanne yielded, and crouching upon the floor like a native, awaited the return of Sihamba. Presently she came, followed by Zinti, who was in good case, though somewhat thin, for Zinti was clever and provident, and, foreseeing what would come, he had hidden water for himself among the rocks.
"Zinti," said Sihamba, "I would speak with you of secret matters."
"Speak on, lady," he answered--here his eyes fell upon Suzanne crouched on the ground in the full light of the lamp--"but there is a stranger present."
"This is no stranger, Zinti," said Sihamba, "but one whom you know well."
"Indeed, lady, I know her not. Should I forget one so beautiful? And yet--and yet--" and he rubbed his eyes and stared, gasping, "it cannot be."
"Yes, it is, Zinti. There sits the lady Swallow and none other."
Now although there was little mirth left in him, Zinti burst out laughing till the tears ran from his eyes, and Sihamba struck him with her hands, calling him "Fool," and commanding him to be silent.