Beside him was old Umslopogaas, his axe red with blood, but looking quite fresh and uninjured.
'What's wrong, Quatermain ?' he shouted.
'Everything.

There is a plot to murder the Queen tomorrow at dawn.

Alphonse here, who has just escaped from Sorais, has overheard it all,' and I rapidly repeated to him what the Frenchman had told me.
Curtis' face turned deadly pale and his jaw dropped.
'At dawn,' he gasped, 'and it is now sunset; it dawns before four and we are nearly a hundred miles off -- nine hours at the outside.

What is to be done ?' An idea entered into my head.

'Is that horse of yours fresh ?' I said.
'Yes, I have only just got on to him -- when my last was killed, and he has been fed.' 'So is mine.