'What's wrong, Quatermain?' he shouted.
'Everything. There is a plot to murder the Queen to-morrow 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. Get off him, and let Umslopogaas mount; he can ride well. We will be at Milosis before dawn, or if we are not—well, we cannot help it. No, no; it is impossible for you to leave now
