Tomorrow's Treasure by Linda Lee Chaikin

with their hands, looking across the South African plain.
    Katie looked too, and the sight nauseated her. A sea of black came rolling across the plain toward Rorke’s Drift. The great Zulu Impi were trotting forward—thousands upon thousands of black and white cowhide shields. The warriors would charge forward like the buffalo to encircle their victims: They came with their assegais flashing in the sunlight, blinding her. The slow trot was more frightening than if they had been racing. They rattled their blades, humming steadily, coming in a human tidal wave.
    The British soldiers were manning their guns, others were on horseback.
    Katie screamed, and Junia came running toward her, her features pale but her expression unafraid. “The baby, Jendaya,” she ordered quickly, “perhaps you can save her. If God makes a way, bring her to Pietermaritzburg to Lady Brewster. Tell her to send Evy to my sister and her husband in England. Understand? Vicar Edmund Havering! Gonow! Take her!” Katie let the woman take Evy from her arms and hand her over to Jendaya.
    The Zulu woman hesitated, looking from Junia to Katie, as though trying to think of a way to save them as well.
    â€œIf God wills, we will live.” Junia pushed Jendaya toward the back of the hut. “Now hide the baby’s white skin. Hurry,
hurry.
”
    Jendaya took the baby and pushed her down between her breasts, then wrapped herself in the Zulu cloth. She looked at Junia. “Thank you for Jesus, Daktari.” With that, she turned and was gone.
    Junia threw her arms around Katie, then pulled her down to the hut floor where they knelt. “Pray. Pray to Jesus, our Savior.”

    Jendaya knew what to do. In the diabolical mayhem, she crawled beneath the black and white cowhide shield of a dead Impi and lay there, hidden, the tiny baby still concealed inside her bosom and covered by her wrap. As death stalked all around her, Jendaya spoke to the God of all gods in the name of His Son Jesus. She spoke for the poor white skins, who had brought knowledge of the Great One to Africa. She asked for safety for the babe and knew that amid the noise its crying was not heard.

    The sound of humming stopped. Katie’s heart pounded as a terror-filled silence encircled them, and then the clacking of assegais against Zulu shields started up, along with a death drum of pounding feet. Faster, faster came the crashing crescendo. Closer, closer … as many thousands of feet swarmed across Rorke’s Drift.
    Outdoors, the soldiers fired the guns. The Impi advanced.
    Dr. Varley rushed into the hut and knelt beside his wife and Katie, encircling them both with his arms. His surprisingly calm prayer came in a steady voice and filled Katie’s ears with amazing words of God’s grace, power, and purpose. “God is our refuge and strength, a very presenthelp in trouble. Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and—”
    Katie squeezed her eyes shut and clung to Junia and Dr. Varley. She felt the firm, steady, comforting pressure of their fingers on her cold sweating palms.
    â€œJesus, forgive my sins,” Katie kept repeating. “Forgive me, forgive me. Take care of Evy—”
    â€œInto thy hands I commend my spirit.” Junia’s whispered prayer was calm, steady. “If you will, please save our baby—”
    Katie could no longer hear Junia. The Zulu were all around now. She could smell smoke and hear the fire crackling … hear the dying shouts of the last brave soldiers making a stand outside the hut. The whinny of horses died away. And then …
    The Zulus were in the hut.
    Tall, chocolate brown Zulu Impi, with bright, fire-hot eyes. Their assegais were no longer silver, but crimson. The young warriors needed a battle before they were allowed to marry. At last, they had their first washing of the spears.
    Katie heard Dr. Varley’s last shout. Amazingly it was,