The Project Gutenberg Etext of King Solomon's Mines, by Haggard
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King Solomon's Mines

by H. Rider Haggard

May, 2000  [Etext #2166]


The Project Gutenberg Etext of King Solomon's Mines, by Haggard
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King Solomon's Mines
by H. Rider Haggard





Etext prepared by John Bickers, jbickers@ihug.co.nz
and Dagny, dagnyj@hotmail.com





KING SOLOMON'S MINES

by H. Rider Haggard



DEDICATION

This faithful but unpretending record
of a remarkable adventure
is hereby respectfully dedicated
by the narrator,

ALLAN QUATERMAIN,

to all the big and little boys
who read it.



PREPARER'S NOTE

  This was typed from a 1907 edition published by Cassell and
  Company, Limited.



AUTHOR'S NOTE

  The author ventures to take this opportunity to thank his readers
  for the kind reception they have accorded to the successive
  editions of this tale during the last twelve years. He hopes that
  in its present form it will fall into the hands of an even wider
  public, and that in years to come it may continue to afford
  amusement to those who are still young enough at heart to love a
  story of treasure, war, and wild adventure.

  Ditchingham,
  11 March, 1898.



POST SCRIPTUM

  Now, in 1907, on the occasion of the issue of this edition, I can
  only add how glad I am that my romance should continue to please
  so many readers. Imagination has been verified by fact; the King
  Solomon's Mines I dreamed of have been discovered, and are putting
  out their gold once more, and, according to the latest reports,
  their diamonds also; the Kukuanas or, rather, the Matabele, have
  been tamed by the white man's bullets, but still there seem to be
  many who find pleasure in these simple pages. That they may
  continue so to do, even to the third and fourth generation, or
  perhaps longer still, would, I am sure, be the hope of our old and
  departed friend, Allan Quatermain.

H. Rider Haggard.
Ditchingham, 1907.



INTRODUCTION

Now that this book is printed, and about to be given to the world, a
sense of its shortcomings both in style and contents, weighs very
heavily upon me. As regards the latter, I can only say that it does
not pretend to be a full account of everything we did and saw. There
are many things connected with our journey into Kukuanaland that I
should have liked to dwell upon at length, which, as it is, have been
scarcely alluded to. Amongst these are the curious legends which I
collected about the chain armour that saved us from destruction in the
great battle of Loo, and also about the "Silent Ones" or Colossi at
the mouth of the stalactite cave. Again, if I had given way to my own
impulses, I should have wished to go into the differences, some of
which are to my mind very suggestive, between the Zulu and Kukuana
dialects. Also a few pages might have been given up profitably to the
consideration of the indigenous flora and fauna of Kukuanaland.[*]
Then there remains the most interesting subject--that, as it is, has
only been touched on incidentally--of the magnificent system of
military organisation in force in that country, which, in my opinion,
is much superior to that inaugurated by Chaka in Zululand, inasmuch as
it permits of even more rapid mobilisation, and does not necessitate
the employment of the pernicious system of enforced celibacy. Lastly,
I have scarcely spoken of the domestic and family customs of the
Kukuanas, many of which are exceedingly quaint, or of their
proficiency in the art of smelting and welding metals. This science
they carry to considerable perfection, of which a good example is to
be seen in their "tollas," or heavy throwing knives, the backs of
these weapons being made of hammered iron, and the edges of beautiful
steel welded with great skill on to the iron frames. The fact of the
matter is, I thought, with Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good, that the
best plan would be to tell my story in a plain, straightforward
manner, and to leave these matters to be dealt with subsequently in
whatever way ultimately may appear to be desirable. In the meanwhile I
shall, of course, be delighted to give all information in my power to
anybody interested in such things.

[*] I discovered eight varieties of antelope, with which I was
    previously totally unacquainted, and many new species of plants,
    for the most part of the bulbous tribe.--A.Q.

And now it only remains for me to offer apologies for my blunt way of
writing. I can but say in excuse of it that I am more accustomed to
handle a rifle than a pen, and cannot make any pretence to the grand
literary flights and flourishes which I see in novels--for sometimes I
like to read a novel. I suppose they--the flights and flourishes--are
desirable, and I regret not being able to supply them; but at the same
time I cannot help thinking that simple things are always the most
impressive, and that books are easier to understand when they are
written in plain language, though perhaps I have no right to set up an
opinion on such a matter. "A sharp spear," runs the Kukuana saying,
"needs no polish"; and on the same principle I venture to hope that a
true story, however strange it may be, does not require to be decked
out in fine words.

Allan Quatermain.





KING SOLOMON'S MINES



CHAPTER I

I MEET SIR HENRY CURTIS

It is a curious thing that at my age--fifty-five last birthday--I
should find myself taking up a pen to try to write a history. I wonder
what sort of a history it will be when I have finished it, if ever I
come to the end of the trip! I have done a good many things in my
life, which seems a long one to me, owing to my having begun work so
young, perhaps. At an age when other boys are at school I was earning
my living as a trader in the old Colony. I have been trading, hunting,
fighting, or mining ever since. And yet it is only eight months ago
that I made my pile. It is a big pile now that I have got it--I don't
yet know how big--but I do not think I would go through the last
fifteen or sixteen months again for it; no, not if I knew that I
should come out safe at the end, pile and all. But then I am a timid
man, and dislike violence; moreover, I am almost sick of adventure. I
wonder why I am going to write this book: it is not in my line. I am
not a literary man, though very devoted to the Old Testament and also
to the "Ingoldsby Legends." Let me try to set down my reasons, just to
see if I have any.

First reason: Because Sir Henry Curtis and Captain John Good asked me.

Second reason: Because I am laid up here at Durban with the pain in my
left leg. Ever since that confounded lion got hold of me I have been
liable to this trouble, and being rather bad just now, it makes me
limp more than ever. There must be some poison in a lion's teeth,
otherwise how is it that when your wounds are healed they break out
again, generally, mark you, at the same time of year that you got your
mauling? It is a hard thing when one has shot sixty-five lions or
more, as I have in the course of my life, that the sixty-sixth should
chew your leg like a quid of tobacco. It breaks the routine of the
thing, and putting other considerations aside, I am an orderly man and
don't like that. This is by the way.

Third reason: Because I want my boy Harry, who is over there at the
hospital in London studying to become a doctor, to have something to
amuse him and keep him out of mischief for a week or so. Hospital work
must sometimes pall and grow rather dull, for even of cutting up dead
bodies there may come satiety, and as this history will not be dull,
whatever else it may be, it will put a little life into things for a
day or two while Harry is reading of our adventures.

Fourth reason and last: Because I am going to tell the strangest story
that I remember. It may seem a queer thing to say, especially
considering that there is no woman in it--except Foulata. Stop,
though! there is Gagaoola, if she was a woman, and not a fiend. But
she was a hundred at least, and therefore not marriageable, so I don't
count her. At any rate, I can safely say that there is not a
/petticoat/ in the whole history.

Well, I had better come to the yoke. It is a stiff place, and I feel
as though I were bogged up to the axle. But, "/sutjes, sutjes/," as
the Boers say--I am sure I don't know how they spell it--softly does
it. A strong team will come through at last, that is, if they are not
too poor. You can never do anything with poor oxen. Now to make a
start.

I, Allan Quatermain, of Durban, Natal, Gentleman, make oath and say--
That's how I headed my deposition before the magistrate about poor
Khiva's and Ventvogel's sad deaths; but somehow it doesn't seem quite
the right way to begin a book. And, besides, am I a gentleman? What is
a gentleman? I don't quite know, and yet I have had to do with niggers
--no, I will scratch out that word "niggers," for I do not like it.
I've known natives who /are/, and so you will say, Harry, my boy,
before you have done with this tale, and I have known mean whites with
lots of money and fresh out from home, too, who /are not/.

At any rate, I was born a gentleman, though I have been nothing but a
poor travelling trader and hunter all my life. Whether I have remained
so I known not, you must judge of that. Heaven knows I've tried. I
have killed many men in my time, yet I have never slain wantonly or
stained my hand in innocent blood, but only in self-defence. The
Almighty gave us our lives, and I suppose He meant us to defend them,
at least I have always acted on that, and I hope it will not be
brought up against me when my clock strikes. There, there, it is a
cruel and a wicked world, and for a timid man I have been mixed up in
a great deal of fighting. I cannot tell the rights of it, but at any
rate I have never stolen, though once I cheated a Kafir out of a herd
of cattle. But then he had done me a dirty turn, and it has troubled
me ever since into the bargain.



Well, it is eighteen months or so ago since first I met Sir Henry
Curtis and Captain Good. It was in this way. I had been up elephant
hunting beyond Bamangwato, and had met with bad luck. Everything went
wrong that trip, and to top up with I got the fever badly. So soon as
I was well enough I trekked down to the Diamond Fields, sold such
ivory as I had, together with my wagon and oxen, discharged my
hunters, and took the post-cart to the Cape. After spending a week in
Cape Town, finding that they overcharged me at the hotel, and having
seen everything there was to see, including the botanical gardens,
which seem to me likely to confer a great benefit on the country, and
the new Houses of Parliament, which I expect will do nothing of the
sort, I determined to go back to Natal by the /Dunkeld/, then lying at
the docks waiting for the /Edinburgh Castle/ due in from England. I
took my berth and went aboard, and that afternoon the Natal passengers
from the /Edinburgh Castle/ transhipped, and we weighed and put to
sea.

Among these passengers who came on board were two who excited my
curiosity. One, a gentleman of about thirty, was perhaps the biggest-
chested and longest-armed man I ever saw. He had yellow hair, a thick
yellow beard, clear-cut features, and large grey eyes set deep in his
head. I never saw a finer-looking man, and somehow he reminded me of
an ancient Dane. Not that I know much of ancient Danes, though I knew
a modern Dane who did me out of ten pounds; but I remember once seeing
a picture of some of those gentry, who, I take it, were a kind of
white Zulus. They were drinking out of big horns, and their long hair
hung down their backs. As I looked at my friend standing there by the
companion-ladder, I thought that if he only let his grow a little, put
one of those chain shirts on to his great shoulders, and took hold of
a battle-axe and a horn mug, he might have sat as a model for that
picture. And by the way it is a curious thing, and just shows how the
blood will out, I discovered afterwards that Sir Henry Curtis, for
that was the big man's name, is of Danish blood.[*] He also reminded
me strongly of somebody else, but at the time I could not remember who
it was.

[*] Mr. Quatermain's ideas about ancient Danes seem to be rather
    confused; we have always understood that they were dark-haired
    people. Probably he was thinking of Saxons.--Editor.

The other man, who stood talking to Sir Henry, was stout and dark, and
of quite a different cut. I suspected at once that he was a naval
officer; I don't know why, but it is difficult to mistake a navy man.
I have gone shooting trips with several of them in the course of my
life, and they have always proved themselves the best and bravest and
nicest fellows I ever met, though sadly given, some of them, to the
use of profane language. I asked a page or two back, what is a
gentleman? I'll answer the question now: A Royal Naval officer is, in
a general sort of way, though of course there may be a black sheep
among them here and there. I fancy it is just the wide seas and the
breath of God's winds that wash their hearts and blow the bitterness
out of their minds and make them what men ought to be.

Well, to return, I proved right again; I ascertained that the dark man
/was/ a naval officer, a lieutenant of thirty-one, who, after
seventeen years' service, had been turned out of her Majesty's employ
with the barren honour of a commander's rank, because it was
impossible that he should be promoted. This is what people who serve
the Queen have to expect: to be shot out into the cold world to find a
living just when they are beginning really to understand their work,
and to reach the prime of life. I suppose they don't mind it, but for
my own part I had rather earn my bread as a hunter. One's halfpence
are as scarce perhaps, but you do not get so many kicks.

The officer's name I found out--by referring to the passengers' lists
--was Good--Captain John Good. He was broad, of medium height, dark,
stout, and rather a curious man to look at. He was so very neat and so
very clean-shaved, and he always wore an eye-glass in his right eye.
It seemed to grow there, for it had no string, and he never took it
out except to wipe it. At first I thought he used to sleep in it, but
afterwards I found that this was a mistake. He put it in his trousers
pocket when he went to bed, together with his false teeth, of which he
had two beautiful sets that, my own being none of the best, have often
caused me to break the tenth commandment. But I am anticipating.

Soon after we had got under way evening closed in, and brought with it
very dirty weather. A keen breeze sprung up off land, and a kind of
aggravated Scotch mist soon drove everybody from the deck. As for the
/Dunkeld/, she is a flat-bottomed punt, and going up light as she was,
she rolled very heavily. It almost seemed as though she would go right
over, but she never did. It was quite impossible to walk about, so I
stood near the engines where it was warm, and amused myself with
watching the pendulum, which was fixed opposite to me, swinging slowly
backwards and forwards as the vessel rolled, and marking the angle she
touched at each lurch.

"That pendulum's wrong; it is not properly weighted," suddenly said a
somewhat testy voice at my shoulder. Looking round I saw the naval
officer whom I had noticed when the passengers came aboard.

"Indeed, now what makes you think so?" I asked.

"Think so. I don't think at all. Why there"--as she righted herself
after a roll--"if the ship had really rolled to the degree that thing
pointed to, then she would never have rolled again, that's all. But it
is just like these merchant skippers, they are always so confoundedly
careless."

Just then the dinner-bell rang, and I was not sorry, for it is a
dreadful thing to have to listen to an officer of the Royal Navy when
he gets on to that subject. I only know one worse thing, and that is
to hear a merchant skipper express his candid opinion of officers of
the Royal Navy.

Captain Good and I went down to dinner together, and there we found
Sir Henry Curtis already seated. He and Captain Good were placed
together, and I sat opposite to them. The captain and I soon fell into
talk about shooting and what not; he asking me many questions, for he
is very inquisitive about all sorts of things, and I answering them as
well as I could. Presently he got on to elephants.

"Ah, sir," called out somebody who was sitting near me, "you've
reached the right man for that; Hunter Quatermain should be able to
tell you about elephants if anybody can."

Sir Henry, who had been sitting quite quiet listening to our talk,
started visibly.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, leaning forward across the table, and
speaking in a low deep voice, a very suitable voice, it seemed to me,
to come out of those great lungs. "Excuse me, sir, but is your name
Allan Quatermain?"

I said that it was.

The big man made no further remark, but I heard him mutter "fortunate"
into his beard.

Presently dinner came to an end, and as we were leaving the saloon Sir
Henry strolled up and asked me if I would come into his cabin to smoke
a pipe. I accepted, and he led the way to the /Dunkeld/ deck cabin,
and a very good cabin it is. It had been two cabins, but when Sir
Garnet Wolseley or one of those big swells went down the coast in the
/Dunkeld/, they knocked away the partition and have never put it up
again. There was a sofa in the cabin, and a little table in front of
it. Sir Henry sent the steward for a bottle of whisky, and the three
of us sat down and lit our pipes.

"Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry Curtis, when the man had brought the
whisky and lit the lamp, "the year before last about this time, you
were, I believe, at a place called Bamangwato, to the north of the
Transvaal."

"I was," I answered, rather surprised that this gentleman should be so
well acquainted with my movements, which were not, so far as I was
aware, considered of general interest.

"You were trading there, were you not?" put in Captain Good, in his
quick way.

"I was. I took up a wagon-load of goods, made a camp outside the
settlement, and stopped till I had sold them."

Sir Henry was sitting opposite to me in a Madeira chair, his arms
leaning on the table. He now looked up, fixing his large grey eyes
full upon my face. There was a curious anxiety in them, I thought.

"Did you happen to meet a man called Neville there?"

"Oh, yes; he outspanned alongside of me for a fortnight to rest his
oxen before going on to the interior. I had a letter from a lawyer a
few months back, asking me if I knew what had become of him, which I
answered to the best of my ability at the time."

"Yes," said Sir Henry, "your letter was forwarded to me. You said in
it that the gentleman called Neville left Bamangwato at the beginning
of May in a wagon with a driver, a voorlooper, and a Kafir hunter
called Jim, announcing his intention of trekking if possible as far as
Inyati, the extreme trading post in the Matabele country, where he
would sell his wagon and proceed on foot. You also said that he did
sell his wagon, for six months afterwards you saw the wagon in the
possession of a Portuguese trader, who told you that he had bought it
at Inyati from a white man whose name he had forgotten, and that he
believed the white man with the native servant had started off for the
interior on a shooting trip."

"Yes."

Then came a pause.

"Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry suddenly, "I suppose you know or can
guess nothing more of the reasons of my--of Mr. Neville's journey to
the northward, or as to what point that journey was directed?"

"I heard something," I answered, and stopped. The subject was one
which I did not care to discuss.

Sir Henry and Captain Good looked at each other, and Captain Good
nodded.

"Mr. Quatermain," went on the former, "I am going to tell you a story,
and ask your advice, and perhaps your assistance. The agent who
forwarded me your letter told me that I might rely on it implicitly,
as you were," he said, "well known and universally respected in Natal,
and especially noted for your discretion."

I bowed and drank some whisky and water to hide my confusion, for I am
a modest man--and Sir Henry went on.

"Mr. Neville was my brother."

"Oh," I said, starting, for now I knew of whom Sir Henry had reminded
me when first I saw him. His brother was a much smaller man and had a
dark beard, but now that I thought of it, he possessed eyes of the
same shade of grey and with the same keen look in them: the features
too were not unlike.

"He was," went on Sir Henry, "my only and younger brother, and till
five years ago I do not suppose that we were ever a month away from
each other. But just about five years ago a misfortune befell us, as
sometimes does happen in families. We quarrelled bitterly, and I
behaved unjustly to my brother in my anger."

Here Captain Good nodded his head vigorously to himself. The ship gave
a big roll just then, so that the looking-glass, which was fixed
opposite us to starboard, was for a moment nearly over our heads, and
as I was sitting with my hands in my pockets and staring upwards, I
could see him nodding like anything.

"As I daresay you know," went on Sir Henry, "if a man dies intestate,
and has no property but land, real property it is called in England,
it all descends to his eldest son. It so happened that just at the
time when we quarrelled our father died intestate. He had put off
making his will until it was too late. The result was that my brother,
who had not been brought up to any profession, was left without a
penny. Of course it would have been my duty to provide for him, but at
the time the quarrel between us was so bitter that I did not--to my
shame I say it (and he sighed deeply)--offer to do anything. It was
not that I grudged him justice, but I waited for him to make advances,
and he made none. I am sorry to trouble you with all this, Mr.
Quatermain, but I must to make things clear, eh, Good?"

"Quite so, quite so," said the captain. "Mr. Quatermain will, I am
sure, keep this history to himself."

"Of course," said I, for I rather pride myself on my discretion, for
which, as Sir Henry had heard, I have some repute.

"Well," went on Sir Henry, "my brother had a few hundred pounds to his
account at the time. Without saying anything to me he drew out this
paltry sum, and, having adopted the name of Neville, started off for
South Africa in the wild hope of making a fortune. This I learned
afterwards. Some three years passed, and I heard nothing of my
brother, though I wrote several times. Doubtless the letters never
reached him. But as time went on I grew more and more troubled about
him. I found out, Mr. Quatermain, that blood is thicker than water."

"That's true," said I, thinking of my boy Harry.

"I found out, Mr. Quatermain, that I would have given half my fortune
to know that my brother George, the only relation I possess, was safe
and well, and that I should see him again."

"But you never did, Curtis," jerked out Captain Good, glancing at the
big man's face.

"Well, Mr. Quatermain, as time went on I became more and more anxious
to find out if my brother was alive or dead, and if alive to get him
home again. I set enquiries on foot, and your letter was one of the
results. So far as it went it was satisfactory, for it showed that
till lately George was alive, but it did not go far enough. So, to cut
a long story short, I made up my mind to come out and look for him
myself, and Captain Good was so kind as to come with me."

"Yes," said the captain; "nothing else to do, you see. Turned out by
my Lords of the Admiralty to starve on half pay. And now perhaps, sir,
you will tell us what you know or have heard of the gentleman called
Neville."



CHAPTER II

THE LEGEND OF SOLOMON'S MINES

"What was it that you heard about my brother's journey at Bamangwato?"
asked Sir Henry, as I paused to fill my pipe before replying to
Captain Good.

"I heard this," I answered, "and I have never mentioned it to a soul
till to-day. I heard that he was starting for Solomon's Mines."

"Solomon's Mines?" ejaculated both my hearers at once. "Where are
they?"

"I don't know," I said; "I know where they are said to be. Once I saw
the peaks of the mountains that border them, but there were a hundred
and thirty miles of desert between me and them, and I am not aware
that any white man ever got across it save one. But perhaps the best
thing I can do is to tell you the legend of Solomon's Mines as I know
it, you passing your word not to reveal anything I tell you without my
permission. Do you agree to that? I have my reasons for asking."

Sir Henry nodded, and Captain Good replied, "Certainly, certainly."

"Well," I began, "as you may guess, generally speaking, elephant
hunters are a rough set of men, who do not trouble themselves with
much beyond the facts of life and the ways of Kafirs. But here and
there you meet a man who takes the trouble to collect traditions from
the natives, and tries to make out a little piece of the history of
this dark land. It was such a man as this who first told me the legend
of Solomon's Mines, now a matter of nearly thirty years ago. That was
when I was on my first elephant hunt in the Matalebe country. His name
was Evans, and he was killed the following year, poor fellow, by a
wounded buffalo, and lies buried near the Zambesi Falls. I was telling
Evans one night, I remember, of some wonderful workings I had found
whilst hunting koodoo and eland in what is now the Lydenburg district
of the Transvaal. I see they have come across these workings again
lately in prospecting for gold, but I knew of them years ago. There is
a great wide wagon road cut out of the solid rock, and leading to the
mouth of the working or gallery. Inside the mouth of this gallery are
stacks of gold quartz piled up ready for roasting, which shows that
the workers, whoever they were, must have left in a hurry. Also, about
twenty paces in, the gallery is built across, and a beautiful bit of
masonry it is.

"'Ay,' said Evans, 'but I will spin you a queerer yarn than that'; and
he went on to tell me how he had found in the far interior a ruined
city, which he believed to be the Ophir of the Bible, and, by the way,
other more learned men have said the same long since poor Evans's
time. I was, I remember, listening open-eared to all these wonders,
for I was young at the time, and this story of an ancient civilisation
and of the treasures which those old Jewish or Phoenician adventurers
used to extract from a country long since lapsed into the darkest
barbarism took a great hold upon my imagination, when suddenly he said
to me, 'Lad, did you ever hear of the Suliman Mountains up to the
north-west of the Mushakulumbwe country?' I told him I never had. 'Ah,
well,' he said, 'that is where Solomon really had his mines, his
diamond mines, I mean.'

"'How do you know that?' I asked.

"'Know it! why, what is "Suliman" but a corruption of Solomon?[*]
Besides, an old Isanusi or witch doctoress up in the Manica country
told me all about it. She said that the people who lived across those
mountains were a "branch" of the Zulus, speaking a dialect of Zulu,
but finer and bigger men even; that there lived among them great
wizards, who had learnt their art from white men when "all the world
was dark," and who had the secret of a wonderful mine of "bright
stones."'

[*] Suliman is the Arabic form of Solomon.--Editor.

"Well, I laughed at this story at the time, though it interested me,
for the Diamond Fields were not discovered then, but poor Evans went
off and was killed, and for twenty years I never thought any more of
the matter. However, just twenty years afterwards--and that is a long
time, gentlemen; an elephant hunter does not often live for twenty
years at his business--I heard something more definite about Suliman's
Mountains and the country which lies beyond them. I was up beyond the
Manica country, at a place called Sitanda's Kraal, and a miserable
place it was, for a man could get nothing to eat, and there was but
little game about. I had an attack of fever, and was in a bad way
generally, when one day a Portugee arrived with a single companion--a
half-breed. Now I know your low-class Delagoa Portugee well. There is
no greater devil unhung in a general way, battening as he does upon
human agony and flesh in the shape of slaves. But this was quite a
different type of man to the mean fellows whom I had been accustomed
to meet; indeed, in appearance he reminded me more of the polite doms
I have read about, for he was tall and thin, with large dark eyes and
curling grey mustachios. We talked together for a while, for he could
speak broken English, and I understood a little Portugee, and he told
me that his name was Jose Silvestre, and that he had a place near
Delagoa Bay. When he went on next day with his half-breed companion,
he said 'Good-bye,' taking off his hat quite in the old style.

"'Good-bye, senor,' he said; 'if ever we meet again I shall be the
richest man in the world, and I will remember you.' I laughed a little
--I was too weak to laugh much--and watched him strike out for the
great desert to the west, wondering if he was mad, or what he thought
he was going to find there.

"A week passed, and I got the better of my fever. One evening I was
sitting on the ground in front of the little tent I had with me,
chewing the last leg of a miserable fowl I had bought from a native
for a bit of cloth worth twenty fowls, and staring at the hot red sun
sinking down over the desert, when suddenly I saw a figure, apparently
that of a European, for it wore a coat, on the slope of the rising
ground opposite to me, about three hundred yards away. The figure
crept along on its hands and knees, then it got up and staggered
forward a few yards on its legs, only to fall and crawl again. Seeing
that it must be somebody in distress, I sent one of my hunters to help
him, and presently he arrived, and who do you suppose it turned out to
be?"

"Jose Silvestre, of course," said Captain Good.

"Yes, Jose Silvestre, or rather his skeleton and a little skin. His
face was a bright yellow with bilious fever, and his large dark eyes
stood nearly out of his head, for all the flesh had gone. There was
nothing but yellow parchment-like skin, white hair, and the gaunt
bones sticking up beneath.

"'Water! for the sake of Christ, water!' he moaned and I saw that his
lips were cracked, and his tongue, which protruded between them, was
swollen and blackish.

"I gave him water with a little milk in it, and he drank it in great
gulps, two quarts or so, without stopping. I would not let him have
any more. Then the fever took him again, and he fell down and began to
rave about Suliman's Mountains, and the diamonds, and the desert. I
carried him into the tent and did what I could for him, which was
little enough; but I saw how it must end. About eleven o'clock he grew
quieter, and I lay down for a little rest and went to sleep. At dawn I
woke again, and in the half light saw Silvestre sitting up, a strange,
gaunt form, and gazing out towards the desert. Presently the first ray
of the sun shot right across the wide plain before us till it reached
the faraway crest of one of the tallest of the Suliman Mountains more
than a hundred miles away.

"'There it is!' cried the dying man in Portuguese, and pointing with
his long, thin arm, 'but I shall never reach it, never. No one will
ever reach it!'

"Suddenly, he paused, and seemed to take a resolution. 'Friend,' he
said, turning towards me, 'are you there? My eyes grow dark.'

"'Yes,' I said; 'yes, lie down now, and rest.'

"'Ay,' he answered, 'I shall rest soon, I have time to rest--all
eternity. Listen, I am dying! You have been good to me. I will give
you the writing. Perhaps you will get there if you can live to pass
the desert, which has killed my poor servant and me.'

"Then he groped in his shirt and brought out what I thought was a Boer
tobacco pouch made of the skin of the Swart-vet-pens or sable
antelope. It was fastened with a little strip of hide, what we call a
rimpi, and this he tried to loose, but could not. He handed it to me.
'Untie it,' he said. I did so, and extracted a bit of torn yellow
linen on which something was written in rusty letters. Inside this rag
was a paper.

"Then he went on feebly, for he was growing weak: 'The paper has all
that is on the linen. It took me years to read. Listen: my ancestor, a
political refugee from Lisbon, and one of the first Portuguese who
landed on these shores, wrote that when he was dying on those
mountains which no white foot ever pressed before or since. His name
was Jose da Silvestra, and he lived three hundred years ago. His
slave, who waited for him on this side of the mountains, found him
dead, and brought the writing home to Delagoa. It has been in the
family ever since, but none have cared to read it, till at last I did.
And I have lost my life over it, but another may succeed, and become
the richest man in the world--the richest man in the world. Only give
it to no one, senor; go yourself!'

"Then he began to wander again, and in an hour it was all over.

"God rest him! he died very quietly, and I buried him deep, with big
boulders on his breast; so I do not think that the jackals can have
dug him up. And then I came away."

"Ay, but the document?" said Sir Henry, in a tone of deep interest.

"Yes, the document; what was in it?" added the captain.

"Well, gentlemen, if you like I will tell you. I have never showed it
to anybody yet except to a drunken old Portuguese trader who
translated it for me, and had forgotten all about it by the next
morning. The original rag is at my home in Durban, together with poor
Dom Jose's translation, but I have the English rendering in my pocket-
book, and a facsimile of the map, if it can be called a map. Here it
is."

[MAP OMITTED]

  "I, Jose da Silvestra, who am now dying of hunger in the little
  cave here no snow is on the north side of the nipple of the
  southernmost of the two mountains I have named Sheba's Breasts,
  write this in the year 1590 with a cleft bone upon a remnant of my
  raiment, my blood being the ink. If my slave should find it when
  he comes, and should bring it to Delagoa, let my friend (name
  illegible) bring the matter to the knowledge of the king, that he
  may send an army which, if they live through the desert and the
  mountains, and can overcome the brave Kukuanes and their devilish
  arts, to which end many priests should be brought, will make him
  the richest king since Solomon. With my own eyes I have seen the
  countless diamonds stored in Solomon's treasure chamber behind the
  white Death; but through the treachery of Gagool the witch-finder
  I might bring nought away, scarcely my life. Let him who comes
  follow the map, and climb the snow of Sheba's left breast till he
  reaches the nipple, on the north side of which is the great road
  Solomon made, from whence three days' journey to the King's
  Palace. Let him kill Gagool. Pray for my soul. Farewell.

Jose da Silvestra."[*]

[*] Eu Jose da Silvestra que estou morrendo de fome na pequena cova
    onde nao ha neve ao lado norte do bico mais ao sul das duas
    montanhas que chamei scio de Sheba; escrevo isto no anno 1590;
    escrevo isto com um pedaco d'osso n' um farrapo de minha roupa e
    com sangue meu por tinta; se o meu escravo der com isto quando
    venha ao levar para Lourenzo Marquez, que o meu amigo ---------
    leve a cousa ao conhecimento d' El Rei, para que possa mandar um
    exercito que, se desfiler pelo deserto e pelas montonhas e mesmo
    sobrepujar os bravos Kukuanes e suas artes diabolicas, pelo que se
    deviam trazer muitos padres Far o Rei mais rico depois de Salomao
    Com meus proprios olhos ve os di amantes sem conto guardados nas
    camaras do thesouro de Salomao a traz da morte branca, mas pela
    traicao de Gagoal a feiticeira achadora, nada poderia levar, e
    apenas a minha vida. Quem vier siga o mappa e trepe pela neve de
    Sheba peito a esquerda ate chegar ao bica, do lado norte do qual
    esta a grande estrada do Solomao por elle feita, donde ha tres
    dias de jornada ate ao Palacio do Rei. Mate Gagoal. Reze por minha
    alma. Adeos.                                Jose da Silvestra.

When I had finished reading the above, and shown the copy of the map,
drawn by the dying hand of the old Dom with his blood for ink, there
followed a silence of astonishment.

"Well," said Captain Good, "I have been round the world twice, and put
in at most ports, but may I be hung for a mutineer if ever I heard a
yarn like this out of a story book, or in it either, for the matter of
that."

"It's a queer tale, Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry. "I suppose you
are not hoaxing us? It is, I know, sometimes thought allowable to take
in a greenhorn."

"If you think that, Sir Henry," I said, much put out, and pocketing my
paper--for I do not like to be thought one of those silly fellows who
consider it witty to tell lies, and who are for ever boasting to
newcomers of extraordinary hunting adventures which never happened--
"if you think that, why, there is an end to the matter," and I rose to
go.

Sir Henry laid his large hand upon my shoulder. "Sit down, Mr.
Quatermain," he said, "I beg your pardon; I see very well you do not
wish to deceive us, but the story sounded so strange that I could
hardly believe it."

"You shall see the original map and writing when we reach Durban," I
answered, somewhat mollified, for really when I came to consider the
question it was scarcely wonderful that he should doubt my good faith.

"But," I went on, "I have not told you about your brother. I knew the
man Jim who was with him. He was a Bechuana by birth, a good hunter,
and for a native a very clever man. That morning on which Mr. Neville
was starting I saw Jim standing by my wagon and cutting up tobacco on
the disselboom.

"'Jim,' said I, 'where are you off to this trip? It is elephants?'

"'No, Baas,' he answered, 'we are after something worth much more than
ivory.'

"'And what might that be?' I said, for I was curious. 'Is it gold?'

"'No, Baas, something worth more than gold,' and he grinned.

"I asked no more questions, for I did not like to lower my dignity by
seeming inquisitive, but I was puzzled. Presently Jim finished cutting
his tobacco.

"'Baas,' said he.

"I took no notice.

"'Baas,' said he again.

"'Eh, boy, what is it?' I asked.

"'Baas, we are going after diamonds.'

"'Diamonds! why, then, you are steering in the wrong direction; you
should head for the Fields.'

"'Baas, have you ever heard of Suliman's Berg?'--that is, Solomon's
Mountains, Sir Henry.

"'Ay!'

"'Have you ever heard of the diamonds there?'

"'I have heard a foolish story, Jim.'

"'It is no story, Baas. Once I knew a woman who came from there, and
reached Natal with her child, she told me:--she is dead now.'

"'Your master will feed the assvogels'--that is, vultures--'Jim, if he
tries to reach Suliman's country, and so will you if they can get any
pickings off your worthless old carcass,' said I.

"He grinned. 'Mayhap, Baas. Man must die; I'd rather like to try a new
country myself; the elephants are getting worked out about here.'

"'Ah! my boy,' I said, 'you wait till the "pale old man" gets a grip
of your yellow throat, and then we shall hear what sort of a tune you
sing.'

"Half an hour after that I saw Neville's wagon move off. Presently Jim
came back running. 'Good-bye, Baas,' he said. 'I didn't like to start
without bidding you good-bye, for I daresay you are right, and that we
shall never trek south again.'

"'Is your master really going to Suliman's Berg, Jim, or are you
lying?'

"'No,' he answered, 'he is going. He told me he was bound to make his
fortune somehow, or try to; so he might as well have a fling for the
diamonds.'

"'Oh!' I said; 'wait a bit, Jim; will you take a note to your master,
Jim, and promise not to give it to him till you reach Inyati?' which
was some hundred miles off.

"'Yes, Baas.'

"So I took a scrap of paper, and wrote on it, 'Let him who comes . . .
climb the snow of Sheba's left breast, till he reaches the nipple, on
the north side of which is Solomon's great road.'

"'Now, Jim,' I said, 'when you give this to your master, tell him he
had better follow the advice on it implicitly. You are not to give it
to him now, because I don't want him back asking me questions which I
won't answer. Now be off, you idle fellow, the wagon is nearly out of
sight.'

"Jim took the note and went, and that is all I know about your
brother, Sir Henry; but I am much afraid--"

"Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry, "I am going to look for my brother;
I am going to trace him to Suliman's Mountains, and over them if
necessary, till I find him, or until I know that he is dead. Will you
come with me?"

I am, as I think I have said, a cautious man, indeed a timid one, and
this suggestion frightened me. It seemed to me that to undertake such
a journey would be to go to certain death, and putting other
considerations aside, as I had a son to support, I could not afford to
die just then.

"No, thank you, Sir Henry, I think I had rather not," I answered. "I
am too old for wild-goose chases of that sort, and we should only end
up like my poor friend Silvestre. I have a son dependent on me, so I
cannot afford to risk my life foolishly."

Both Sir Henry and Captain Good looked very disappointed.

"Mr. Quatermain," said the former, "I am well off, and I am bent upon
this business. You may put the remuneration for your services at
whatever figure you like in reason, and it shall be paid over to you
before we start. Moreover, I will arrange in the event of anything
untoward happening to us or to you, that your son shall be suitably
provided for. You will see from this offer how necessary I think your
presence. Also if by chance we should reach this place, and find
diamonds, they shall belong to you and Good equally. I do not want
them. But of course that promise is worth nothing at all, though the
same thing would apply to any ivory we might get. You may pretty well
make your own terms with me, Mr. Quatermain; and of course I shall pay
all expenses."

"Sir Henry," said I, "this is the most liberal proposal I ever had,
and one not to be sneezed at by a poor hunter and trader. But the job
is the biggest I have come across, and I must take time to think it
over. I will give you my answer before we get to Durban."

"Very good," answered Sir Henry.

Then I said good-night and turned in, and dreamt about poor long-dead
Silvestre and the diamonds.



CHAPTER III

UMBOPA ENTERS OUR SERVICE

It takes from four to five days, according to the speed of the vessel
and the state of the weather, to run up from the Cape to Durban.
Sometimes, if the landing is bad at East London, where they have not
yet made that wonderful harbour they talk so much of, and sink such a
mint of money in, a ship is delayed for twenty-four hours before the
cargo boats can get out to take off the goods. But on this occasion we
had not to wait at all, for there were no breakers on the Bar to speak
of, and the tugs came out at once with the long strings of ugly flat-
bottomed boats behind them, into which the packages were bundled with
a crash. It did not matter what they might be, over they went slap-
bang; whether they contained china or woollen goods they met with the
same treatment. I saw one case holding four dozen of champagne smashed
all to bits, and there was the champagne fizzing and boiling about in
the bottom of the dirty cargo boat. It was a wicked waste, and
evidently so the Kafirs in the boat thought, for they found a couple
of unbroken bottles, and knocking off the necks drank the contents.
But they had not allowed for the expansion caused by the fizz in the
wine, and, feeling themselves swelling, rolled about in the bottom of
the boat, calling out that the good liquor was "tagati"--that is,
bewitched. I spoke to them from the vessel, and told them it was the
white man's strongest medicine, and that they were as good as dead
men. Those Kafirs went to the shore in a very great fright, and I do
not think that they will touch champagne again.

Well, all the time that we were steaming up to Natal I was thinking
over Sir Henry Curtis's offer. We did not speak any more on the
subject for a day or two, though I told them many hunting yarns, all
true ones. There is no need to tell lies about hunting, for so many
curious things happen within the knowledge of a man whose business it
is to hunt; but this is by the way.

At last, one beautiful evening in January, which is our hottest month,
we steamed past the coast of Natal, expecting to make Durban Point by
sunset. It is a lovely coast all along from East London, with its red
sandhills and wide sweeps of vivid green, dotted here and there with
Kafir kraals, and bordered by a ribbon of white surf, which spouts up
in pillars of foam where it hits the rocks. But just before you come
to Durban there is a peculiar richness about the landscape. There are
the sheer kloofs cut in the hills by the rushing rains of centuries,
down which the rivers sparkle; there is the deepest green of the bush,
growing as God planted it, and the other greens of the mealie gardens
and the sugar patches, while now and again a white house, smiling out
at the placid sea, puts a finish and gives an air of homeliness to the
scene. For to my mind, however beautiful a view may be, it requires
the presence of man to make it complete, but perhaps that is because I
have lived so much in the wilderness, and therefore know the value of
civilisation, though to be sure it drives away the game. The Garden of
Eden, no doubt, looked fair before man was, but I always think that it
must have been fairer when Eve adorned it.

To return, we had miscalculated a little, and the sun was well down
before we dropped anchor off the Point, and heard the gun which told
the good folks of Durban that the English Mail was in. It was too late
to think of getting over the Bar that night, so we went comfortably to
dinner, after seeing the Mails carried off in the life-boat.

When we came up again the moon was out, and shining so brightly over
sea and shore that she almost paled the quick, large flashes from the
lighthouse. From the shore floated sweet spicy odours that always
remind me of hymns and missionaries, and in the windows of the houses
on the Berea sparkled a hundred lights. From a large brig lying near
also came the music of the sailors as they worked at getting the
anchor up in order to be ready for the wind. Altogether it was a
perfect night, such a night as you sometimes get in Southern Africa,
and it threw a garment of peace over everybody as the moon threw a
garment of silver over everything. Even the great bulldog, belonging
to a sporting passenger, seemed to yield to its gentle influences, and
forgetting his yearning to come to close quarters with the baboon in a
cage on the foc'sle, snored happily at the door of the cabin, dreaming
no doubt that he had finished him, and happy in his dream.

We three--that is, Sir Henry Curtis, Captain Good, and myself--went
and sat by the wheel, and were quiet for a while.

"Well, Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry presently, "have you been
thinking about my proposals?"

"Ay," echoed Captain Good, "what do you think of them, Mr. Quatermain?
I hope that you are going to give us the pleasure of your company so
far as Solomon's Mines, or wherever the gentleman you knew as Neville
may have got to."

I rose and knocked out my pipe before I answered. I had not made up my
mind, and wanted an additional moment to decide. Before the burning
tobacco had fallen into the sea I had decided; just that little extra
second did the trick. It is often the way when you have been bothering
a long time over a thing.

"Yes, gentlemen," I said, sitting down again, "I will go, and by your
leave I will tell you why, and on what conditions. First for the terms
which I ask.

"1. You are to pay all expenses, and any ivory or other valuables we
may get is to be divided between Captain Good and myself.

"2. That you give me L500 for my services on the trip before we start,
I undertaking to serve you faithfully till you choose to abandon the
enterprise, or till we succeed, or disaster overtakes us.

"3. That before we trek you execute a deed agreeing, in the event of
my death or disablement, to pay my boy Harry, who is studying medicine
over there in London, at Guy's Hospital, a sum of L200 a year for five
years, by which time he ought to be able to earn a living for himself
if he is worth his salt. That is all, I think, and I daresay you will
say quite enough too."

"No," answered Sir Henry, "I accept them gladly. I am bent upon this
project, and would pay more than that for your help, considering the
peculiar and exclusive knowledge which you possess."

"Pity I did not ask it, then, but I won't go back on my word. And now
that I have got my terms I will tell you my reasons for making up my
mind to go. First of all, gentlemen, I have been observing you both
for the last few days, and if you will not think me impertinent I may
say that I like you, and believe that we shall come up well to the
yoke together. That is something, let me tell you, when one has a long
journey like this before one.

"And now as to the journey itself, I tell you flatly, Sir Henry and
Captain Good, that I do not think it probable we can come out of it
alive, that is, if we attempt to cross the Suliman Mountains. What was
the fate of the old Dom da Silvestra three hundred years ago? What was
the fate of his descendant twenty years ago? What has been your
brother's fate? I tell you frankly, gentlemen, that as their fates
were so I believe ours will be."

I paused to watch the effect of my words. Captain Good looked a little
uncomfortable, but Sir Henry's face did not change. "We must take our
chance," he said.

"You may perhaps wonder," I went on, "why, if I think this, I, who am,
as I told you, a timid man, should undertake such a journey. It is for
two reasons. First I am a fatalist, and believe that my time is
appointed to come quite without reference to my own movements and
will, and that if I am to go to Suliman's Mountains to be killed, I
shall go there and shall be killed. God Almighty, no doubt, knows His
mind about me, so I need not trouble on that point. Secondly, I am a
poor man. For nearly forty years I have hunted and traded, but I have
never made more than a living. Well, gentlemen, I don't know if you
are aware that the average life of an elephant hunter from the time he
takes to the trade is between four and five years. So you see I have
lived through about seven generations of my class, and I should think
that my time cannot be far off, anyway. Now, if anything were to
happen to me in the ordinary course of business, by the time my debts
are paid there would be nothing left to support my son Harry whilst he
was getting in the way of earning a living, whereas now he will be set
up for five years. There is the whole affair in a nutshell."

"Mr. Quatermain," said Sir Henry, who had been giving me his most
serious attention, "your motives for undertaking an enterprise which
you believe can only end in disaster reflect a great deal of credit on
you. Whether or not you are right, of course time and the event alone
can show. But whether you are right or wrong, I may as well tell you
at once that I am going through with it to the end, sweet or bitter.
If we are to be knocked on the head, all I have to say is, that I hope
we get a little shooting first, eh, Good?"

"Yes, yes," put in the captain. "We have all three of us been
accustomed to face danger, and to hold our lives in our hands in
various ways, so it is no good turning back now. And now I vote we go
down to the saloon and take an observation just for luck, you know."
And we did--through the bottom of a tumbler.

Next day we went ashore, and I put up Sir Henry and Captain Good at
the little shanty I have built on the Berea, and which I call my home.
There are only three rooms and a kitchen in it, and it is constructed
of green brick with a galvanised iron roof, but there is a good garden
with the best loquot trees in it that I know, and some nice young
mangoes, of which I hope great things. The curator of the botanical
gardens gave them to me. It is looked after by an old hunter of mine
named Jack, whose thigh was so badly broken by a buffalo cow in
Sikukunis country that he will never hunt again. But he can potter
about and garden, being a Griqua by birth. You will never persuade a
Zulu to take much interest in gardening. It is a peaceful art, and
peaceful arts are not in his line.

Sir Henry and Good slept in a tent pitched in my little grove of
orange trees at the end of the garden, for there was no room for them
in the house, and what with the smell of the bloom, and the sight of
the green and golden fruit--in Durban you will see all three on the
tree together--I daresay it is a pleasant place enough, for we have
few mosquitos here on the Berea, unless there happens to come an
unusually heavy rain.

Well, to get on--for if I do not, Harry, you will be tired of my story
before ever we fetch up at Suliman's Mountains--having once made up my
mind to go I set about making the necessary preparations. First I
secured the deed from Sir Henry, providing for you, my boy, in case of
accidents. There was some difficulty about its legal execution, as Sir
Henry was a stranger here, and the property to be charged is over the
water; but it was ultimately got over with the help of a lawyer, who
charged L20 for the job--a price that I thought outrageous. Then I
pocketed my cheque for L500.

Having paid this tribute to my bump of caution, I purchased a wagon
and a span of oxen on Sir Henry's behalf, and beauties they were. It
was a twenty-two-foot wagon with iron axles, very strong, very light,
and built throughout of stink wood; not quite a new one, having been
to the Diamond Fields and back, but, in my opinion, all the better for
that, for I could see that the wood was well seasoned. If anything is
going to give in a wagon, or if there is green wood in it, it will
show out on the first trip. This particular vehicle was what we call a
"half-tented" wagon, that is to say, only covered in over the after
twelve feet, leaving all the front part free for the necessaries we
had to carry with us. In this after part were a hide "cartle," or bed,
on which two people could sleep, also racks for rifles, and many other
little conveniences. I gave L125 for it, and think that it was cheap
at the price.

Then I bought a beautiful team of twenty Zulu oxen, which I had kept
my eye on for a year or two. Sixteen oxen is the usual number for a
team, but I took four extra to allow for casualties. These Zulu cattle
are small and light, not more than half the size of the Africander
oxen, which are generally used for transport purposes; but they will
live where the Africanders would starve, and with a moderate load can
make five miles a day better going, being quicker and not so liable to
become footsore. What is more, this lot were thoroughly "salted," that
is, they had worked all over South Africa, and so had become proof,
comparatively speaking, against red water, which so frequently
destroys whole teams of oxen when they get on to strange "veldt" or
grass country. As for "lung sick," which is a dreadful form of
pneumonia, very prevalent in this country, they had all been
inoculated against it. This is done by cutting a slit in the tail of
an ox, and binding in a piece of the diseased lung of an animal which
has died of the sickness. The result is that the ox sickens, takes the
disease in a mild form, which causes its tail to drop off, as a rule
about a foot from the root, and becomes proof against future attacks.
It seems cruel to rob the animal of his tail, especially in a country
where there are so many flies, but it is better to sacrifice the tail
and keep the ox than to lose both tail and ox, for a tail without an
ox is not much good, except to dust with. Still it does look odd to
trek along behind twenty stumps, where there ought to be tails. It
seems as though Nature made a trifling mistake, and stuck the stern
ornaments of a lot of prize bull-dogs on to the rumps of the oxen.

Next came the question of provisioning and medicines, one which
required the most careful consideration, for what we had to do was to
avoid lumbering the wagon, and yet to take everything absolutely
necessary. Fortunately, it turned out that Good is a bit of a doctor,
having at some point in his previous career managed to pass through a
course of medical and surgical instruction, which he has more or less
kept up. He is not, of course, qualified, but he knows more about it
than many a man who can write M.D. after his name, as we found out
afterwards, and he had a splendid travelling medicine chest and a set
of instruments. Whilst we were at Durban he cut off a Kafir's big toe
in a way which it was a pleasure to see. But he was quite nonplussed
when the Kafir, who had sat stolidly watching the operation, asked him
to put on another, saying that a "white one" would do at a pinch.

There remained, when these questions were satisfactorily settled, two
further important points for consideration, namely, that of arms and
that of servants. As to the arms I cannot do better than put down a
list of those which we finally decided on from among the ample store
that Sir Henry had brought with him from England, and those which I
owned. I copy it from my pocket-book, where I made the entry at the
time.

"Three heavy breech-loading double-eight elephant guns, weighing about
fifteen pounds each, to carry a charge of eleven drachms of black
powder." Two of these were by a well-known London firm, most excellent
makers, but I do not know by whom mine, which is not so highly
finished, was made. I have used it on several trips, and shot a good
many elephants with it, and it has always proved a most superior
weapon, thoroughly to be relied on.

"Three double-500 Expresses, constructed to stand a charge of six
drachms," sweet weapons, and admirable for medium-sized game, such as
eland or sable antelope, or for men, especially in an open country and
with the semi-hollow bullet.

"One double No. 12 central-fire Keeper's shot-gun, full choke both
barrels." This gun proved of the greatest service to us afterwards in
shooting game for the pot.

"Three Winchester repeating rifles (not carbines), spare guns.

"Three single-action Colt's revolvers, with the heavier, or American
pattern of cartridge."

This was our total armament, and doubtless the reader will observe
that the weapons of each class were of the same make and calibre, so
that the cartridges were interchangeable, a very important point. I
make no apology for detailing it at length, as every experienced
hunter will know how vital a proper supply of guns and ammunition is
to the success of an expedition.

Now as to the men who were to go with us. After much consultation we
decided that their number should be limited to five, namely, a driver,
a leader, and three servants.

The driver and leader I found without much difficulty, two Zulus,
named respectively Goza and Tom; but to get the servants proved a more
difficult matter. It was necessary that they should be thoroughly
trustworthy and brave men, as in a business of this sort our lives
might depend upon their conduct. At last I secured two, one a
Hottentot named Ventvogel, or "windbird," and one a little Zulu named
Khiva, who had the merit of speaking English perfectly. Ventvogel I
had known before; he was one of the most perfect "spoorers," that is,
game trackers, I ever had to do with, and tough as whipcord. He never
seemed to tire. But he had one failing, so common with his race,
drink. Put him within reach of a bottle of gin and you could not trust
him. However, as we were going beyond the region of grog-shops this
little weakness of his did not so much matter.

Having secured these two men I looked in vain for a third to suit my
purpose, so we determined to start without one, trusting to luck to
find a suitable man on our way up country. But, as it happened, on the
evening before the day we had fixed for our departure the Zulu Khiva
informed me that a Kafir was waiting to see me. Accordingly, when we
had done dinner, for we were at table at the time, I told Khiva to
bring him in. Presently a tall, handsome-looking man, somewhere about
thirty years of age, and very light-coloured for a Zulu, entered, and
lifting his knob-stick by way of salute, squatted himself down in the
corner on his haunches, and sat silent. I did not take any notice of
him for a while, for it is a great mistake to do so. If you rush into
conversation at once, a Zulu is apt to think you a person of little
dignity or consequence. I observed, however, that he was a "Keshla" or
ringed man; that is, he wore on his head the black ring, made of a
species of gum polished with fat and worked up in the hair, which is
usually assumed by Zulus on attaining a certain age or dignity. Also
it struck me that his face was familiar to me.

"Well," I said at last, "What is your name?"

"Umbopa," answered the man in a slow, deep voice.

"I have seen your face before."

"Yes; the Inkoosi, the chief, my father, saw my face at the place of
the Little Hand"--that is, Isandhlwana--"on the day before the
battle."

Then I remembered. I was one of Lord Chelmsford's guides in that
unlucky Zulu War, and had the good fortune to leave the camp in charge
of some wagons on the day before the battle. While I was waiting for
the cattle to be inspanned I fell into conversation with this man, who
held some small command among the native auxiliaries, and he had
expressed to me his doubts as to the safety of the camp. At the time I
told him to hold his tongue, and leave such matters to wiser heads;
but afterwards I thought of his words.

"I remember," I said; "what is it you want?"

"It is this, 'Macumazahn.'" That is my Kafir name, and means the man
who gets up in the middle of the night, or, in vulgar English, he who
keeps his eyes open. "I hear that you go on a great expedition far
into the North with the white chiefs from over the water. Is it a true
word?"

"It is."

"I hear that you go even to the Lukanga River, a moon's journey beyond
the Manica country. Is this so also, 'Macumazahn?'"

"Why do you ask whither we go? What is it to you?" I answered
suspiciously, for the objects of our journey had been kept a dead
secret.

"It is this, O white men, that if indeed you travel so far I would
travel with you."

There was a certain assumption of dignity in the man's mode of speech,
and especially in his use of the words "O white men," instead of "O
Inkosis," or chiefs, which struck me.

"You forget yourself a little," I said. "Your words run out unawares.
That is not the way to speak. What is your name, and where is your
kraal? Tell us, that we may know with whom we have to deal."

"My name is Umbopa. I am of the Zulu people, yet not of them. The
house of my tribe is in the far North; it was left behind when the
Zulus came down here a 'thousand years ago,' long before Chaka reigned
in Zululand. I have no kraal. I have wandered for many years. I came
from the North as a child to Zululand. I was Cetewayo's man in the
Nkomabakosi Regiment, serving there under the great Captain,
Umslopogaasi of the Axe,[*] who taught my hands to fight. Afterwards I
ran away from Zululand and came to Natal because I wanted to see the
white man's ways. Next I fought against Cetewayo in the war. Since
then I have been working in Natal. Now I am tired, and would go North
again. Here is not my place. I want no money, but I am a brave man,
and am worth my place and meat. I have spoken."

[*] For the history of Umslopogaasi and his Axe, the reader is
    referred to the books called "Allan Quatermain" and "Nada the
    Lily."--Editor.

I was rather puzzled by this man and his way of speech. It was evident
to me from his manner that in the main he was telling the truth, but
somehow he seemed different from the ordinary run of Zulus, and I
rather mistrusted his offer to come without pay. Being in a
difficulty, I translated his words to Sir Henry and Good, and asked
them their opinion.

Sir Henry told me to ask him to stand up. Umbopa did so, at the same
time slipping off the long military great coat which he wore, and
revealing himself naked except for the moocha round his centre and a
necklace of lions' claws. Certainly he was a magnificent-looking man;
I never saw a finer native. Standing about six foot three high he was
broad in proportion, and very shapely. In that light, too, his skin
looked scarcely more than dark, except here and there where deep black
scars marked old assegai wounds. Sir Henry walked up to him and looked
into his proud, handsome face.

"They make a good pair, don't they?" said Good; "one as big as the
other."

"I like your looks, Mr. Umbopa, and I will take you as my servant,"
said Sir Henry in English.

Umbopa evidently understood him, for he answered in Zulu, "It is
well"; and then added, with a glance at the white man's great stature
and breadth, "We are men, thou and I."



CHAPTER IV

AN ELEPHANT HUNT

Now I do not propose to narrate at full length all the incidents of
our long travel up to Sitanda's Kraal, near the junction of the
Lukanga and Kalukwe Rivers. It was a journey of more than a thousand
miles from Durban, the last three hundred or so of which we had to
make on foot, owing to the frequent presence of the dreadful "tsetse"
fly, whose bite is fatal to all animals except donkeys and men.

We left Durban at the end of January, and it was in the second week of
May that we camped near Sitanda's Kraal. Our adventures on the way
were many and various, but as they are of the sort which befall every
African hunter--with one exception to be presently detailed--I shall
not set them down here, lest I should render this history too
wearisome.

At Inyati, the outlying trading station in the Matabele country, of
which Lobengula (a great and cruel scoundrel) is king, with many
regrets we parted from our comfortable wagon. Only twelve oxen
remained to us out of the beautiful span of twenty which I had bought
at Durban. One we lost from the bite of a cobra, three had perished
from "poverty" and the want of water, one strayed, and the other three
died from eating the poisonous herb called "tulip." Five more sickened
from this cause, but we managed to cure them with doses of an infusion
made by boiling down the tulip leaves. If administered in time this is
a very effective antidote.

The wagon and the oxen we left in the immediate charge of Goza and
Tom, our driver and leader, both trustworthy boys, requesting a worthy
Scotch missionary who lived in this distant place to keep an eye on
them. Then, accompanied by Umbopa, Khiva, Ventvogel, and half a dozen
bearers whom we hired on the spot, we started off on foot upon our
wild quest. I remember we were all a little silent on the occasion of
this departure, and I think that each of us was wondering if we should
ever see our wagon again; for my part I never expected to do so. For a
while we tramped on in silence, till Umbopa, who was marching in
front, broke into a Zulu chant about how some brave men, tired of life
and the tameness of things, started off into a vast wilderness to find
new things or die, and how, lo and behold! when they had travelled far
into the wilderness they found that it was not a wilderness at all,
but a beautiful place full of young wives and fat cattle, of game to
hunt and enemies to kill.

Then we all laughed and took it for a good omen. Umbopa was a cheerful
savage, in a dignified sort of way, when he was not suffering from one
of his fits of brooding, and he had a wonderful knack of keeping up
our spirits. We all grew very fond of him.

And now for the one adventure to which I am going to treat myself, for
I do dearly love a hunting yarn.

About a fortnight's march from Inyati we came across a peculiarly
beautiful bit of well-watered woodland country. The kloofs in the
hills were covered with dense bush, "idoro" bush as the natives call
it, and in some places, with the "wacht-een-beche," or "wait-a-little
thorn," and there were great quantities of the lovely "machabell"
tree, laden with refreshing yellow fruit having enormous stones. This
tree is the elephant's favourite food, and there were not wanting
signs that the great brutes had been about, for not only was their
spoor frequent, but in many places the trees were broken down and even
uprooted. The elephant is a destructive feeder.

One evening, after a long day's march, we came to a spot of great
loveliness. At the foot of a bush-clad hill lay a dry river-bed, in
which, however, were to be found pools of crystal water all trodden
round with the hoof-prints of game. Facing this hill was a park-like
plain, where grew clumps of flat-topped mimosa, varied with occasional
glossy-leaved machabells, and all round stretched the sea of pathless,
silent bush.

As we emerged into this river-bed path suddenly we started a troop of
tall giraffes, who galloped, or rather sailed off, in their strange
gait, their tails screwed up over their backs, and their hoofs
rattling like castanets. They were about three hundred yards from us,
and therefore practically out of shot, but Good, who was walking
ahead, and who had an express loaded with solid ball in his hand,
could not resist temptation. Lifting his gun, he let drive at the
last, a young cow. By some extraordinary chance the ball struck it
full on the back of the neck, shattering the spinal column, and that
giraffe went rolling head over heels just like a rabbit. I never saw a
more curious thing.

"Curse it!" said Good--for I am sorry to say he had a habit of using
strong language when excited--contracted, no doubt, in the course of
his nautical career; "curse it! I've killed him."

"/Ou/, Bougwan," ejaculated the Kafirs; "/ou! ou!/"

They called Good "Bougwan," or Glass Eye, because of his eye-glass.

"Oh, 'Bougwan!'" re-echoed Sir Henry and I, and from that day Good's
reputation as a marvellous shot was established, at any rate among the
Kafirs. Really he was a bad one, but whenever he missed we overlooked
it for the sake of that giraffe.

Having set some of the "boys" to cut off the best of the giraffe's
meat, we went to work to build a "scherm" near one of the pools and
about a hundred yards to its right. This is done by cutting a quantity
of thorn bushes and piling them in the shape of a circular hedge. Then
the space enclosed is smoothed, and dry tambouki grass, if obtainable,
is made into a bed in the centre, and a fire or fires lighted.

By the time the "scherm" was finished the moon peeped up, and our
dinners of giraffe steaks and roasted marrow-bones were ready. How we
enjoyed those marrow-bones, though it was rather a job to crack them!
I know of no greater luxury than giraffe marrow, unless it is
elephant's heart, and we had that on the morrow. We ate our simple
meal by the light of the moon, pausing at times to thank Good for his
wonderful shot; then we began to smoke and yarn, and a curious picture
we must have made squatting there round the fire. I, with my short
grizzled hair sticking up straight, and Sir Henry with his yellow
locks, which were getting rather long, were rather a contrast,
especially as I am thin, and short, and dark, weighing only nine stone
and a half, and Sir Henry is tall, and broad, and fair, and weighs
fifteen. But perhaps the most curious-looking of the three, taking all
the circumstances of the case into consideration, was Captain John
Good, R.N. There he sat upon a leather bag, looking just as though he
had come in from a comfortable day's shooting in a civilised country,
absolutely clean, tidy, and well dressed. He wore a shooting suit of
brown tweed, with a hat to match, and neat gaiters. As usual, he was
beautifully shaved, his eye-glass and his false teeth appeared to be
in perfect order, and altogether he looked the neatest man I ever had
to do with in the wilderness. He even sported a collar, of which he
had a supply, made of white gutta-percha.

"You see, they weigh so little," he said to me innocently, when I
expressed my astonishment at the fact; "and I always like to turn out
like a gentleman." Ah! if he could have foreseen the future and the
raiment prepared for him.

Well, there we three sat yarning away in the beautiful moonlight, and
watching the Kafirs a few yards off sucking their intoxicating
"daccha" from a pipe of which the mouthpiece was made of the horn of
an eland, till one by one they rolled themselves up in their blankets
and went to sleep by the fire, that is, all except Umbopa, who was a
little apart, his chin resting on his hand, and thinking deeply. I
noticed that he never mixed much with the other Kafirs.

Presently, from the depths of the bush behind us, came a loud "/woof/,
/woof/!" "That's a lion," said I, and we all started up to listen.
Hardly had we done so, when from the pool, about a hundred yards off,
we heard the strident trumpeting of an elephant. "/Unkungunklovo/!
/Indlovu/!" "Elephant! Elephant!" whispered the Kafirs, and a few
minutes afterwards we saw a succession of vast shadowy forms moving
slowly from the direction of the water towards the bush.

Up jumped Good, burning for slaughter, and thinking, perhaps, that it
was as easy to kill elephant as he had found it to shoot giraffe, but
I caught him by the arm and pulled him down.

"It's no good," I whispered, "let them go."

"It seems that we are in a paradise of game. I vote we stop here a day
or two, and have a go at them," said Sir Henry, presently.

I was rather surprised, for hitherto Sir Henry had always been for
pushing forward as fast as possible, more especially since we
ascertained at Inyati that about two years ago an Englishman of the
name of Neville /had/ sold his wagon there, and gone on up country.
But I suppose his hunter instincts got the better of him for a while.

Good jumped at the idea, for he was longing to have a shot at those
elephants; and so, to speak the truth, did I, for it went against my
conscience to let such a herd as that escape without a pull at them.

"All right, my hearties," said I. "I think we want a little
recreation. And now let's turn in, for we ought to be off by dawn, and
then perhaps we may catch them feeding before they move on."

The others agreed, and we proceeded to make our preparations. Good
took off his clothes, shook them, put his eye-glass and his false
teeth into his trousers pocket, and folding each article neatly,
placed it out of the dew under a corner of his mackintosh sheet. Sir
Henry and I contented ourselves with rougher arrangements, and soon
were curled up in our blankets, and dropping off into the dreamless
sleep that rewards the traveller.

Going, going, go--What was that?

Suddenly, from the direction of the water came sounds of violent
scuffling, and next instant there broke upon our ears a succession of
the most awful roars. There was no mistaking their origin; only a lion
could make such a noise as that. We all jumped up and looked towards
the water, in the direction of which we saw a confused mass, yellow
and black in colour, staggering and struggling towards us. We seized
our rifles, and slipping on our veldtschoons, that is shoes made of
untanned hide, ran out of the scherm. By this time the mass had
fallen, and was rolling over and over on the ground, and when we
reached the spot it struggled no longer, but lay quite still.

Now we saw what it was. On the grass there lay a sable antelope bull--
the most beautiful of all the African antelopes--quite dead, and
transfixed by its great curved horns was a magnificent black-maned
lion, also dead. Evidently what had happened was this: The sable
antelope had come down to drink at the pool where the lion--no doubt
the same which we had heard--was lying in wait. While the antelope
drank, the lion had sprung upon him, only to be received upon the
sharp curved horns and transfixed. Once before I saw a similar thing
happen. Then the lion, unable to free himself, had torn and bitten at
the back and neck of the bull, which, maddened with fear and pain, had
rushed on until it dropped dead.

As soon as we had examined the beasts sufficiently we called the
Kafirs, and between us managed to drag their carcases up to the
scherm. After that we went in and lay down, to wake no more till dawn.

With the first light we were up and making ready for the fray. We took
with us the three eight-bore rifles, a good supply of ammunition, and
our large water-bottles, filled with weak cold tea, which I have
always found the best stuff to shoot on. After swallowing a little
breakfast we started, Umbopa, Khiva, and Ventvogel accompanying us.
The other Kafirs we left with instructions to skin the lion and the
sable antelope, and to cut up the latter.

We had no difficulty in finding the broad elephant trail, which
Ventvogel, after examination, pronounced to have been made by between
twenty and thirty elephants, most of them full-grown bulls. But the
herd had moved on some way during the night, and it was nine o'clock,
and already very hot, before, by the broken trees, bruised leaves and
bark, and smoking droppings, we knew that we could not be far from
them.

Presently we caught sight of the herd, which numbered, as Ventvogel
had said, between twenty and thirty, standing in a hollow, having
finished their morning meal, and flapping their great ears. It was a
splendid sight, for they were only about two hundred yards from us.
Taking a handful of dry grass, I threw it into the air to see how the
wind was; for if once they winded us I knew they would be off before
we could get a shot. Finding that, if anything, it blew from the
elephants to us, we crept on stealthily, and thanks to the cover
managed to get within forty yards or so of the great brutes. Just in
front of us, and broadside on, stood three splendid bulls, one of them
with enormous tusks. I whispered to the others that I would take the
middle one; Sir Henry covering the elephant to the left, and Good the
bull with the big tusks.

"Now," I whispered.

Boom! boom! boom! went the three heavy rifles, and down came Sir
Henry's elephant dead as a hammer, shot right through the heart. Mine
fell on to its knees and I thought that he was going to die, but in
another moment he was up and off, tearing along straight past me. As
he went I gave him the second barrel in the ribs, and this brought him
down in good earnest. Hastily slipping in two fresh cartridges I ran
close up to him, and a ball through the brain put an end to the poor
brute's struggles. Then I turned to see how Good had fared with the
big bull, which I had heard screaming with rage and pain as I gave
mine its quietus. On reaching the captain I found him in a great state
of excitement. It appeared that on receiving the bullet the bull had
turned and come straight for his assailant, who had barely time to get
out of his way, and then charged on blindly past him, in the direction
of our encampment. Meanwhile the herd had crashed off in wild alarm in
the other direction.

For awhile we debated whether to go after the wounded bull or to
follow the herd, and finally deciding for the latter alternative,
departed, thinking that we had seen the last of those big tusks. I
have often wished since that we had. It was easy work to follow the
elephants, for they had left a trail like a carriage road behind them,
crushing down the thick bush in their furious flight as though it were
tambouki grass.

But to come up with them was another matter, and we had struggled on
under the broiling sun for over two hours before we found them. With
the exception of one bull, they were standing together, and I could
see, from their unquiet way and the manner in which they kept lifting
their trunks to test the air, that they were on the look-out for
mischief. The solitary bull stood fifty yards or so to this side of
the herd, over which he was evidently keeping sentry, and about sixty
yards from us. Thinking that he would see or wind us, and that it
would probably start them off again if we tried to get nearer,
especially as the ground was rather open, we all aimed at this bull,
and at my whispered word, we fired. The three shots took effect, and
down he went dead. Again the herd started, but unfortunately for them
about a hundred yards further on was a nullah, or dried-out water
track, with steep banks, a place very much resembling the one where
the Prince Imperial was killed in Zululand. Into this the elephants
plunged, and when we reached the edge we found them struggling in wild
confusion to get up the other bank, filling the air with their
screams, and trumpeting as they pushed one another aside in their
selfish panic, just like so many human beings. Now was our
opportunity, and firing away as quickly as we could load, we killed
five of the poor beasts, and no doubt should have bagged the whole
herd, had they not suddenly given up their attempts to climb the bank
and rushed headlong down the nullah. We were too tired to follow them,
and perhaps also a little sick of slaughter, eight elephants being a
pretty good bag for one day.

So after we were rested a little, and the Kafirs had cut out the
hearts of two of the dead elephants for supper, we started homewards,
very well pleased with our day's work, having made up our minds to
send the bearers on the morrow to chop away the tusks.

Shortly after we re-passed the spot where Good had wounded the
patriarchal bull we came across a herd of eland, but did not shoot at
them, as we had plenty of meat. They trotted past us, and then stopped
behind a little patch of bush about a hundred yards away, wheeling
round to look at us. As Good was anxious to get a near view of them,
never having seen an eland close, he handed his rifle to Umbopa, and,
followed by Khiva, strolled up to the patch of bush. We sat down and
waited for him, not sorry of the excuse for a little rest.

The sun was just going down in its reddest glory, and Sir Henry and I
were admiring the lovely scene, when suddenly we heard an elephant
scream, and saw its huge and rushing form with uplifted trunk and tail
silhouetted against the great fiery globe of the sun. Next second we
saw something else, and that was Good and Khiva tearing back towards
us with the wounded bull--for it was he--charging after them. For a
moment we did not dare to fire--though at that distance it would have
been of little use if we had done so--for fear of hitting one of them,
and the next a dreadful thing happened--Good fell a victim to his
passion for civilised dress. Had he consented to discard his trousers
and gaiters like the rest of us, and to hunt in a flannel shirt and a
pair of veldt-schoons, it would have been all right. But as it was,
his trousers cumbered him in that desperate race, and presently, when
he was about sixty yards from us, his boot, polished by the dry grass,
slipped, and down he went on his face right in front of the elephant.

We gave a gasp, for we knew that he must die, and ran as hard as we
could towards him. In three seconds it had ended, but not as we
thought. Khiva, the Zulu boy, saw his master fall, and brave lad as he
was, turned and flung his assegai straight into the elephant's face.
It stuck in his trunk.

With a scream of pain, the brute seized the poor Zulu, hurled him to
the earth, and placing one huge foot on to his body about the middle,
twined its trunk round his upper part and /tore him in two/.

We rushed up mad with horror, and fired again and again, till
presently the elephant fell upon the fragments of the Zulu.

As for Good, he rose and wrung his hands over the brave man who had
given his life to save him, and, though I am an old hand, I felt a
lump grow in my throat. Umbopa stood contemplating the huge dead
elephant and the mangled remains of poor Khiva.

"Ah, well," he said presently, "he is dead, but he died like a man!"



CHAPTER V

OUR MARCH INTO THE DESERT

We had killed nine elephants, and it took us two days to cut out the
tusks, and having brought them into camp, to bury them carefully in
the sand under a large tree, which made a conspicuous mark for miles
round. It was a wonderfully fine lot of ivory. I never saw a better,
averaging as it did between forty and fifty pounds a tusk. The tusks
of the great bull that killed poor Khiva scaled one hundred and
seventy pounds the pair, so nearly as we could judge.

As for Khiva himself, we buried what remained of him in an ant-bear
hole, together with an assegai to protect himself with on his journey
to a better world. On the third day we marched again, hoping that we
might live to return to dig up our buried ivory, and in due course,
after a long and wearisome tramp, and many adventures which I have not
space to detail, we reached Sitanda's Kraal, near the Lukanga River,
the real starting-point of our expedition. Very well do I recollect
our arrival at that place. To the right was a scattered native
settlement with a few stone cattle kraals and some cultivated lands
down by the water, where these savages grew their scanty supply of
grain, and beyond it stretched great tracts of waving "veld" covered
with tall grass, over which herds of the smaller game were wandering.
To the left lay the vast desert. This spot appears to be the outpost
of the fertile country, and it would be difficult to say to what
natural causes such an abrupt change in the character of the soil is
due. But so it is.

Just below our encampment flowed a little stream, on the farther side
of which is a stony slope, the same down which, twenty years before, I
had seen poor Silvestre creeping back after his attempt to reach
Solomon's Mines, and beyond that slope begins the waterless desert,
covered with a species of karoo shrub.

It was evening when we pitched our camp, and the great ball of the sun
was sinking into the desert, sending glorious rays of many-coloured
light flying all over its vast expanse. Leaving Good to superintend
the arrangement of our little camp, I took Sir Henry with me, and
walking to the top of the slope opposite, we gazed across the desert.
The air was very clear, and far, far away I could distinguish the
faint blue outlines, here and there capped with white, of the Suliman
Berg.

"There," I said, "there is the wall round Solomon's Mines, but God
knows if we shall ever climb it."

"My brother should be there, and if he is, I shall reach him somehow,"
said Sir Henry, in that tone of quiet confidence which marked the man.

"I hope so," I answered, and turned to go back to the camp, when I saw
that we were not alone. Behind us, also gazing earnestly towards the
far-off mountains, stood the great Kafir Umbopa.

The Zulu spoke when he saw that I had observed him, addressing Sir
Henry, to whom he had attached himself.

"Is it to that land that thou wouldst journey, Incubu?" (a native word
meaning, I believe, an elephant, and the name given to Sir Henry by
the Kafirs), he said, pointing towards the mountain with his broad
assegai.

I asked him sharply what he meant by addressing his master in that
familiar way. It is very well for natives to have a name for one among
themselves, but it is not decent that they should call a white man by
their heathenish appellations to his face. The Zulu laughed a quiet
little laugh which angered me.

"How dost thou know that I am not the equal of the Inkosi whom I
serve?" he said. "He is of a royal house, no doubt; one can see it in
his size and by his mien; so, mayhap, am I. At least, I am as great a
man. Be my mouth, O Macumazahn, and say my words to the Inkoos Incubu,
my master, for I would speak to him and to thee."

I was angry with the man, for I am not accustomed to be talked to in
that way by Kafirs, but somehow he impressed me, and besides I was
curious to know what he had to say. So I translated, expressing my
opinion at the same time that he was an impudent fellow, and that his
swagger was outrageous.

"Yes, Umbopa," answered Sir Henry, "I would journey there."

"The desert is wide and there is no water in it, the mountains are
high and covered with snow, and man cannot say what lies beyond them
behind the place where the sun sets; how shalt thou come thither,
Incubu, and wherefore dost thou go?"

I translated again.

"Tell him," answered Sir Henry, "that I go because I believe that a
man of my blood, my brother, has gone there before me, and I journey
to seek him."

"That is so, Incubu; a Hottentot I met on the road told me that a
white man went out into the desert two years ago towards those
mountains with one servant, a hunter. They never came back."

"How do you know it was my brother?" asked Sir Henry.

"Nay, I know not. But the Hottentot, when I asked what the white man
was like, said that he had thine eyes and a black beard. He said, too,
that the name of the hunter with him was Jim; that he was a Bechuana
hunter and wore clothes."

"There is no doubt about it," said I; "I knew Jim well."

Sir Henry nodded. "I was sure of it," he said. "If George set his mind
upon a thing he generally did it. It was always so from his boyhood.
If he meant to cross the Suliman Berg he has crossed it, unless some
accident overtook him, and we must look for him on the other side."

Umbopa understood English, though he rarely spoke it.

"It is a far journey, Incubu," he put in, and I translated his remark.

"Yes," answered Sir Henry, "it is far. But there is no journey upon
this earth that a man may not make if he sets his heart to it. There
is nothing, Umbopa, that he cannot do, there are no mountains he may
not climb, there are no deserts he cannot cross, save a mountain and a
desert of which you are spared the knowledge, if love leads him and he
holds his life in his hands counting it as nothing, ready to keep it
or lose it as Heaven above may order."

I translated.

"Great words, my father," answered the Zulu--I always called him a
Zulu, though he was not really one--"great swelling words fit to fill
the mouth of a man. Thou art right, my father Incubu. Listen! what is
life? It is a feather, it is the seed of the grass, blown hither and
thither, sometimes multiplying itself and dying in the act, sometimes
carried away into the heavens. But if that seed be good and heavy it
may perchance travel a little way on the road it wills. It is well to
try and journey one's road and to fight with the air. Man must die. At
the worst he can but die a little sooner. I will go with thee across
the desert and over the mountains, unless perchance I fall to the
ground on the way, my father."

He paused awhile, and then went on with one of those strange bursts of
rhetorical eloquence that Zulus sometimes indulge in, which to my
mind, full though they are of vain repetitions, show that the race is
by no means devoid of poetic instinct and of intellectual power.

"What is life? Tell me, O white men, who are wise, who know the
secrets of the world, and of the world of stars, and the world that
lies above and around the stars; who flash your words from afar
without a voice; tell me, white men, the secret of our life--whither
it goes and whence it comes!

"You cannot answer me; you know not. Listen, I will answer. Out of the
dark we came, into the dark we go. Like a storm-driven bird at night
we fly out of the Nowhere; for a moment our wings are seen in the
light of the fire, and, lo! we are gone again into the Nowhere. Life
is nothing. Life is all. It is the Hand with which we hold off Death.
It is the glow-worm that shines in the night-time and is black in the
morning; it is the white breath of the oxen in winter; it is the
little shadow that runs across the grass and loses itself at sunset."

"You are a strange man," said Sir Henry, when he had ceased.

Umbopa laughed. "It seems to me that we are much alike, Incubu.
Perhaps /I/ seek a brother over the mountains."

I looked at him suspiciously. "What dost thou mean?" I asked; "what
dost thou know of those mountains?"

"A little; a very little. There is a strange land yonder, a land of
witchcraft and beautiful things; a land of brave people, and of trees,
and streams, and snowy peaks, and of a great white road. I have heard
of it. But what is the good of talking? It grows dark. Those who live
to see will see."

Again I looked at him doubtfully. The man knew too much.

"You need not fear me, Macumazahn," he said, interpreting my look. "I
dig no holes for you to fall in. I make no plots. If ever we cross
those mountains behind the sun I will tell what I know. But Death sits
upon them. Be wise and turn back. Go and hunt elephants, my masters. I
have spoken."

And without another word he lifted his spear in salutation, and
returned towards the camp, where shortly afterwards we found him
cleaning a gun like any other Kafir.

"That is an odd man," said Sir Henry.

"Yes," answered I, "too odd by half. I don't like his little ways. He
knows something, and will not speak out. But I suppose it is no use
quarrelling with him. We are in for a curious trip, and a mysterious
Zulu won't make much difference one way or another."

Next day we made our arrangements for starting. Of course it was
impossible to drag our heavy elephant rifles and other kit with us
across the desert, so, dismissing our bearers, we made an arrangement
with an old native who had a kraal close by to take care of them till
we returned. It went to my heart to leave such things as those sweet
tools to the tender mercies of an old thief of a savage whose greedy
eyes I could see gloating over them. But I took some precautions.

First of all I loaded all the rifles, placing them at full cock, and
informed him that if he touched them they would go off. He tried the
experiment instantly with my eight-bore, and it did go off, and blew a
hole right through one of his oxen, which were just then being driven
up to the kraal, to say nothing of knocking him head over heels with
the recoil. He got up considerably startled, and not at all pleased at
the loss of the ox, which he had the impudence to ask me to pay for,
and nothing would induce him to touch the guns again.

"Put the live devils out of the way up there in the thatch," he said,
"or they will murder us all."

Then I told him that, when we came back, if one of those things was
missing I would kill him and his people by witchcraft; and if we died
and he tried to steal the rifles I would come and haunt him and turn
his cattle mad and his milk sour till life was a weariness, and would
make the devils in the guns come out and talk to him in a way he did
not like, and generally gave him a good idea of judgment to come.
After that he promised to look after them as though they were his
father's spirit. He was a very superstitious old Kafir and a great
villain.

Having thus disposed of our superfluous gear we arranged the kit we
five--Sir Henry, Good, myself, Umbopa, and the Hottentot Ventvogel--
were to take with us on our journey. It was small enough, but do what
we would we could not get its weight down under about forty pounds a
man. This is what it consisted of:--

The three express rifles and two hundred rounds of ammunition.

The two Winchester repeating rifles (for Umbopa and Ventvogel), with
two hundred rounds of cartridge.

Five Cochrane's water-bottles, each holding four pints.

Five blankets.

Twenty-five pounds' weight of biltong--i.e. sun-dried game flesh.

Ten pounds' weight of best mixed beads for gifts.

A selection of medicine, including an ounce of quinine, and one or two
small surgical instruments.

Our knives, a few sundries, such as a compass, matches, a pocket
filter, tobacco, a trowel, a bottle of brandy, and the clothes we
stood in.

This was our total equipment, a small one indeed for such a venture,
but we dared not attempt to carry more. Indeed, that load was a heavy
one per man with which to travel across the burning desert, for in
such places every additional ounce tells. But we could not see our way
to reducing the weight. There was nothing taken but what was
absolutely necessary.

With great difficulty, and by the promise of a present of a good
hunting-knife each, I succeeded in persuading three wretched natives
from the village to come with us for the first stage, twenty miles,
and to carry a large gourd holding a gallon of water apiece. My object
was to enable us to refill our water-bottles after the first night's
march, for we determined to start in the cool of the evening. I gave
out to these natives that we were going to shoot ostriches, with which
the desert abounded. They jabbered and shrugged their shoulders,
saying that we were mad and should perish of thirst, which I must say
seemed probable; but being desirous of obtaining the knives, which
were almost unknown treasures up there, they consented to come, having
probably reflected that, after all, our subsequent extinction would be
no affair of theirs.

All next day we rested and slept, and at sunset ate a hearty meal of
fresh beef washed down with tea, the last, as Good remarked sadly, we
were likely to drink for many a long day. Then, having made our final
preparations, we lay down and waited for the moon to rise. At last,
about nine o'clock, up she came in all her glory, flooding the wild
country with light, and throwing a silver sheen on the expanse of
rolling desert before us, which looked as solemn and quiet and as
alien to man as the star-studded firmament above. We rose up, and in a
few minutes were ready, and yet we hesitated a little, as human nature
is prone to hesitate on the threshold of an irrevocable step. We three
white men stood by ourselves. Umbopa, assegai in hand and a rifle
across his shoulders, looked out fixedly across the desert a few paces
ahead of us; while the hired natives, with the gourds of water, and
Ventvogel, were gathered in a little knot behind.

"Gentlemen," said Sir Henry presently, in his deep voice, "we are
going on about as strange a journey as men can make in this world. It
is very doubtful if we can succeed in it. But we are three men who
will stand together for good or for evil to the last. Now before we
start let us for a moment pray to the Power who shapes the destinies
of men, and who ages since has marked out our paths, that it may
please Him to direct our steps in accordance with His will."

Taking off his hat, for the space of a minute or so, he covered his
face with his hands, and Good and I did likewise.

I do not say that I am a first-rate praying man, few hunters are, and
as for Sir Henry, I never heard him speak like that before, and only
once since, though deep down in his heart I believe that he is very
religious. Good too is pious, though apt to swear. Anyhow I do not
remember, excepting on one single occasion, ever putting up a better
prayer in my life than I did during that minute, and somehow I felt
the happier for it. Our future was so completely unknown, and I think
that the unknown and the awful always bring a man nearer to his Maker.

"And now," said Sir Henry, "/trek/!"

So we started.

We had nothing to guide ourselves by except the distant mountains and
old Jose da Silvestre's chart, which, considering that it was drawn by
a dying and half-distraught man on a fragment of linen three centuries
ago, was not a very satisfactory sort of thing with work with. Still,
our sole hope of success depended upon it, such as it was. If we
failed in finding that pool of bad water which the old Dom marked as
being situated in the middle of the desert, about sixty miles from our
starting-point, and as far from the mountains, in all probability we
must perish miserably of thirst. But to my mind the chances of our
finding it in that great sea of sand and karoo scrub seemed almost
infinitesimal. Even supposing that da Silvestra had marked the pool
correctly, what was there to prevent its having been dried up by the
sun generations ago, or trampled in by game, or filled with the
drifting sand?

On we tramped silently as shades through the night and in the heavy
sand. The karoo bushes caught our feet and retarded us, and the sand
worked into our veldtschoons and Good's shooting-boots, so that every
few miles we had to stop and empty them; but still the night kept
fairly cool, though the atmosphere was thick and heavy, giving a sort
of creamy feel to the air, and we made fair progress. It was very
silent and lonely there in the desert, oppressively so indeed. Good
felt this, and once began to whistle "The Girl I left behind me," but
the notes sounded lugubrious in that vast place, and he gave it up.

Shortly afterwards a little incident occurred which, though it
startled us at the time, gave rise to a laugh. Good was leading, as
the holder of the compass, which, being a sailor, of course he
understood thoroughly, and we were toiling along in single file behind
him, when suddenly we heard the sound of an exclamation, and he
vanished. Next second there arose all around us a most extraordinary
hubbub, snorts, groans, and wild sounds of rushing feet. In the faint
light, too, we could descry dim galloping forms half hidden by wreaths
of sand. The natives threw down their loads and prepared to bolt, but
remembering that there was nowhere to run to, they cast themselves
upon the ground and howled out that it was ghosts. As for Sir Henry
and myself, we stood amazed; nor was our amazement lessened when we
perceived the form of Good careering off in the direction of the
mountains, apparently mounted on the back of a horse and halloaing
wildly. In another second he threw up his arms, and we heard him come
to the earth with a thud.

Then I saw what had happened; we had stumbled upon a herd of sleeping
quagga, on to the back of one of which Good actually had fallen, and
the brute naturally enough got up and made off with him. Calling out
to the others that it was all right, I ran towards Good, much afraid
lest he should be hurt, but to my great relief I found him sitting in
the sand, his eye-glass still fixed firmly in his eye, rather shaken
and very much frightened, but not in any way injured.

After this we travelled on without any further misadventure till about
one o'clock, when we called a halt, and having drunk a little water,
not much, for water was precious, and rested for half an hour, we
started again.

On, on we went, till at last the east began to blush like the cheek of
a girl. Then there came faint rays of primrose light, that changed
presently to golden bars, through which the dawn glided out across the
desert. The stars grew pale and paler still, till at last they
vanished; the golden moon waxed wan, and her mountain ridges stood out
against her sickly face like the bones on the cheek of a dying man.
Then came spear upon spear of light flashing far away across the
boundless wilderness, piercing and firing the veils of mist, till the
desert was draped in a tremulous golden glow, and it was day.

Still we did not halt, though by this time we should have been glad
enough to do so, for we knew that when once the sun was fully up it
would be almost impossible for us to travel. At length, about an hour
later, we spied a little pile of boulders rising out of the plain, and
to this we dragged ourselves. As luck would have it, here we found an
overhanging slab of rock carpeted beneath with smooth sand, which
afforded a most grateful shelter from the heat. Underneath this we
crept, and each of us having drunk some water and eaten a bit of
biltong, we lay down and soon were sound asleep.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon before we woke, to find our
bearers preparing to return. They had seen enough of the desert
already, and no number of knives would have tempted them to come a
step farther. So we took a hearty drink, and having emptied our water-
bottles, filled them up again from the gourds that they had brought
with them, and then watched them depart on their twenty miles' tramp
home.

At half-past four we also started. It was lonely and desolate work,
for with the exception of a few ostriches there was not a single
living creature to be seen on all the vast expanse of sandy plain.
Evidently it was too dry for game, and with the exception of a deadly-
looking cobra or two we saw no reptiles. One insect, however, we found
abundant, and that was the common or house fly. There they came, "not
as single spies, but in battalions," as I think the Old Testament[*]
says somewhere. He is an extraordinary insect is the house fly. Go
where you will you find him, and so it must have been always. I have
seen him enclosed in amber, which is, I was told, quite half a million
years old, looking exactly like his descendant of to-day, and I have
little doubt but that when the last man lies dying on the earth he
will be buzzing round--if this event happens to occur in summer--
watching for an opportunity to settle on his nose.

[*] Readers must beware of accepting Mr. Quatermain's references as
    accurate, as, it has been found, some are prone to do. Although
    his reading evidently was limited, the impression produced by it
    upon his mind was mixed. Thus to him the Old Testament and
    Shakespeare were interchangeable authorities.--Editor.

At sunset we halted, waiting for the moon to rise. At last she came
up, beautiful and serene as ever, and, with one halt about two o'clock
in the morning, we trudged on wearily through the night, till at last
the welcome sun put a period to our labours. We drank a little and
flung ourselves down on the sand, thoroughly tired out, and soon were
all asleep. There was no need to set a watch, for we had nothing to
fear from anybody or anything in that vast untenanted plain. Our only
enemies were heat, thirst, and flies, but far rather would I have
faced any danger from man or beast than that awful trinity. This time
we were not so lucky as to find a sheltering rock to guard us from the
glare of the sun, with the result that about seven o'clock we woke up
experiencing the exact sensations one would attribute to a beefsteak
on a gridiron. We were literally being baked through and through. The
burning sun seemed to be sucking our very blood out of us. We sat up
and gasped.

"Phew," said I, grabbing at the halo of flies which buzzed cheerfully
round my head. The heat did not affect /them/.

"My word!" said Sir Henry.

"It is hot!" echoed Good.

It was hot, indeed, and there was not a bit of shelter to be found.
Look where we would there was no rock or tree, nothing but an unending
glare, rendered dazzling by the heated air that danced over the
surface of the desert as it dances over a red-hot stove.

"What is to be done?" asked Sir Henry; "we can't stand this for long."

We looked at each other blankly.

"I have it," said Good, "we must dig a hole, get in it, and cover
ourselves with the karoo bushes."

It did not seem a very promising suggestion, but at least it was
better than nothing, so we set to work, and, with the trowel we had
brought with us and the help of our hands, in about an hour we
succeeded in delving out a patch of ground some ten feet long by
twelve wide to the depth of two feet. Then we cut a quantity of low
scrub with our hunting-knives, and creeping into the hole, pulled it
over us all, with the exception of Ventvogel, on whom, being a
Hottentot, the heat had no particular effect. This gave us some slight
shelter from the burning rays of the sun, but the atmosphere in that
amateur grave can be better imagined than described. The Black Hole of
Calcutta must have been a fool to it; indeed, to this moment I do not
know how we lived through the day. There we lay panting, and every now
and again moistening our lips from our scanty supply of water. Had we
followed our inclinations we should have finished all we possessed in
the first two hours, but we were forced to exercise the most rigid
care, for if our water failed us we knew that very soon we must perish
miserably.

But everything has an end, if only you live long enough to see it, and
somehow that miserable day wore on towards evening. About three
o'clock in the afternoon we determined that we could bear it no
longer. It would be better to die walking that to be killed slowly by
heat and thirst in this dreadful hole. So taking each of us a little
drink from our fast diminishing supply of water, now warmed to about
the same temperature as a man's blood, we staggered forward.

We had then covered some fifty miles of wilderness. If the reader will
refer to the rough copy and translation of old da Silvestra's map, he
will see that the desert is marked as measuring forty leagues across,
and the "pan bad water" is set down as being about in the middle of
it. Now forty leagues is one hundred and twenty miles, consequently we
ought at the most to be within twelve or fifteen miles of the water if
any should really exist.

Through the afternoon we crept slowly and painfully along, scarcely
doing more than a mile and a half in an hour. At sunset we rested
again, waiting for the moon, and after drinking a little managed to
get some sleep.

Before we lay down, Umbopa pointed out to us a slight and indistinct
hillock on the flat surface of the plain about eight miles away. At
the distance it looked like an ant-hill, and as I was dropping off to
sleep I fell to wondering what it could be.

With the moon we marched again, feeling dreadfully exhausted, and
suffering tortures from thirst and prickly heat. Nobody who has not
felt it can know what we went through. We walked no longer, we
staggered, now and again falling from exhaustion, and being obliged to
call a halt every hour or so. We had scarcely energy left in us to
speak. Up to this Good had chatted and joked, for he is a merry
fellow; but now he had not a joke in him.

At last, about two o'clock, utterly worn out in body and mind, we came
to the foot of the queer hill, or sand koppie, which at first sight
resembled a gigantic ant-heap about a hundred feet high, and covering
at the base nearly two acres of ground.

Here we halted, and driven to it by our desperate thirst, sucked down
our last drops of water. We had but half a pint a head, and each of us
could have drunk a gallon.

Then we lay down. Just as I was dropping off to sleep I heard Umbopa
remark to himself in Zulu--

"If we cannot find water we shall all be dead before the moon rises
to-morrow."

I shuddered, hot as it was. The near prospect of such an awful death
is not pleasant, but even the thought of it could not keep me from
sleeping.



CHAPTER VI

WATER! WATER!

Two hours later, that is, about four o'clock, I woke up, for so soon
as the first heavy demand of bodily fatigue had been satisfied, the
torturing thirst from which I was suffering asserted itself. I could
sleep no more. I had been dreaming that I was bathing in a running
stream, with green banks and trees upon them, and I awoke to find
myself in this arid wilderness, and to remember, as Umbopa had said,
that if we did not find water this day we must perish miserably. No
human creature could live long without water in that heat. I sat up
and rubbed my grimy face with my dry and horny hands, as my lips and
eyelids were stuck together, and it was only after some friction and
with an effort that I was able to open them. It was not far from dawn,
but there was none of the bright feel of dawn in the air, which was
thick with a hot murkiness that I cannot describe. The others were
still sleeping.

Presently it began to grow light enough to read, so I drew out a
little pocket copy of the "Ingoldsby Legends" which I had brought with
me, and read "The Jackdaw of Rheims." When I got to where

 "A nice little boy held a golden ewer,
  Embossed, and filled with water as pure
  As any that flows between Rheims and Namur,"

literally I smacked my cracking lips, or rather tried to smack them.
The mere thought of that pure water made me mad. If the Cardinal had
been there with his bell, book, and candle, I would have whipped in
and drunk his water up; yes, even if he had filled it already with the
suds of soap "worthy of washing the hands of the Pope," and I knew
that the whole consecrated curse of the Catholic Church should fall
upon me for so doing. I almost think that I must have been a little
light-headed with thirst, weariness and the want of food; for I fell
to thinking how astonished the Cardinal and his nice little boy and
the jackdaw would have looked to see a burnt up, brown-eyed, grizzly-
haired little elephant hunter suddenly bound between them, put his
dirty face into the basin, and swallow every drop of the precious
water. The idea amused me so much that I laughed or rather cackled
aloud, which woke the others, and they began to rub /their/ dirty
faces and drag /their/ gummed-up lips and eyelids apart.

As soon as we were all well awake we began to discuss the situation,
which was serious enough. Not a drop of water was left. We turned the
bottles upside down, and licked their tops, but it was a failure; they
were dry as a bone. Good, who had charge of the flask of brandy, got
it out and looked at it longingly; but Sir Henry promptly took it away
from him, for to drink raw spirit would only have been to precipitate
the end.

"If we do not find water we shall die," he said.

"If we can trust to the old Dom's map there should be some about," I
said; but nobody seemed to derive much satisfaction from this remark.
It was so evident that no great faith could be put in the map. Now it
was gradually growing light, and as we sat staring blankly at each
other, I observed the Hottentot Ventvogel rise and begin to walk about
with his eyes on the ground. Presently he stopped short, and uttering
a guttural exclamation, pointed to the earth.

"What is it?" we exclaimed; and rising simultaneously we went to where
he was standing staring at the sand.

"Well," I said, "it is fresh Springbok spoor; what of it?"

"Springbucks do not go far from water," he answered in Dutch.

"No," I answered, "I forgot; and thank God for it."

This little discovery put new life into us; for it is wonderful, when
a man is in a desperate position, how he catches at the slightest
hope, and feels almost happy. On a dark night a single star is better
than nothing.

Meanwhile Ventvogel was lifting his snub nose, and sniffing the hot
air for all the world like an old Impala ram who scents danger.
Presently he spoke again.

"I /smell/ water," he said.

Then we felt quite jubilant, for we knew what a wonderful instinct
these wild-bred men possess.

Just at that moment the sun came up gloriously, and revealed so grand
a sight to our astonished eyes that for a moment or two we even forgot
our thirst.

There, not more than forty or fifty miles from us, glittering like
silver in the early rays of the morning sun, soared Sheba's Breasts;
and stretching away for hundreds of miles on either side of them ran
the great Suliman Berg. Now that, sitting here, I attempt to describe
the extraordinary grandeur and beauty of that sight, language seems to
fail me. I am impotent even before its memory. Straight before us,
rose two enormous mountains, the like of which are not, I believe, to
be seen in Africa, if indeed there are any other such in the world,
measuring each of them at least fifteen thousand feet in height,
standing not more than a dozen miles apart, linked together by a
precipitous cliff of rock, and towering in awful white solemnity
straight into the sky. These mountains placed thus, like the pillars
of a gigantic gateway, are shaped after the fashion of a woman's
breasts, and at times the mists and shadows beneath them take the form
of a recumbent woman, veiled mysteriously in sleep. Their bases swell
gently from the plain, looking at that distance perfectly round and
smooth; and upon the top of each is a vast hillock covered with snow,
exactly corresponding to the nipple on the female breast. The stretch
of cliff that connects them appears to be some thousands of feet in
height, and perfectly precipitous, and on each flank of them, so far
as the eye can reach, extent similar lines of cliff, broken only here
and there by flat table-topped mountains, something like the world-
famed one at Cape Town; a formation, by the way, that is very common
in Africa.

To describe the comprehensive grandeur of that view is beyond my
powers. There was something so inexpressibly solemn and overpowering
about those huge volcanoes--for doubtless they are extinct volcanoes--
that it quite awed us. For a while the morning lights played upon the
snow and the brown and swelling masses beneath, and then, as though to
veil the majestic sight from our curious eyes, strange vapours and
clouds gathered and increased around the mountains, till presently we
could only trace their pure and gigantic outlines, showing ghostlike
through the fleecy envelope. Indeed, as we afterwards discovered,
usually they were wrapped in this gauze-like mist, which doubtless
accounted for our not having seen them more clearly before.

Sheba's Breasts had scarcely vanished into cloud-clad privacy, before
our thirst--literally a burning question--reasserted itself.

It was all very well for Ventvogel to say that he smelt water, but we
could see no signs of it, look which way we would. So far as the eye
might reach there was nothing but arid sweltering sand and karoo
scrub. We walked round the hillock and gazed about anxiously on the
other side, but it was the same story, not a drop of water could be
found; there was no indication of a pan, a pool, or a spring.

"You are a fool," I said angrily to Ventvogel; "there is no water."

But still he lifted his ugly snub nose sniffed.

"I smell it, Baas," he answered; "it is somewhere in the air."

"Yes," I said, "no doubt it is in the clouds, and about two months
hence it will fall and wash our bones."

Sir Henry stroked his yellow beard thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is on the
top of the hill," he suggested.

"Rot," said Good; "whoever heard of water being found at the top of a
hill!"

"Let us go and look," I put in, and hopelessly enough we scrambled up
the sandy sides of the hillock, Umbopa leading. Presently he stopped
as though he was petrified.

"/Nanzia manzie/!" that is, "Here is water!" he cried with a loud
voice.

We rushed up to him, and there, sure enough, in a deep cut or
indentation on the very top of the sand koppie, was an undoubted pool
of water. How it came to be in such a strange place we did not stop to
inquire, nor did we hesitate at its black and unpleasant appearance.
It was water, or a good imitation of it, and that was enough for us.
We gave a bound and a rush, and in another second we were all down on
our stomachs sucking up the uninviting fluid as though it were nectar
fit for the gods. Heavens, how we did drink! Then when we had done
drinking we tore off our clothes and sat down in the pool, absorbing
the moisture through our parched skins. You, Harry, my boy, who have
only to turn on a couple of taps to summon "hot" and "cold" from an
unseen, vasty cistern, can have little idea of the luxury of that
muddy wallow in brackish tepid water.

After a while we rose from it, refreshed indeed, and fell to on our
"biltong," of which we had scarcely been able to touch a mouthful for
twenty-four hours, and ate our fill. Then we smoked a pipe, and lay
down by the side of that blessed pool, under the overhanging shadow of
its bank, and slept till noon.

All that day we rested there by the water, thanking our stars that we
had been lucky enough to find it, bad as it was, and not forgetting to
render a due share of gratitude to the shade of the long-departed da
Silvestra, who had set its position down so accurately on the tail of
his shirt. The wonderful thing to us was that the pan should have
lasted so long, and the only way in which I can account for this is on
the supposition that it is fed by some spring deep down in the sand.

Having filled both ourselves and our water-bottles as full as
possible, in far better spirits we started off again with the moon.
That night we covered nearly five-and-twenty miles; but, needless to
say, found no more water, though we were lucky enough the following
day to get a little shade behind some ant-heaps. When the sun rose,
and, for awhile, cleared away the mysterious mists, Suliman's Berg
with the two majestic Breasts, now only about twenty miles off, seemed
to be towering right above us, and looked grander than ever. At the
approach of evening we marched again, and, to cut a long story short,
by daylight next morning found ourselves upon the lowest slopes of
Sheba's left breast, for which we had been steadily steering. By this
time our water was exhausted once more, and we were suffering severely
from thirst, nor indeed could we see any chance of relieving it till
we reached the snow line far, far above us. After resting an hour or
two, driven to it by our torturing thirst, we went on, toiling
painfully in the burning heat up the lava slopes, for we found that
the huge base of the mountain was composed entirely of lava beds
belched from the bowels of the earth in some far past age.

By eleven o'clock we were utterly exhausted, and, generally speaking,
in a very bad state indeed. The lava clinker, over which we must drag
ourselves, though smooth compared with some clinker I have heard of,
such as that on the Island of Ascension, for instance, was yet rough
enough to make our feet very sore, and this, together with our other
miseries, had pretty well finished us. A few hundred yards above us
were some large lumps of lava, and towards these we steered with the
intention of lying down beneath their shade. We reached them, and to
our surprise, so far as we had a capacity for surprise left in us, on
a little plateau or ridge close by we saw that the clinker was covered
with a dense green growth. Evidently soil formed of decomposed lava
had rested there, and in due course had become the receptacle of seeds
deposited by birds. But we did not take much further interest in the
green growth, for one cannot live on grass like Nebuchadnezzar. That
requires a special dispensation of Providence and peculiar digestive
organs.

So we sat down under the rocks and groaned, and for one I wished
heartily that we had never started on this fool's errand. As we were
sitting there I saw Umbopa get up and hobble towards the patch of
green, and a few minutes afterwards, to my great astonishment, I
perceived that usually very dignified individual dancing and shouting
like a maniac, and waving something green. Off we all scrambled
towards him as fast as our wearied limbs would carry us, hoping that
he had found water.

"What is it, Umbopa, son of a fool?" I shouted in Zulu.

"It is food and water, Macumazahn," and again he waved the green
thing.

Then I saw what he had found. It was a melon. We had hit upon a patch
of wild melons, thousands of them, and dead ripe.

"Melons!" I yelled to Good, who was next me; and in another minute his
false teeth were fixed in one of them.

I think we ate about six each before we had done, and poor fruit as
they were, I doubt if I ever thought anything nicer.

But melons are not very nutritious, and when we had satisfied our
thirst with their pulpy substance, and put a stock to cool by the
simple process of cutting them in two and setting them end on in the
hot sun to grow cold by evaporation, we began to feel exceedingly
hungry. We had still some biltong left, but our stomachs turned from
biltong, and besides, we were obliged to be very sparing of it, for we
could not say when we should find more food. Just at this moment a
lucky thing chanced. Looking across the desert I saw a flock of about
ten large birds flying straight towards us.

"/Skit, Baas, skit!/" "Shoot, master, shoot!" whispered the Hottentot,
throwing himself on his face, an example which we all followed.

Then I saw that the birds were a flock of /pauw/ or bustards, and that
they would pass within fifty yards of my head. Taking one of the
repeating Winchesters, I waited till they were nearly over us, and
then jumped to my feet. On seeing me the /pauw/ bunched up together,
as I expected that they would, and I fired two shots straight into the
thick of them, and, as luck would have it, brought one down, a fine
fellow, that weighed about twenty pounds. In half an hour we had a
fire made of dry melon stalks, and he was toasting over it, and we
made such a feed as we had not tasted for a week. We ate that /pauw/;
nothing was left of him but his leg-bones and his beak, and we felt
not a little the better afterwards.

That night we went on again with the moon, carrying as many melons as
we could with us. As we ascended we found the air grew cooler and
cooler, which was a great relief to us, and at dawn, so far as we
could judge, we were not more than about a dozen miles from the snow
line. Here we discovered more melons, and so had no longer any anxiety
about water, for we knew that we should soon get plenty of snow. But
the ascent had now become very precipitous, and we made but slow
progress, not more than a mile an hour. Also that night we ate our
last morsel of biltong. As yet, with the exception of the /pauw/, we
had seen no living thing on the mountain, nor had we come across a
single spring or stream of water, which struck us as very odd,
considering the expanse of snow above us, which must, we thought, melt
sometimes. But as we afterwards discovered, owing to a cause which it
is quite beyond my power to explain, all the streams flowed down upon
the north side of the mountains.

Now we began to grow very anxious about food. We had escaped death by
thirst, but it seemed probable that it was only to die of hunger. The
events of the next three miserable days are best described by copying
the entries made at the time in my note-book.

"21st May.--Started 11 a.m., finding the atmosphere quite cold enough
to travel by day, and carrying some water-melons with us. Struggled on
all day, but found no more melons, having evidently passed out of
their district. Saw no game of any sort. Halted for the night at
sundown, having had no food for many hours. Suffered much during the
night from cold.

"22nd.--Started at sunrise again, feeling very faint and weak. Only
made about five miles all day; found some patches of snow, of which we
ate, but nothing else. Camped at night under the edge of a great
plateau. Cold bitter. Drank a little brandy each, and huddled
ourselves together, each wrapped up in his blanket, to keep ourselves
alive. Are now suffering frightfully from starvation and weariness.
Thought that Ventvogel would have died during the night.

"23rd.--Struggled forward once more as soon as the sun was well up,
and had thawed our limbs a little. We are now in a dreadful plight,
and I fear that unless we get food this will be our last day's
journey. But little brandy left. Good, Sir Henry, and Umbopa bear up
wonderfully, but Ventvogel is in a very bad way. Like most Hottentots,
he cannot stand cold. Pangs of hunger not so bad, but have a sort of
numb feeling about the stomach. Others say the same. We are now on a
level with the precipitous chain, or wall of lava, linking the two
Breasts, and the view is glorious. Behind us the glowing desert rolls
away to the horizon, and before us lie mile upon mile of smooth hard
snow almost level, but swelling gently upwards, out of the centre of
which the nipple of the mountain, that appears to be some miles in
circumference, rises about four thousand feet into the sky. Not a
living thing is to be seen. God help us; I fear that our time has
come."

And now I will drop the journal, partly because it is not very
interesting reading; also what follows requires telling rather more
fully.

All that day--the 23rd May--we struggled slowly up the incline of
snow, lying down from time to time to rest. A strange gaunt crew we
must have looked, while, laden as we were, we dragged our weary feet
over the dazzling plain, glaring round us with hungry eyes. Not that
there was much use in glaring, for we could see nothing to eat. We did
not accomplish more than seven miles that day. Just before sunset we
found ourselves exactly under the nipple of Sheba's left Breast, which
towered thousands of feet into the air, a vast smooth hillock of
frozen snow. Weak as we were, we could not but appreciate the
wonderful scene, made even more splendid by the flying rays of light
from the setting sun, which here and there stained the snow blood-red,
and crowned the great dome above us with a diadem of glory.

"I say," gasped Good, presently, "we ought to be somewhere near that
cave the old gentleman wrote about."

"Yes," said I, "if there is a cave."

"Come, Quatermain," groaned Sir Henry, "don't talk like that; I have
every faith in the Dom; remember the water! We shall find the place
soon."

"If we don't find it before dark we are dead men, that is all about
it," was my consolatory reply.

For the next ten minutes we trudged in silence, when suddenly Umbopa,
who was marching along beside me, wrapped in his blanket, and with a
leather belt strapped so tightly round his stomach, to "make his
hunger small," as he said, that his waist looked like a girl's, caught
me by the arm.

"Look!" he said, pointing towards the springing slope of the nipple.

I followed his glance, and some two hundred yards from us perceived
what appeared to be a hole in the snow.

"It is the cave," said Umbopa.

We made the best of our way to the spot, and found sure enough that
the hole was the mouth of a cavern, no doubt the same as that of which
da Silvestra wrote. We were not too soon, for just as we reached
shelter the sun went down with startling rapidity, leaving the world
nearly dark, for in these latitudes there is but little twilight. So
we crept into the cave, which did not appear to be very big, and
huddling ourselves together for warmth, swallowed what remained of our
brandy--barely a mouthful each--and tried to forget our miseries in
sleep. But the cold was too intense to allow us to do so, for I am
convinced that at this great altitude the thermometer cannot have
marked less than fourteen or fifteen degrees below freezing point.
What such a temperature meant to us, enervated as we were by hardship,
want of food, and the great heat of the desert, the reader may imagine
better than I can describe. Suffice it to say that it was something as
near death from exposure as I have ever felt. There we sat hour after
hour through the still and bitter night, feeling the frost wander
round and nip us now in the finger, now in the foot, now in the face.
In vain did we huddle up closer and closer; there was no warmth in our
miserable starved carcases. Sometimes one of us would drop into an
uneasy slumber for a few minutes, but we could not sleep much, and
perhaps this was fortunate, for if we had I doubt if we should have
ever woke again. Indeed, I believe that it was only by force of will
that we kept ourselves alive at all.

Not very long before dawn I heard the Hottentot Ventvogel, whose teeth
had been chattering all night like castanets, give a deep sigh. Then
his teeth stopped chattering. I did not think anything of it at the
time, concluding that he had gone to sleep. His back was resting
against mine, and it seemed to grow colder and colder, till at last it
felt like ice.

At length the air began to grow grey with light, then golden arrows
sped across the snow, and at last the glorious sun peeped above the
lava wall and looked in upon our half-frozen forms. Also it looked
upon Ventvogel, sitting there amongst us, /stone dead/. No wonder his
back felt cold, poor fellow. He had died when I heard him sigh, and
was now frozen almost stiff. Shocked beyond measure, we dragged
ourselves from the corpse--how strange is that horror we mortals have
of the companionship of a dead body--and left it sitting there, its
arms clasped about its knees.

By this time the sunlight was pouring its cold rays, for here they
were cold, straight into the mouth of the cave. Suddenly I heard an
exclamation of fear from someone, and turned my head.

And this is what I saw: Sitting at the end of the cavern--it was not
more than twenty feet long--was another form, of which the head rested
on its chest and the long arms hung down. I stared at it, and saw that
this too was a /dead man/, and, what was more, a white man.

The others saw also, and the sight proved too much for our shattered
nerves. One and all we scrambled out of the cave as fast as our half-
frozen limbs would carry us.



CHAPTER VII

SOLOMON'S ROAD

Outside the cavern we halted, feeling rather foolish.

"I am going back," said Sir Henry.

"Why?" asked Good.

"Because it has struck me that--what we saw--may be my brother."

This was a new idea, and we re-entered the place to put it to the
proof. After the bright light outside, our eyes, weak as they were
with staring at the snow, could not pierce the gloom of the cave for a
while. Presently, however, they grew accustomed to the semi-darkness,
and we advanced towards the dead man.

Sir Henry knelt down and peered into his face.

"Thank God," he said, with a sigh of relief, "it is /not/ my brother."

Then I drew near and looked. The body was that of a tall man in middle
life with aquiline features, grizzled hair, and a long black
moustache. The skin was perfectly yellow, and stretched tightly over
the bones. Its clothing, with the exception of what seemed to be the
remains of a woollen pair of hose, had been removed, leaving the
skeleton-like frame naked. Round the neck of the corpse, which was
frozen perfectly stiff, hung a yellow ivory crucifix.

"Who on earth can it be?" said I.

"Can't you guess?" asked Good.

I shook my head.

"Why, the old Dom, Jose da Silvestra, of course--who else?"

"Impossible," I gasped; "he died three hundred years ago."

"And what is there to prevent him from lasting for three thousand
years in this atmosphere, I should like to know?" asked Good. "If only
the temperature is sufficiently low, flesh and blood will keep fresh
as New Zealand mutton for ever, and Heaven knows it is cold enough
here. The sun never gets in here; no animal comes here to tear or
destroy. No doubt his slave, of whom he speaks on the writing, took
off his clothes and left him. He could not have buried him alone.
Look!" he went on, stooping down to pick up a queerly-shaped bone
scraped at the end into a sharp point, "here is the 'cleft bone' that
Silvestra used to draw the map with."

We gazed for a moment astonished, forgetting our own miseries in this
extraordinary and, as it seemed to us, semi-miraculous sight.

"Ay," said Sir Henry, "and this is where he got his ink from," and he
pointed to a small wound on the Dom's left arm. "Did ever man see such
a thing before?"

There was no longer any doubt about the matter, which for my own part
I confess perfectly appalled me. There he sat, the dead man, whose
directions, written some ten generations ago, had led us to this spot.
Here in my own hand was the rude pen with which he had written them,
and about his neck hung the crucifix that his dying lips had kissed.
Gazing at him, my imagination could reconstruct the last scene of the
drama, the traveller dying of cold and starvation, yet striving to
convey to the world the great secret which he had discovered:--the
awful loneliness of his death, of which the evidence sat before us. It
even seemed to me that I could trace in his strongly-marked features a
likeness to those of my poor friend Silvestre his descendant, who had
died twenty years before in my arms, but perhaps that was fancy. At
any rate, there he sat, a sad memento of the fate that so often
overtakes those who would penetrate into the unknown; and there
doubtless he will still sit, crowned with the dread majesty of death,
for centuries yet unborn, to startle the eyes of wanderers like
ourselves, if ever any such should come again to invade his
loneliness. The thing overpowered us, already almost perished as we
were with cold and hunger.

"Let us go," said Sir Henry in a low voice; "stay, we will give him a
companion," and lifting up the dead body of the Hottentot Ventvogel,
he placed it near to that of the old Dom. Then he stooped, and with a
jerk broke the rotten string of the crucifix which hung round da
Silvestra's neck, for his fingers were too cold to attempt to unfasten
it. I believe that he has it still. I took the bone pen, and it is
before me as I write--sometimes I use it to sign my name.

Then leaving these two, the proud white man of a past age, and the
poor Hottentot, to keep their eternal vigil in the midst of the
eternal snows, we crept out of the cave into the welcome sunshine and
resumed our path, wondering in our hearts how many hours it would be
before we were even as they are.

When we had walked about half a mile we came to the edge of the
plateau, for the nipple of the mountain does not rise out of its exact
centre, though from the desert side it had seemed to do so. What lay
below us we could not see, for the landscape was wreathed in billows
of morning fog. Presently, however, the higher layers of mist cleared
a little, and revealed, at the end of a long slope of snow, a patch of
green grass, some five hundred yards beneath us, through which a
stream was running. Nor was this all. By the stream, basking in the
bright sun, stood and lay a group of from ten to fifteen /large
antelopes/--at that distance we could not see of what species.

The sight filled us with an unreasoning joy. If only we could get it,
there was food in plenty. But the question was how to do so. The
beasts were fully six hundred yards off, a very long shot, and one not
to be depended on when our lives hung on the results.

Rapidly we discussed the advisability of trying to stalk the game, but
in the end dismissed it reluctantly. To begin with, the wind was not
favourable, and further, we must certainly be perceived, however
careful we were, against the blinding background of snow, which we
should be obliged to traverse.

"Well, we must have a try from where we are," said Sir Henry. "Which
shall it be, Quatermain, the repeating rifles or the expresses?"

Here again was a question. The Winchester repeaters--of which we had
two, Umbopa carrying poor Ventvogel's as well as his own--were sighted
up to a thousand yards, whereas the expresses were only sighted to
three hundred and fifty, beyond which distance shooting with them was
more or less guess-work. On the other hand, if they did hit, the
express bullets, being "expanding," were much more likely to bring the
game down. It was a knotty point, but I made up my mind that we must
risk it and use the expresses.

"Let each of us take the buck opposite to him. Aim well at the point
of the shoulder and high up," said I; "and Umbopa, do you give the
word, so that we may all fire together."

Then came a pause, each of us aiming his level best, as indeed a man
is likely to do when he knows that life itself depends upon the shot.

"Fire," said Umbopa in Zulu, and at almost the same instant the three
rifles rang out loudly; three clouds of smoke hung for a moment before
us, and a hundred echoes went flying over the silent snow. Presently
the smoke cleared, and revealed--oh, joy!--a great buck lying on its
back and kicking furiously in its death agony. We gave a yell of
triumph--we were saved--we should not starve. Weak as we were, we
rushed down the intervening slope of snow, and in ten minutes from the
time of shooting, that animal's heart and liver were lying before us.
But now a new difficulty arose, we had no fuel, and therefore could
make no fire to cook them. We gazed at each other in dismay.

"Starving men should not be fanciful," said Good; "we must eat raw
meat."

There was no other way out of the dilemma, and our gnawing hunger made
the proposition less distasteful than it would otherwise have been. So
we took the heart and liver and buried them for a few minutes in a
patch of snow to cool them. Then we washed them in the ice-cold water
of the stream, and lastly ate them greedily. It sounds horrible
enough, but honestly, I never tasted anything so good as that raw
meat. In a quarter of an hour we were changed men. Our life and vigour
came back to us, our feeble pulses grew strong again, and the blood
went coursing through our veins. But mindful of the results of over-
feeding on starved stomachs, we were careful not to eat too much,
stopping whilst we were still hungry.

"Thank Heaven!" said Sir Henry; "that brute has saved our lives. What
is it, Quatermain?"

I rose and went to look at the antelope, for I was not certain. It was
about the size of a donkey, with large curved horns. I had never seen
one like it before; the species was new to me. It was brown in colour,
with faint red stripes, and grew a thick coat. I afterwards discovered
that the natives of that wonderful country call these bucks "/inco/."
They are very rare, and only found at a great altitude where no other
game will live. This animal was fairly hit high up in the shoulder,
though whose bullet brought it down we could not, of course, discover.
I believe that Good, mindful of his marvellous shot at the giraffe,
secretly set it down to his own prowess, and we did not contradict
him.

We had been so busy satisfying our hunger that hitherto we had not
found time to look about us. But now, having set Umbopa to cut off as
much of the best meat as we were likely to be able to carry, we began
to inspect our surroundings. The mist had cleared away, for it was
eight o'clock, and the sun had sucked it up, so we were able to take
in all the country before us at a glance. I know not how to describe
the glorious panorama which unfolded itself to our gaze. I have never
seen anything like it before, nor shall, I suppose, again.

Behind and over us towered Sheba's snowy Breasts, and below, some five
thousand feet beneath where we stood, lay league on league of the most
lovely champaign country. Here were dense patches of lofty forest,
there a great river wound its silvery way. To the left stretched a
vast expanse of rich, undulating veld or grass land, whereon we could
just make out countless herds of game or cattle, at that distance we
could not tell which. This expanse appeared to be ringed in by a wall
of distant mountains. To the right the country was more or less
mountainous; that is, solitary hills stood up from its level, with
stretches of cultivated land between, amongst which we could see
groups of dome-shaped huts. The landscape lay before us as a map,
wherein rivers flashed like silver snakes, and Alp-like peaks crowned
with wildly twisted snow wreaths rose in grandeur, whilst over all was
the glad sunlight and the breath of Nature's happy life.

Two curious things struck us as we gazed. First, that the country
before us must lie at least three thousand feet higher than the desert
we had crossed, and secondly, that all the rivers flowed from south to
north. As we had painful reason to know, there was no water upon the
southern side of the vast range on which we stood, but on the northern
face were many streams, most of which appeared to unite with the great
river we could see winding away farther than our eyes could follow.

We sat down for a while and gazed in silence at this wonderful view.
Presently Sir Henry spoke.

"Isn't there something on the map about Solomon's Great Road?" he
said.

I nodded, for I was still gazing out over the far country.

"Well, look; there it is!" and he pointed a little to our right.

Good and I looked accordingly, and there, winding away towards the
plain, was what appeared to be a wide turnpike road. We had not seen
it at first because, on reaching the plain, it turned behind some
broken country. We did not say anything, at least, not much; we were
beginning to lose the sense of wonder. Somehow it did not seem
particularly unnatural that we should find a sort of Roman road in
this strange land. We accepted the fact, that was all.

"Well," said Good, "it must be quite near us if we cut off to the
right. Hadn't we better be making a start?"

This was sound advice, and so soon as we had washed our faces and
hands in the stream we acted on it. For a mile or more we made our way
over boulders and across patches of snow, till suddenly, on reaching
the top of the little rise, we found the road at our feet. It was a
splendid road cut out of the solid rock, at least fifty feet wide, and
apparently well kept; though the odd thing was that it seemed to begin
there. We walked down and stood on it, but one single hundred paces
behind us, in the direction of Sheba's Breasts, it vanished, the
entire surface of the mountain being strewn with boulders interspersed
with patches of snow.

"What do you make of this, Quatermain?" asked Sir Henry.

I shook my head, I could make nothing of the thing.

"I have it!" said Good; "the road no doubt ran right over the range
and across the desert on the other side, but the sand there has
covered it up, and above us it has been obliterated by some volcanic
eruption of molten lava."

This seemed a good suggestion; at any rate, we accepted it, and
proceeded down the mountain. It proved a very different business
travelling along down hill on that magnificent pathway with full
stomachs from what it was travelling uphill over the snow quite
starved and almost frozen. Indeed, had it not been for melancholy
recollections of poor Ventvogel's sad fate, and of that grim cave
where he kept company with the old Dom, we should have felt positively
cheerful, notwithstanding the sense of unknown dangers before us.
Every mile we walked the atmosphere grew softer and balmier, and the
country before us shone with a yet more luminous beauty. As for the
road itself, I never saw such an engineering work, though Sir Henry
said that the great road over the St. Gothard in Switzerland is very
similar. No difficulty had been too great for the Old World engineer
who laid it out. At one place we came to a ravine three hundred feet
broad and at least a hundred feet deep. This vast gulf was actually
filled in with huge blocks of dressed stone, having arches pierced
through them at the bottom for a waterway, over which the road went on
sublimely. At another place it was cut in zigzags out of the side of a
precipice five hundred feet deep, and in a third it tunnelled through
the base of an intervening ridge, a space of thirty yards or more.

Here we noticed that the sides of the tunnel were covered with quaint
sculptures, mostly of mailed figures driving in chariots. One, which
was exceedingly beautiful, represented a whole battle scene with a
convoy of captives being marched off in the distance.

"Well," said Sir Henry, after inspecting this ancient work of art, "it
is very well to call this Solomon's Road, but my humble opinion is
that the Egyptians had been here before Solomon's people ever set a
foot on it. If this isn't Egyptian or Phoenician handiwork, I must say
that it is very like it."

By midday we had advanced sufficiently down the mountain to search the
region where wood was to be met with. First we came to scattered
bushes which grew more and more frequent, till at last we found the
road winding through a vast grove of silver trees similar to those
which are to be seen on the slopes of Table Mountain at Cape Town. I
had never before met with them in all my wanderings, except at the
Cape, and their appearance here astonished me greatly.

"Ah!" said Good, surveying these shining-leaved trees with evident
enthusiasm, "here is lots of wood, let us stop and cook some dinner; I
have about digested that raw heart."

Nobody objected to this, so leaving the road we made our way to a
stream which was babbling away not far off, and soon had a goodly fire
of dry boughs blazing. Cutting off some substantial hunks from the
flesh of the /inco/ which we had brought with us, we proceeded to
toast them on the end of sharp sticks, as one sees the Kafirs do, and
ate them with relish. After filling ourselves, we lit our pipes and
gave ourselves up to enjoyment that, compared with the hardships we
had recently undergone, seemed almost heavenly.

The brook, of which the banks were clothed with dense masses of a
gigantic species of maidenhair fern interspersed with feathery tufts
of wild asparagus, sung merrily at our side, the soft air murmured
through the leaves of the silver trees, doves cooed around, and
bright-winged birds flashed like living gems from bough to bough. It
was a Paradise.

The magic of the place combined with an overwhelming sense of dangers
left behind, and of the promised land reached at last, seemed to charm
us into silence. Sir Henry and Umbopa sat conversing in a mixture of
broken English and Kitchen Zulu in a low voice, but earnestly enough,
and I lay, with my eyes half shut, upon that fragrant bed of fern and
watched them.

Presently I missed Good, and I looked to see what had become of him.
Soon I observed him sitting by the bank of the stream, in which he had
been bathing. He had nothing on but his flannel shirt, and his natural
habits of extreme neatness having reasserted themselves, he was
actively employed in making a most elaborate toilet. He had washed his
gutta-percha collar, had thoroughly shaken out his trousers, coat and
waistcoat, and was now folding them up neatly till he was ready to put
them on, shaking his head sadly as he scanned the numerous rents and
tears in them, which naturally had resulted from our frightful
journey. Then he took his boots, scrubbed them with a handful of fern,
and finally rubbed them over with a piece of fat, which he had
carefully saved from the /inco/ meat, till they looked, comparatively
speaking, respectable. Having inspected them judiciously through his
eye-glass, he put the boots on and began a fresh operation. From a
little bag that he carried he produced a pocket-comb in which was
fixed a tiny looking-glass, and in this he surveyed himself.
Apparently he was not satisfied, for he proceeded to do his hair with
great care. Then came a pause whilst he again contemplated the effect;
still it was not satisfactory. He felt his chin, on which the
accumulated scrub of a ten days' beard was flourishing.

"Surely," thought I, "he is not going to try to shave." But so it was.
Taking the piece of fat with which he had greased his boots, Good
washed it thoroughly in the stream. Then diving again into the bag he
brought out a little pocket razor with a guard to it, such as are
bought by people who are afraid of cutting themselves, or by those
about to undertake a sea voyage. Then he rubbed his face and chin
vigorously with the fat and began. Evidently it proved a painful
process, for he groaned very much over it, and I was convulsed with
inward laughter as I watched him struggling with that stubbly beard.
It seemed so very odd that a man should take the trouble to shave
himself with a piece of fat in such a place and in our circumstances.
At last he succeeded in getting the hair off the right side of his
face and chin, when suddenly I, who was watching, became conscious of
a flash of light that passed just by his head.

Good sprang up with a profane exclamation (if it had not been a safety
razor he would certainly have cut his throat), and so did I, without
the exclamation, and this was what I saw. Standing not more than
twenty paces from where I was, and ten from Good, were a group of men.
They were very tall and copper-coloured, and some of them wore great
plumes of black feathers and short cloaks of leopard skins; this was
all I noticed at the moment. In front of them stood a youth of about
seventeen, his hand still raised and his body bent forward in the
attitude of a Grecian statue of a spear-thrower. Evidently the flash
of light had been caused by a weapon which he had hurled.

As I looked an old soldier-like man stepped forward out of the group,
and catching the youth by the arm said something to him. Then they
advanced upon us.

Sir Henry, Good, and Umbopa by this time had seized their rifles and
lifted them threateningly. The party of natives still came on. It
struck me that they could not know what rifles were, or they would not
have treated them with such contempt.

"Put down your guns!" I halloed to the others, seeing that our only
chance of safety lay in conciliation. They obeyed, and walking to the
front I addressed the elderly man who had checked the youth.

"Greeting," I said in Zulu, not knowing what language to use. To my
surprise I was understood.

"Greeting," answered the old man, not, indeed, in the same tongue, but
in a dialect so closely allied to it that neither Umbopa nor myself
had any difficulty in understanding him. Indeed, as we afterwards
found out, the language spoken by this people is an old-fashioned form
of the Zulu tongue, bearing about the same relationship to it that the
English of Chaucer does to the English of the nineteenth century.

"Whence come you?" he went on, "who are you? and why are the faces of
three of you white, and the face of the fourth as the face of our
mother's sons?" and he pointed to Umbopa. I looked at Umbopa as he
said it, and it flashed across me that he was right. The face of
Umbopa was like the faces of the men before me, and so was his great
form like their forms. But I had not time to reflect on this
coincidence.

"We are strangers, and come in peace," I answered, speaking very
slowly, so that he might understand me, "and this man is our servant."

"You lie," he answered; "no strangers can cross the mountains where
all things perish. But what do your lies matter?--if ye are strangers
then ye must die, for no strangers may live in the land of the
Kukuanas. It is the king's law. Prepare then to die, O strangers!"

I was slightly staggered at this, more especially as I saw the hands
of some of the men steal down to their sides, where hung on each what
looked to me like a large and heavy knife.

"What does that beggar say?" asked Good.

"He says we are going to be killed," I answered grimly.

"Oh, Lord!" groaned Good; and, as was his way when perplexed, he put
his hand to his false teeth, dragging the top set down and allowing
them to fly back to his jaw with a snap. It was a most fortunate move,
for next second the dignified crowd of Kukuanas uttered a simultaneous
yell of horror, and bolted back some yards.

"What's up?" said I.

"It's his teeth," whispered Sir Henry excitedly. "He moved them. Take
them out, Good, take them out!"

He obeyed, slipping the set into the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

In another second curiosity had overcome fear, and the men advanced
slowly. Apparently they had now forgotten their amiable intention of
killing us.

"How is it, O strangers," asked the old man solemnly, "that this fat
man (pointing to Good, who was clad in nothing but boots and a flannel
shirt, and had only half finished his shaving), whose body is clothed,
and whose legs are bare, who grows hair on one side of his sickly face
and not on the other, and who wears one shining and transparent eye--
how is it, I ask, that he has teeth which move of themselves, coming
away from the jaws and returning of their own will?"

"Open your mouth," I said to Good, who promptly curled up his lips and
grinned at the old gentleman like an angry dog, revealing to his
astonished gaze two thin red lines of gum as utterly innocent of
ivories as a new-born elephant. The audience gasped.

"Where are his teeth?" they shouted; "with our eyes we saw them."

Turning his head slowly and with a gesture of ineffable contempt, Good
swept his hand across his mouth. Then he grinned again, and lo, there
were two rows of lovely teeth.

Now the young man who had flung the knife threw himself down on the
grass and gave vent to a prolonged howl of terror; and as for the old
gentleman, his knees knocked together with fear.

"I see that ye are spirits," he said falteringly; "did ever man born
of woman have hair on one side of his face and not on the other, or a
round and transparent eye, or teeth which moved and melted away and
grew again? Pardon us, O my lords."

Here was luck indeed, and, needless to say, I jumped at the chance.

"It is granted," I said with an imperial smile. "Nay, ye shall know
the truth. We come from another world, though we are men such as ye;
we come," I went on, "from the biggest star that shines at night."

"Oh! oh!" groaned the chorus of astonished aborigines.

"Yes," I went on, "we do, indeed"; and again I smiled benignly, as I
uttered that amazing lie. "We come to stay with you a little while,
and to bless you by our sojourn. Ye will see, O friends, that I have
prepared myself for this visit by the learning of your language."

"It is so, it is so," said the chorus.

"Only, my lord," put in the old gentleman, "thou hast learnt it very
badly."

I cast an indignant glance at him, and he quailed.

"Now friends," I continued, "ye might think that after so long a
journey we should find it in our hearts to avenge such a reception,
mayhap to strike cold in death the imperious hand that--that, in short
--threw a knife at the head of him whose teeth come and go."

"Spare him, my lords," said the old man in supplication; "he is the
king's son, and I am his uncle. If anything befalls him his blood will
be required at my hands."

"Yes, that is certainly so," put in the young man with great emphasis.

"Ye may perhaps doubt our power to avenge," I went on, heedless of
this by-play. "Stay, I will show you. Here, thou dog and slave
(addressing Umbopa in a savage tone), give me the magic tube that
speaks"; and I tipped a wink towards my express rifle.

Umbopa rose to the occasion, and with something as nearly resembling a
grin as I have ever seen on his dignified face he handed me the gun.

"It is here, O Lord of Lords," he said with a deep obeisance.

Now just before I had asked for the rifle I had perceived a little
/klipspringer/ antelope standing on a mass of rock about seventy yards
away, and determined to risk the shot.

"Ye see that buck," I said, pointing the animal out to the party
before me. "Tell me, is it possible for man born of woman to kill it
from here with a noise?"

"It is not possible, my lord," answered the old man.

"Yet shall I kill it," I said quietly.

The old man smiled. "That my lord cannot do," he answered.

I raised the rifle and covered the buck. It was a small animal, and
one which a man might well be excused for missing, but I knew that it
would not do to miss.

I drew a deep breath, and slowly pressed on the trigger. The buck
stood still as a stone.

"Bang! thud!" The antelope sprang into the air and fell on the rock
dead as a door nail.

A groan of simultaneous terror burst from the group before us.

"If you want meat," I remarked coolly, "go fetch that buck."

The old man made a sign, and one of his followers departed, and
presently returned bearing the /klipspringer/. I noticed with
satisfaction that I had hit it fairly behind the shoulder. They
gathered round the poor creature's body, gazing at the bullet-hole in
consternation.

"Ye see," I said, "I do not speak empty words."

There was no answer.

"If ye yet doubt our power," I went on, "let one of you go stand upon
that rock that I may make him as this buck."

None of them seemed at all inclined to take the hint, till at last the
king's son spoke.

"It is well said. Do thou, my uncle, go stand upon the rock. It is but
a buck that the magic has killed. Surely it cannot kill a man."

The old gentleman did not take the suggestion in good part. Indeed, he
seemed hurt.

"No! no!" he ejaculated hastily, "my old eyes have seen enough. These
are wizards, indeed. Let us bring them to the king. Yet if any should
wish a further proof, let /him/ stand upon the rock, that the magic
tube may speak with him."

There was a most general and hasty expression of dissent.

"Let not good magic be wasted on our poor bodies," said one; "we are
satisfied. All the witchcraft of our people cannot show the like of
this."

"It is so," remarked the old gentleman, in a tone of intense relief;
"without any doubt it is so. Listen, children of the Stars, children
of the shining Eye and the movable Teeth, who roar out in thunder, and
slay from afar. I am Infadoos, son of Kafa, once king of the Kukuana
people. This youth is Scragga."

"He nearly scragged me," murmured Good.

"Scragga, son of Twala, the great king--Twala, husband of a thousand
wives, chief and lord paramount of the Kukuanas, keeper of the great
Road, terror of his enemies, student of the Black Arts, leader of a
hundred thousand warriors, Twala the One-eyed, the Black, the
Terrible."

"So," said I superciliously, "lead us then to Twala. We do not talk
with low people and underlings."

"It is well, my lords, we will lead you; but the way is long. We are
hunting three days' journey from the place of the king. But let my
lords have patience, and we will lead them."

"So be it," I said carelessly; "all time is before us, for we do not
die. We are ready, lead on. But Infadoos, and thou Scragga, beware!
Play us no monkey tricks, set for us no foxes' snares, for before your
brains of mud have thought of them we shall know and avenge. The light
of the transparent eye of him with the bare legs and the half-haired
face shall destroy you, and go through your land; his vanishing teeth
shall affix themselves fast in you and eat you up, you and your wives
and children; the magic tubes shall argue with you loudly, and make
you as sieves. Beware!"

This magnificent address did not fail of its effect; indeed, it might
almost have been spared, so deeply were our friends already impressed
with our powers.

The old man made a deep obeisance, and murmured the words, "/Koom
Koom/," which I afterwards discovered was their royal salute,
corresponding to the /Bayete/ of the Zulus, and turning, addressed his
followers. These at once proceeded to lay hold of all our goods and
chattels, in order to bear them for us, excepting only the guns, which
they would on no account touch. They even seized Good's clothes, that,
as the reader may remember, were neatly folded up beside him.

He saw and made a dive for them, and a loud altercation ensued.

"Let not my lord of the transparent Eye and the melting Teeth touch
them," said the old man. "Surely his slave shall carry the things."

"But I want to put 'em on!" roared Good, in nervous English.

Umbopa translated.

"Nay, my lord," answered Infadoos, "would my lord cover up his
beautiful white legs (although he is so dark Good has a singularly
white skin) from the eyes of his servants? Have we offended my lord
that he should do such a thing?"

Here I nearly exploded with laughing; and meanwhile one of the men
started on with the garments.

"Damn it!" roared Good, "that black villain has got my trousers."

"Look here, Good," said Sir Henry; "you have appeared in this country
in a certain character, and you must live up to it. It will never do
for you to put on trousers again. Henceforth you must exist in a
flannel shirt, a pair of boots, and an eye-glass."

"Yes," I said, "and with whiskers on one side of your face and not on
the other. If you change any of these things the people will think
that we are impostors. I am very sorry for you, but, seriously, you
must. If once they begin to suspect us our lives will not be worth a
brass farthing."

"Do you really think so?" said Good gloomily.

"I do, indeed. Your 'beautiful white legs' and your eye-glass are now
/the/ features of our party, and as Sir Henry says, you must live up
to them. Be thankful that you have got your boots on, and that the air
is warm."

Good sighed, and said no more, but it took him a fortnight to become
accustomed to his new and scant attire.



CHAPTER VIII

WE ENTER KUKUANALAND

All that afternoon we travelled along the magnificent roadway, which
trended steadily in a north-westerly direction. Infadoos and Scragga
walked with us, but their followers marched about one hundred paces
ahead.

"Infadoos," I said at length, "who made this road?"

"It was made, my lord, of old time, none know how or when, not even
the wise woman Gagool, who has lived for generations. We are not old
enough to remember its making. None can fashion such roads now, but
the king suffers no grass to grow upon it."

"And whose are the writings on the wall of the caves through which we
have passed on the road?" I asked, referring to the Egyptian-like
sculptures that we had seen.

"My lord, the hands that made the road wrote the wonderful writings.
We know not who wrote them."

"When did the Kukuana people come into this country?"

"My lord, the race came down here like the breath of a storm ten
thousand thousand moons ago, from the great lands which lie there
beyond," and he pointed to the north. "They could travel no further
because of the high mountains which ring in the land, so say the old
voices of our fathers that have descended to us the children, and so
says Gagool, the wise woman, the smeller out of witches," and again he
pointed to the snow-clad peaks. "The country, too, was good, so they
settled here and grew strong and powerful, and now our numbers are
like the sea sand, and when Twala the king calls up his regiments
their plumes cover the plain so far as the eye of man can reach."

"And if the land is walled in with mountains, who is there for the
regiments to fight with?"

"Nay, my lord, the country is open there towards the north, and now
and again warriors sweep down upon us in clouds from a land we know
not, and we slay them. It is the third part of the life of a man since
there was a war. Many thousands died in it, but we destroyed those who
came to eat us up. So since then there has been no war."

"Your warriors must grow weary of resting on their spears, Infadoos."

"My lord, there was one war, just after we destroyed the people that
came down upon us, but it was a civil war; dog ate dog."

"How was that?"

"My lord the king, my half-brother, had a brother born at the same
birth, and of the same woman. It is not our custom, my lord, to suffer
twins to live; the weaker must always die. But the mother of the king
hid away the feebler child, which was born the last, for her heart
yearned over it, and that child is Twala the king. I am his younger
brother, born of another wife."

"Well?"

"My lord, Kafa, our father, died when we came to manhood, and my
brother Imotu was made king in his place, and for a space reigned and
had a son by his favourite wife. When the babe was three years old,
just after the great war, during which no man could sow or reap, a
famine came upon the land, and the people murmured because of the
famine, and looked round like a starved lion for something to rend.
Then it was that Gagool, the wise and terrible woman, who does not
die, made a proclamation to the people, saying, 'The king Imotu is no
king.' And at the time Imotu was sick with a wound, and lay in his
kraal not able to move.

"Then Gagool went into a hut and led out Twala, my half-brother, and
twin brother to the king, whom she had hidden among the caves and
rocks since he was born, and stripping the '/moocha/' (waist-cloth)
off his loins, showed the people of the Kukuanas the mark of the
sacred snake coiled round his middle, wherewith the eldest son of the
king is marked at birth, and cried out loud, 'Behold your king whom I
have saved for you even to this day!'

"Now the people being mad with hunger, and altogether bereft of reason
and the knowledge of truth, cried out--'/The king! The king!/' but I
knew that it was not so, for Imotu my brother was the elder of the
twins, and our lawful king. Then just as the tumult was at its height
Imotu the king, though he was very sick, crawled from his hut holding
his wife by the hand, and followed by his little son Ignosi--that is,
by interpretation, the Lightning.

"'What is this noise?' he asked. 'Why cry ye /The king! The king!/'

"Then Twala, his twin brother, born of the same woman, and in the same
hour, ran to him, and taking him by the hair, stabbed him through the
heart with his knife. And the people being fickle, and ever ready to
worship the rising sun, clapped their hands and cried, '/Twala is
king!/ Now we know that Twala is king!'"

"And what became of Imotu's wife and her son Ignosi? Did Twala kill
them too?"

"Nay, my lord. When she saw that her lord was dead the queen seized
the child with a cry and ran away. Two days afterward she came to a
kraal very hungry, and none would give her milk or food, now that her
lord the king was dead, for all men hate the unfortunate. But at
nightfall a little child, a girl, crept out and brought her corn to
eat, and she blessed the child, and went on towards the mountains with
her boy before the sun rose again, and there she must have perished,
for none have seen her since, nor the child Ignosi."

"Then if this child Ignosi had lived he would be the true king of the
Kukuana people?"

"That is so, my lord; the sacred snake is round his middle. If he
lives he is king; but, alas! he is long dead."

"See, my lord," and Infadoos pointed to a vast collection of huts
surrounded by a fence, which was in its turn encircled by a great
ditch, that lay on the plain beneath us. "That is the kraal where the
wife of Imotu was last seen with the child Ignosi. It is there that we
shall sleep to-night, if, indeed," he added doubtfully, "my lords
sleep at all upon this earth."

"When we are among the Kukuanas, my good friend Infadoos, we do as the
Kukuanas do," I said majestically, and turned round quickly to address
Good, who was tramping along sullenly behind, his mind fully occupied
with unsatisfactory attempts to prevent his flannel shirt from
flapping in the evening breeze. To my astonishment I butted into
Umbopa, who was walking along immediately behind me, and very
evidently had been listening with the greatest interest to my
conversation with Infadoos. The expression on his face was most
curious, and gave me the idea of a man who was struggling with partial
success to bring something long ago forgotten back into his mind.

All this while we had been pressing on at a good rate towards the
undulating plain beneath us. The mountains we had crossed now loomed
high above our heads, and Sheba's Breasts were veiled modestly in
diaphanous wreaths of mist. As we went the country grew more and more
lovely. The vegetation was luxuriant, without being tropical; the sun
was bright and warm, but not burning; and a gracious breeze blew
softly along the odorous slopes of the mountains. Indeed, this new
land was little less than an earthly paradise; in beauty, in natural
wealth, and in climate I have never seen its like. The Transvaal is a
fine country, but it is nothing to Kukuanaland.

So soon as we started Infadoos had despatched a runner to warn the
people of the kraal, which, by the way, was in his military command,
of our arrival. This man had departed at an extraordinary speed, which
Infadoos informed me he would keep up all the way, as running was an
exercise much practised among his people.

The result of this message now became apparent. When we arrived within
two miles of the kraal we could see that company after company of men
were issuing from its gates and marching towards us.

Sir Henry laid his hand upon my arm, and remarked that it looked as
though we were going to meet with a warm reception. Something in his
tone attracted Infadoos' attention.

"Let not my lords be afraid," he said hastily, "for in my breast there
dwells no guile. This regiment is one under my command, and comes out
by my orders to greet you."

I nodded easily, though I was not quite easy in my mind.

About half a mile from the gates of this kraal is a long stretch of
rising ground sloping gently upwards from the road, and here the
companies formed. It was a splendid sight to see them, each company
about three hundred strong, charging swiftly up the rise, with
flashing spears and waving plumes, to take their appointed place. By
the time we reached the slope twelve such companies, or in all three
thousand six hundred men, had passed out and taken up their positions
along the road.

Presently we came to the first company, and were able to gaze in
astonishment on the most magnificent set of warriors that I have ever
seen. They were all men of mature age, mostly veterans of about forty,
and not one of them was under six feet in height, whilst many stood
six feet three or four. They wore upon their heads heavy black plumes
of Sakaboola feathers, like those which adorned our guides. About
their waists and beneath the right knees were bound circlets of white
ox tails, while in their left hands they carried round shields
measuring about twenty inches across. These shields are very curious.
The framework is made of an iron plate beaten out thin, over which is
stretched milk-white ox-hide.

The weapons that each man bore were simple, but most effective,
consisting of a short and very heavy two-edged spear with a wooden
shaft, the blade being about six inches across at the widest part.
These spears are not used for throwing but like the Zulu "/bangwan/,"
or stabbing assegai, are for close quarters only, when the wound
inflicted by them is terrible. In addition to his /bangwan/ every man
carried three large and heavy knives, each knife weighing about two
pounds. One knife was fixed in the ox-tail girdle, and the other two
at the back of the round shield. These knives, which are called
"/tollas/" by the Kukuanas, take the place of the throwing assegai of
the Zulus. The Kukuana warriors can cast them with great accuracy to a
distance of fifty yards, and it is their custom on charging to hurl a
volley of them at the enemy as they come to close quarters.

Each company remained still as a collection of bronze statues till we
were opposite to it, when at a signal given by its commanding officer,
who, distinguished by a leopard skin cloak, stood some paces in front,
every spear was raised into the air, and from three hundred throats
sprang forth with a sudden roar the royal salute of "/Koom/." Then, so
soon as we had passed, the company formed up behind us and followed us
towards the kraal, till at last the whole regiment of the "Greys"--so
called from their white shields--the crack corps of the Kukuana
people, was marching in our rear with a tread that shook the ground.

At length, branching off from Solomon's Great Road, we came to the
wide fosse surrounding the kraal, which is at least a mile round, and
fenced with a strong palisade of piles formed of the trunks of trees.
At the gateway this fosse is spanned by a primitive drawbridge, which
was let down by the guard to allow us to pass in. The kraal is
exceedingly well laid out. Through the centre runs a wide pathway
intersected at right angles by other pathways so arranged as to cut
the huts into square blocks, each block being the quarters of a
company. The huts are dome-shaped, and built, like those of the Zulus,
of a framework of wattle, beautifully thatched with grass; but, unlike
the Zulu huts, they have doorways through which men could walk. Also
they are much larger, and surrounded by a verandah about six feet
wide, beautifully paved with powdered lime trodden hard.

All along each side of this wide pathway that pierces the kraal were
ranged hundreds of women, brought out by curiosity to look at us.
These women, for a native race, are exceedingly handsome. They are
tall and graceful, and their figures are wonderfully fine. The hair,
though short, is rather curly than woolly, the features are frequently
aquiline, and the lips are not unpleasantly thick, as is the case
among most African races. But what struck us most was their
exceedingly quiet and dignified air. They were as well-bred in their
way as the /habituees/ of a fashionable drawing-room, and in this
respect they differ from Zulu women and their cousins the Masai who
inhabit the district beyond Zanzibar. Their curiosity had brought them
out to see us, but they allowed no rude expressions of astonishment or
savage criticism to pass their lips as we trudged wearily in front of
them. Not even when old Infadoos with a surreptitious motion of the
hand pointed out the crowning wonder of poor Good's "beautiful white
legs," did they suffer the feeling of intense admiration which
evidently mastered their minds to find expression. They fixed their
dark eyes upon this new and snowy loveliness, for, as I think I have
said, Good's skin is exceedingly white, and that was all. But it was
quite enough for Good, who is modest by nature.

When we reached the centre of the kraal, Infadoos halted at the door
of a large hut, which was surrounded at a distance by a circle of
smaller ones.

"Enter, Sons of the Stars," he said, in a magniloquent voice, "and
deign to rest awhile in our humble habitations. A little food shall be
brought to you, so that ye may have no need to draw your belts tight
from hunger; some honey and some milk, and an ox or two, and a few
sheep; not much, my lords, but still a little food."

"It is good," said I. "Infadoos; we are weary with travelling through
realms of air; now let us rest."

Accordingly we entered the hut, which we found amply prepared for our
comfort. Couches of tanned skins were spread for us to lie on, and
water was placed for us to wash in.

Presently we heard a shouting outside, and stepping to the door, saw a
line of damsels bearing milk and roasted mealies, and honey in a pot.
Behind these were some youths driving a fat young ox. We received the
gifts, and then one of the young men drew the knife from his girdle
and dexterously cut the ox's throat. In ten minutes it was dead,
skinned, and jointed. The best of the meat was then cut off for us,
and the rest, in the name of our party, I presented to the warriors
round us, who took it and distributed the "white lords' gift."

Umbopa set to work, with the assistance of an extremely prepossessing
young woman, to boil our portion in a large earthenware pot over a
fire which was built outside the hut, and when it was nearly ready we
sent a message to Infadoos, and asked him and Scragga, the king's son,
to join us.

Presently they came, and sitting down upon little stools, of which
there were several about the hut, for the Kukuanas do not in general
squat upon their haunches like the Zulus, they helped us to get
through our dinner. The old gentleman was most affable and polite, but
it struck me that the young one regarded us with doubt. Together with
the rest of the party, he had been overawed by our white appearance
and by our magic properties; but it seemed to me that, on discovering
that we ate, drank, and slept like other mortals, his awe was
beginning to wear off, and to be replaced by a sullen suspicion--which
made me feel rather uncomfortable.

In the course of our meal Sir Henry suggested to me that it might be
well to try to discover if our hosts knew anything of his brother's
fate, or if they had ever seen or heard of him; but, on the whole, I
thought that it would be wiser to say nothing of the matter at this
time. It was difficult to explain a relative lost from "the Stars."

After supper we produced our pipes and lit them; a proceeding which
filled Infadoos and Scragga with astonishment. The Kukuanas were
evidently unacquainted with the divine delights of tobacco-smoke. The
herb is grown among them extensively; but, like the Zulus, they use it
for snuff only, and quite failed to identify it in its new form.

Presently I asked Infadoos when we were to proceed on our journey, and
was delighted to learn that preparations had been made for us to leave
on the following morning, messengers having already departed to inform
Twala the king of our coming.

It appeared that Twala was at his principal place, known as Loo,
making ready for the great annual feast which was to be held in the
first week of June. At this gathering all the regiments, with the
exception of certain detachments left behind for garrison purposes,
are brought up and paraded before the king; and the great annual
witch-hunt, of which more by-and-by, is held.

We were to start at dawn; and Infadoos, who was to accompany us,
expected that we should reach Loo on the night of the second day,
unless we were detained by accident or by swollen rivers.

When they had given us this information our visitors bade us good-
night; and, having arranged to watch turn and turn about, three of us
flung ourselves down and slept the sweet sleep of the weary, whilst
the fourth sat up on the look-out for possible treachery.



CHAPTER IX

TWALA THE KING

It will not be necessary for me to detail at length the incidents of
our journey to Loo. It took two full days' travelling along Solomon's
Great Road, which pursued its even course right into the heart of
Kukuanaland. Suffice it to say that as we went the country seemed to
grow richer and richer, and the kraals, with their wide surrounding
belts of cultivation, more and more numerous. They were all built upon
the same principles as the first camp which we had reached, and were
guarded by ample garrisons of troops. Indeed, in Kukuanaland, as among
the Germans, the Zulus, and the Masai, every able-bodied man is a
soldier, so that the whole force of the nation is available for its
wars, offensive or defensive. As we travelled we were overtaken by
thousands of warriors hurrying up to Loo to be present at the great
annual review and festival, and more splendid troops I never saw.

At sunset on the second day, we stopped to rest awhile upon the summit
of some heights over which the road ran, and there on a beautiful and
fertile plain before us lay Loo itself. For a native town it is an
enormous place, quite five miles round, I should say, with outlying
kraals projecting from it, that serve on grand occasions as
cantonments for the regiments, and a curious horseshoe-shaped hill,
with which we were destined to become better acquainted, about two
miles to the north. It is beautifully situated, and through the centre
of the kraal, dividing it into two portions, runs a river, which
appeared to be bridged in several places, the same indeed that we had
seen from the slopes of Sheba's Breasts. Sixty or seventy miles away
three great snow-capped mountains, placed at the points of a triangle,
started out of the level plain. The conformation of these mountains is
unlike that of Sheba's Breasts, being sheer and precipitous, instead
of smooth and rounded.

Infadoos saw us looking at them, and volunteered a remark.

"The road ends there," he said, pointing to the mountains known among
the Kukuanas as the "Three Witches."

"Why does it end?" I asked.

"Who knows?" he answered with a shrug; "the mountains are full of
caves, and there is a great pit between them. It is there that the
wise men of old time used to go to get whatever it was they came for
to this country, and it is there now that our kings are buried in the
Place of Death."

"What was it they came for?" I asked eagerly.

"Nay, I know not. My lords who have dropped from the Stars should
know," he answered with a quick look. Evidently he knew more than he
chose to say.

"Yes," I went on, "you are right, in the Stars we learn many things. I
have heard, for instance, that the wise men of old came to these
mountains to find bright stones, pretty playthings, and yellow iron."

"My lord is wise," he answered coldly; "I am but a child and cannot
talk with my lord on such matters. My lord must speak with Gagool the
old, at the king's place, who is wise even as my lord," and he went
away.

So soon as he was gone I turned to the others, and pointed out the
mountains. "There are Solomon's diamond mines," I said.

Umbopa was standing with them, apparently plunged in one of the fits
of abstraction which were common to him, and caught my words.

"Yes, Macumazahn," he put in, in Zulu, "the diamonds are surely there,
and you shall have them, since you white men are so fond of toys and
money."

"How dost thou know that, Umbopa?" I asked sharply, for I did not like
his mysterious ways.

He laughed. "I dreamed it in the night, white men;" then he too turned
on his heel and went.

"Now what," said Sir Henry, "is our black friend driving at? He knows
more than he chooses to say, that is clear. By the way, Quatermain,
has he heard anything of--of my brother?"

"Nothing; he has asked everyone he has become friendly with, but they
all declare that no white man has ever been seen in the country
before."

"Do you suppose that he got here at all?" suggested Good; "we have
only reached the place by a miracle; is it likely he could have
reached it without the map?"

"I don't know," said Sir Henry gloomily, "but somehow I think that I
shall find him."

Slowly the sun sank, then suddenly darkness rushed down on the land
like a tangible thing. There was no breathing-space between the day
and night, no soft transformation scene, for in these latitudes
twilight does not exist. The change from day to night is as quick and
as absolute as the change from life to death. The sun sank and the
world was wreathed in shadows. But not for long, for see in the west
there is a glow, then come rays of silver light, and at last the full
and glorious moon lights up the plain and shoots its gleaming arrows
far and wide, filling the earth with a faint refulgence.

We stood and watched the lovely sight, whilst the stars grew pale
before this chastened majesty, and felt our hearts lifted up in the
presence of a beauty that I cannot describe. Mine has been a rough
life, but there are a few things I am thankful to have lived for, and
one of them is to have seen that moon shine over Kukuanaland.

Presently our meditations were broken in upon by our polite friend
Infadoos.

"If my lords are rested we will journey on to Loo, where a hut is made
ready for my lords to-night. The moon is now bright, so that we shall
not fall by the way."

We assented, and in an hour's time were at the outskirts of the town,
of which the extent, mapped out as it was by thousands of camp fires,
appeared absolutely endless. Indeed, Good, who is always fond of a bad
joke, christened it "Unlimited Loo." Soon we came to a moat with a
drawbridge, where we were met by the rattling of arms and the hoarse
challenge of a sentry. Infadoos gave some password that I could not
catch, which was met with a salute, and we passed on through the
central street of the great grass city. After nearly half an hour's
tramp, past endless lines of huts, Infadoos halted at last by the gate
of a little group of huts which surrounded a small courtyard of
powdered limestone, and informed us that these were to be our "poor"
quarters.

We entered, and found that a hut had been assigned to each of us.
These huts were superior to any that we had yet seen, and in each was
a most comfortable bed made of tanned skins, spread upon mattresses of
aromatic grass. Food too was ready for us, and so soon as we had
washed ourselves with water, which stood ready in earthenware jars,
some young women of handsome appearance brought us roasted meats, and
mealie cobs daintily served on wooden platters, and presented them to
us with deep obeisances.

We ate and drank, and then, the beds having been all moved into one
hut by our request, a precaution at which the amiable young ladies
smiled, we flung ourselves down to sleep, thoroughly wearied with our
long journey.

When we woke it was to find the sun high in the heavens, and the
female attendants, who did not seem to be troubled by any false shame,
already standing inside the hut, having been ordered to attend and
help us to "make ready."

"Make ready, indeed," growled Good; "when one has only a flannel shirt
and a pair of boots, that does not take long. I wish you would ask
them for my trousers, Quatermain."

I asked accordingly, but was informed that these sacred relics had
already been taken to the king, who would see us in the forenoon.

Somewhat to their astonishment and disappointment, having requested
the young ladies to step outside, we proceeded to make the best toilet
of which the circumstances admitted. Good even went the length of
again shaving the right side of his face; the left, on which now
appeared a very fair crop of whiskers, we impressed upon him he must
on no account touch. As for ourselves, we were contented with a good
wash and combing our hair. Sir Henry's yellow locks were now almost
upon his shoulders, and he looked more like an ancient Dane than ever,
while my grizzled scrub was fully an inch long, instead of half an
inch, which in a general way I considered my maximum length.

By the time that we had eaten our breakfast, and smoked a pipe, a
message was brought to us by no less a personage than Infadoos himself
that Twala the king was ready to see us, if we would be pleased to
come.

We remarked in reply that we should prefer to wait till the sun was a
little higher, we were yet weary with our journey, &c., &c. It is
always well, when dealing with uncivilised people, not to be in too
great a hurry. They are apt to mistake politeness for awe or
servility. So, although we were quite as anxious to see Twala as Twala
could be to see us, we sat down and waited for an hour, employing the
interval in preparing such presents as our slender stock of goods
permitted--namely, the Winchester rifle which had been used by poor
Ventvogel, and some beads. The rifle and ammunition we determined to
present to his royal highness, and the beads were for his wives and
courtiers. We had already given a few to Infadoos and Scragga, and
found that they were delighted with them, never having seen such
things before. At length we declared that we were ready, and guided by
Infadoos, started off to the audience, Umbopa carrying the rifle and
beads.

After walking a few hundred yards we came to an enclosure, something
like that surrounding the huts which had been allotted to us, only
fifty times as big, for it could not have covered less than six or
seven acres of ground. All round the outside fence stood a row of
huts, which were the habitations of the king's wives. Exactly opposite
the gateway, on the further side of the open space, was a very large
hut, built by itself, in which his majesty resided. All the rest was
open ground; that is to say, it would have been open had it not been
filled by company after company of warriors, who were mustered there
to the number of seven or eight thousand. These men stood still as
statues as we advanced through them, and it would be impossible to
give an adequate idea of the grandeur of the spectacle which they
presented, with their waving plumes, their glancing spears, and iron-
backed ox-hide shields.

The space in front of the large hut was empty, but before it were
placed several stools. On three of these, at a sign from Infadoos, we
seated ourselves, Umbopa standing behind us. As for Infadoos, he took
up a position by the door of the hut. So we waited for ten minutes or
more in the midst of a dead silence, but conscious that we were the
object of the concentrated gaze of some eight thousand pairs of eyes.
It was a somewhat trying ordeal, but we carried it off as best we
could. At length the door of the hut opened, and a gigantic figure,
with a splendid tiger-skin karross flung over its shoulders, stepped
out, followed by the boy Scragga, and what appeared to us to be a
withered-up monkey, wrapped in a fur cloak. The figure seated itself
upon a stool, Scragga took his stand behind it, and the withered-up
monkey crept on all fours into the shade of the hut and squatted down.

Still there was silence.

Then the gigantic figure slipped off the karross and stood up before
us, a truly alarming spectacle. It was that of an enormous man with
the most entirely repulsive countenance we had ever beheld. This man's
lips were as thick as a Negro's, the nose was flat, he had but one
gleaming black eye, for the other was represented by a hollow in the
face, and his whole expression was cruel and sensual to a degree. From
the large head rose a magnificent plume of white ostrich feathers, his
body was clad in a shirt of shining chain armour, whilst round the
waist and right knee were the usual garnishes of white ox-tail. In his
right hand was a huge spear, about the neck a thick torque of gold,
and bound on the forehead shone dully a single and enormous uncut
diamond.

Still there was silence; but not for long. Presently the man, whom we
rightly guessed to be the king, raised the great javelin in his hand.
Instantly eight thousand spears were lifted in answer, and from eight
thousand throats rang out the royal salute of "/Koom/." Three times
this was repeated, and each time the earth shook with the noise, that
can only be compared to the deepest notes of thunder.

"Be humble, O people," piped out a thin voice which seemed to come
from the monkey in the shade, "it is the king."

"/It is the king/," boomed out the eight thousand throats in answer.
"/Be humble, O people, it is the king./"

Then there was silence again--dead silence. Presently, however, it was
broken. A soldier on our left dropped his shield, which fell with a
clatter on to the limestone flooring.

Twala turned his one cold eye in the direction of the noise.

"Come hither, thou," he said, in a cold voice.

A fine young man stepped out of the ranks, and stood before him.

"It was thy shield that fell, thou awkward dog. Wilt thou make me a
reproach in the eyes of these strangers from the Stars? What hast thou
to say for thyself?"

We saw the poor fellow turn pale under his dusky skin.

"It was by chance, O Calf of the Black Cow," he murmured.

"Then it is a chance for which thou must pay. Thou hast made me
foolish; prepare for death."

"I am the king's ox," was the low answer.

"Scragga," roared the king, "let me see how thou canst use thy spear.
Kill me this blundering fool."

Scragga stepped forward with an ill-favoured grin, and lifted his
spear. The poor victim covered his eyes with his hand and stood still.
As for us, we were petrified with horror.

"Once, twice," he waved the spear, and then struck, ah! right home--
the spear stood out a foot behind the soldier's back. He flung up his
hands and dropped dead. From the multitude about us rose something
like a murmur, it rolled round and round, and died away. The tragedy
was finished; there lay the corpse, and we had not yet realised that
it had been enacted. Sir Henry sprang up and swore a great oath, then,
overpowered by the sense of silence, sat down again.

"The thrust was a good one," said the king; "take him away."

Four men stepped out of the ranks, and lifting the body of the
murdered man, carried it thence.

"Cover up the blood-stains, cover them up," piped out the thin voice
that proceeded from the monkey-like figure; "the king's word is
spoken, the king's doom is done!"

Thereupon a girl came forward from behind the hut, bearing a jar
filled with powdered lime, which she scattered over the red mark,
blotting it from sight.

Sir Henry meanwhile was boiling with rage at what had happened;
indeed, it was with difficulty that we could keep him still.

"Sit down, for heaven's sake," I whispered; "our lives depend on it."

He yielded and remained quiet.

Twala sat silent until the traces of the tragedy had been removed,
then he addressed us.

"White people," he said, "who come hither, whence I know not, and why
I know not, greeting."

"Greeting, Twala, King of the Kukuanas," I answered.

"White people, whence come ye, and what seek ye?"

"We come from the Stars, ask us not how. We come to see this land."

"Ye journey from far to see a little thing. And that man with you,"
pointing to Umbopa, "does he also come from the Stars?"

"Even so; there are people of thy colour in the heavens above; but ask
not of matters too high for thee, Twala the king."

"Ye speak with a loud voice, people of the Stars," Twala answered in a
tone which I scarcely liked. "Remember that the Stars are far off, and
ye are here. How if I make you as him whom they bore away?"

I laughed out loud, though there was little laughter in my heart.

"O king," I said, "be careful, walk warily over hot stones, lest thou
shouldst burn thy feet; hold the spear by the handle, lest thou should
cut thy hands. Touch but one hair of our heads, and destruction shall
come upon thee. What, have not these"--pointing to Infadoos and
Scragga, who, young villain that he was, was employed in cleaning the
blood of the soldier off his spear--"told thee what manner of men we
are? Hast thou seen the like of us?" and I pointed to Good, feeling
quite sure that he had never seen anybody before who looked in the
least like /him/ as he then appeared.

"It is true, I have not," said the king, surveying Good with interest.

"Have they not told thee how we strike with death from afar?" I went
on.

"They have told me, but I believe them not. Let me see you kill. Kill
me a man among those who stand yonder"--and he pointed to the opposite
side of the kraal--"and I will believe."

"Nay," I answered; "we shed no blood of men except in just punishment;
but if thou wilt see, bid thy servants drive in an ox through the
kraal gates, and before he has run twenty paces I will strike him
dead."

"Nay," laughed the king, "kill me a man and I will believe."

"Good, O king, so be it," I answered coolly; "do thou walk across the
open space, and before thy feet reach the gate thou shalt be dead; or
if thou wilt not, send thy son Scragga" (whom at that moment it would
have given me much pleasure to shoot).

On hearing this suggestion Scragga uttered a sort of howl, and bolted
into the hut.

Twala frowned majestically; the suggestion did not please him.

"Let a young ox be driven in," he said.

Two men at once departed, running swiftly.

"Now, Sir Henry," said I, "do you shoot. I want to show this ruffian
that I am not the only magician of the party."

Sir Henry accordingly took his "express," and made ready.

"I hope I shall make a good shot," he groaned.

"You must," I answered. "If you miss with the first barrel, let him
have the second. Sight for 150 yards, and wait till the beast turns
broadside on."

Then came a pause, until presently we caught sight of an ox running
straight for the kraal gate. It came on through the gate, then,
catching sight of the vast concourse of people, stopped stupidly,
turned round, and bellowed.

"Now's your time," I whispered.

Up went the rifle.

Bang! /thud/! and the ox was kicking on his back, shot in the ribs.
The semi-hollow bullet had done its work well, and a sigh of
astonishment went up from the assembled thousands.

I turned round coolly--

"Have I lied, O king?"

"Nay, white man, it is the truth," was the somewhat awed answer.

"Listen, Twala," I went on. "Thou hast seen. Now know we come in
peace, not in war. See," and I held up the Winchester repeater; "here
is a hollow staff that shall enable thee to kill even as we kill, only
I lay this charm upon it, thou shalt kill no man with it. If thou
liftest it against a man, it shall kill thee. Stay, I will show thee.
Bid a soldier step forty paces and place the shaft of a spear in the
ground so that the flat blade looks towards us."

In a few seconds it was done.

"Now, see, I will break yonder spear."

Taking a careful sight I fired. The bullet struck the flat of the
spear, and shattered the blade into fragments.

Again the sigh of astonishment went up.

"Now, Twala, we give this magic tube to thee, and by-and-by I will
show thee how to use it; but beware how thou turnest the magic of the
Stars against a man of earth," and I handed him the rifle.

The king took it very gingerly, and laid it down at his feet. As he
did so I observed the wizened monkey-like figure creeping from the
shadow of the hut. It crept on all fours, but when it reached the
place where the king sat it rose upon its feet, and throwing the furry
covering from its face, revealed a most extraordinary and weird
countenance. Apparently it was that of a woman of great age so
shrunken that in size it seemed no larger than the face of a year-old
child, although made up of a number of deep and yellow wrinkles. Set
in these wrinkles was a sunken slit, that represented the mouth,
beneath which the chin curved outwards to a point. There was no nose
to speak of; indeed, the visage might have been taken for that of a
sun-dried corpse had it not been for a pair of large black eyes, still
full of fire and intelligence, which gleamed and played under the
snow-white eyebrows, and the projecting parchment-coloured skull, like
jewels in a charnel-house. As for the head itself, it was perfectly
bare, and yellow in hue, while its wrinkled scalp moved and contracted
like the hood of a cobra.

The figure to which this fearful countenance belonged, a countenance
so fearful indeed that it caused a shiver of fear to pass through us
as we gazed on it, stood still for a moment. Then suddenly it
projected a skinny claw armed with nails nearly an inch long, and
laying it on the shoulder of Twala the king, began to speak in a thin
and piercing voice--

"Listen, O king! Listen, O warriors! Listen, O mountains and plains
and rivers, home of the Kukuana race! Listen, O skies and sun, O rain
and storm and mist! Listen, O men and women, O youths and maidens, and
O ye babes unborn! Listen, all things that live and must die! Listen,
all dead things that shall live again--again to die! Listen, the
spirit of life is in me and I prophesy. I prophesy! I prophesy!"

The words died away in a faint wail, and dread seemed to seize upon
the hearts of all who heard them, including our own. This old woman
was very terrible.

"/Blood! blood! blood!/ rivers of blood; blood everywhere. I see it, I
smell it, I taste it--it is salt! it runs red upon the ground, it
rains down from the skies.

"/Footsteps! footsteps! footsteps!/ the tread of the white man coming
from afar. It shakes the earth; the earth trembles before her master.

"Blood is good, the red blood is bright; there is no smell like the
smell of new-shed blood. The lions shall lap it and roar, the vultures
shall wash their wings in it and shriek with joy.

"I am old! I am old! I have seen much blood; /ha, ha!/ but I shall see
more ere I die, and be merry. How old am I, think ye? Your fathers
knew me, and /their/ fathers knew me, and /their/ fathers' fathers'
fathers. I have seen the white man and know his desires. I am old, but
the mountains are older than I. Who made the great road, tell me? Who
wrote the pictures on the rocks, tell me? Who reared up the three
Silent Ones yonder, that gaze across the pit, tell me?" and she
pointed towards the three precipitous mountains which we had noticed
on the previous night.

"Ye know not, but I know. It was a white people who were before ye
are, who shall be when ye are not, who shall eat you up and destroy
you. /Yea! yea! yea!

"And what came they for, the White Ones, the Terrible Ones, the
skilled in magic and all learning, the strong, the unswerving? What is
that bright stone upon thy forehead, O king? Whose hands made the iron
garments upon thy breast, O king? Ye know not, but I know. I the Old
One, I the Wise One, I the /Isanusi/, the witch doctress!"

Then she turned her bald vulture-head towards us.

"What seek ye, white men of the Stars--ah, yes, of the Stars? Do ye
seek a lost one? Ye shall not find him here. He is not here. Never for
ages upon ages has a white foot pressed this land; never except once,
and I remember that he left it but to die. Ye come for bright stones;
I know it--I know it; ye shall find them when the blood is dry; but
shall ye return whence ye came, or shall ye stop with me? /Ha! ha!
ha!/

"And thou, thou with the dark skin and the proud bearing," and she
pointed her skinny finger at Umbopa, "who art /thou/, and what seekest
/thou/? Not stones that shine, not yellow metal that gleams, these
thou leavest to 'white men from the Stars.' Methinks I know thee;
methinks I can smell the smell of the blood in thy heart. Strip off
the girdle--"

Here the features of this extraordinary creature became convulsed, and
she fell to the ground foaming in an epileptic fit, and was carried
into the hut.

The king rose up trembling, and waved his hand. Instantly the
regiments began to file off, and in ten minutes, save for ourselves,
the king, and a few attendants, the great space was left empty.

"White people," he said, "it passes in my mind to kill you. Gagool has
spoken strange words. What say ye?"

I laughed. "Be careful, O king, we are not easy to slay. Thou hast
seen the fate of the ox; wouldst thou be as the ox is?"

The king frowned. "It is not well to threaten a king."

"We threaten not, we speak what is true. Try to kill us, O king, and
learn."

The great savage put his hand to his forehead and thought.

"Go in peace," he said at length. "To-night is the great dance. Ye
shall see it. Fear not that I shall set a snare for you. To-morrow I
will think."

"It is well, O king," I answered unconcernedly, and then, accompanied
by Infadoos, we rose and went back to our kraal.



CHAPTER X

THE WITCH-HUNT

On reaching our hut I motioned to Infadoos to enter with us.

"Now, Infadoos," I said, "we would speak with thee."

"Let my lords say on."

"It seems to us, Infadoos, that Twala the king is a cruel man."

"It is so, my lords. Alas! the land cries out because of his
cruelties. To-night ye shall see. It is the great witch-hunt, and many
will be smelt out as wizards and slain. No man's life is safe. If the
king covets a man's cattle, or a man's wife, or if he fears a man that
he should excite a rebellion against him, then Gagool, whom ye saw, or
some of the witch-finding women whom she has taught, will smell that
man out as a wizard, and he will be killed. Many must die before the
moon grows pale to-night. It is ever so. Perhaps I too shall be
killed. As yet I have been spared because I am skilled in war, and am
beloved by the soldiers; but I know not how long I have to live. The
land groans at the cruelties of Twala the king; it is wearied of him
and his red ways."

"Then why is it, Infadoos, that the people do not cast him down?"

"Nay, my lords, he is the king, and if he were killed Scragga would
reign in his place, and the heart of Scragga is blacker than the heart
of Twala his father. If Scragga were king his yoke upon our neck would
be heavier than the yoke of Twala. If Imotu had never been slain, or
if Ignosi his son had lived, it might have been otherwise; but they
are both dead."

"How knowest thou that Ignosi is dead?" said a voice behind us. We
looked round astonished to see who spoke. It was Umbopa.

"What meanest thou, boy?" asked Infadoos; "who told thee to speak?"

"Listen, Infadoos," was the answer, "and I will tell thee a story.
Years ago the king Imotu was killed in this country and his wife fled
with the boy Ignosi. Is it not so?"

"It is so."

"It was said that the woman and her son died upon the mountains. Is it
not so?"

"It is even so."

"Well, it came to pass that the mother and the boy Ignosi did not die.
They crossed the mountains and were led by a tribe of wandering desert
men across the sands beyond, till at last they came to water and grass
and trees again."

"How knowest thou this?"

"Listen. They travelled on and on, many months' journey, till they
reached a land where a people called the Amazulu, who also are of the
Kukuana stock, live by war, and with them they tarried many years,
till at length the mother died. Then the son Ignosi became a wanderer
again, and journeyed into a land of wonders, where white people live,
and for many more years he learned the wisdom of the white people."

"It is a pretty story," said Infadoos incredulously.

"For years he lived there working as a servant and a soldier, but
holding in his heart all that his mother had told him of his own
place, and casting about in his mind to find how he might journey
thither to see his people and his father's house before he died. For
long years he lived and waited, and at last the time came, as it ever
comes to him who can wait for it, and he met some white men who would
seek this unknown land, and joined himself to them. The white men
started and travelled on and on, seeking for one who is lost. They
crossed the burning desert, they crossed the snow-clad mountains, and
at last reached the land of the Kukuanas, and there they found /thee/,
O Infadoos."

"Surely thou art mad to talk thus," said the astonished old soldier.

"Thou thinkest so; see, I will show thee, O my uncle.

"/I am Ignosi, rightful king of the Kukuanas!/"

Then with a single movement Umbopa slipped off his "moocha" or girdle,
and stood naked before us.

"Look," he said; "what is this?" and he pointed to the picture of a
great snake tattooed in blue round his middle, its tail disappearing
into its open mouth just above where the thighs are set into the body.

Infadoos looked, his eyes starting nearly out of his head. Then he
fell upon his knees.

"/Koom! Koom!/" he ejaculated; "it is my brother's son; it is the
king."

"Did I not tell thee so, my uncle? Rise; I am not yet the king, but
with thy help, and with the help of these brave white men, who are my
friends, I shall be. Yet the old witch Gagool was right, the land
shall run with blood first, and hers shall run with it, if she has any
and can die, for she killed my father with her words, and drove my
mother forth. And now, Infadoos, choose thou. Wilt thou put thy hands
between my hands and be my man? Wilt thou share the dangers that lie
before me, and help me to overthrow this tyrant and murderer, or wilt
thou not? Choose thou."

The old man put his hand to his head and thought. Then he rose, and
advancing to where Umbopa, or rather Ignosi, stood, he knelt before
him, and took his hand.

"Ignosi, rightful king of the Kukuanas, I put my hand between thy
hands, and am thy man till death. When thou wast a babe I dandled thee
upon my knees, now shall my old arm strike for thee and freedom."

"It is well, Infadoos; if I conquer, thou shalt be the greatest man in
the kingdom after its king. If I fail, thou canst only die, and death
is not far off from thee. Rise, my uncle."

"And ye, white men, will ye help me? What have I to offer you! The
white stones! If I conquer and can find them, ye shall have as many as
ye can carry hence. Will that suffice you?"

I translated this remark.

"Tell him," answered Sir Henry, "that he mistakes an Englishman.
Wealth is good, and if it comes in our way we will take it; but a
gentleman does not sell himself for wealth. Still, speaking for
myself, I say this. I have always liked Umbopa, and so far as lies in
me I will stand by him in this business. It will be very pleasant to
me to try to square matters with that cruel devil Twala. What do you
say, Good, and you, Quatermain?"

"Well," said Good, "to adopt the language of hyperbole, in which all
these people seem to indulge, you can tell him that a row is surely
good, and warms the cockles of the heart, and that so far as I am
concerned I'm his boy. My only stipulation is that he allows me to
wear trousers."

I translated the substance of these answers.

"It is well, my friends," said Ignosi, late Umbopa; "and what sayest
thou, Macumazahn, art thou also with me, old hunter, cleverer than a
wounded buffalo?"

I thought awhile and scratched my head.

"Umbopa, or Ignosi," I said, "I don't like revolutions. I am a man of
peace and a bit of a coward"--here Umbopa smiled--"but, on the other
hand, I stick up for my friends, Ignosi. You have stuck to us and
played the part of a man, and I will stick by you. But mind you, I am
a trader, and have to make my living, so I accept your offer about
those diamonds in case we should ever be in a position to avail
ourselves of it. Another thing: we came, as you know, to look for
Incubu's (Sir Henry's) lost brother. You must help us to find him."

"That I will do," answered Ignosi. "Stay, Infadoos, by the sign of the
snake about my middle, tell me the truth. Has any white man to thy
knowledge set his foot within the land?"

"None, O Ignosi."

"If any white man had been seen or heard of, wouldst thou have known?"

"I should certainly have known."

"Thou hearest, Incubu," said Ignosi to Sir Henry; "he has not been
here."

"Well, well," said Sir Henry, with a sigh; "there it is; I suppose
that he never got so far. Poor fellow, poor fellow! So it has all been
for nothing. God's will be done."

"Now for business," I put in, anxious to escape from a painful
subject. "It is very well to be a king by right divine, Ignosi, but
how dost thou propose to become a king indeed?"

"Nay, I know not. Infadoos, hast thou a plan?"

"Ignosi, Son of the Lightning," answered his uncle, "to-night is the
great dance and witch-hunt. Many shall be smelt out and perish, and in
the hearts of many others there will be grief and anguish and fury
against the king Twala. When the dance is over, then I will speak to
some of the great chiefs, who in turn, if I can win them over, will
speak to their regiments. I shall speak to the chiefs softly at first,
and bring them to see that thou art indeed the king, and I think that
by to-morrow's light thou shalt have twenty thousand spears at thy
command. And now I must go and think, and hear, and make ready. After
the dance is done, if I am yet alive, and we are all alive, I will
meet thee here, and we can talk. At the best there must be war."

At this moment our conference was interrupted by the cry that
messengers had come from the king. Advancing to the door of the hut we
ordered that they should be admitted, and presently three men entered,
each bearing a shining shirt of chain armour, and a magnificent
battle-axe.

"The gifts of my lord the king to the white men from the Stars!" said
a herald who came with them.

"We thank the king," I answered; "withdraw."

The men went, and we examined the armour with great interest. It was
the most wonderful chain work that either of us had ever seen. A whole
coat fell together so closely that it formed a mass of links scarcely
too big to be covered with both hands.

"Do you make these things in this country, Infadoos?" I asked; "they
are very beautiful."

"Nay, my lord, they came down to us from our forefathers. We know not
who made them, and there are but few left.[*] None but those of royal
blood may be clad in them. They are magic coats through which no spear
can pass, and those who wear them are well-nigh safe in the battle.
The king is well pleased or much afraid, or he would not have sent
these garments of steel. Clothe yourselves in them to-night, my
lords."

[*] In the Soudan swords and coats of mail are still worn by Arabs,
    whose ancestors must have stripped them from the bodies of
    Crusaders.--Editor.

The remainder of that day we spent quietly, resting and talking over
the situation, which was sufficiently exciting. At last the sun went
down, the thousand watch fires glowed out, and through the darkness we
heard the tramp of many feet and the clashing of hundreds of spears,
as the regiments passed to their appointed places to be ready for the
great dance. Then the full moon shone out in splendour, and as we
stood watching her rays, Infadoos arrived, clad in his war dress, and
accompanied by a guard of twenty men to escort us to the dance. As he
recommended, we had already donned the shirts of chain armour which
the king had sent us, putting them on under our ordinary clothing, and
finding to our surprise that they were neither very heavy nor
uncomfortable. These steel shirts, which evidently had been made for
men of a very large stature, hung somewhat loosely upon Good and
myself, but Sir Henry's fitted his magnificent frame like a glove.
Then strapping our revolvers round our waists, and taking in our hands
the battle-axes which the king had sent with the armour, we started.

On arriving at the great kraal, where we had that morning been
received by the king, we found that it was closely packed with some
twenty thousand men arranged round it in regiments. These regiments
were in turn divided into companies, and between each company ran a
little path to allow space for the witch-finders to pass up and down.
Anything more imposing than the sight that was presented by this vast
and orderly concourse of armed men it is impossible to conceive. There
they stood perfectly silent, and the moon poured her light upon the
forest of their raised spears, upon their majestic forms, waving
plumes, and the harmonious shading of their various-coloured shields.
Wherever we looked were line upon line of dim faces surmounted by
range upon range of shimmering spears.

"Surely," I said to Infadoos, "the whole army is here?"

"Nay, Macumazahn," he answered, "but a third of it. One third is
present at this dance each year, another third is mustered outside in
case there should be trouble when the killing begins, ten thousand
more garrison the outposts round Loo, and the rest watch at the kraals
in the country. Thou seest it is a great people."

"They are very silent," said Good; and indeed the intense stillness
among such a vast concourse of living men was almost overpowering.

"What says Bougwan?" asked Infadoos.

I translated.

"Those over whom the shadow of Death is hovering are silent," he
answered grimly.

"Will many be killed?"

"Very many."

"It seems," I said to the others, "that we are going to assist at a
gladiatorial show arranged regardless of expense."

Sir Henry shivered, and Good said he wished that we could get out of
it.

"Tell me," I asked Infadoos, "are we in danger?"

"I know not, my lords, I trust not; but do not seem afraid. If ye live
through the night all may go well with you. The soldiers murmur
against the king."

All this while we had been advancing steadily towards the centre of
the open space, in the midst of which were placed some stools. As we
proceeded we perceived another small party coming from the direction
of the royal hut.

"It is the king Twala, Scragga his son, and Gagool the old; and see,
with them are those who slay," said Infadoos, pointing to a little
group of about a dozen gigantic and savage-looking men, armed with
spears in one hand and heavy kerries in the other.

The king seated himself upon the centre stool, Gagool crouched at his
feet, and the others stood behind him.

"Greeting, white lords," Twala cried, as we came up; "be seated, waste
not precious time--the night is all too short for the deeds that must
be done. Ye come in a good hour, and shall see a glorious show. Look
round, white lords; look round," and he rolled his one wicked eye from
regiment to regiment. "Can the Stars show you such a sight as this?
See how they shake in their wickedness, all those who have evil in
their hearts and fear the judgment of 'Heaven above.'"

"/Begin! begin!/" piped Gagool, in her thin piercing voice; "the
hyaenas are hungry, they howl for food. /Begin! begin!/"

Then for a moment there was intense stillness, made horrible by a
presage of what was to come.

The king lifted his spear, and suddenly twenty thousand feet were
raised, as though they belonged to one man, and brought down with a
stamp upon the earth. This was repeated three times, causing the solid
ground to shake and tremble. Then from a far point of the circle a
solitary voice began a wailing song, of which the refrain ran
something as follows:--

"/What is the lot of man born of woman?/"

Back came the answer rolling out from every throat in that vast
company--

"/Death!/"

Gradually, however, the song was taken up by company after company,
till the whole armed multitude were singing it, and I could no longer
follow the words, except in so far as they appeared to represent
various phases of human passions, fears, and joys. Now it seemed to be
a love song, now a majestic swelling war chant, and last of all a
death dirge ending suddenly in one heart-breaking wail that went
echoing and rolling away in a volume of blood-curdling sound.

Again silence fell upon the place, and again it was broken by the king
lifting his hand. Instantly we heard a pattering of feet, and from out
of the masses of warriors strange and awful figures appeared running
towards us. As they drew near we saw that these were women, most of
them aged, for their white hair, ornamented with small bladders taken
from fish, streamed out behind them. Their faces were painted in
stripes of white and yellow; down their backs hung snake-skins, and
round their waists rattled circlets of human bones, while each held a
small forked wand in her shrivelled hand. In all there were ten of
them. When they arrived in front of us they halted, and one of them,
pointing with her wand towards the crouching figure of Gagool, cried
out--

"Mother, old mother, we are here."

"/Good! good! good!/" answered that aged Iniquity. "Are your eyes
keen, /Isanusis/ [witch doctresses], ye seers in dark places?"

"Mother, they are keen."

"/Good! good! good!/ Are your ears open, /Isanusis/, ye who hear words
that come not from the tongue?"

"Mother, they are open."

"/Good! good! good!/ Are your senses awake, /Isanusis/--can ye smell
blood, can ye purge the land of the wicked ones who compass evil
against the king and against their neighbours? Are ye ready to do the
justice of 'Heaven above,' ye whom I have taught, who have eaten of
the bread of my wisdom, and drunk of the water of my magic?"

"Mother, we can."

"Then go! Tarry not, ye vultures; see, the slayers"--pointing to the
ominous group of executioners behind--"make sharp their spears; the
white men from afar are hungry to see. /Go!/"

With a wild yell Gagool's horrid ministers broke away in every
direction, like fragments from a shell, the dry bones round their
waists rattling as they ran, and headed for various points of the
dense human circle. We could not watch them all, so we fixed our eyes
upon the /Isanusi/ nearest to us. When she came to within a few paces
of the warriors she halted and began to dance wildly, turning round
and round with an almost incredible rapidity, and shrieking out
sentences such as "I smell him, the evil-doer!" "He is near, he who
poisoned his mother!" "I hear the thoughts of him who thought evil of
the king!"

Quicker and quicker she danced, till she lashed herself into such a
frenzy of excitement that the foam flew in specks from her gnashing
jaws, till her eyes seemed to start from her head, and her flesh to
quiver visibly. Suddenly she stopped dead and stiffened all over, like
a pointer dog when he scents game, and then with outstretched wand she
began to creep stealthily towards the soldiers before her. It seemed
to us that as she came their stoicism gave way, and that they shrank
from her. As for ourselves, we followed her movements with a horrible
fascination. Presently, still creeping and crouching like a dog, the
/Isanusi/ was before them. Then she halted and pointed, and again
crept on a pace or two.

Suddenly the end came. With a shriek she sprang in and touched a tall
warrior with her forked wand. Instantly two of his comrades, those
standing immediately next to him, seized the doomed man, each by one
arm, and advanced with him towards the king.

He did not resist, but we saw that he dragged his limbs as though they
were paralysed, and that his fingers, from which the spear had fallen,
were limp like those of a man newly dead.

As he came, two of the villainous executioners stepped forward to meet
him. Presently they met, and the executioners turned round, looking
towards the king as though for orders.

"/Kill!/" said the king.

"/Kill!/" squeaked Gagool.

"/Kill!/" re-echoed Scragga, with a hollow chuckle.

Almost before the words were uttered the horrible dead was done. One
man had driven his spear into the victim's heart, and to make
assurance double sure, the other had dashed out his brains with a
great club.

"/One/," counted Twala the king, just like a black Madame Defarge, as
Good said, and the body was dragged a few paces away and stretched
out.

Hardly was the thing done before another poor wretch was brought up,
like an ox to the slaughter. This time we could see, from the leopard-
skin cloak which he wore, that the man was a person of rank. Again the
awful syllables were spoken, and the victim fell dead.

"/Two/," counted the king.

And so the deadly game went on, till about a hundred bodies were
stretched in rows behind us. I have heard of the gladiatorial shows of
the Caesars, and of the Spanish bull-fights, but I take the liberty of
doubting if either of them could be half so horrible as this Kukuana
witch-hunt. Gladiatorial shows and Spanish bull-fights at any rate
contributed to the public amusement, which certainly was not the case
here. The most confirmed sensation-monger would fight shy of sensation
if he knew that it was well on the cards that he would, in his own
proper person, be the subject of the next "event."

Once we rose and tried to remonstrate, but were sternly repressed by
Twala.

"Let the law take its course, white men. These dogs are magicians and
evil-doers; it is well that they should die," was the only answer
vouchsafed to us.

About half-past ten there was a pause. The witch-finders gathered
themselves together, apparently exhausted with their bloody work, and
we thought that the performance was done with. But it was not so, for
presently, to our surprise, the ancient woman, Gagool, rose from her
crouching position, and supporting herself with a stick, staggered off
into the open space. It was an extraordinary sight to see this
frightful vulture-headed old creature, bent nearly double with extreme
age, gather strength by degrees, until at last she rushed about almost
as actively as her ill-omened pupils. To and fro she ran, chanting to
herself, till suddenly she made a dash at a tall man standing in front
of one of the regiments, and touched him. As she did this a sort of
groan went up from the regiment which evidently he commanded. But two
of its officers seized him all the same, and brought him up for
execution. We learned afterwards that he was a man of great wealth and
importance, being indeed a cousin of the king.

He was slain, and Twala counted one hundred and three. Then Gagool
again sprang to and fro, gradually drawing nearer and nearer to
ourselves.

"Hang me if I don't believe she is going to try her games on us,"
ejaculated Good in horror.

"Nonsense!" said Sir Henry.

As for myself, when I saw that old fiend dancing nearer and nearer, my
heart positively sank into my boots. I glanced behind us at the long
rows of corpses, and shivered.

Nearer and nearer waltzed Gagool, looking for all the world like an
animated crooked stick or comma, her horrid eyes gleaming and glowing
with a most unholy lustre.

Nearer she came, and yet nearer, every creature in that vast
assemblage watching her movements with intense anxiety. At last she
stood still and pointed.

"Which is it to be?" asked Sir Henry to himself.

In a moment all doubts were at rest, for the old hag had rushed in and
touched Umbopa, alias Ignosi, on the shoulder.

"I smell him out," she shrieked. "Kill him, kill him, he is full of
evil; kill him, the stranger, before blood flows from him. Slay him, O
king."

There was a pause, of which I instantly took advantage.

"O king," I called out, rising from my seat, "this man is the servant
of thy guests, he is their dog; whosoever sheds the blood of our dog
sheds our blood. By the sacred law of hospitality I claim protection
for him."

"Gagool, mother of the witch-finders, has smelt him out; he must die,
white men," was the sullen answer.

"Nay, he shall not die," I replied; "he who tries to touch him shall
die indeed."

"Seize him!" roared Twala to the executioners; who stood round red to
the eyes with the blood of their victims.

They advanced towards us, and then hesitated. As for Ignosi, he
clutched his spear, and raised it as though determined to sell his
life dearly.

"Stand back, ye dogs!" I shouted, "if ye would see to-morrow's light.
Touch one hair of his head and your king dies," and I covered Twala
with my revolver. Sir Henry and Good also drew their pistols, Sir
Henry pointing his at the leading executioner, who was advancing to
carry out the sentence, and Good taking a deliberate aim at Gagool.

Twala winced perceptibly as my barrel came in a line with his broad
chest.

"Well," I said, "what is it to be, Twala?"

Then he spoke.

"Put away your magic tubes," he said; "ye have adjured me in the name
of hospitality, and for that reason, but not from fear of what ye can
do, I spare him. Go in peace."

"It is well," I answered unconcernedly; "we are weary of slaughter,
and would sleep. Is the dance ended?"

"It is ended," Twala answered sulkily. "Let these dead dogs," pointing
to the long rows of corpses, "be flung out to the hyaenas and the
vultures," and he lifted his spear.

Instantly the regiments began to defile through the kraal gateway in
perfect silence, a fatigue party only remaining behind to drag away
the corpses of those who had been sacrificed.

Then we rose also, and making our salaam to his majesty, which he
hardly deigned to acknowledge, we departed to our huts.

"Well," said Sir Henry, as we sat down, having first lit a lamp of the
sort used by the Kukuanas, of which the wick is made from the fibre of
a species of palm leaf, and the oil from clarified hippopotamus fat,
"well, I feel uncommonly inclined to be sick."

"If I had any doubts about helping Umbopa to rebel against that
infernal blackguard," put in Good, "they are gone now. It was as much
as I could do to sit still while that slaughter was going on. I tried
to keep my eyes shut, but they would open just at the wrong time. I
wonder where Infadoos is. Umbopa, my friend, you ought to be grateful
to us; your skin came near to having an air-hole made in it."

"I am grateful, Bougwan," was Umbopa's answer, when I had translated,
"and I shall not forget. As for Infadoos, he will be here by-and-by.
We must wait."

So we lit out pipes and waited.



CHAPTER XI

WE GIVE A SIGN

For a long while--two hours, I should think--we sat there in silence,
being too much overwhelmed by the recollection of the horrors we had
seen to talk. At last, just as we were thinking of turning in--for the
night drew nigh to dawn--we heard a sound of steps. Then came the
challenge of a sentry posted at the kraal gate, which apparently was
answered, though not in an audible tone, for the steps still advanced;
and in another second Infadoos had entered the hut, followed by some
half-dozen stately-looking chiefs.

"My lords," he said, "I have come according to my word. My lords and
Ignosi, rightful king of the Kukuanas, I have brought with me these
men," pointing to the row of chiefs, "who are great men among us,
having each one of them the command of three thousand soldiers, that
live but to do their bidding, under the king's. I have told them of
what I have seen, and what my ears have heard. Now let them also
behold the sacred snake around thee, and hear thy story, Ignosi, that
they may say whether or no they will make cause with thee against
Twala the king."

By way of answer Ignosi again stripped off his girdle, and exhibited
the snake tattooed about him. Each chief in turn drew near and
examined the sign by the dim light of the lamp, and without saying a
word passed on to the other side.

Then Ignosi resumed his moocha, and addressing them, repeated the
history he had detailed in the morning.

"Now ye have heard, chiefs," said Infadoos, when he had done, "what
say ye: will ye stand by this man and help him to his father's throne,
or will ye not? The land cries out against Twala, and the blood of the
people flows like the waters in spring. Ye have seen to-night. Two
other chiefs there were with whom I had it in my mind to speak, and
where are they now? The hyaenas howl over their corpses. Soon shall ye
be as they are if ye strike not. Choose then, my brothers."

The eldest of the six men, a short, thick-set warrior, with white
hair, stepped forward a pace and answered--

"Thy words are true, Infadoos; the land cries out. My own brother is
among those who died to-night; but this is a great matter, and the
thing is hard to believe. How know we that if we lift our spears it
may not be for a thief and a liar? It is a great matter, I say, of
which none can see the end. For of this be sure, blood will flow in
rivers before the deed is done; many will still cleave to the king,
for men worship the sun that still shines bright in the heavens,
rather than that which has not risen. These white men from the Stars,
their magic is great, and Ignosi is under the cover of their wing. If
he be indeed the rightful king, let them give us a sign, and let the
people have a sign, that all may see. So shall men cleave to us,
knowing of a truth that the white man's magic is with them."

"Ye have the sign of the snake," I answered.

"My lord, it is not enough. The snake may have been placed there since
the man's childhood. Show us a sign, and it will suffice. But we will
not move without a sign."

The others gave a decided assent, and I turned in perplexity to Sir
Henry and Good, and explained the situation.

"I think that I have it," said Good exultingly; "ask them to give us a
moment to think."

I did so, and the chiefs withdrew. So soon as they had gone Good went
to the little box where he kept his medicines, unlocked it, and took
out a note-book, in the fly-leaves of which was an almanack. "Now look
here, you fellows, isn't to-morrow the 4th of June?" he said.

We had kept a careful note of the days, so were able to answer that it
was.

"Very good; then here we have it--'4 June, total eclipse of the moon
commences at 8.15 Greenwich time, visible in Teneriffe--/South
Africa/, &c.' There's a sign for you. Tell them we will darken the
moon to-morrow night."

The idea was a splendid one; indeed, the only weak spot about it was a
fear lest Good's almanack might be incorrect. If we made a false
prophecy on such a subject, our prestige would be gone for ever, and
so would Ignosi's chance of the throne of the Kukuanas.

"Suppose that the almanack is wrong," suggested Sir Henry to Good, who
was busily employed in working out something on a blank page of the
book.

"I see no reason to suppose anything of the sort," was his answer.
"Eclipses always come up to time; at least that is my experience of
them, and it especially states that this one will be visible in South
Africa. I have worked out the reckonings as well as I can, without
knowing our exact position; and I make out that the eclipse should
begin here about ten o'clock tomorrow night, and last till half-past
twelve. For an hour and a half or so there should be almost total
darkness."

"Well," said Sir Henry, "I suppose we had better risk it."

I acquiesced, though doubtfully, for eclipses are queer cattle to deal
with--it might be a cloudy night, for instance, or our dates might be
wrong--and sent Umbopa to summon the chiefs back. Presently they came,
and I addressed them thus--

"Great men of the Kukuanas, and thou, Infadoos, listen. We love not to
show our powers, for to do so is to interfere with the course of
nature, and to plunge the world into fear and confusion. But since
this matter is a great one, and as we are angered against the king
because of the slaughter we have seen, and because of the act of the
/Isanusi/ Gagool, who would have put our friend Ignosi to death, we
have determined to break a rule, and to give such a sign as all men
may see. Come hither"; and I led them to the door of the hut and
pointed to the red ball of the moon. "What see ye there?"

"We see the sinking moon," answered the spokesman of the party.

"It is so. Now tell me, can any mortal man put out that moon before
her hour of setting, and bring the curtain of black night down upon
the land?"

The chief laughed a little at the question. "No, my lord, that no man
can do. The moon is stronger than man who looks on her, nor can she
vary in her courses."

"Ye say so. Yet I tell you that to-morrow night, about two hours
before midnight, we will cause the moon to be eaten up for a space of
an hour and half an hour. Yes, deep darkness shall cover the earth,
and it shall be for a sign that Ignosi is indeed king of the Kukuanas.
If we do this thing, will ye be satisfied?"

"Yea, my lords," answered the old chief with a smile, which was
reflected on the faces of his companions; "/if/ ye do this thing, we
will be satisfied indeed."

"It shall be done; we three, Incubu, Bougwan, and Macumazahn, have
said it, and it shall be done. Dost thou hear, Infadoos?"

"I hear, my lord, but it is a wonderful thing that ye promise, to put
out the moon, the mother of the world, when she is at her full."

"Yet shall we do it, Infadoos."

"It is well, my lords. To-day, two hours after sunset, Twala will send
for my lords to witness the girls dance, and one hour after the dance
begins the girl whom Twala thinks the fairest shall be killed by
Scragga, the king's son, as a sacrifice to the Silent Ones, who sit
and keep watch by the mountains yonder," and he pointed towards the
three strange-looking peaks where Solomon's road was supposed to end.
"Then let my lords darken the moon, and save the maiden's life, and
the people will believe indeed."

"Ay," said the old chief, still smiling a little, "the people will
believe indeed."

"Two miles from Loo," went on Infadoos, "there is a hill curved like a
new moon, a stronghold, where my regiment, and three other regiments
which these chiefs command, are stationed. This morning we will make a
plan whereby two or three other regiments may be moved there also.
Then, if in truth my lords can darken the moon, in the darkness I will
take my lords by the hand and lead them out of Loo to this place,
where they shall be safe, and thence we can make war upon Twala the
king."

"It is good," said I. "Let leave us to sleep awhile and to make ready
our magic."

Infadoos rose, and, having saluted us, departed with the chiefs.

"My friends," said Ignosi, so soon as they were gone, "can ye do this
wonderful thing, or were ye speaking empty words to the captains?"

"We believe that we can do it, Umbopa--Ignosi, I mean."

"It is strange," he answered, "and had ye not been Englishmen I would
not have believed it; but I have learned that English 'gentlemen' tell
no lies. If we live through the matter, be sure that I will repay
you."

"Ignosi," said Sir Henry, "promise me one thing."

"I will promise, Incubu, my friend, even before I hear it," answered
the big man with a smile. "What is it?"

"This: that if ever you come to be king of this people you will do
away with the smelling out of wizards such as we saw last night; and
that the killing of men without trial shall no longer take place in
the land."

Ignosi thought for a moment after I had translated this request, and
then answered--

"The ways of black people are not as the ways of white men, Incubu,
nor do we value life so highly. Yet I will promise. If it be in my
power to hold them back, the witch-finders shall hunt no more, nor
shall any man die the death without trial or judgment."

"That's a bargain, then," said Sir Henry; "and now let us get a little
rest."

Thoroughly wearied out, we were soon sound asleep, and slept till
Ignosi woke us about eleven o'clock. Then we rose, washed, and ate a
hearty breakfast. After that we went outside the hut and walked about,
amusing ourselves with examining the structure of the Kukuana huts and
observing the customs of the women.

"I hope that eclipse will come off," said Sir Henry presently.

"If it does not it will soon be all up with us," I answered
mournfully; "for so sure as we are living men some of those chiefs
will tell the whole story to the king, and then there will be another
sort of eclipse, and one that we shall certainly not like."

Returning to the hut we ate some dinner, and passed the rest of the
day in receiving visits of ceremony and curiosity. At length the sun
set, and we enjoyed a couple of hours of such quiet as our melancholy
forebodings would allow to us. Finally, about half-past eight, a
messenger came from Twala to bid us to the great annual "dance of
girls" which was about to be celebrated.

Hastily we put on the chain shirts that the king had sent us, and
taking our rifles and ammunition with us, so as to have them handy in
case we had to fly, as suggested by Infadoos, we started boldly
enough, though with inward fear and trembling. The great space in
front of the king's kraal bore a very different appearance from that
which it had presented on the previous evening. In place of the grim
ranks of serried warriors were company after company of Kukuana girls,
not over-dressed, so far as clothing went, but each crowned with a
wreath of flowers, and holding a palm leaf in one hand and a white
arum lily in the other. In the centre of the open moonlit space sat
Twala the king, with old Gagool at his feet, attended by Infadoos, the
boy Scragga, and twelve guards. There were also present about a score
of chiefs, amongst whom I recognised most of our friends of the night
before.

Twala greeted us with much apparent cordiality, though I saw him fix
his one eye viciously on Umbopa.

"Welcome, white men from the Stars," he said; "this is another sight
from that which your eyes gazed on by the light of last night's moon,
but it is not so good a sight. Girls are pleasant, and were it not for
such as these," and he pointed round him, "we should none of us be
here this day; but men are better. Kisses and the tender words of
women are sweet, but the sound of the clashing of the spears of
warriors, and the smell of men's blood, are sweeter far! Would ye have
wives from among our people, white men? If so, choose the fairest
here, and ye shall have them, as many as ye will," and he paused for
an answer.

As the prospect did not seem to be without attractions for Good, who,
like most sailors, is of a susceptible nature,--being elderly and
wise, foreseeing the endless complications that anything of the sort
would involve, for women bring trouble so surely as the night follows
the day, I put in a hasty answer--

"Thanks to thee, O king, but we white men wed only with white women
like ourselves. Your maidens are fair, but they are not for us!"

The king laughed. "It is well. In our land there is a proverb which
runs, 'Women's eyes are always bright, whatever the colour,' and
another that says, 'Love her who is present, for be sure she who is
absent is false to thee;' but perhaps these things are not so in the
Stars. In a land where men are white all things are possible. So be
it, white men; the girls will not go begging! Welcome again; and
welcome, too, thou black one; if Gagool here had won her way, thou
wouldst have been stiff and cold by now. It is lucky for thee that
thou too camest from the Stars; ha! ha!"

"I can kill thee before thou killest me, O king," was Ignosi's calm
answer, "and thou shalt be stiff before my limbs cease to bend."

Twala started. "Thou speakest boldly, boy," he replied angrily;
"presume not too far."

"He may well be bold in whose lips are truth. The truth is a sharp
spear which flies home and misses not. It is a message from 'the
Stars,' O king."

Twala scowled, and his one eye gleamed fiercely, but he said nothing
more.

"Let the dance begin," he cried, and then the flower-crowned girls
sprang forward in companies, singing a sweet song and waving the
delicate palms and white lilies. On they danced, looking faint and
spiritual in the soft, sad light of the risen moon; now whirling round
and round, now meeting in mimic warfare, swaying, eddying here and
there, coming forward, falling back in an ordered confusion delightful
to witness. At last they paused, and a beautiful young woman sprang
out of the ranks and began to pirouette in front of us with a grace
and vigour which would have put most ballet girls to shame. At length
she retired exhausted, and another took her place, then another and
another, but none of them, either in grace, skill, or personal
attractions, came up to the first.

When the chosen girls had all danced, the king lifted his hand.

"Which deem ye the fairest, white men?" he asked.

"The first," said I unthinkingly. Next second I regretted it, for I
remembered that Infadoos had told us that the fairest woman must be
offered up as a sacrifice.

"Then is my mind as your minds, and my eyes as your eyes. She is the
fairest! and a sorry thing it is for her, for she must die!"

"/Ay, must die!/" piped out Gagool, casting a glance of her quick eyes
in the direction of the poor girl, who, as yet ignorant of the awful
fate in store for her, was standing some ten yards off in front of a
company of maidens, engaged in nervously picking a flower from her
wreath to pieces, petal by petal.

"Why, O king?" said I, restraining my indignation with difficulty;
"the girl has danced well, and pleased us; she is fair too; it would
be hard to reward her with death."

Twala laughed as he answered--

"It is our custom, and the figures who sit in stone yonder," and he
pointed towards the three distant peaks, "must have their due. Did I
fail to put the fairest girl to death to-day, misfortune would fall
upon me and my house. Thus runs the prophecy of my people: 'If the
king offer not a sacrifice of a fair girl, on the day of the dance of
maidens, to the Old Ones who sit and watch on the mountains, then
shall he fall, and his house.' Look ye, white men, my brother who
reigned before me offered not the sacrifice, because of the tears of
the woman, and he fell, and his house, and I reign in his stead. It is
finished; she must die!" Then turning to the guards--"Bring her
hither; Scragga, make sharp thy spear."

Two of the men stepped forward, and as they advanced, the girl, for
the first time realising her impending fate, screamed aloud and turned
to fly. But the strong hands caught her fast, and brought her,
struggling and weeping, before us.

"What is thy name, girl?" piped Gagool. "What! wilt thou not answer?
Shall the king's son do his work at once?"

At this hint, Scragga, looking more evil than ever, advanced a step
and lifted his great spear, and at that moment I saw Good's hand creep
to his revolver. The poor girl caught the faint glint of steel through
her tears, and it sobered her anguish. She ceased struggling, and
clasping her hands convulsively, stood shuddering from head to foot.

"See," cried Scragga in high glee, "she shrinks from the sight of my
little plaything even before she has tasted it," and he tapped the
broad blade of his spear.

"If ever I get the chance you shall pay for that, you young hound!" I
heard Good mutter beneath his breath.

"Now that thou art quiet, give us thy name, my dear. Come, speak out,
and fear not," said Gagool in mockery.

"Oh, mother," answered the girl, in trembling accents, "my name is
Foulata, of the house of Suko. Oh, mother, why must I die? I have done
no wrong!"

"Be comforted," went on the old woman in her hateful tone of mockery.
"Thou must die, indeed, as a sacrifice to the Old Ones who sit
yonder," and she pointed to the peaks; "but it is better to sleep in
the night than to toil in the daytime; it is better to die than to
live, and thou shalt die by the royal hand of the king's own son."

The girl Foulata wrung her hands in anguish, and cried out aloud, "Oh,
cruel! and I so young! What have I done that I should never again see
the sun rise out of the night, or the stars come following on his
track in the evening, that I may no more gather the flowers when the
dew is heavy, or listen to the laughing of the waters? Woe is me, that
I shall never see my father's hut again, nor feel my mother's kiss,
nor tend the lamb that is sick! Woe is me, that no lover shall put his
arm around me and look into my eyes, nor shall men children be born of
me! Oh, cruel, cruel!"

And again she wrung her hands and turned her tear-stained flower-
crowned face to Heaven, looking so lovely in her despair--for she was
indeed a beautiful woman--that assuredly the sight of her would have
melted the hearts of any less cruel than were the three fiends before
us. Prince Arthur's appeal to the ruffians who came to blind him was
not more touching than that of this savage girl.

But it did not move Gagool or Gagool's master, though I saw signs of
pity among the guards behind, and on the faces of the chiefs; and as
for Good, he gave a fierce snort of indignation, and made a motion as
though to go to her assistance. With all a woman's quickness, the
doomed girl interpreted what was passing in his mind, and by a sudden
movement flung herself before him, and clasped his "beautiful white
legs" with her hands.

"Oh, white father from the Stars!" she cried, "throw over me the
mantle of thy protection; let me creep into the shadow of thy
strength, that I may be saved. Oh, keep me from these cruel men and
from the mercies of Gagool!"

"All right, my hearty, I'll look after you," sang out Good in nervous
Saxon. "Come, get up, there's a good girl," and he stooped and caught
her hand.

Twala turned and motioned to his son, who advanced with his spear
lifted.

"Now's your time," whispered Sir Henry to me; "what are you waiting
for?"

"I am waiting for that eclipse," I answered; "I have had my eye on the
moon for the last half-hour, and I never saw it look healthier."

"Well, you must risk it now, or the girl will be killed. Twala is
losing patience."

Recognising the force of the argument, and having cast one more
despairing look at the bright face of the moon, for never did the most
ardent astronomer with a theory to prove await a celestial event with
such anxiety, I stepped with all the dignity that I could command
between the prostrate girl and the advancing spear of Scragga.

"King," I said, "it shall not be; we will not endure this thing; let
the girl go in safety."

Twala rose from his seat in wrath and astonishment, and from the
chiefs and serried ranks of maidens who had closed in slowly upon us
in anticipation of the tragedy came a murmur of amazement.

"/Shall not be!/ thou white dog, that yappest at the lion in his cave;
/shall not be!/ art thou mad? Be careful, lest this chicken's fate
overtake thee, and those with thee. How canst thou save her or
thyself? Who art thou that thou settest thyself between me and my
will? Back, I say. Scragga, kill her! Ho, guards! seize these men."

At his cry armed men ran swiftly from behind the hut, where they had
evidently been placed beforehand.

Sir Henry, Good, and Umbopa ranged themselves alongside of me, and
lifted their rifles.

"Stop!" I shouted boldly, though at the moment my heart was in my
boots. "Stop! we, the white men from the Stars, say that it shall not
be. Come but one pace nearer, and we will put out the moon like a
wind-blown lamp, as we who dwell in her House can do, and plunge the
land in darkness. Dare to disobey, and ye shall taste of our magic."

My threat produced an effect; the men halted, and Scragga stood still
before us, his spear lifted.

"Hear him! hear him!" piped Gagool; "hear the liar who says that he
will put out the moon like a lamp. Let him do it, and the girl shall
be speared. Yes, let him do it, or die by the girl, he and those with
him."

I glanced up at the moon despairingly, and now to my intense joy and
relief saw that we--or rather the almanack--had made no mistake. On
the edge of the great orb lay a faint rim of shadow, while a smoky hue
grew and gathered upon its bright surface. Never shall I forget that
supreme, that superb moment of relief.

Then I lifted my hand solemnly towards the sky, an example which Sir
Henry and Good followed, and quoted a line or two from the "Ingoldsby
Legends" at it in the most impressive tones that I could command. Sir
Henry followed suit with a verse out of the Old Testament, and
something about Balbus building a wall, in Latin, whilst Good
addressed the Queen of Night in a volume of the most classical bad
language which he could think of.

Slowly the penumbra, the shadow of a shadow, crept on over the bright
surface, and as it crept I heard deep gasps of fear rising from the
multitude around.

"Look, O king!" I cried; "look, Gagool! Look, chiefs and people and
women, and see if the white men from the Stars keep their word, or if
they be but empty liars!

"The moon grows black before your eyes; soon there will be darkness--
ay, darkness in the hour of the full moon. Ye have asked for a sign;
it is given to you. Grow dark, O Moon! withdraw thy light, thou pure
and holy One; bring the proud heart of usurping murderers to the dust,
and eat up the world with shadows."

A groan of terror burst from the onlookers. Some stood petrified with
dread, others threw themselves upon their knees and cried aloud. As
for the king, he sat still and turned pale beneath his dusky skin.
Only Gagool kept her courage.

"It will pass," she cried; "I have often seen the like before; no man
can put out the moon; lose not heart; sit still--the shadow will
pass."

"Wait, and ye shall see," I replied, hopping with excitement. "O Moon!
Moon! Moon! wherefore art thou so cold and fickle?" This appropriate
quotation was from the pages of a popular romance that I chanced to
have read recently, though now I come to think of it, it was
ungrateful of me to abuse the Lady of the Heavens, who was showing
herself to be the truest of friends to us, however she may have
behaved to the impassioned lover in the novel. Then I added: "Keep it
up, Good, I can't remember any more poetry. Curse away, there's a good
fellow."

Good responded nobly to this tax upon his inventive faculties. Never
before had I the faintest conception of the breadth and depth and
height of a naval officer's objurgatory powers. For ten minutes he
went on in several languages without stopping, and he scarcely ever
repeated himself.

Meanwhile the dark ring crept on, while all that great assembly fixed
their eyes upon the sky and stared and stared in fascinated silence.
Strange and unholy shadows encroached upon the moonlight, an ominous
quiet filled the place. Everything grew still as death. Slowly and in
the midst of this most solemn silence the minutes sped away, and while
they sped the full moon passed deeper and deeper into the shadow of
the earth, as the inky segment of its circle slid in awful majesty
across the lunar craters. The great pale orb seemed to draw near and
to grow in size. She turned a coppery hue, then that portion of her
surface which was unobscured as yet grew grey and ashen, and at
length, as totality approached, her mountains and her plains were to
be seen glowing luridly through a crimson gloom.

On, yet on, crept the ring of darkness; it was now more than half
across the blood-red orb. The air grew thick, and still more deeply
tinged with dusky crimson. On, yet on, till we could scarcely see the
fierce faces of the group before us. No sound rose now from the
spectators, and at last Good stopped swearing.

"The moon is dying--the white wizards have killed the moon," yelled
the prince Scragga at last. "We shall all perish in the dark," and
animated by fear or fury, or by both, he lifted his spear and drove it
with all his force at Sir Henry's breast. But he forgot the mail
shirts that the king had given us, and which we wore beneath our
clothing. The steel rebounded harmless, and before he could repeat the
blow Curtis had snatched the spear from his hand and sent it straight
through him.

Scragga dropped dead.

At the sight, and driven mad with fear of the gathering darkness, and
of the unholy shadow which, as they believed, was swallowing the moon,
the companies of girls broke up in wild confusion, and ran screeching
for the gateways. Nor did the panic stop there. The king himself,
followed by his guards, some of the chiefs, and Gagool, who hobbled
away after them with marvellous alacrity, fled for the huts, so that
in another minute we ourselves, the would-be victim Foulata, Infadoos,
and most of the chiefs who had interviewed us on the previous night,
were left alone upon the scene, together with the dead body of
Scragga, Twala's son.

"Chiefs," I said, "we have given you the sign. If ye are satisfied,
let us fly swiftly to the place of which ye spoke. The charm cannot
now be stopped. It will work for an hour and the half of an hour. Let
us cover ourselves in the darkness."

"Come," said Infadoos, turning to go, an example which was followed by
the awed captains, ourselves, and the girl Foulata, whom Good took by
the arm.

Before we reached the gate of the kraal the moon went out utterly, and
from every quarter of the firmament the stars rushed forth into the
inky sky.

Holding each other by the hand we stumbled on through the darkness.



CHAPTER XII

BEFORE THE BATTLE

Luckily for us, Infadoos and the chiefs knew all the paths of the
great town perfectly, so that we passed by side-ways unmolested, and
notwithstanding the gloom we made fair progress.

For an hour or more we journeyed on, till at length the eclipse began
to pass, and that edge of the moon which had disappeared the first
became again visible. Suddenly, as we watched, there burst from it a
silver streak of light, accompanied by a wondrous ruddy glow, which
hung upon the blackness of the sky like a celestial lamp, and a wild
and lovely sight it was. In another five minutes the stars began to
fade, and there was sufficient light to see our whereabouts. We then
discovered that we were clear of the town of Loo, and approaching a
large flat-topped hill, measuring some two miles in circumference.
This hill, which is of a formation common in South Africa, is not very
high; indeed, its greatest elevation is scarcely more than 200 feet,
but it is shaped like a horseshoe, and its sides are rather
precipitous and strewn with boulders. On the grass table-land at its
summit is ample camping-ground, which had been utilised as a military
cantonment of no mean strength. Its ordinary garrison was one regiment
of three thousand men, but as we toiled up the steep side of the
mountain in the returning moonlight we perceived that there were
several of such regiments encamped there.

Reaching the table-land at last, we found crowds of men roused from
their sleep, shivering with fear and huddled up together in the utmost
consternation at the natural phenomenon which they were witnessing.
Passing through these without a word, we gained a hut in the centre of
the ground, where we were astonished to find two men waiting, laden
with our few goods and chattels, which of course we had been obliged
to leave behind in our hasty flight.

"I sent for them," explained Infadoos; "and also for these," and he
lifted up Good's long-lost trousers.

With an exclamation of rapturous delight Good sprang at them, and
instantly proceeded to put them on.

"Surely my lord will not hide his beautiful white legs!" exclaimed
Infadoos regretfully.

But Good persisted, and once only did the Kukuana people get the
chance of seeing his beautiful legs again. Good is a very modest man.
Henceforward they had to satisfy their aesthetic longings with his one
whisker, his transparent eye, and his movable teeth.

Still gazing with fond remembrance at Good's trousers, Infadoos next
informed us that he had commanded the regiments to muster so soon as
the day broke, in order to explain to them fully the origin and
circumstances of the rebellion which was decided on by the chiefs, and
to introduce to them the rightful heir to the throne, Ignosi.

Accordingly, when the sun was up, the troops--in all some twenty
thousand men, and the flower of the Kukuana army--were mustered on a
large open space, to which we went. The men were drawn up in three
sides of a dense square, and presented a magnificent spectacle. We
took our station on the open side of the square, and were speedily
surrounded by all the principal chiefs and officers.

These, after silence had been proclaimed, Infadoos proceeded to
address. He narrated to them in vigorous and graceful language--for,
like most Kukuanas of high rank, he was a born orator--the history of
Ignosi's father, and of how he had been basely murdered by Twala the
king, and his wife and child driven out to starve. Then he pointed out
that the people suffered and groaned under Twala's cruel rule,
instancing the proceedings of the previous night, when, under pretence
of their being evil-doers, many of the noblest in the land had been
dragged forth and wickedly done to death. Next he went on to say that
the white lords from the Stars, looking down upon their country, had
perceived its trouble, and determined, at great personal
inconvenience, to alleviate its lot: That they had accordingly taken
the real king of the Kukuanas, Ignosi, who was languishing in exile,
by the hand, and led him over the mountains: That they had seen the
wickedness of Twala's doings, and for a sign to the wavering, and to
save the life of the girl Foulata, actually, by the exercise of their
high magic, had put out the moon and slain the young fiend Scragga;
and that they were prepared to stand by them, and assist them to
overthrow Twala, and set up the rightful king, Ignosi, in his place.

He finished his discourse amidst a murmur of approbation. Then Ignosi
stepped forward and began to speak. Having reiterated all that
Infadoos his uncle had said, he concluded a powerful speech in these
words:--

"O chiefs, captains, soldiers, and people, ye have heard my words. Now
must ye make choice between me and him who sits upon my throne, the
uncle who killed his brother, and hunted his brother's child forth to
die in the cold and the night. That I am indeed the king these"--
pointing to the chiefs--"can tell you, for they have seen the snake
about my middle. If I were not the king, would these white men be on
my side with all their magic? Tremble, chiefs, captains, soldiers, and
people! Is not the darkness they have brought upon the land to
confound Twala and cover our flight, darkness even in the hour of the
full moon, yet before your eyes?"

"It is," answered the soldiers.

"I am the king; I say to you, I am the king," went on Ignosi, drawing
up his great stature to its full, and lifting his broad-bladed battle-
axe above his head. "If there be any man among you who says that it is
not so, let him stand forth and I will fight him now, and his blood
shall be a red token that I tell you true. Let him stand forth, I
say;" and he shook the great axe till it flashed in the sunlight.

As nobody seemed inclined to respond to this heroic version of "Dilly,
Dilly, come and be killed," our late henchman proceeded with his
address.

"I am indeed the king, and should ye stand by my side in the battle,
if I win the day ye shall go with me to victory and honour. I will
give you oxen and wives, and ye shall take place of all the regiments;
and if ye fall, I will fall with you.

"And behold, I give you this promise, that when I sit upon the seat of
my fathers, bloodshed shall cease in the land. No longer shall ye cry
for justice to find slaughter, no longer shall the witch-finder hunt
you out so that ye may be slain without a cause. No man shall die save
he who offends against the laws. The 'eating up' of your kraals shall
cease; each one of you shall sleep secure in his own hut and fear
naught, and justice shall walk blindfold throughout the land. Have ye
chosen, chiefs, captains, soldiers, and people?"

"We have chosen, O king," came back the answer.

"It is well. Turn your heads and see how Twala's messengers go forth
from the great town, east and west, and north and south, to gather a
mighty army to slay me and you, and these my friends and protectors.
To-morrow, or perchance the next day, he will come against us with all
who are faithful to him. Then I shall see the man who is indeed my
man, the man who fears not to die for his cause; and I tell you that
he shall not be forgotten in the time of spoil. I have spoken, O
chiefs, captains, soldiers, and people. Now go to your huts and make
you ready for war."

There was a pause, till presently one of the chiefs lifted his hand,
and out rolled the royal salute, "/Koom./" It was a sign that the
soldiers accepted Ignosi as their king. Then they marched off in
battalions.

Half an hour afterwards we held a council of war, at which all the
commanders of regiments were present. It was evident to us that before
very long we should be attacked in overwhelming force. Indeed, from
our point of vantage on the hill we could see troops mustering, and
runners going forth from Loo in every direction, doubtless to summon
soldiers to the king's assistance. We had on our side about twenty
thousand men, composed of seven of the best regiments in the country.
Twala, so Infadoos and the chiefs calculated, had at least thirty to
thirty-five thousand on whom he could rely at present assembled in
Loo, and they thought that by midday on the morrow he would be able to
gather another five thousand or more to his aid. It was, of course,
possible that some of his troops would desert and come over to us, but
it was not a contingency which could be reckoned on. Meanwhile, it was
clear that active preparations were being made by Twala to subdue us.
Already strong bodies of armed men were patrolling round and round the
foot of the hill, and there were other signs also of coming assault.

Infadoos and the chiefs, however, were of opinion that no attack would
take place that day, which would be devoted to preparation and to the
removal of every available means of the moral effect produced upon the
minds of the soldiery by the supposed magical darkening of the moon.
The onslaught would be on the morrow, they said, and they proved to be
right.

Meanwhile, we set to work to strengthen the position in all ways
possible. Almost every man was turned out, and in the course of the
day, which seemed far too short, much was done. The paths up the hill
--that was rather a sanatorium than a fortress, being used generally
as the camping place of regiments suffering from recent service in
unhealthy portions of the country--were carefully blocked with masses
of stones, and every other approach was made as impregnable as time
would allow. Piles of boulders were collected at various spots to be
rolled down upon an advancing enemy, stations were appointed to the
different regiments, and all preparation was made which our joint
ingenuity could suggest.

Just before sundown, as we rested after our toil, we perceived a small
company of men advancing towards us from the direction of Loo, one of
whom bore a palm leaf in his hand for a sign that he came as a herald.

As he drew near, Ignosi, Infadoos, one or two chiefs and ourselves,
went down to the foot of the mountain to meet him. He was a gallant-
looking fellow, wearing the regulation leopard-skin cloak.

"Greeting!" he cried, as he came; "the king's greeting to those who
make unholy war against the king; the lion's greeting to the jackals
that snarl around his heels."

"Speak," I said.

"These are the king's words. Surrender to the king's mercy ere a worse
thing befall you. Already the shoulder has been torn from the black
bull, and the king drives him bleeding about the camp."[*]

[*] This cruel custom is not confined to the Kukuanas, but is by no
    means uncommon amongst African tribes on the occasion of the
    outbreak of war or any other important public event.--A.Q.

"What are Twala's terms?" I asked from curiosity.

"His terms are merciful, worthy of a great king. These are the words
of Twala, the one-eyed, the mighty, the husband of a thousand wives,
lord of the Kukuanas, keeper of the Great Road (Solomon's Road),
beloved of the Strange Ones who sit in silence at the mountains yonder
(the Three Witches), Calf of the Black Cow, Elephant whose tread
shakes the earth, Terror of the evil-doer, Ostrich whose feet devour
the desert, huge One, black One, wise One, king from generation to
generation! these are the words of Twala: 'I will have mercy and be
satisfied with a little blood. One in every ten shall die, the rest
shall go free; but the white man Incubu, who slew Scragga my son, and
the black man his servant, who pretends to my throne, and Infadoos my
brother, who brews rebellion against me, these shall die by torture as
an offering to the Silent Ones.' Such are the merciful words of
Twala."

After consulting with the others a little, I answered him in a loud
voice, so that the soldiers might hear, thus--

"Go back, thou dog, to Twala, who sent thee, and say that we, Ignosi,
veritable king of the Kukuanas, Incubu, Bougwan, and Macumazahn, the
wise ones from the Stars, who make dark the moon, Infadoos, of the
royal house, and the chiefs, captains, and people here gathered, make
answer and say, 'That we will not surrender; that before the sun has
gone down twice, Twala's corpse shall stiffen at Twala's gate, and
Ignosi, whose father Twala slew, shall reign in his stead.' Now go,
ere we whip thee away, and beware how thou dost lift a hand against
such as we are."

The herald laughed loudly. "Ye frighten not men with such swelling
words," he cried out. "Show yourselves as bold to-morrow, O ye who
darken the moon. Be bold, fight, and be merry, before the crows pick
your bones till they are whiter than your faces. Farewell; perhaps we
may meet in the fight; fly not to the Stars, but wait for me, I pray,
white men." With this shaft of sarcasm he retired, and almost
immediately the sun sank.

That night was a busy one, for weary as we were, so far as was
possible by the moonlight all preparations for the morrow's fight were
continued, and messengers were constantly coming and going from the
place where we sat in council. At last, about an hour after midnight,
everything that could be done was done, and the camp, save for the
occasional challenge of a sentry, sank into silence. Sir Henry and I,
accompanied by Ignosi and one of the chiefs, descended the hill and
made a round of the pickets. As we went, suddenly, from all sorts of
unexpected places, spears gleamed out in the moonlight, only to vanish
again when we uttered the password. It was clear to us that none were
sleeping at their posts. Then we returned, picking our way warily
through thousands of sleeping warriors, many of whom were taking their
last earthly rest.

The moonlight flickering along their spears, played upon their
features and made them ghastly; the chilly night wind tossed their
tall and hearse-like plumes. There they lay in wild confusion, with
arms outstretched and twisted limbs; their stern, stalwart forms
looking weird and unhuman in the moonlight.

"How many of these do you suppose will be alive at this time
to-morrow?" asked Sir Henry.

I shook my head and looked again at the sleeping men, and to my tired
and yet excited imagination it seemed as though Death had already
touched them. My mind's eye singled out those who were sealed to
slaughter, and there rushed in upon my heart a great sense of the
mystery of human life, and an overwhelming sorrow at its futility and
sadness. To-night these thousand slept their healthy sleep, to-morrow
they, and many others with them, ourselves perhaps among them, would
be stiffening in the cold; their wives would be widows, their children
fatherless, and their place know them no more for ever. Only the old
moon would shine on serenely, the night wind would stir the grasses,
and the wide earth would take its rest, even as it did aeons before we
were, and will do aeons after we have been forgotten.

Yet man dies not whilst the world, at once his mother and his
monument, remains. His name is lost, indeed, but the breath he
breathed still stirs the pine-tops on the mountains, the sound of the
words he spoke yet echoes on through space; the thoughts his brain
gave birth to we have inherited to-day; his passions are our cause of
life; the joys and sorrows that he knew are our familiar friends--the
end from which he fled aghast will surely overtake us also!

Truly the universe is full of ghosts, not sheeted churchyard spectres,
but the inextinguishable elements of individual life, which having
once been, can never /die/, though they blend and change, and change
again for ever.



All sorts of reflections of this nature passed through my mind--for as
I grow older I regret to say that a detestable habit of thinking seems
to be getting a hold of me--while I stood and stared at those grim yet
fantastic lines of warriors, sleeping, as their saying goes, "upon
their spears."

"Curtis," I said, "I am in a condition of pitiable fear."

Sir Henry stroked his yellow beard and laughed, as he answered--

"I have heard you make that sort of remark before, Quatermain."

"Well, I mean it now. Do you know, I very much doubt if one of us will
be alive to-morrow night. We shall be attacked in overwhelming force,
and it is quite a chance if we can hold this place."

"We'll give a good account of some of them, at any rate. Look here,
Quatermain, this business is nasty, and one with which, properly
speaking, we ought not to be mixed up, but we are in for it, so we
must make the best of our job. Speaking personally, I had rather be
killed fighting than any other way, and now that there seems little
chance of our finding my poor brother, it makes the idea easier to me.
But fortune favours the brave, and we may succeed. Anyway, the battle
will be awful, and having a reputation to keep up, we shall need to be
in the thick of the thing."

He made this last remark in a mournful voice, but there was a gleam in
his eye which belied its melancholy. I have an idea Sir Henry Curtis
actually likes fighting.

After this we went to sleep for a couple of hours or so.

Just about dawn we were awakened by Infadoos, who came to say that
great activity was to be observed in Loo, and that parties of the
king's skirmishers were driving in our outposts.

We rose and dressed ourselves for the fray, each putting on his chain
armour shirt, for which garments at the present juncture we felt
exceedingly thankful. Sir Henry went the whole length about the
matter, and dressed himself like a native warrior. "When you are in
Kukuanaland, do as the Kukuanas do," he remarked, as he drew the
shining steel over his broad breast, which it fitted like a glove. Nor
did he stop there. At his request Infadoos had provided him with a
complete set of native war uniform. Round his throat he fastened the
leopard-skin cloak of a commanding officer, on his brows he bound the
plume of black ostrich feathers worn only by generals of high rank,
and about his middle a magnificent moocha of white ox-tails. A pair of
sandals, a leglet of goat's hair, a heavy battle-axe with a
rhinoceros-horn handle, a round iron shield covered with white ox-
hide, and the regulation number of /tollas/, or throwing-knives, made
up his equipment, to which, however, he added his revolver. The dress
was, no doubt, a savage one, but I am bound to say that I seldom saw a
finer sight than Sir Henry Curtis presented in this guise. It showed
off his magnificent physique to the greatest advantage, and when
Ignosi arrived presently, arrayed in a similar costume, I thought to
myself that I had never before seen two such splendid men.

As for Good and myself, the armour did not suit us nearly so well. To
begin with, Good insisted upon keeping on his new-found trousers, and
a stout, short gentleman with an eye-glass, and one half of his face
shaved, arrayed in a mail shirt, carefully tucked into a very seedy
pair of corduroys, looks more remarkable than imposing. In my case,
the chain shirt being too big for me, I put it on over all my clothes,
which caused it to bulge in a somewhat ungainly fashion. I discarded
my trousers, however, retaining only my veldtschoons, having
determined to go into battle with bare legs, in order to be the
lighter for running, in case it became necessary to retire quickly.
The mail coat, a spear, a shield, that I did not know how to use, a
couple of /tollas/, a revolver, and a huge plume, which I pinned into
the top of my shooting hat, in order to give a bloodthirsty finish to
my appearance, completed my modest equipment. In addition to all these
articles, of course we had our rifles, but as ammunition was scarce,
and as they would be useless in case of a charge, we arranged that
they should be carried behind us by bearers.

When at length we had equipped ourselves, we swallowed some food
hastily, and then started out to see how things were going on. At one
point in the table-land of the mountain, there was a little koppie of
brown stone, which served the double purpose of head-quarters and of a
conning tower. Here we found Infadoos surrounded by his own regiment,
the Greys, which was undoubtedly the finest in the Kukuana army, and
the same that we had first seen at the outlying kraal. This regiment,
now three thousand five hundred strong, was being held in reserve, and
the men were lying down on the grass in companies, and watching the
king's forces creep out of Loo in long ant-like columns. There seemed
to be no end to the length of these columns--three in all, and each of
them numbering, as we judged, at least eleven or twelve thousand men.

As soon as they were clear of the town the regiments formed up. Then
one body marched off to the right, one to the left, and the third came
on slowly towards us.

"Ah," said Infadoos, "they are going to attack us on three sides at
once."

This seemed rather serious news, for our position on the top of the
mountain, which measured a mile and a half in circumference, being an
extended one, it was important to us to concentrate our comparatively
small defending force as much as possible. But since it was impossible
for us to dictate in what way we should be assailed, we had to make
the best of it, and accordingly sent orders to the various regiments
to prepare to receive the separate onslaughts.



CHAPTER XIII

THE ATTACK

Slowly, and without the slightest appearance of haste or excitement,
the three columns crept on. When within about five hundred yards of
us, the main or centre column halted at the root of a tongue of open
plain which ran up into the hill, to give time to the other divisions
to circumvent our position, which was shaped more or less in the form
of a horse-shoe, with its two points facing towards the town of Loo.
The object of this manoeuvre was that the threefold assault should be
delivered simultaneously.

"Oh, for a gatling!" groaned Good, as he contemplated the serried
phalanxes beneath us. "I would clear that plain in twenty minutes."

"We have not got one, so it is no use yearning for it; but suppose you
try a shot, Quatermain," said Sir Henry. "See how near you can go to
that tall fellow who appears to be in command. Two to one you miss
him, and an even sovereign, to be honestly paid if ever we get out of
this, that you don't drop the bullet within five yards."


This piqued me, so, loading the express with solid ball, I waited till
my friend walked some ten yards out from his force, in order to get a
better view of our position, accompanied only by an orderly; then,
lying down and resting the express on a rock, I covered him. The
rifle, like all expresses, was only sighted to three hundred and fifty
yards, so to allow for the drop in trajectory I took him half-way down
the neck, which ought, I calculated, to find him in the chest. He
stood quite still and gave me every opportunity, but whether it was
the excitement or the wind, or the fact of the man being a long shot,
I don't know, but this was what happened. Getting dead on, as I
thought, a fine sight, I pressed, and when the puff of smoke had
cleared away, to my disgust, I saw my man standing there unharmed,
whilst his orderly, who was at least three paces to the left, was
stretched upon the ground apparently dead. Turning swiftly, the
officer I had aimed at began to run towards his men in evident alarm.

"Bravo, Quatermain!" sang out Good; "you've frightened him."

This made me very angry, for, if possible to avoid it, I hate to miss
in public. When a man is master of only one art he likes to keep up
his reputation in that art. Moved quite out of myself at my failure, I
did a rash thing. Rapidly covering the general as he ran, I let drive
with the second barrel. Instantly the poor man threw up his arms, and
fell forward on to his face. This time I had made no mistake; and--I
say it as a proof of how little we think of others when our own
safety, pride, or reputation is in question--I was brute enough to
feel delighted at the sight.

The regiments who had seen the feat cheered wildly at this exhibition
of the white man's magic, which they took as an omen of success, while
the force the general had belonged to--which, indeed, as we
ascertained afterwards, he had commanded--fell back in confusion. Sir
Henry and Good now took up their rifles and began to fire, the latter
industriously "browning" the dense mass before him with another
Winchester repeater, and I also had another shot or two, with the
result, so far as we could judge, that we put some six or eight men
/hors de combat/ before they were out of range.

Just as we stopped firing there came an ominous roar from our far
right, then a similar roar rose on our left. The two other divisions
were engaging us.

At the sound, the mass of men before us opened out a little, and
advanced towards the hill and up the spit of bare grass land at a slow
trot, singing a deep-throated song as they ran. We kept up a steady
fire from our rifles as they came, Ignosi joining in occasionally, and
accounted for several men, but of course we produced no more effect
upon that mighty rush of armed humanity than he who throws pebbles
does on the breaking wave.

On they came, with a shout and the clashing of spears; now they were
driving in the pickets we had placed among the rocks at the foot of
the hill. After that the advance was a little slower, for though as
yet we had offered no serious opposition, the attacking forces must
climb up hill, and they came slowly to save their breath. Our first
line of defence was about half-way down the side of the slope, our
second fifty yards further back, while our third occupied the edge of
the plateau.

On they stormed, shouting their war-cry, "/Twala! Twala! Chiele!
Chiele!/" (Twala! Twala! Smite! Smite!) "/Ignosi! Ignosi! Chiele!
Chiele!/" answered our people. They were quite close now, and the
/tollas/, or throwing-knives, began to flash backwards and forwards,
and now with an awful yell the battle closed in.

To and fro swayed the mass of struggling warriors, men falling fast as
leaves in an autumn wind; but before long the superior weight of the
attacking force began to tell, and our first line of defence was
slowly pressed back till it merged into the second. Here the struggle
was very fierce, but again our people were driven back and up, till at
length, within twenty minutes of the commencement of the fight, our
third line came into action.

But by this time the assailants were much exhausted, and besides had
lost many men killed and wounded, and to break through that third
impenetrable hedge of spears proved beyond their powers. For a while
the seething lines of savages swung backwards and forwards, in the
fierce ebb and flow of battle, and the issue was doubtful. Sir Henry
watched the desperate struggle with a kindling eye, and then without a
word he rushed off, followed by Good, and flung himself into the
hottest of the fray. As for myself, I stopped where I was.

The soldiers caught sight of his tall form as he plunged into battle,
and there rose a cry of--

"/Nanzia Incubu! Nanzia Unkungunklovo!/" (Here is the Elephant!)
"/Chiele! Chiele!/"

From that moment the end was no longer in doubt. Inch by inch,
fighting with splendid gallantry, the attacking force was pressed back
down the hillside, till at last it retreated upon its reserves in
something like confusion. At that instant, too, a messenger arrived to
say that the left attack had been repulsed; and I was just beginning
to congratulate myself, believing that the affair was over for the
present, when, to our horror, we perceived our men who had been
engaged in the right defence being driven towards us across the plain,
followed by swarms of the enemy, who had evidently succeeded at this
point.

Ignosi, who was standing by me, took in the situation at a glance, and
issued a rapid order. Instantly the reserve regiment around us, the
Greys, extended itself.

Again Ignosi gave a word of command, which was taken up and repeated
by the captains, and in another second, to my intense disgust, I found
myself involved in a furious onslaught upon the advancing foe. Getting
as much as I could behind Ignosi's huge frame, I made the best of a
bad job, and toddled along to be killed as though I liked it. In a
minute or two--we were plunging through the flying groups of our men,
who at once began to re-form behind us, and then I am sure I do not
know what happened. All I can remember is a dreadful rolling noise of
the meeting of shields, and the sudden apparition of a huge ruffian,
whose eyes seemed literally to be starting out of his head, making
straight at me with a bloody spear. But--I say it with pride--I rose--
or rather sank--to the occasion. It was one before which most people
would have collapsed once and for all. Seeing that if I stood where I
was I must be killed, as the horrid apparition came I flung myself
down in front of him so cleverly that, being unable to stop himself,
he took a header right over my prostrate form. Before he could rise
again, /I/ had risen and settled the matter from behind with my
revolver.

Shortly after this somebody knocked me down, and I remember no more of
that charge.

When I came to I found myself back at the koppie, with Good bending
over me holding some water in a gourd.

"How do you feel, old fellow?" he asked anxiously.

I got up and shook myself before replying.

"Pretty well, thank you," I answered.

"Thank Heaven! When I saw them carry you in, I felt quite sick; I
thought you were done for."

"Not this time, my boy. I fancy I only got a rap on the head, which
knocked me stupid. How has it ended?"

"They are repulsed at every point for a while. The loss is dreadfully
heavy; we have quite two thousand killed and wounded, and they must
have lost three. Looks, there's a sight!" and he pointed to long lines
of men advancing by fours.

In the centre of every group of four, and being borne by it, was a
kind of hide tray, of which a Kukuana force always carries a quantity,
with a loop for a handle at each corner. On these trays--and their
number seemed endless--lay wounded men, who as they arrived were
hastily examined by the medicine men, of whom ten were attached to a
regiment. If the wound was not of a fatal character the sufferer was
taken away and attended to as carefully as circumstances would allow.
But if, on the other hand, the injured man's condition proved
hopeless, what followed was very dreadful, though doubtless it may
have been the truest mercy. One of the doctors, under pretence of
carrying out an examination, swiftly opened an artery with a sharp
knife, and in a minute or two the sufferer expired painlessly. There
were many cases that day in which this was done. In fact, it was done
in the majority of cases when the wound was in the body, for the gash
made by the entry of the enormously broad spears used by the Kukuanas
generally rendered recovery impossible. In most instances the poor
sufferers were already unconscious, and in others the fatal "nick" of
the artery was inflicted so swiftly and painlessly that they did not
seem to notice it. Still it was a ghastly sight, and one from which we
were glad to escape; indeed, I never remember anything of the kind
that affected me more than seeing those gallant soldiers thus put out
of pain by the red-handed medicine men, except, indeed, on one
occasion when, after an attack, I saw a force of Swazis burying their
hopelessly wounded /alive/.

Hurrying from this dreadful scene to the further side of the koppie,
we found Sir Henry, who still held a battle-axe in his hand, Ignosi,
Infadoos, and one or two of the chiefs in deep consultation.

"Thank Heaven, here you are, Quatermain! I can't quite make out what
Ignosi wants to do. It seems that though we have beaten off the
attack, Twala is now receiving large reinforcements, and is showing a
disposition to invest us, with the view of starving us out."

"That's awkward."

"Yes; especially as Infadoos says that the water supply has given
out."

"My lord, that is so," said Infadoos; "the spring cannot supply the
wants of so great a multitude, and it is failing rapidly. Before night
we shall all be thirsty. Listen, Macumazahn. Thou art wise, and hast
doubtless seen many wars in the lands from whence thou camest--that is
if indeed they make wars in the Stars. Now tell us, what shall we do?
Twala has brought up many fresh men to take the place of those who
have fallen. Yet Twala has learnt his lesson; the hawk did not think
to find the heron ready; but our beak has pierced his breast; he fears
to strike at us again. We too are wounded, and he will wait for us to
die; he will wind himself round us like a snake round a buck, and
fight the fight of 'sit down.'"

"I hear thee," I said.

"So, Macumazahn, thou seest we have no water here, and but a little
food, and we must choose between these three things--to languish like
a starving lion in his den, or to strive to break away towards the
north, or"--and here he rose and pointed towards the dense mass of our
foes--"to launch ourselves straight at Twala's throat. Incubu, the
great warrior--for to-day he fought like a buffalo in a net, and
Twala's soldiers went down before his axe like young corn before the
hail; with these eyes I saw it--Incubu says 'Charge'; but the Elephant
is ever prone to charge. Now what says Macumazahn, the wily old fox,
who has seen much, and loves to bite his enemy from behind? The last
word is in Ignosi the king, for it is a king's right to speak of war;
but let us hear thy voice, O Macumazahn, who watchest by night, and
the voice too of him of the transparent eye."

"What sayest thou, Ignosi," I asked.

"Nay, my father," answered our quondam servant, who now, clad as he
was in the full panoply of savage war, looked every inch a warrior
king, "do thou speak, and let me, who am but a child in wisdom beside
thee, hearken to thy words."

Thus adjured, after taking hasty counsel with Good and Sir Henry, I
delivered my opinion briefly to the effect that, being trapped, our
best chance, especially in view of the failure of our water supply,
was to initiate an attack upon Twala's forces. Then I recommended that
the attack should be delivered at once, "before our wounds grew
stiff," and also before the sight of Twala's overpowering force caused
the hearts of our soldiers "to wax small like fat before a fire."
Otherwise, I pointed out, some of the captains might change their
minds, and, making peace with Twala, desert to him, or even betray us
into his hands.

This expression of opinion seemed, on the whole, to be favourably
received; indeed, among the Kukuanas my utterances met with a respect
which has never been accorded to them before or since. But the real
decision as to our plans lay with Ignosi, who, since he had been
recognised as rightful king, could exercise the almost unbounded
rights of sovereignty, including, of course, the final decision on
matters of generalship, and it was to him that all eyes were now
turned.

At length, after a pause, during which he appeared to be thinking
deeply, he spoke.

"Incubu, Macumazahn, and Bougwan, brave white men, and my friends;
Infadoos, my uncle, and chiefs; my heart is fixed. I will strike at
Twala this day, and set my fortunes on the blow, ay, and my life--my
life and your lives also. Listen; thus will I strike. Ye see how the
hill curves round like the half-moon, and how the plain runs like a
green tongue towards us within the curve?"

"We see," I answered.

"Good; it is now mid-day, and the men eat and rest after the toil of
battle. When the sun has turned and travelled a little way towards the
darkness, let thy regiment, my uncle, advance with one other down to
the green tongue, and it shall be that when Twala sees it he will hurl
his force at it to crush it. But the spot is narrow, and the regiments
can come against thee one at a time only; so may they be destroyed one
by one, and the eyes of all Twala's army shall be fixed upon a
struggle the like of which has not been seen by living man. And with
thee, my uncle, shall go Incubu my friend, that when Twala sees his
battle-axe flashing in the first rank of the Greys his heart may grow
faint. And I will come with the second regiment, that which follows
thee, so that if ye are destroyed, as it might happen, there may yet
be a king left to fight for; and with me shall come Macumazahn the
wise."

"It is well, O king," said Infadoos, apparently contemplating the
certainty of the complete annihilation of his regiment with perfect
calmness. Truly, these Kukuanas are a wonderful people. Death has no
terrors for them when it is incurred in the course of duty.

"And whilst the eyes of the multitude of Twala's soldiers are thus
fixed upon the fight," went on Ignosi, "behold, one-third of the men
who are left alive to us (i.e. about 6,000) shall creep along the
right horn of the hill and fall upon the left flank of Twala's force,
and one-third shall creep along the left horn and fall upon Twala's
right flank. And when I see that the horns are ready to toss Twala,
then will I, with the men who remain to me, charge home in Twala's
face, and if fortune goes with us the day will be ours, and before
Night drives her black oxen from the mountains to the mountains we
shall sit in peace at Loo. And now let us eat and make ready; and,
Infadoos, do thou prepare, that the plan be carried out without fail;
and stay, let my white father Bougwan go with the right horn, that his
shining eye may give courage to the captains."

The arrangements for attack thus briefly indicated were set in motion
with a rapidity that spoke well for the perfection of the Kukuana
military system. Within little more than an hour rations had been
served out and devoured, the divisions were formed, the scheme of
onslaught was explained to the leaders, and the whole force, numbering
about 18,000 men, was ready to move, with the exception of a guard
left in charge of the wounded.

Presently Good came up to Sir Henry and myself.

"Good-bye, you fellows," he said; "I am off with the right wing
according to orders; and so I have come to shake hands, in case we
should not meet again, you know," he added significantly.

We shook hands in silence, and not without the exhibition of as much
emotion as Anglo-Saxons are wont to show.

"It is a queer business," said Sir Henry, his deep voice shaking a
little, "and I confess I never expect to see to-morrow's sun. So far
as I can make out, the Greys, with whom I am to go, are to fight until
they are wiped out in order to enable the wings to slip round unawares
and outflank Twala. Well, so be it; at any rate, it will be a man's
death. Good-bye, old fellow. God bless you! I hope you will pull
through and live to collar the diamonds; but if you do, take my advice
and don't have anything more to do with Pretenders!"

In another second Good had wrung us both by the hand and gone; and
then Infadoos came up and led off Sir Henry to his place in the
forefront of the Greys, whilst, with many misgivings, I departed with
Ignosi to my station in the second attacking regiment.



CHAPTER XIV

THE LAST STAND OF THE GREYS

In a few more minutes the regiments destined to carry out the flanking
movements had tramped off in silence, keeping carefully to the lee of
the rising ground in order to conceal their advance from the keen eyes
of Twala's scouts.

Half an hour or more was allowed to elapse between the setting out of
the horns or wings of the army before any stir was made by the Greys
and their supporting regiment, known as the Buffaloes, which formed
its chest, and were destined to bear the brunt of the battle.

Both of these regiments were almost perfectly fresh, and of full
strength, the Greys having been in reserve in the morning, and having
lost but a small number of men in sweeping back that part of the
attack which had proved successful in breaking the line of defence, on
the occasion when I charged with them and was stunned for my pains. As
for the Buffaloes, they had formed the third line of defence on the
left, and since the attacking force at that point had not succeeded in
breaking through the second, they had scarcely come into action at
all.

Infadoos, who was a wary old general, and knew the absolute importance
of keeping up the spirits of his men on the eve of such a desperate
encounter, employed the pause in addressing his own regiment, the
Greys, in poetical language: explaining to them the honour that they
were receiving in being put thus in the forefront of the battle, and
in having the great white warrior from the Stars to fight with them in
their ranks; and promising large rewards of cattle and promotion to
all who survived in the event of Ignosi's arms being successful.

I looked down the long lines of waving black plumes and stern faces
beneath them, and sighed to think that within one short hour most, if
not all, of those magnificent veteran warriors, not a man of whom was
under forty years of age, would be laid dead or dying in the dust. It
could not be otherwise; they were being condemned, with that wise
recklessness of human life which marks the great general, and often
saves his forces and attains his ends, to certain slaughter, in order
to give their cause and the remainder of the army a chance of success.
They were foredoomed to die, and they knew the truth. It was to be
their task to engage regiment after regiment of Twala's army on the
narrow strip of green beneath us, till they were exterminated or till
the wings found a favourable opportunity for their onslaught. And yet
they never hesitated, nor could I detect a sign of fear upon the face
of a single warrior. There they were--going to certain death, about to
quit the blessed light of day for ever, and yet able to contemplate
their doom without a tremor. Even at that moment I could not help
contrasting their state of mind with my own, which was far from
comfortable, and breathing a sigh of envy and admiration. Never before
had I seen such an absolute devotion to the idea of duty, and such a
complete indifference to its bitter fruits.

"Behold your king!" ended old Infadoos, pointing to Ignosi; "go fight
and fall for him, as is the duty of brave men, and cursed and shameful
for ever be the name of him who shrinks from death for his king, or
who turns his back to the foe. Behold your king, chiefs, captains, and
soldiers! Now do your homage to the sacred Snake, and then follow on,
that Incubu and I may show you a road to the heart of Twala's host."

There was a moment's pause, then suddenly a murmur arose from the
serried phalanxes before us, a sound like the distant whisper of the
sea, caused by the gentle tapping of the handles of six thousand
spears against their holders' shields. Slowly it swelled, till its
growing volume deepened and widened into a roar of rolling noise, that
echoed like thunder against the mountains, and filled the air with
heavy waves of sound. Then it decreased, and by faint degrees died
away into nothing, and suddenly out crashed the royal salute.

Ignosi, I thought to myself, might well be a proud man that day, for
no Roman emperor ever had such a salutation from gladiators "about to
die."

Ignosi acknowledged this magnificent act of homage by lifting his
battle-axe, and then the Greys filed off in a triple-line formation,
each line containing about one thousand fighting men, exclusive of
officers. When the last companies had advanced some five hundred
yards, Ignosi put himself at the head of the Buffaloes, which regiment
was drawn up in a similar three-fold formation, and gave the word to
march, and off we went, I, needless to say, uttering the most
heartfelt prayers that I might emerge from that entertainment with a
whole skin. Many a queer position have I found myself in, but never
before in one quite so unpleasant as the present, or one in which my
chance of coming off safe was smaller.

By the time that we reached the edge of the plateau the Greys were
already half-way down the slope ending in the tongue of grass land
that ran up into the bend of the mountain, something as the frog of a
horse's foot runs up into the shoe. The excitement in Twala's camp on
the plain beyond was very great, and regiment after regiment was
starting forward at a long swinging trot in order to reach the root of
the tongue of land before the attacking force could emerge into the
plain of Loo.

This tongue, which was some four hundred yards in depth, even at its
root or widest part was not more than six hundred and fifty paces
across, while at its tip it scarcely measured ninety. The Greys, who,
in passing down the side of the hill and on to the tip of the tongue,
had formed into a column, on reaching the spot where it broadened out
again, reassumed their triple-line formation, and halted dead.

Then we--that is, the Buffaloes--moved down the tip of the tongue and
took our stand in reserve, about one hundred yards behind the last
line of the Greys, and on slightly higher ground. Meanwhile we had
leisure to observe Twala's entire force, which evidently had been
reinforced since the morning attack, and could not now,
notwithstanding their losses, number less than forty thousand, moving
swiftly up towards us. But as they drew near the root of the tongue
they hesitated, having discovered that only one regiment could advance
into the gorge at a time, and that there, some seventy yards from the
mouth of it, unassailable except in front, on account of the high
walls of boulder-strewn ground on each side, stood the famous regiment
of Greys, the pride and glory of the Kukuana army, ready to hold the
way against their power as the three Romans once held the bridge
against thousands.

They hesitated, and finally stopped their advance; there was no
eagerness to cross spears with these three grim ranks of warriors who
stood so firm and ready. Presently, however, a tall general, wearing
the customary head-dress of nodding ostrich plumes, appeared, attended
by a group of chiefs and orderlies, being, I thought, none other than
Twala himself. He gave an order, and the first regiment, raising a
shout, charged up towards the Greys, who remained perfectly still and
silent till the attacking troops were within forty yards, and a volley
of /tollas/, or throwing-knives, came rattling among their ranks.

Then suddenly with a bound and a roar, they sprang forward with
uplifted spears, and the regiment met in deadly strife. Next second
the roll of the meeting shields came to our ears like the sound of
thunder, and the plain seemed to be alive with flashes of light
reflected from the shimmering spears. To and fro swung the surging
mass of struggling, stabbing humanity, but not for long. Suddenly the
attacking lines began to grow thinner, and then with a slow, long
heave the Greys passed over them, just as a great wave heaves up its
bulk and passes over a sunken ridge. It was done; that regiment was
completely destroyed, but the Greys had but two lines left now; a
third of their number were dead.

Closing up shoulder to shoulder, once more they halted in silence and
awaited attack; and I was rejoiced to catch sight of Sir Henry's
yellow beard as he moved to and fro arranging the ranks. So he was yet
alive!

Meanwhile we moved on to the ground of the encounter, which was
cumbered by about four thousand prostrate human beings, dead, dying,
and wounded, and literally stained red with blood. Ignosi issued an
order, which was rapidly passed down the ranks, to the effect that
none of the enemy's wounded were to be killed, and so far as we could
see this command was scrupulously carried out. It would have been a
shocking sight, if we had found time to think of such things.

But now a second regiment, distinguished by white plumes, kilts, and
shields, was moving to the attack of the two thousand remaining Greys,
who stood waiting in the same ominous silence as before, till the foe
was within forty yards or so, when they hurled themselves with
irresistible force upon them. Again there came the awful roll of the
meeting shields, and as we watched the tragedy repeated itself.

But this time the issue was left longer in doubt; indeed, it seemed
for awhile almost impossible that the Greys should again prevail. The
attacking regiment, which was formed of young men, fought with the
utmost fury, and at first seemed by sheer weight to be driving the
veterans back. The slaughter was truly awful, hundreds falling every
minute; and from among the shouts of the warriors and the groans of
the dying, set to the music of clashing spears, came a continuous
hissing undertone of "/S'gee, s'gee/," the note of triumph of each
victor as he passed his assegai through and through the body of his
fallen foe.

But perfect discipline and steady and unchanging valour can do
wonders, and one veteran soldier is worth two young ones, as soon
became apparent in the present case. For just when we thought that it
was all over with the Greys, and were preparing to take their place so
soon as they made room by being destroyed, I heard Sir Henry's deep
voice ringing out through the din, and caught a glimpse of his
circling battle-axe as he waved it high above his plumes. Then came a
change; the Greys ceased to give; they stood still as a rock, against
which the furious waves of spearmen broke again and again, only to
recoil. Presently they began to move once more--forward this time; as
they had no firearms there was no smoke, so we could see it all.
Another minute and the onslaught grew fainter.

"Ah, these are /men/, indeed; they will conquer again," called out
Ignosi, who was grinding his teeth with excitement at my side. "See,
it is done!"

Suddenly, like puffs of smoke from the mouth of a cannon, the
attacking regiment broke away in flying groups, their white head-
dresses streaming behind them in the wind, and left their opponents
victors, indeed, but, alas! no more a regiment. Of the gallant triple
line, which forty minutes before had gone into action three thousand
strong, there remained at most some six hundred blood-spattered men;
the rest were under foot. And yet they cheered and waved their spears
in triumph, and then, instead of falling back upon us as we expected,
they ran forward, for a hundred yards or so, after the flying groups
of foemen, took possession of a rising knoll of ground, and, resuming
their triple formation, formed a threefold ring around its base. And
there, thanks be to Heaven, standing on the top of the mound for a
minute, I saw Sir Henry, apparently unharmed, and with him our old
friend Infadoos. Then Twala's regiments rolled down upon the doomed
band, and once more the battle closed in.

As those who read this history will probably long ago have gathered, I
am, to be honest, a bit of a coward, and certainly in no way given to
fighting, though somehow it has often been my lot to get into
unpleasant positions, and to be obliged to shed man's blood. But I
have always hated it, and kept my own blood as undiminished in
quantity as possible, sometimes by a judicious use of my heels. At
this moment, however, for the first time in my life, I felt my bosom
burn with martial ardour. Warlike fragments from the "Ingoldsby
Legends," together with numbers of sanguinary verses in the Old
Testament, sprang up in my brain like mushrooms in the dark; my blood,
which hitherto had been half-frozen with horror, went beating through
my veins, and there came upon me a savage desire to kill and spare
not. I glanced round at the serried ranks of warriors behind us, and
somehow, all in an instant, I began to wonder if my face looked like
theirs. There they stood, the hands twitching, the lips apart, the
fierce features instinct with the hungry lust of battle, and in the
eyes a look like the glare of a bloodhound when after long pursuit he
sights his quarry.

Only Ignosi's heart, to judge from his comparative self-possession,
seemed, to all appearances, to beat as calmly as ever beneath his
leopard-skin cloak, though even /he/ still ground his teeth. I could
bear it no longer.

"Are we to stand here till we put out roots, Umbopa--Ignosi, I mean--
while Twala swallows our brothers yonder?" I asked.

"Nay, Macumazahn," was the answer; "see, now is the ripe moment: let
us pluck it."

As he spoke a fresh regiment rushed past the ring upon the little
mound, and wheeling round, attacked it from the hither side.

Then, lifting his battle-axe, Ignosi gave the signal to advance, and,
screaming the wild Kukuana war-cry, the Buffaloes charged home with a
rush like the rush of the sea.

What followed immediately on this it is out of my power to tell. All I
can remember is an irregular yet ordered advance, that seemed to shake
the ground; a sudden change of front and forming up on the part of the
regiment against which the charge was directed; then an awful shock, a
dull roar of voices, and a continuous flashing of spears, seen through
a red mist of blood.

When my mind cleared I found myself standing inside the remnant of the
Greys near the top of the mound, and just behind no less a person than
Sir Henry himself. How I got there I had at the moment no idea, but
Sir Henry afterwards told me that I was borne up by the first furious
charge of the Buffaloes almost to his feet, and then left, as they in
turn were pressed back. Thereon he dashed out of the circle and
dragged me into shelter.

As for the fight that followed, who can describe it? Again and again
the multitudes surged against our momentarily lessening circle, and
again and again we beat them back.

 "The stubborn spearmen still made good
  The dark impenetrable wood,
  Each stepping where his comrade stood
    The instant that he fell,"

as someone or other beautifully says.

It was a splendid thing to see those brave battalions come on time
after time over the barriers of their dead, sometimes lifting corpses
before them to receive our spear-thrusts, only to leave their own
corpses to swell the rising piles. It was a gallant sight to see that
old warrior, Infadoos, as cool as though he were on parade, shouting
out orders, taunts, and even jests, to keep up the spirit of his few
remaining men, and then, as each charge rolled on, stepping forward to
wherever the fighting was thickest, to bear his share in its repulse.
And yet more gallant was the vision of Sir Henry, whose ostrich plumes
had been shorn off by a spear thrust, so that his long yellow hair
streamed out in the breeze behind him. There he stood, the great Dane,
for he was nothing else, his hands, his axe, and his armour all red
with blood, and none could live before his stroke. Time after time I
saw it sweeping down, as some great warrior ventured to give him
battle, and as he struck he shouted "/O-hoy! O-hoy!/" like his
Berserkir forefathers, and the blow went crashing through shield and
spear, through head-dress, hair, and skull, till at last none would of
their own will come near the great white "/umtagati/," the wizard, who
killed and failed not.

But suddenly there rose a cry of "/Twala, y' Twala/," and out of the
press sprang forward none other than the gigantic one-eyed king
himself, also armed with battle-axe and shield, and clad in chain
armour.

"Where art thou, Incubu, thou white man, who slewest Scragga my son--
see if thou canst slay me!" he shouted, and at the same time hurled a
/tolla/ straight at Sir Henry, who fortunately saw it coming, and
caught it on his shield, which it transfixed, remaining wedged in the
iron plate behind the hide.

Then, with a cry, Twala sprang forward straight at him, and with his
battle-axe struck him such a blow upon the shield that the mere force
and shock of it brought Sir Henry, strong man as he is, down upon his
knees.

But at this time the matter went no further, for that instant there
rose from the regiments pressing round us something like a shout of
dismay, and on looking up I saw the cause.

To the right and to the left the plain was alive with the plumes of
charging warriors. The outflanking squadrons had come to our relief.
The time could not have been better chosen. All Twala's army, as
Ignosi predicted would be the case, had fixed their attention on the
bloody struggle which was raging round the remnant of the Greys and
that of the Buffaloes, who were now carrying on a battle of their own
at a little distance, which two regiments had formed the chest of our
army. It was not until our horns were about to close upon them that
they had dreamed of their approach, for they believed these forces to
be hidden in reserve upon the crest of the moon-shaped hill. And now,
before they could even assume a proper formation for defence, the
outflanking /Impis/ had leapt, like greyhounds, on their flanks.

In five minutes the fate of the battle was decided. Taken on both
flanks, and dismayed at the awful slaughter inflicted upon them by the
Greys and Buffaloes, Twala's regiments broke into flight, and soon the
whole plain between us and Loo was scattered with groups of running
soldiers making good their retreat. As for the hosts that had so
recently surrounded us and the Buffaloes, they melted away as though
by magic, and presently we were left standing there like a rock from
which the sea has retreated. But what a sight it was! Around us the
dead and dying lay in heaped-up masses, and of the gallant Greys there
remained but ninety-five men upon their feet. More than three thousand
four hundred had fallen in this one regiment, most of them never to
rise again.

"Men," said Infadoos calmly, as between the intervals of binding a
wound on his arm he surveyed what remained to him of his corps, "ye
have kept up the reputation of your regiment, and this day's fighting
will be well spoken of by your children's children." Then he turned
round and shook Sir Henry Curtis by the hand. "Thou art a great
captain, Incubu," he said simply; "I have lived a long life among
warriors, and have known many a brave one, yet have I never seen a man
like unto thee."

At this moment the Buffaloes began to march past our position on the
road to Loo, and as they went a message was brought to us from Ignosi
requesting Infadoos, Sir Henry, and myself to join them. Accordingly,
orders having been issued to the remaining ninety men of the Greys to
employ themselves in collecting the wounded, we joined Ignosi, who
informed us that he was pressing on to Loo to complete the victory by
capturing Twala, if that should be possible. Before we had gone far,
suddenly we discovered the figure of Good sitting on an ant-heap about
one hundred paces from us. Close beside him was the body of a Kukuana.

"He must be wounded," said Sir Henry anxiously. As he made the remark,
an untoward thing happened. The dead body of the Kukuana soldier, or
rather what had appeared to be his dead body, suddenly sprang up,
knocked Good head over heels off the ant-heap, and began to spear him.
We rushed forward in terror, and as we drew near we saw the brawny
warrior making dig after dig at the prostrate Good, who at each prod
jerked all his limbs into the air. Seeing us coming, the Kukuana gave
one final and most vicious dig, and with a shout of "Take that,
wizard!" bolted away. Good did not move, and we concluded that our
poor comrade was done for. Sadly we came towards him, and were
astonished to find him pale and faint indeed, but with a serene smile
upon his face, and his eyeglass still fixed in his eye.

"Capital armour this," he murmured, on catching sight of our faces
bending over him. "How sold that beggar must have been," and then he
fainted. On examination we discovered that he had been seriously
wounded in the leg by a /tolla/ in the course of the pursuit, but that
the chain armour had prevented his last assailant's spear from doing
anything more than bruise him badly. It was a merciful escape. As
nothing could be done for him at the moment, he was placed on one of
the wicker shields used for the wounded, and carried along with us.

On arriving before the nearest gate of Loo we found one of our
regiments watching it in obedience to orders received from Ignosi. The
other regiments were in the same way guarding the different exits to
the town. The officer in command of this regiment saluted Ignosi as
king, and informed him that Twala's army had taken refuge in the town,
whither Twala himself had also escaped, but he thought that they were
thoroughly demoralised, and would surrender. Thereupon Ignosi, after
taking counsel with us, sent forward heralds to each gate ordering the
defenders to open, and promising on his royal word life and
forgiveness to every soldier who laid down his arms, but saying that
if they did not do so before nightfall he would certainly burn the
town and all within its gates. This message was not without its
effect. Half an hour later, amid the shouts and cheers of the
Buffaloes, the bridge was dropped across the fosse, and the gates upon
the further side were flung open.

Taking due precautions against treachery, we marched on into the town.
All along the roadways stood thousands of dejected warriors, their
heads drooping, and their shields and spears at their feet, who,
headed by their officers, saluted Ignosi as king as he passed. On we
marched, straight to Twala's kraal. When we reached the great space,
where a day or two previously we had seen the review and the witch
hunt, we found it deserted. No, not quite deserted, for there, on the
further side, in front of his hut, sat Twala himself, with but one
attendant--Gagool.

It was a melancholy sight to see him seated, his battle-axe and shield
by his side, his chin upon his mailed breast, with but one old crone
for companion, and notwithstanding his crimes and misdeeds, a pang of
compassion shot through me as I looked upon Twala thus "fallen from
his high estate." Not a soldier of all his armies, not a courtier out
of the hundreds who had cringed round him, not even a solitary wife,
remained to share his fate or halve the bitterness of his fall. Poor
savage! he was learning the lesson which Fate teaches to most of us
who live long enough, that the eyes of mankind are blind to the
discredited, and that he who is defenceless and fallen finds few
friends and little mercy. Nor, indeed, in this case did he deserve
any.

Filing through the kraal gate, we marched across the open space to
where the ex-king sat. When within about fifty yards of him the
regiment was halted, and accompanied only by a small guard we advanced
towards him, Gagool reviling us bitterly as we came. As we drew near,
Twala, for the first time, lifted his plumed head, and fixed his one
eye, which seemed to flash with suppressed fury almost as brightly as
the great diamond bound round his forehead, upon his successful
rival--Ignosi.

"Hail, O king!" he said, with bitter mockery; "thou who hast eaten of
my bread, and now by the aid of the white man's magic hast seduced my
regiments and defeated mine army, hail! What fate hast thou in store
for me, O king?"

"The fate thou gavest to my father, whose throne thou hast sat on
these many years!" was the stern answer.

"It is good. I will show thee how to die, that thou mayest remember it
against thine own time. See, the sun sinks in blood," and he pointed
with his battle-axe towards the setting orb; "it is well that my sun
should go down in its company. And now, O king! I am ready to die, but
I crave the boon of the Kukuana royal House[*] to die fighting. Thou
canst refuse it, or even those cowards who fled to-day will hold thee
shamed."

[*] It is a law amongst the Kukuanas that no man of the direct royal
    blood can be put to death, unless by his own consent, which is,
    however, never refused. He is allowed to choose a succession of
    antagonists, to be approved by the king, with whom he fights, till
    one of them kills him.--A.Q.

"It is granted. Choose--with whom wilt thou fight? Myself I cannot
fight with thee, for the king fights not except in war."

Twala's sombre eye ran up and down our ranks, and I felt, as for a
moment it rested on myself, that the position had developed a new
horror. What if he chose to begin by fighting /me/? What chance should
I have against a desperate savage six feet five high, and broad in
proportion? I might as well commit suicide at once. Hastily I made up
my mind to decline the combat, even if I were hooted out of
Kukuanaland as a consequence. It is, I think, better to be hooted than
to be quartered with a battle-axe.

Presently Twala spoke.

"Incubu, what sayest thou, shall we end what we began to-day, or shall
I call thee coward, white--even to the liver?"

"Nay," interposed Ignosi hastily; "thou shalt not fight with Incubu."

"Not if he is afraid," said Twala.

Unfortunately Sir Henry understood this remark, and the blood flamed
up into his cheeks.

"I will fight him," he said; "he shall see if I am afraid."

"For Heaven's sake," I entreated, "don't risk your life against that
of a desperate man. Anybody who saw you to-day will know that you are
brave enough."

"I will fight him," was the sullen answer. "No living man shall call
me a coward. I am ready now!" and he stepped forward and lifted his
axe.

I wrung my hands over this absurd piece of Quixotism; but if he was
determined on this deed, of course I could not stop him.

"Fight not, my white brother," said Ignosi, laying his hand
affectionately on Sir Henry's arm; "thou hast fought enough, and if
aught befell thee at his hands it would cut my heart in twain."

"I will fight, Ignosi," was Sir Henry's answer.

"It is well, Incubu; thou art a brave man. It will be a good fray.
Behold, Twala, the Elephant is ready for thee."

The ex-king laughed savagely, and stepping forward faced Curtis. For a
moment they stood thus, and the light of the sinking sun caught their
stalwart frames and clothed them both in fire. They were a well-
matched pair.

Then they began to circle round each other, their battle-axes raised.

Suddenly Sir Henry sprang forward and struck a fearful blow at Twala,
who stepped to one side. So heavy was the stroke that the striker half
overbalanced himself, a circumstance of which his antagonist took a
prompt advantage. Circling his massive battle-axe round his head, he
brought it down with tremendous force. My heart jumped into my mouth;
I thought that the affair was already finished. But no; with a quick
upward movement of the left arm Sir Henry interposed his shield
between himself and the axe, with the result that its outer edge was
shorn away, the axe falling on his left shoulder, but not heavily
enough to do any serious damage. In another moment Sir Henry got in a
second blow, which was also received by Twala upon his shield.

Then followed blow upon blow, that were, in turn, either received upon
the shields or avoided. The excitement grew intense; the regiment
which was watching the encounter forgot its discipline, and, drawing
near, shouted and groaned at every stroke. Just at this time, too,
Good, who had been laid upon the ground by me, recovered from his
faint, and, sitting up, perceived what was going on. In an instant he
was up, and catching hold of my arm, hopped about from place to place
on one leg, dragging me after him, and yelling encouragements to Sir
Henry--

"Go it, old fellow!" he hallooed. "That was a good one! Give it him
amidships," and so on.

Presently Sir Henry, having caught a fresh stroke upon his shield, hit
out with all his force. The blow cut through Twala's shield and
through the tough chain armour behind it, gashing him in the shoulder.
With a yell of pain and fury Twala returned the blow with interest,
and, such was his strength, shore right through the rhinoceros' horn
handle of his antagonists battle-axe, strengthened as it was with
bands of steel, wounding Curtis in the face.

A cry of dismay rose from the Buffaloes as our hero's broad axe-head
fell to the ground; and Twala, again raising his weapon, flew at him
with a shout. I shut my eyes. When I opened them again it was to see
Sir Henry's shield lying on the ground, and Sir Henry himself with his
great arms twined round Twala's middle. To and fro they swung, hugging
each other like bears, straining with all their mighty muscles for
dear life, and dearer honour. With a supreme effort Twala swung the
Englishman clean off his feet, and down they came together, rolling
over and over on the lime paving, Twala striking out at Curtis' head
with the battle-axe, and Sir Henry trying to drive the /tolla/ he had
drawn from his belt through Twala's armour.

It was a mighty struggle, and an awful thing to see.

"Get his axe!" yelled Good; and perhaps our champion heard him.

At any rate, dropping the /tolla/, he snatched at the axe, which was
fastened to Twala's wrist by a strip of buffalo hide, and still
rolling over and over, they fought for it like wild cats, drawing
their breath in heavy gasps. Suddenly the hide string burst, and then,
with a great effort, Sir Henry freed himself, the weapon remaining in
his hand. Another second and he was upon his feet, the red blood
streaming from the wound in his face, and so was Twala. Drawing the
heavy /tolla/ from his belt, he reeled straight at Curtis and struck
him in the breast. The stab came home true and strong, but whoever it
was who made that chain armour, he understood his art, for it
withstood the steel. Again Twala struck out with a savage yell, and
again the sharp knife rebounded, and Sir Henry went staggering back.
Once more Twala came on, and as he came our great Englishman gathered
himself together, and swinging the big axe round his head with both
hands, hit at him with all his force.

There was a shriek of excitement from a thousand throats, and, behold!
Twala's head seemed to spring from his shoulders: then it fell and
came rolling and bounding along the ground towards Ignosi, stopping
just as his feet. For a second the corpse stood upright; then with a
dull crash it came to the earth, and the gold torque from its neck
rolled away across the pavement. As it did so Sir Henry, overpowered
by faintness and loss of blood, fell heavily across the body of the
dead king.

In a second he was lifted up, and eager hands were pouring water on
his face. Another minute, and the grey eyes opened wide.

He was not dead.

Then I, just as the sun sank, stepping to where Twala's head lay in
the dust, unloosed the diamond from the dead brows, and handed it to
Ignosi.

"Take it," I said, "lawful king of the Kukuanas--king by birth and
victory."

Ignosi bound the diadem upon his brows. Then advancing, he placed his
foot upon the broad chest of his headless foe and broke out into a
chant, or rather a paean of triumph, so beautiful, and yet so utterly
savage, that I despair of being able to give an adequate version of
his words. Once I heard a scholar with a fine voice read aloud from
the Greek poet Homer, and I remember that the sound of the rolling
lines seemed to make my blood stand still. Ignosi's chant, uttered as
it was in a language as beautiful and sonorous as the old Greek,
produced exactly the same effect on me, although I was exhausted with
toil and many emotions.

"Now," he began, "now our rebellion is swallowed up in victory, and
our evil-doing is justified by strength.

"In the morning the oppressors arose and stretched themselves; they
bound on their harness and made them ready to war.

"They rose up and tossed their spears: the soldiers called to the
captains, 'Come, lead us'--and the captains cried to the king, 'Direct
thou the battle.'

"They laughed in their pride, twenty thousand men, and yet a twenty
thousand.

"Their plumes covered the valleys as the plumes of a bird cover her
nest; they shook their shields and shouted, yea, they shook their
shields in the sunlight; they lusted for battle and were glad.

"They came up against me; their strong ones ran swiftly to slay me;
they cried, 'Ha! ha! he is as one already dead.'



"Then breathed I on them, and my breath was as the breath of a wind,
and lo! they were not.

"My lightnings pierced them; I licked up their strength with the
lightning of my spears; I shook them to the ground with the thunder of
my shoutings.

"They broke--they scattered--they were gone as the mists of the
morning.

"They are food for the kites and the foxes, and the place of battle is
fat with their blood.



"Where are the mighty ones who rose up in the morning?

"Where are the proud ones who tossed their spears and cried, 'He is as
a man already dead'?

"They bow their heads, but not in sleep; they are stretched out, but
not in sleep.

"They are forgotten; they have gone into the blackness; they dwell in
the dead moons; yea, others shall lead away their wives, and their
children shall remember them no more.



"And I--! the king--like an eagle I have found my eyrie.

"Behold! far have I flown in the night season, yet have I returned to
my young at the daybreak.

"Shelter ye under the shadow of my wings, O people, and I will comfort
you, and ye shall not be dismayed.

"Now is the good time, the time of spoil.

"Mine are the cattle on the mountains, mine are the virgins in the
kraals.

"The winter is overpast with storms, the summer is come with flowers.

"Now Evil shall cover up her face, now Mercy and Gladness shall dwell
in the land.

"Rejoice, rejoice, my people!

"Let all the stars rejoice in that this tyranny is trodden down, in
that I am the king."



Ignosi ceased his song, and out of the gathering gloom came back the
deep reply--

"/Thou art the king!/"



Thus was my prophecy to the herald fulfilled, and within the forty-
eight hours Twala's headless corpse was stiffening at Twala's gate.



CHAPTER XV

GOOD FALLS SICK

After the fight was ended, Sir Henry and Good were carried into
Twala's hut, where I joined them. They were both utterly exhausted by
exertion and loss of blood, and, indeed, my own condition was little
better. I am very wiry, and can stand more fatigue than most men,
probably on account of my light weight and long training; but that
night I was quite done up, and, as is always the case with me when
exhausted, that old wound which the lion gave me began to pain. Also
my head was aching violently from the blow I had received in the
morning, when I was knocked senseless. Altogether, a more miserable
trio than we were that evening it would have been difficult to
discover; and our only comfort lay in the reflection that we were
exceedingly fortunate to be there to feel miserable, instead of being
stretched dead upon the plain, as so many thousands of brave men were
that night, who had risen well and strong in the morning.

Somehow, with the assistance of the beautiful Foulata, who, since we
had been the means of saving her life, had constituted herself our
handmaiden, and especially Good's, we managed to get off the chain
shirts, which had certainly saved the lives of two of us that day. As
I expected, we found that the flesh underneath was terribly contused,
for though the steel links had kept the weapons from entering, they
had not prevented them from bruising. Both Sir Henry and Good were a
mass of contusions, and I was by no means free. As a remedy Foulata
brought us some pounded green leaves, with an aromatic odour, which,
when applied as a plaster, gave us considerable relief.

But though the bruises were painful, they did not give us such anxiety
as Sir Henry's and Good's wounds. Good had a hole right through the
fleshy part of his "beautiful white leg," from which he had lost a
great deal of blood; and Sir Henry, with other hurts, had a deep cut
over the jaw, inflicted by Twala's battle-axe. Luckily Good is a very
decent surgeon, and so soon as his small box of medicines was
forthcoming, having thoroughly cleansed the wounds, he managed to
stitch up first Sir Henry's and then his own pretty satisfactorily,
considering the imperfect light given by the primitive Kukuana lamp in
the hut. Afterwards he plentifully smeared the injured places with
some antiseptic ointment, of which there was a pot in the little box,
and we covered them with the remains of a pocket-handkerchief which we
possessed.

Meanwhile Foulata had prepared us some strong broth, for we were too
weary to eat. This we swallowed, and then threw ourselves down on the
piles of magnificent karrosses, or fur rugs, which were scattered
about the dead king's great hut. By a very strange instance of the
irony of fate, it was on Twala's own couch, and wrapped in Twala's own
particular karross, that Sir Henry, the man who had slain him, slept
that night.

I say slept; but after that day's work, sleep was indeed difficult. To
begin with, in very truth the air was full

 "Of farewells to the dying
  And mournings for the dead."

From every direction came the sound of the wailing of women whose
husbands, sons, and brothers had perished in the battle. No wonder
that they wailed, for over twelve thousand men, or nearly a fifth of
the Kukuana army, had been destroyed in that awful struggle. It was
heart-rending to lie and listen to their cries for those who never
would return; and it made me understand the full horror of the work
done that day to further man's ambition. Towards midnight, however,
the ceaseless crying of the women grew less frequent, till at length
the silence was only broken at intervals of a few minutes by a long
piercing howl that came from a hut in our immediate rear, which, as I
afterwards discovered, proceeded from Gagool "keening" over the dead
king Twala.

After that I got a little fitful sleep, only to wake from time to time
with a start, thinking that I was once more an actor in the terrible
events of the last twenty-four hours. Now I seemed to see that warrior
whom my hand had sent to his last account charging at me on the
mountain-top; now I was once more in that glorious ring of Greys,
which made its immortal stand against all Twala's regiments upon the
little mound; and now again I saw Twala's plumed and gory head roll
past my feet with gnashing teeth and glaring eye.

At last, somehow or other, the night passed away; but when dawn broke
I found that my companions had slept no better than myself. Good,
indeed, was in a high fever, and very soon afterwards began to grow
light-headed, and also, to my alarm, to spit blood, the result, no
doubt, of some internal injury, inflicted during the desperate efforts
made by the Kukuana warrior on the previous day to force his big spear
through the chain armour. Sir Henry, however, seemed pretty fresh,
notwithstanding his wound on the face, which made eating difficult and
laughter an impossibility, though he was so sore and stiff that he
could scarcely stir.

About eight o'clock we had a visit from Infadoos, who appeared but
little the worse--tough old warrior that he was--for his exertions in
the battle, although he informed us that he had been up all night. He
was delighted to see us, but much grieved at Good's condition, and
shook our hands cordially. I noticed, however, that he addressed Sir
Henry with a kind of reverence, as though he were something more than
man; and, indeed, as we afterwards found out, the great Englishman was
looked on throughout Kukuanaland as a supernatural being. No man, the
soldiers said, could have fought as he fought or, at the end of a day
of such toil and bloodshed, could have slain Twala, who, in addition
to being the king, was supposed to be the strongest warrior in the
country, in single combat, shearing through his bull-neck at a stroke.
Indeed, that stroke became proverbial in Kukuanaland, and any
extraordinary blow or feat of strength was henceforth known as
"Incubu's blow."

Infadoos told us also that all Twala's regiments had submitted to
Ignosi, and that like submissions were beginning to arrive from chiefs
in the outlying country. Twala's death at the hands of Sir Henry had
put an end to all further chance of disturbance; for Scragga had been
his only legitimate son, so there was no rival claimant to the throne
left alive.

I remarked that Ignosi had swum to power through blood. The old chief
shrugged his shoulders. "Yes," he answered; "but the Kukuana people
can only be kept cool by letting their blood flow sometimes. Many are
killed, indeed, but the women are left, and others must soon grow up
to take the places of the fallen. After this the land would be quiet
for a while."

Afterwards, in the course of the morning, we had a short visit from
Ignosi, on whose brows the royal diadem was now bound. As I
contemplated him advancing with kingly dignity, an obsequious guard
following his steps, I could not help recalling to my mind the tall
Zulu who had presented himself to us at Durban some few months back,
asking to be taken into our service, and reflecting on the strange
revolutions of the wheel of fortune.

"Hail, O king!" I said, rising.

"Yes, Macumazahn. King at last, by the might of your three right
hands," was the ready answer.

All was, he said, going well; and he hoped to arrange a great feast in
two weeks' time in order to show himself to the people.

I asked him what he had settled to do with Gagool.

"She is the evil genius of the land," he answered, "and I shall kill
her, and all the witch doctors with her! She has lived so long that
none can remember when she was not very old, and she it is who has
always trained the witch-hunters, and made the land wicked in the
sight of the heavens above."

"Yet she knows much," I replied; "it is easier to destroy knowledge,
Ignosi, than to gather it."

"That is so," he said thoughtfully. "She, and she only, knows the
secret of the 'Three Witches,' yonder, whither the great road runs,
where the kings are buried, and the Silent Ones sit."

"Yes, and the diamonds are. Forget not thy promise, Ignosi; thou must
lead us to the mines, even if thou hast to spare Gagool alive to show
the way."

"I will not forget, Macumazahn, and I will think on what thou sayest."

After Ignosi's visit I went to see Good, and found him quite
delirious. The fever set up by his wound seemed to have taken a firm
hold of his system, and to be complicated with an internal injury. For
four or five days his condition was most critical; indeed, I believe
firmly that had it not been for Foulata's indefatigable nursing he
must have died.

Women are women, all the world over, whatever their colour. Yet
somehow it seemed curious to watch this dusky beauty bending night and
day over the fevered man's couch, and performing all the merciful
errands of a sick-room swiftly, gently, and with as fine an instinct
as that of a trained hospital nurse. For the first night or two I
tried to help her, and so did Sir Henry as soon as his stiffness
allowed him to move, but Foulata bore our interference with
impatience, and finally insisted upon our leaving him to her, saying
that our movements made him restless, which I think was true. Day and
night she watched him and tended him, giving him his only medicine, a
native cooling drink made of milk, in which was infused juice from the
bulb of a species of tulip, and keeping the flies from settling on
him. I can see the whole picture now as it appeared night after night
by the light of our primitive lamp; Good tossing to and fro, his
features emaciated, his eyes shining large and luminous, and jabbering
nonsense by the yard; and seated on the ground by his side, her back
resting against the wall of the hut, the soft-eyed, shapely Kukuana
beauty, her face, weary as it was with her long vigil, animated by a
look of infinite compassion--or was it something more than compassion?

For two days we thought that he must die, and crept about with heavy
hearts.

Only Foulata would not believe it.

"He will live," she said.

For three hundred yards or more around Twala's chief hut, where the
sufferer lay, there was silence; for by the king's order all who lived
in the habitations behind it, except Sir Henry and myself, had been
removed, lest any noise should come to the sick man's ears. One night,
it was the fifth of Good's illness, as was my habit, I went across to
see how he was doing before turning in for a few hours.

I entered the hut carefully. The lamp placed upon the floor showed the
figure of Good tossing no more, but lying quite still.

So it had come at last! In the bitterness of my heart I gave something
like a sob.

"Hush--h--h!" came from the patch of dark shadow behind Good's head.

Then, creeping closer, I saw that he was not dead, but sleeping
soundly, with Foulata's taper fingers clasped tightly in his poor
white hand. The crisis had passed, and he would live. He slept like
that for eighteen hors; and I scarcely like to say it, for fear I
should not be believed, but during the entire period did this devoted
girl sit by him, fearing that if she moved and drew away her hand it
would wake him. What she must have suffered from cramp and weariness,
to say nothing of want of food, nobody will ever know; but it is the
fact that, when at last he woke, she had to be carried away--her limbs
were so stiff that she could not move them.


After the turn had once been taken, Good's recovery was rapid and
complete. It was not till he was nearly well that Sir Henry told him
of all he owed to Foulata; and when he came to the story of how she
sat by his side for eighteen hours, fearing lest by moving she should
wake him, the honest sailor's eyes filled with tears. He turned and
went straight to the hut where Foulata was preparing the mid-day meal,
for we were back in our old quarters now, taking me with him to
interpret in case he could not make his meaning clear to her, though I
am bound to say that she understood him marvellously as a rule,
considering how extremely limited was his foreign vocabulary.

"Tell her," said Good, "that I owe her my life, and that I will never
forget her kindness to my dying day."

I interpreted, and under her dark skin she actually seemed to blush.

Turning to him with one of those swift and graceful motions that in
her always reminded me of the flight of a wild bird, Foulata answered
softly, glancing at him with her large brown eyes--

"Nay, my lord; my lord forgets! Did he not save /my/ life, and am I
not my lord's handmaiden?"

It will be observed that the young lady appeared entirely to have
forgotten the share which Sir Henry and myself had taken in her
preservation from Twala's clutches. But that is the way of women! I
remember my dear wife was just the same. Well, I retired from that
little interview sad at heart. I did not like Miss Foulata's soft
glances, for I knew the fatal amorous propensities of sailors in
general, and of Good in particular.

There are two things in the world, as I have found out, which cannot
be prevented: you cannot keep a Zulu from fighting, or a sailor from
falling in love upon the slightest provocation!

It was a few days after this last occurrence that Ignosi held his
great "indaba," or council, and was formally recognised as king by the
"indunas," or head men, of Kukuanaland. The spectacle was a most
imposing one, including as it did a grand review of troops. On this
day the remaining fragments of the Greys were formally paraded, and in
the face of the army thanked for their splendid conduct in the battle.
To each man the king made a large present of cattle, promoting them
one and all to the rank of officers in the new corps of Greys which
was in process of formation. An order was also promulgated throughout
the length and breadth of Kukuanaland that, whilst we honoured the
country by our presence, we three were to be greeted with the royal
salute, and to be treated with the same ceremony and respect that was
by custom accorded to the king. Also the power of life and death was
publicly conferred upon us. Ignosi, too, in the presence of his
people, reaffirmed the promises which he had made, to the effect that
no man's blood should be shed without trial, and that witch-hunting
should cease in the land.

When the ceremony was over we waited upon Ignosi, and informed him
that we were now anxious to investigate the mystery of the mines to
which Solomon's Road ran, asking him if he had discovered anything
about them.

"My friends," he answered, "I have discovered this. It is there that
the three great figures sit, who here are called the 'Silent Ones,'
and to whom Twala would have offered the girl Foulata as a sacrifice.
It is there, too, in a great cave deep in the mountain, that the kings
of the land are buried; there ye shall find Twala's body, sitting with
those who went before him. There, also, is a deep pit, which, at some
time, long-dead men dug out, mayhap for the stones ye speak of, such
as I have heard men in Natal tell of at Kimberley. There, too, in the
Place of Death is a secret chamber, known to none but the king and
Gagool. But Twala, who knew it, is dead, and I know it not, nor know I
what is in it. Yet there is a legend in the land that once, many
generations gone, a white man crossed the mountains, and was led by a
woman to the secret chamber and shown the wealth hidden in it. But
before he could take it she betrayed him, and he was driven by the
king of that day back to the mountains, and since then no man has
entered the place."

"The story is surely true, Ignosi, for on the mountains we found the
white man," I said.

"Yes, we found him. And now I have promised you that if ye can come to
that chamber, and the stones are there--"

"The gem upon thy forehead proves that they are there," I put in,
pointing to the great diamond I had taken from Twala's dead brows.

"Mayhap; if they are there," he said, "ye shall have as many as ye can
take hence--if indeed ye would leave me, my brothers."

"First we must find the chamber," said I.

"There is but one who can show it to thee--Gagool."

"And if she will not?"

"Then she must die," said Ignosi sternly. "I have saved her alive but
for this. Stay, she shall choose," and calling to a messenger he
ordered Gagool to be brought before him.

In a few minutes she came, hurried along by two guards, whom she was
cursing as she walked.

"Leave her," said the king to the guards.

So soon as their support was withdrawn, the withered old bundle--for
she looked more like a bundle than anything else, out of which her two
bright and wicked eyes gleamed like those of a snake--sank in a heap
on to the floor.

"What will ye with me, Ignosi?" she piped. "Ye dare not touch me. If
ye touch me I will slay you as ye sit. Beware of my magic."

"Thy magic could not save Twala, old she-wolf, and it cannot hurt me,"
was the answer. "Listen; I will this of thee, that thou reveal to us
the chamber where are the shining stones."

"Ha! ha!" she piped, "none know its secret but I, and I will never
tell thee. The white devils shall go hence empty-handed."

"Thou shalt tell me. I will make thee tell me."

"How, O king? Thou art great, but can thy power wring the truth from a
woman?"

"It is difficult, yet will I do so."

"How, O king?"

"Nay, thus; if thou tellest not thou shalt slowly die."

"Die!" she shrieked in terror and fury; "ye dare not touch me--man, ye
know not who I am. How old think ye am I? I knew your fathers, and
your fathers' fathers' fathers. When the country was young I was here;
when the country grows old I shall still be here. I cannot die unless
I be killed by chance, for none dare slay me."

"Yet will I slay thee. See, Gagool, mother of evil, thou art so old
that thou canst no longer love thy life. What can life be to such a
hag as thou, who hast no shape, nor form, nor hair, nor teeth--hast
naught, save wickedness and evil eyes? It will be mercy to make an end
of thee, Gagool."

"Thou fool," shrieked the old fiend, "thou accursed fool, deemest thou
that life is sweet only to the young? It is not so, and naught thou
knowest of the heart of man to think it. To the young, indeed, death
is sometimes welcome, for the young can feel. They love and suffer,
and it wrings them to see their beloved pass to the land of shadows.
But the old feel not, they love not, and, /ha! ha!/ they laugh to see
another go out into the dark; /ha! ha!/ they laugh to see the evil
that is done under the stars. All they love is life, the warm, warm
sun, and the sweet, sweet air. They are afraid of the cold, afraid of
the cold and the dark, /ha! ha! ha!/" and the old hag writhed in
ghastly merriment on the ground.

"Cease thine evil talk and answer me," said Ignosi angrily. "Wilt thou
show the place where the stones are, or wilt thou not? If thou wilt
not thou diest, even now," and he seized a spear and held it over her.

"I will not show it; thou darest not kill me, darest not! He who slays
me will be accursed for ever."

Slowly Ignosi brought down the spear till it pricked the prostrate
heap of rags.

With a wild yell Gagool sprang to her feet, then fell again and rolled
upon the floor.

"Nay, I will show thee. Only let me live, let me sit in the sun and
have a bit of meat to suck, and I will show thee."

"It is well. I thought that I should find a way to reason with thee.
To-morrow shalt thou go with Infadoos and my white brothers to the
place, and beware how thou failest, for if thou showest it not, then
thou shalt slowly die. I have spoken."

"I will not fail, Ignosi. I always keep my word--/ha! ha! ha!/ Once
before a woman showed the chamber to a white man, and behold! evil
befell him," and here her wicked eyes glinted. "Her name was Gagool
also. Perchance I was that woman."

"Thou liest," I said, "that was ten generations gone."

"Mayhap, mayhap; when one lives long one forgets. Perhaps it was my
mother's mother who told me; surely her name was Gagool also. But
mark, ye will find in the place where the bright things are a bag of
hide full of stones. The man filled that bag, but he never took it
away. Evil befell him, I say, evil befell him! Perhaps it was my
mother's mother who told me. It will be a merry journey--we can see
the bodies of those who died in the battle as we go. Their eyes will
be gone by now, and their ribs will be hollow. /Ha! ha! ha!/"



CHAPTER XVI

THE PLACE OF DEATH

It was already dark on the third day after the scene described in the
previous chapter when we camped in some huts at the foot of the "Three
Witches," as the triangle of mountains is called to which Solomon's
Great Road runs. Our party consisted of our three selves and Foulata,
who waited on us--especially on Good--Infadoos, Gagool, who was borne
along in a litter, inside which she could be heard muttering and
cursing all day long, and a party of guards and attendants. The
mountains, or rather the three peaks of the mountain, for the mass was
evidently the result of a solitary upheaval, were, as I have said, in
the form of a triangle, of which the base was towards us, one peak
being on our right, one on our left, and one straight in front of us.
Never shall I forget the sight afforded by those three towering peaks
in the early sunlight of the following morning. High, high above us,
up into the blue air, soared their twisted snow-wreaths. Beneath the
snow-line the peaks were purple with heaths, and so were the wild
moors that ran up the slopes towards them. Straight before us the
white ribbon of Solomon's Great Road stretched away uphill to the foot
of the centre peak, about five miles from us, and there stopped. It
was its terminus.

I had better leave the feelings of intense excitement with which we
set out on our march that morning to the imagination of those who read
this history. At last we were drawing near to the wonderful mines that
had been the cause of the miserable death of the old Portuguese Dom
three centuries ago, of my poor friend, his ill-starred descendant,
and also, as we feared, of George Curtis, Sir Henry's brother. Were we
destined, after all that we had gone through, to fare any better? Evil
befell them, as that old fiend Gagool said; would it also befall us?
Somehow, as we were marching up that last stretch of beautiful road, I
could not help feeling a little superstitious about the matter, and so
I think did Good and Sir Henry.

For an hour and a half or more we tramped on up the heather-fringed
way, going so fast in our excitement that the bearers of Gagool's
hammock could scarcely keep pace with us, and its occupant piped out
to us to stop.

"Walk more slowly, white men," she said, projecting her hideous
shrivelled countenance between the grass curtains, and fixing her
gleaming eyes upon us; "why will ye run to meet the evil that shall
befall you, ye seekers after treasure?" and she laughed that horrible
laugh which always sent a cold shiver down my back, and for a while
quite took the enthusiasm out of us.

However, on we went, till we saw before us, and between ourselves and
the peak, a vast circular hole with sloping sides, three hundred feet
or more in depth, and quite half a mile round.

"Can't you guess what this is?" I said to Sir Henry and Good, who were
staring in astonishment at the awful pit before us.

They shook their heads.

"Then it is clear that you have never seen the diamond diggings at
Kimberley. You may depend on it that this is Solomon's Diamond Mine.
Look there," I said, pointing to the strata of stiff blue clay which
were yet to be seen among the grass and bushes that clothed the sides
of the pit, "the formation is the same. I'll be bound that if we went
down there we should find 'pipes' of soapy brecciated rock. Look,
too," and I pointed to a series of worn flat slabs of stone that were
placed on a gentle slope below the level of a watercourse which in
some past age had been cut out of the solid rock; "if those are not
tables once used to wash the 'stuff,' I'm a Dutchman."

At the edge of this vast hole, which was none other than the pit
marked on the old Dom's map, the Great Road branched into two and
circumvented it. In many places, by the way, this surrounding road was
built entirely out of blocks of stone, apparently with the object of
supporting the edges of the pit and preventing falls of reef. Along
this path we pressed, driven by curiosity to see what were the three
towering objects which we could discern from the hither side of the
great gulf. As we drew near we perceived that they were Colossi of
some sort or another, and rightly conjectured that before us sat the
three "Silent Ones" that are held in such awe by the Kukuana people.
But it was not until we were quite close to them that we recognised
the full majesty of these "Silent Ones."

There, upon huge pedestals of dark rock, sculptured with rude emblems
of the Phallic worship, separated from each other by a distance of
forty paces, and looking down the road which crossed some sixty miles
of plain to Loo, were three colossal seated forms--two male and one
female--each measuring about thirty feet from the crown of its head to
the pedestal.

The female form, which was nude, was of great though severe beauty,
but unfortunately the features had been injured by centuries of
exposure to the weather. Rising from either side of her head were the
points of a crescent. The two male Colossi, on the contrary, were
draped, and presented a terrifying cast of features, especially the
one to our right, which had the face of a devil. That to our left was
serene in countenance, but the calm upon it seemed dreadful. It was
the calm of that inhuman cruelty, Sir Henry remarked, which the
ancients attributed to beings potent for good, who could yet watch the
sufferings of humanity, if not without rejoicing, at least without
sorrow. These three statues form a most awe-inspiring trinity, as they
sit there in their solitude, and gaze out across the plain for ever.

Contemplating these "Silent Ones," as the Kukuanas call them, an
intense curiosity again seized us to know whose were the hands which
had shaped them, who it was that had dug the pit and made the road.
Whilst I was gazing and wondering, suddenly it occurred to me--being
familiar with the Old Testament--that Solomon went astray after
strange gods, the names of three of whom I remembered--"Ashtoreth, the
goddess of the Zidonians, Chemosh, the god of the Moabites, and
Milcom, the god of the children of Ammon"--and I suggested to my
companions that the figures before us might represent these false and
exploded divinities.

"Hum," said Sir Henry, who is a scholar, having taken a high degree in
classics at college, "there may be something in that; Ashtoreth of the
Hebrews was the Astarte of the Phoenicians, who were the great traders
of Solomon's time. Astarte, who afterwards became the Aphrodite of the
Greeks, was represented with horns like the half-moon, and there on
the brow of the female figure are distinct horns. Perhaps these
Colossi were designed by some Phoenician official who managed the
mines. Who can say?"[*]

[*] Compare Milton, "Paradise Lost," Book i.:--

                      "With these in troop
    Came Ashtoreth, whom the Phoenicians called
    Astarte, Queen of Heaven, with crescent horns;
    To whose bright image nightly by the moon
    Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs."

Before we had finished examining these extraordinary relics of remote
antiquity, Infadoos came up, and having saluted the "Silent Ones" by
lifting his spear, asked us if we intended entering the "Place of
Death" at once, or if we would wait till after we had taken food at
mid-day. If we were ready to go at once, Gagool had announced her
willingness to guide us. As it was not later than eleven o'clock--
driven to it by a burning curiosity--we announced our intention of
proceeding instantly, and I suggested that, in case we should be
detained in the cave, we should take some food with us. Accordingly
Gagool's litter was brought up, and that lady herself assisted out of
it. Meanwhile Foulata, at my request, stored some "biltong," or dried
game-flesh, together with a couple of gourds of water, in a reed
basket with a hinged cover. Straight in front of us, at a distance of
some fifty paces from the backs of the Colossi, rose a sheer wall of
rock, eighty feet or more in height, that gradually sloped upwards
till it formed the base of the lofty snow-wreathed peak, which soared
into the air three thousand feet above us. As soon as she was clear of
her hammock, Gagool cast one evil grin upon us, and then, leaning on a
stick, hobbled off towards the face of this wall. We followed her till
we came to a narrow portal solidly arched that looked like the opening
of a gallery of a mine.

Here Gagool was waiting for us, still with that evil grin upon her
horrid face.

"Now, white men from the Stars," she piped; "great warriors, Incubu,
Bougwan, and Macumazahn the wise, are ye ready? Behold, I am here to
do the bidding of my lord the king, and to show you the store of
bright stones. /Ha! ha! ha!/"

"We are ready," I said.

"Good, good! Make strong your hearts to bear what ye shall see. Comest
thou too, Infadoos, thou who didst betray thy master?"

Infadoos frowned as he answered--

"Nay, I come not; it is not for me to enter there. But thou, Gagool,
curb thy tongue, and beware how thou dealest with my lords. At thy
hands will I require them, and if a hair of them be hurt, Gagool,
be'st thou fifty times a witch, thou shalt die. Hearest thou?"

"I hear Infadoos; I know thee, thou didst ever love big words; when
thou wast a babe I remember thou didst threaten thine own mother. That
was but the other day. But, fear not, fear not, I live only to do the
bidding of the king. I have done the bidding of many kings, Infadoos,
till in the end they did mine. /Ha! ha!/ I go to look upon their faces
once more, and Twala's also! Come on, come on, here is the lamp," and
she drew a large gourd full of oil, and fitted with a rush wick, from
under her fur cloak.

"Art thou coming, Foulata?" asked Good in his villainous Kitchen
Kukuana, in which he had been improving himself under that young
lady's tuition.

"I fear, my lord," the girl answered timidly.

"Then give me the basket."

"Nay, my lord, whither thou goest there I go also."

"The deuce you will!" thought I to myself; "that may be rather awkward
if we ever get out of this."

Without further ado Gagool plunged into the passage, which was wide
enough to admit of two walking abreast, and quite dark. We followed
the sound of her voice as she piped to us to come on, in some fear and
trembling, which was not allayed by the flutter of a sudden rush of
wings.

"Hullo! what's that?" halloed Good; "somebody hit me in the face."

"Bats," said I; "on you go."

When, so far as we could judge, we had gone some fifty paces, we
perceived that the passage was growing faintly light. Another minute,
and we were in perhaps the most wonderful place that the eyes of
living man have beheld.

Let the reader picture to himself the hall of the vastest cathedral he
ever stood in, windowless indeed, but dimly lighted from above,
presumably by shafts connected with the outer air and driven in the
roof, which arched away a hundred feet above our heads, and he will
get some idea of the size of the enormous cave in which we found
ourselves, with the difference that this cathedral designed by nature
was loftier and wider than any built by man. But its stupendous size
was the least of the wonders of the place, for running in rows adown
its length were gigantic pillars of what looked like ice, but were, in
reality, huge stalactites. It is impossible for me to convey any idea
of the overpowering beauty and grandeur of these pillars of white
spar, some of which were not less than twenty feet in diameter at the
base, and sprang up in lofty and yet delicate beauty sheer to the
distant roof. Others again were in process of formation. On the rock
floor there was in these cases what looked, Sir Henry said, exactly
like a broken column in an old Grecian temple, whilst high above,
depending from the roof, the point of a huge icicle could be dimly
seen.

Even as we gazed we could hear the process going on, for presently
with a tiny splash a drop of water would fall from the far-off icicle
on to the column below. On some columns the drops only fell once in
two or three minutes, and in these cases it would be an interesting
calculation to discover how long, at that rate of dripping, it would
take to form a pillar, say eighty feet by ten in diameter. That the
process, in at least one instance, was incalculably slow, the
following example will suffice to show. Cut on one of these pillars we
discovered the crude likeness of a mummy, by the head of which sat
what appeared to be the figure of an Egyptian god, doubtless the
handiwork of some old-world labourer in the mine. This work of art was
executed at the natural height at which an idle fellow, be he
Phoenician workman or British cad, is in the habit of trying to
immortalise himself at the expense of nature's masterpieces, namely,
about five feet from the ground. Yet at the time that we saw it, which
/must/ have been nearly three thousand years after the date of the
execution of the carving, the column was only eight feet high, and was
still in process of formation, which gives a rate of growth of a foot
to a thousand years, or an inch and a fraction to a century. This we
knew because, as we were standing by it, we heard a drop of water
fall.

Sometimes the stalagmites took strange forms, presumably where the
dropping of the water had not always been on the same spot. Thus, one
huge mass, which must have weighed a hundred tons or so, was in the
shape of a pulpit, beautifully fretted over outside with a design that
looked like lace. Others resembled strange beasts, and on the sides of
the cave were fanlike ivory tracings, such as the frost leaves upon a
pane.

Out of the vast main aisle there opened here and there smaller caves,
exactly, Sir Henry said, as chapels open out of great cathedrals. Some
were large, but one or two--and this is a wonderful instance of how
nature carries out her handiwork by the same unvarying laws, utterly
irrespective of size--were tiny. One little nook, for instance, was no
larger than an unusually big doll's house, and yet it might have been
a model for the whole place, for the water dropped, tiny icicles hung,
and spar columns were forming in just the same way.

We had not, however, enough time to examine this beautiful cavern so
thoroughly as we should have liked to do, since unfortunately, Gagool
seemed to be indifferent as to stalactites, and only anxious to get
her business over. This annoyed me the more, as I was particularly
anxious to discover, if possible, by what system the light was
admitted into the cave, and whether it was by the hand of man or by
that of nature that this was done; also if the place had been used in
any way in ancient times, as seemed probable. However, we consoled
ourselves with the idea that we would investigate it thoroughly on our
way back, and followed on at the heels of our uncanny guide.

On she led us, straight to the top of the vast and silent cave, where
we found another doorway, not arched as the first was, but square at
the top, something like the doorways of Egyptian temples.

"Are ye prepared to enter the Place of Death, white men?" asked
Gagool, evidently with a view to making us feel uncomfortable.

"Lead on, Macduff," said Good solemnly, trying to look as though he
was not at all alarmed, as indeed we all did except Foulata, who
caught Good by the arm for protection.

"This is getting rather ghastly," said Sir Henry, peeping into the
dark passageway. "Come on, Quatermain--/seniores priores/. We mustn't
keep the old lady waiting!" and he politely made way for me to lead
the van, for which inwardly I did not bless him.

/Tap, tap,/ went old Gagool's stick down the passage, as she trotted
along, chuckling hideously; and still overcome by some unaccountable
presentiment of evil, I hung back.

"Come, get on, old fellow," said Good, "or we shall lose our fair
guide."

Thus adjured, I started down the passage, and after about twenty paces
found myself in a gloomy apartment some forty feet long, by thirty
broad, and thirty high, which in some past age evidently had been
hollowed, by hand-labour, out of the mountain. This apartment was not
nearly so well lighted as the vast stalactite ante-cave, and at the
first glance all I could discern was a massive stone table running
down its length, with a colossal white figure at its head, and life-
sized white figures all round it. Next I discovered a brown thing,
seated on the table in the centre, and in another moment my eyes grew
accustomed to the light, and I saw what all these things were, and was
tailing out of the place as hard as my legs could carry me.

I am not a nervous man in a general way, and very little troubled with
superstitions, of which I have lived to see the folly; but I am free
to own that this sight quite upset me, and had it not been that Sir
Henry caught me by the collar and held me, I do honestly believe that
in another five minutes I should have been outside the stalactite
cave, and that a promise of all the diamonds in Kimberley would not
have induced me to enter it again. But he held me tight, so I stopped
because I could not help myself. Next second, however, /his/ eyes
became accustomed to the light, and he let go of me, and began to mop
the perspiration off his forehead. As for Good, he swore feebly, while
Foulata threw her arms round his neck and shrieked.

Only Gagool chuckled loud and long.

It /was/ a ghastly sight. There at the end of the long stone table,
holding in his skeleton fingers a great white spear, sat /Death/
himself, shaped in the form of a colossal human skeleton, fifteen feet
or more in height. High above his head he held the spear, as though in
the act to strike; one bony hand rested on the stone table before him,
in the position a man assumes on rising from his seat, whilst his
frame was bent forward so that the vertebrae of the neck and the
grinning, gleaming skull projected towards us, and fixed its hollow
eye-places upon us, the jaws a little open, as though it were about to
speak.

"Great heavens!" said I faintly, at last, "what can it be?"

"And what are /those things/?" asked Good, pointing to the white
company round the table.

"And what on earth is /that thing/?" said Sir Henry, pointing to the
brown creature seated on the table.

"/Hee! hee! hee!/" laughed Gagool. "To those who enter the Hall of the
Dead, evil comes. /Hee! hee! hee! ha! ha!/"

"Come, Incubu, brave in battle, come and see him thou slewest;" and
the old creature caught Curtis' coat in her skinny fingers, and led
him away towards the table. We followed.

Presently she stopped and pointed at the brown object seated on the
table. Sir Henry looked, and started back with an exclamation; and no
wonder, for there, quite naked, the head which Curtis' battle-axe had
shorn from the body resting on its knees, was the gaunt corpse of
Twala, the last king of the Kukuanas. Yes, there, the head perched
upon the knees, it sat in all its ugliness, the vertebrae projecting a
full inch above the level of the shrunken flesh of the neck, for all
the world like a black double of Hamilton Tighe.[*] Over the surface
of the corpse there was gathered a thin glassy film, that made its
appearance yet more appalling, for which we were, at the moment, quite
unable to account, till presently we observed that from the roof of
the chamber the water fell steadily, /drip! drop! drip!/ on to the
neck of the corpse, whence it ran down over the entire surface, and
finally escaped into the rock through a tiny hole in the table. Then I
guessed what the film was--/Twala's body was being transformed into a
stalactite./

[*] "Now haste ye, my handmaidens, haste and see
    How he sits there and glowers with his head on his knee."

A look at the white forms seated on the stone bench which ran round
that ghastly board confirmed this view. They were human bodies indeed,
or rather they had been human; now they were /stalactites/. This was
the way in which the Kukuana people had from time immemorial preserved
their royal dead. They petrified them. What the exact system might be,
if there was any, beyond the placing of them for a long period of
years under the drip, I never discovered, but there they sat, iced
over and preserved for ever by the siliceous fluid.

Anything more awe-inspiring than the spectacle of this long line of
departed royalties (there were twenty-seven of them, the last being
Ignosi's father), wrapped, each of them, in a shroud of ice-like spar,
through which the features could be dimly discovered, and seated round
that inhospitable board, with Death himself for a host, it is
impossible to imagine. That the practice of thus preserving their
kings must have been an ancient one is evident from the number, which,
allowing for an average reign of fifteen years, supposing that every
king who reigned was placed here--an improbable thing, as some are
sure to have perished in battle far from home--would fix the date of
its commencement at four and a quarter centuries back.

But the colossal Death, who sits at the head of the board, is far
older than that, and, unless I am much mistaken, owes his origin to
the same artist who designed the three Colossi. He is hewn out of a
single stalactite, and, looked at as a work of art, is most admirably
conceived and executed. Good, who understands such things, declared
that, so far as he could see, the anatomical design of the skeleton is
perfect down to the smallest bones.

My own idea is, that this terrific object was a freak of fancy on the
part of some old-world sculptor, and that its presence had suggested
to the Kukuanas the idea of placing their royal dead under its awful
presidency. Or perhaps it was set there to frighten away any marauders
who might have designs upon the treasure chamber beyond. I cannot say.
All I can do is to describe it as it is, and the reader must form his
own conclusion.

Such, at any rate, was the White Death and such were the White Dead!



CHAPTER XVII

SOLOMON'S TREASURE CHAMBER

While we were engaged in recovering from our fright, and in examining
the grisly wonders of the Place of Death, Gagool had been differently
occupied. Somehow or other--for she was marvellously active when she
chose--she had scrambled on to the great table, and made her way to
where our departed friend Twala was placed, under the drip, to see,
suggested Good, how he was "pickling," or for some dark purpose of her
own. Then, after bending down to kiss his icy lips as though in
affectionate greeting, she hobbled back, stopping now and again to
address the remark, the tenor of which I could not catch, to one or
other of the shrouded forms, just as you or I might welcome an old
acquaintance. Having gone through this mysterious and horrible
ceremony, she squatted herself down on the table immediately under the
White Death, and began, so far as I could make out, to offer up
prayers. The spectacle of this wicked creature pouring out
supplications, evil ones no doubt, to the arch enemy of mankind, was
so uncanny that it caused us to hasten our inspection.

"Now, Gagool," said I, in a low voice--somehow one did not dare to
speak above a whisper in that place--"lead us to the chamber."

The old witch promptly scrambled down from the table.

"My lords are not afraid?" she said, leering up into my face.

"Lead on."

"Good, my lords;" and she hobbled round to the back of the great
Death. "Here is the chamber; let my lords light the lamp, and enter,"
and she placed the gourd full of oil upon the floor, and leaned
herself against the side of the cave. I took out a match, of which we
had still a few in a box, and lit a rush wick, and then looked for the
doorway, but there was nothing before us except the solid rock. Gagool
grinned. "The way is there, my lords. /Ha! ha! ha!/"

"Do not jest with us," I said sternly.

"I jest not, my lords. See!" and she pointed at the rock.

As she did so, on holding up the lamp we perceived that a mass of
stone was rising slowly from the floor and vanishing into the rock
above, where doubtless there is a cavity prepared to receive it. The
mass was of the width of a good-sized door, about ten feet high and
not less than five feet thick. It must have weighed at least twenty or
thirty tons, and was clearly moved upon some simple balance principle
of counter-weights, probably the same as that by which the opening and
shutting of an ordinary modern window is arranged. How the principle
was set in motion, of course none of us saw; Gagool was careful to
avoid this; but I have little doubt that there was some very simple
lever, which was moved ever so little by pressure at a secret spot,
thereby throwing additional weight on to the hidden counter-balances,
and causing the monolith to be lifted from the ground.

Very slowly and gently the great stone raised itself, till at last it
had vanished altogether, and a dark hole presented itself to us in the
place which the door had filled. 

Our excitement was so intense, as we saw the way to Solomon's treasure
chamber thrown open at last, that I for one began to tremble and
shake. Would it prove a hoax after all, I wondered, or was old Da
Silvestra right? Were there vast hoards of wealth hidden in that dark
place, hoards which would make us the richest men in the whole world?
We should know in a minute or two.

"Enter, white men from the Stars," said Gagool, advancing into the
doorway; "but first hear your servant, Gagool the old. The bright
stones that ye will see were dug out of the pit over which the Silent
Ones are set, and stored here, I know not by whom, for that was done
longer ago than even I remember. But once has this place been entered
since the time that those who hid the stones departed in haste,
leaving them behind. The report of the treasure went down indeed among
the people who lived in the country from age to age, but none knew
where the chamber was, nor the secret of the door. But it happened
that a white man reached this country from over the mountains--
perchance he too came 'from the Stars'--and was well received by the
king of that day. He it is who sits yonder," and she pointed to the
fifth king at the table of the Dead. "And it came to pass that he and
a woman of the country who was with him journeyed to this place, and
that by chance the woman learnt the secret of the door--a thousand
years might ye search, but ye should never find that secret. Then the
white man entered with the woman, and found the stones, and filled
with stones the skin of a small goat, which the woman had with her to
hold food. And as he was going from the chamber he took up one more
stone, a large one, and held it in his hand."

Here she paused.

"Well," I asked, breathless with interest as we all were, "what
happened to Da Silvestra?"

The old hag started at the mention of the name.

"How knowest thou the dead man's name?" she asked sharply; and then,
without waiting for an answer, went on--

"None can tell what happened; but it came about that the white man was
frightened, for he flung down the goat-skin, with the stones, and fled
out with only the one stone in his hand, and that the king took, and
it is the stone which thou, Macumazahn, didst take from Twala's brow."

"Have none entered here since?" I asked, peering again down the dark
passage.

"None, my lords. Only the secret of the door has been kept, and every
king has opened it, though he has not entered. There is a saying, that
those who enter there will die within a moon, even as the white man
died in the cave upon the mountain, where ye found him, Macumazahn,
and therefore the kings do not enter. /Ha! ha!/ mine are true words."

Our eyes met as she said it, and I turned sick and cold. How did the
old hag know all these things?

"Enter, my lords. If I speak truth, the goat-skin with the stones will
lie upon the floor; and if there is truth as to whether it is death to
enter here, that ye will learn afterwards. /Ha! ha! ha!/" and she
hobbled through the doorway, bearing the light with her; but I confess 
that once more I hesitated about following.

"Oh, confound it all!" said Good; "here goes. I am not going to be
frightened by that old devil;" and followed by Foulata, who, however,
evidently did not at all like the business, for she was shivering with
fear, he plunged into the passage after Gagool--an example which we
quickly followed.

A few yards down the passage, in the narrow way hewn out of the living
rock, Gagool had paused, and was waiting for us.

"See, my lords," she said, holding the light before her, "those who
stored the treasure here fled in haste, and bethought them to guard
against any who should find the secret of the door, but had not the
time," and she pointed to large square blocks of stone, which, to the
height of two courses (about two feet three), had been placed across
the passage with a view to walling it up. Along the side of the
passage were similar blocks ready for use, and, most curious of all, a
heap of mortar and a couple of trowels, which tools, so far as we had
time to examine them, appeared to be of a similar shape and make to
those used by workmen to this day.

Here Foulata, who had been in a state of great fear and agitation
throughout, said that she felt faint and could go no farther, but
would wait there. Accordingly we set her down on the unfinished wall,
placing the basket of provisions by her side, and left her to recover.

Following the passage for about fifteen paces farther, we came
suddenly to an elaborately painted wooden door. It was standing wide
open. Whoever was last there had either not found the time to shut it,
or had forgotten to do so.

/Across the threshold of this door lay a skin bag, formed of a goat-
skin, that appeared to be full of pebbles./

"/Hee! hee!/ white men," sniggered Gagool, as the light from the lamp
fell upon it. "What did I tell you, that the white man who came here
fled in haste, and dropped the woman's bag--behold it! Look within
also and ye will find a water-gourd amongst the stones."

Good stooped down and lifted it. It was heavy and jingled.

"By Jove! I believe it's full of diamonds," he said, in an awed
whisper; and, indeed, the idea of a small goat-skin full of diamonds
is enough to awe anybody.

"Go on," said Sir Henry impatiently. "Here, old lady, give me the
lamp," and taking it from Gagool's hand, he stepped through the
doorway and held it high above his head.

We pressed in after him, forgetful for the moment of the bag of
diamonds, and found ourselves in King Solomon's treasure chamber.

At first, all that the somewhat faint light given by the lamp revealed
was a room hewn out of the living rock, and apparently not more than
ten feet square. Next there came into sight, stored one on the other
to the arch of the roof, a splendid collection of elephant-tusks. How
many of them there were we did not know, for of course we could not
see to what depth they went back, but there could not have been less
than the ends of four or five hundred tusks of the first quality
visible to our eyes. There, alone, was enough ivory to make a man
wealthy for life. Perhaps, I thought, it was from this very store that
Solomon drew the raw material for his "great throne of ivory," of
which "there was not the like made in any kingdom."

On the opposite side of the chamber were about a score of wooden
boxes, something like Martini-Henry ammunition boxes, only rather
larger, and painted red.

"There are the diamonds," cried I; "bring the light."

Sir Henry did so, holding it close to the top box, of which the lid,
rendered rotten by time even in that dry place, appeared to have been
smashed in, probably by Da Silvestra himself. Pushing my hand through
the hole in the lid I drew it out full, not of diamonds, but of gold
pieces, of a shape that none of us had seen before, and with what
looked like Hebrew characters stamped upon them.

"Ah!" I said, replacing the coin, "we shan't go back empty-handed,
anyhow. There must be a couple of thousand pieces in each box, and
there are eighteen boxes. I suppose this was the money to pay the
workmen and merchants."

"Well," put in Good, "I think that is the lot; I don't see any
diamonds, unless the old Portuguese put them all into his bag."

"Let my lords look yonder where it is darkest, if they would find the
stones," said Gagool, interpreting our looks. "There my lords will
find a nook, and three stone chests in the nook, two sealed and one
open."

Before translating this to Sir Henry, who carried the light, I could
not resist asking how she knew these things, if no one had entered the
place since the white man, generations ago.

"Ah, Macumazahn, the watcher by night," was the mocking answer, "ye
who dwell in the stars, do ye not know that some live long, and that
some have eyes which can see through rock? /Ha! ha! ha!/"

"Look in that corner, Curtis," I said, indicating the spot Gagool had
pointed out.

"Hullo, you fellows," he cried, "here's a recess. Great heavens! see
here."

We hurried up to where he was standing in a nook, shaped something
like a small bow window. Against the wall of this recess were placed
three stone chests, each about two feet square. Two were fitted with
stone lids, the lid of the third rested against the side of the chest,
which was open.

"/See!/" he repeated hoarsely, holding the lamp over the open chest.
We looked, and for a moment could make nothing out, on account of a
silvery sheen which dazzled us. When our eyes grew used to it we saw
that the chest was three-parts full of uncut diamonds, most of them of
considerable size. Stooping, I picked some up. Yes, there was no doubt
of it, there was the unmistakable soapy feel about them.

I fairly gasped as I dropped them.

"We are the richest men in the whole world," I said. "Monte Christo
was a fool to us."

"We shall flood the market with diamonds," said Good.

"Got to get them there first," suggested Sir Henry.

We stood still with pale faces and stared at each other, the lantern
in the middle and the glimmering gems below, as though we were
conspirators about to commit a crime, instead of being, as we thought,
the most fortunate men on earth.

"/Hee! hee! hee!/" cackled old Gagool behind us, as she flitted about
like a vampire bat. "There are the bright stones ye love, white men,
as many as ye will; take them, run them through your fingers, /eat/ of
them, /hee! hee! drink/ of them, /ha! ha!/"

At that moment there was something so ridiculous to my mind at the
idea of eating and drinking diamonds, that I began to laugh
outrageously, an example which the others followed, without knowing
why. There we stood and shrieked with laughter over the gems that were
ours, which had been found for /us/ thousands of years ago by the
patient delvers in the great hole yonder, and stored for /us/ by
Solomon's long-dead overseer, whose name, perchance, was written in
the characters stamped on the faded wax that yet adhered to the lids
of the chest. Solomon never got them, nor David, or Da Silvestra, nor
anybody else. /We/ had got them: there before us were millions of
pounds' worth of diamonds, and thousands of pounds' worth of gold and
ivory only waiting to be taken away.

Suddenly the fit passed off, and we stopped laughing.

"Open the other chests, white men," croaked Gagool, "there are surely
more therein. Take your fill, white lords! /Ha! ha!/ take your fill."

Thus adjured, we set to work to pull up the stone lids on the other
two, first--not without a feeling of sacrilege--breaking the seals
that fastened them.

Hoorah! they were full too, full to the brim; at least, the second one
was; no wretched burglarious Da Silvestra had been filling goat-skins
out of that. As for the third chest, it was only about a fourth full,
but the stones were all picked ones; none less than twenty carats, and
some of them as large as pigeon-eggs. A good many of these bigger
ones, however, we could see by holding them up to the light, were a
little yellow, "off coloured," as they call it at Kimberley.

What we did /not/ see, however, was the look of fearful malevolence
that old Gagool favoured us with as she crept, crept like a snake, out
of the treasure chamber and down the passage towards the door of solid
rock.

*****

Hark! Cry upon cry comes ringing up the vaulted path. It is Foulata's
voice!

"/Oh, Bougwan! help! help! the stone falls!/"

"Leave go, girl! Then--"

"/Help! help! she has stabbed me!/"

By now we are running down the passage, and this is what the light
from the lamp shows us. The door of the rock is closing down slowly;
it is not three feet from the floor. Near it struggle Foulata and
Gagool. The red blood of the former runs to her knee, but still the
brave girl holds the old witch, who fights like a wild cat. Ah! she is
free! Foulata falls, and Gagool throws herself on the ground, to twist
like a snake through the crack of the closing stone. She is under--ah!
god! too late! too late! The stone nips her, and she yells in agony.
Down, down it comes, all the thirty tons of it, slowly pressing her
old body against the rock below. Shriek upon shriek, such as we have
never heard, then a long sickening /crunch/, and the door was shut
just as, rushing down the passage, we hurled ourselves against it.

It was all done in four seconds.

Then we turned to Foulata. The poor girl was stabbed in the body, and
I saw that she could not live long.

"Ah! Bougwan, I die!" gasped the beautiful creature. "She crept out--
Gagool; I did not see her, I was faint--and the door began to fall;
then she came back, and was looking up the path--I saw her come in
through the slowly falling door, and caught her and held her, and she
stabbed me, and /I die/, Bougwan!"

"Poor girl! poor girl!" Good cried in his distress; and then, as he
could do nothing else, he fell to kissing her.

"Bougwan," she said, after a pause, "is Macumazahn there? It grows so
dark, I cannot see."

"Here I am, Foulata."

"Macumazahn, be my tongue for a moment, I pray thee, for Bougwan
cannot understand me, and before I go into the darkness I would speak
to him a word."

"Say on, Foulata, I will render it."

"Say to my lord, Bougwan, that--I love him, and that I am glad to die
because I know that he cannot cumber his life with such as I am, for
the sun may not mate with the darkness, nor the white with the black.

"Say that, since I saw him, at times I have felt as though there were
a bird in my bosom, which would one day fly hence and sing elsewhere.
Even now, though I cannot lift my hand, and my brain grows cold, I do
not feel as though my heart were dying; it is so full of love that it
could live ten thousand years, and yet be young. Say that if I live
again, mayhap I shall see him in the Stars, and that--I will search
them all, though perchance there I should still be black and he would
--still be white. Say--nay, Macumazahn, say no more, save that I love
--Oh, hold me closer, Bougwan, I cannot feel thine arms--/oh! oh!/"

"She is dead--she is dead!" muttered Good, rising in grief, the tears
running down his honest face.

"You need not let that trouble you, old fellow," said Sir Henry.

"Eh!" exclaimed Good; "what do you mean?"

"I mean that you will soon be in a position to join her. /Man, don't
you see that we are buried alive?/"

Until Sir Henry uttered these words I do not think that the full
horror of what had happened had come home to us, preoccupied as we
were with the sight of poor Foulata's end. But now we understood. The
ponderous mass of rock had closed, probably for ever, for the only
brain which knew its secret was crushed to powder beneath its weight.
This was a door that none could hope to force with anything short of
dynamite in large quantities. And we were on the wrong side!

For a few minutes we stood horrified, there over the corpse of
Foulata. All the manhood seemed to have gone out of us. The first
shock of this idea of the slow and miserable end that awaited us was
overpowering. We saw it all now; that fiend Gagool had planned this
snare for us from the first.

It would have been just the jest that her evil mind would have
rejoiced in, the idea of the three white men, whom, for some reason of
her own, she had always hated, slowly perishing of thirst and hunger
in the company of the treasure they had coveted. Now I saw the point
of that sneer of hers about eating and drinking the diamonds. Probably
somebody had tried to serve the poor old Dom in the same way, when he
abandoned the skin full of jewels.

"This will never do," said Sir Henry hoarsely; "the lamp will soon go
out. Let us see if we can't find the spring that works the rock."

We sprang forward with desperate energy, and, standing in a bloody
ooze, began to feel up and down the door and the sides of the passage.
But no knob or spring could we discover.

"Depend on it," I said, "it does not work from the inside; if it did
Gagool would not have risked trying to crawl underneath the stone. It
was the knowledge of this that made her try to escape at all hazards,
curse her."

"At all events," said Sir Henry, with a hard little laugh,
"retribution was swift; hers was almost as awful an end as ours is
likely to be. We can do nothing with the door; let us go back to the
treasure room."

We turned and went, and as we passed it I perceived by the unfinished
wall across the passage the basket of food which poor Foulata had
carried. I took it up, and brought it with me to the accursed treasure
chamber that was to be our grave. Then we returned and reverently bore
in Foulata's corpse, laying it on the floor by the boxes of coin.

Next we seated ourselves, leaning our backs against the three stone
chests which contained the priceless treasure.

"Let us divide the food," said Sir Henry, "so as to make it last as
long as possible." Accordingly we did so. It would, we reckoned, make
four infinitesimally small meals for each of us, enough, say, to
support life for a couple of days. Besides the "biltong," or dried
game-flesh, there were two gourds of water, each of which held not
more than a quart.

"Now," said Sir Henry grimly, "let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we
die."

We each ate a small portion of the "biltong," and drank a sip of
water. Needless to say, we had but little appetite, though we were
sadly in need of food, and felt better after swallowing it. Then we
got up and made a systematic examination of the walls of our prison-
house, in the faint hope of finding some means of exit, sounding them
and the floor carefully.

There was none. It was not probable that there would be any to a
treasure chamber.

The lamp began to burn dim. The fat was nearly exhausted.

"Quatermain," said Sir Henry, "what is the time--your watch goes?"

I drew it out, and looked at it. It was six o'clock; we had entered
the cave at eleven.

"Infadoos will miss us," I suggested. "If we do not return to-night he
will search for us in the morning, Curtis."

"He may search in vain. He does not know the secret of the door, nor
even where it is. No living person knew it yesterday, except Gagool.
To-day no one knows it. Even if he found the door he could not break
it down. All the Kukuana army could not break through five feet of
living rock. My friends, I see nothing for it but to bow ourselves to
the will of the Almighty. The search for treasure has brought many to
a bad end; we shall go to swell their number."

The lamp grew dimmer yet.

Presently it flared up and showed the whole scene in strong relief,
the great mass of white tusks, the boxes of gold, the corpse of the
poor Foulata stretched before them, the goat-skin full of treasure,
the dim glimmer of the diamonds, and the wild, wan faces of us three
white men seated there awaiting death by starvation.



Then the flame sank and expired.



CHAPTER XVIII

WE ABANDON HOPE

I can give no adequate description of the horrors of the night which
followed. Mercifully they were to some extent mitigated by sleep, for
even in such a position as ours wearied nature will sometimes assert
itself. But I, at any rate, found it impossible to sleep much. Putting
aside the terrifying thought of our impending doom--for the bravest
man on earth might well quail from such a fate as awaited us, and I
never made any pretensions to be brave--the /silence/ itself was too
great to allow of it. Reader, you may have lain awake at night and
thought the quiet oppressive, but I say with confidence that you can
have no idea what a vivid, tangible thing is perfect stillness. On the
surface of the earth there is always some sound or motion, and though
it may in itself be imperceptible, yet it deadens the sharp edge of
absolute silence. But here there was none. We were buried in the
bowels of a huge snow-clad peak. Thousands of feet above us the fresh
air rushed over the white snow, but no sound of it reached us. We were
separated by a long tunnel and five feet of rock even from the awful
chamber of the Dead; and the dead make no noise. Did we not know it
who lay by poor Foulata's side? The crashing of all the artillery of
earth and heaven could not have come to our ears in our living tomb.
We were cut off from every echo of the world--we were as men already
in the grave.

Then the irony of the situation forced itself upon me. There around us
lay treasures enough to pay off a moderate national debt, or to build
a fleet of ironclads, and yet we would have bartered them all gladly
for the faintest chance of escape. Soon, doubtless, we should be
rejoiced to exchange them for a bit of food or a cup of water, and,
after that, even for the privilege of a speedy close to our
sufferings. Truly wealth, which men spend their lives in acquiring, is
a valueless thing at the last.

And so the night wore on.

"Good," said Sir Henry's voice at last, and it sounded awful in the
intense stillness, "how many matches have you in the box?"

"Eight, Curtis."

"Strike one and let us see the time."

He did so, and in contrast to the dense darkness the flame nearly
blinded us. It was five o'clock by my watch. The beautiful dawn was
now blushing on the snow-wreaths far over our heads, and the breeze
would be stirring the night mists in the hollows.

"We had better eat something and keep up our strength," I suggested.

"What is the good of eating?" answered Good; "the sooner we die and
get it over the better."

"While there is life there is hope," said Sir Henry.

Accordingly we ate and sipped some water, and another period of time
elapsed. Then Sir Henry suggested that it might be well to get as near
the door as possible and halloa, on the faint chance of somebody
catching a sound outside. Accordingly Good, who, from long practice at
sea, has a fine piercing note, groped his way down the passage and set
to work. I must say that he made a most diabolical noise. I never
heard such yells; but it might have been a mosquito buzzing for all
the effect they produced.

After a while he gave it up and came back very thirsty, and had to
drink. Then we stopped yelling, as it encroached on the supply of
water.

So we sat down once more against the chests of useless diamonds in
that dreadful inaction which was one of the hardest circumstances of
our fate; and I am bound to say that, for my part, I gave way in
despair. Laying my head against Sir Henry's broad shoulder I burst
into tears; and I think that I heard Good gulping away on the other
side, and swearing hoarsely at himself for doing so.

Ah, how good and brave that great man was! Had we been two frightened
children, and he our nurse, he could not have treated us more
tenderly. Forgetting his own share of miseries, he did all he could to
soothe our broken nerves, telling stories of men who had been in
somewhat similar circumstances, and miraculously escaped; and when
these failed to cheer us, pointing out how, after all, it was only
anticipating an end which must come to us all, that it would soon be
over, and that death from exhaustion was a merciful one (which is not
true). Then, in a diffident sort of way, as once before I had heard
him do, he suggested that we should throw ourselves on the mercy of a
higher Power, which for my part I did with great vigour.

His is a beautiful character, very quiet, but very strong.

And so somehow the day went as the night had gone, if, indeed, one can
use these terms where all was densest night, and when I lit a match to
see the time it was seven o'clock.

Once more we ate and drank, and as we did so an idea occurred to me.

"How is it," said I, "that the air in this place keeps fresh? It is
thick and heavy, but it is perfectly fresh."

"Great heavens!" said Good, starting up, "I never thought of that. It
can't come through the stone door, for it's air-tight, if ever a door
was. It must come from somewhere. It there were no current of air in
the place we should have been stifled or poisoned when we first came
in. Let us have a look."

It was wonderful what a change this mere spark of hope wrought in us.
In a moment we were all three groping about on our hands and knees,
feeling for the slightest indication of a draught. Presently my ardour
received a check. I put my hand on something cold. It was dead
Foulata's face.

For an hour or more we went on feeling about, till at last Sir Henry
and I gave it up in despair, having been considerably hurt by
constantly knocking our heads against tusks, chests, and the sides of
the chamber. But Good still persevered, saying, with an approach to
cheerfulness, that it was better than doing nothing.

"I say, you fellows," he said presently, in a constrained sort of
voice, "come here."

Needless to say we scrambled towards him quickly enough.

"Quatermain, put your hand here where mine is. Now, do you feel
anything?"

"I /think/ I feel air coming up."

"Now listen." He rose and stamped upon the place, and a flame of hope
shot up in our hearts. /It rang hollow./

With trembling hands I lit a match. I had only three left, and we saw
that we were in the angle of the far corner of the chamber, a fact
that accounted for our not having noticed the hollow sound of the
place during our former exhaustive examination. As the match burnt we
scrutinised the spot. There was a join in the solid rock floor, and,
great heavens! there, let in level with the rock, was a stone ring. We
said no word, we were too excited, and our hearts beat too wildly with
hope to allow us to speak. Good had a knife, at the back of which was
one of those hooks that are made to extract stones from horses' hoofs.
He opened it, and scratched round the ring with it. Finally he worked
it under, and levered away gently for fear of breaking the hook. The
ring began to move. Being of stone it had not rusted fast in all the
centuries it had lain there, as would have been the case had it been
of iron. Presently it was upright. Then he thrust his hands into it
and tugged with all his force, but nothing budged.

"Let me try," I said impatiently, for the situation of the stone,
right in the angle of the corner, was such that it was impossible for
two to pull at once. I took hold and strained away, but no results.

Then Sir Henry tried and failed.

Taking the hook again, Good scratched all round the crack where we
felt the air coming up.

"Now, Curtis," he said, "tackle on, and put your back into it; you are
as strong as two. Stop," and he took off a stout black silk
handkerchief, which, true to his habits of neatness, he still wore,
and ran it through the ring. "Quatermain, get Curtis round the middle
and pull for dear life when I give the word. /Now./"

Sir Henry put out all his enormous strength, and Good and I did the
same, with such power as nature had given us.

"Heave! heave! it's giving," gasped Sir Henry; and I heard the muscles
of his great back cracking. Suddenly there was a grating sound, then a
rush of air, and we were all on our backs on the floor with a heavy
flag-stone upon the top of us. Sir Henry's strength had done it, and
never did muscular power stand a man in better stead.

"Light a match, Quatermain," he said, so soon as we had picked
ourselves up and got our breath; "carefully, now."

I did so, and there before us, Heaven be praised! was the /first step
of a stone stair./

"Now what is to be done?" asked Good.

"Follow the stair, of course, and trust to Providence."

"Stop!" said Sir Henry; "Quatermain, get the bit of biltong and the
water that are left; we may want them."

I went, creeping back to our place by the chests for that purpose, and
as I was coming away an idea struck me. We had not thought much of the
diamonds for the last twenty-four hours or so; indeed, the very idea
of diamonds was nauseous, seeing what they had entailed upon us; but,
reflected I, I may as well pocket some in case we ever should get out
of this ghastly hole. So I just put my fist into the first chest and
filled all the available pockets of my old shooting-coat and trousers,
topping up--this was a happy thought--with a few handfuls of big ones
from the third chest. Also, by an afterthought, I stuffed Foulata's
basket, which, except for one water-gourd and a little biltong, was
empty now, with great quantities of the stones.

"I say, you fellows," I sang out, "won't you take some diamonds with
you? I've filled my pockets and the basket."

"Oh, come on, Quatermain! and hang the diamonds!" said Sir Henry. "I
hope that I may never see another."

As for Good, he made no answer. He was, I think, taking his last
farewell of all that was left of the poor girl who had loved him so
well. And curious as it may seem to you, my reader, sitting at home at
ease and reflecting on the vast, indeed the immeasurable, wealth which
we were thus abandoning, I can assure you that if you had passed some
twenty-eight hours with next to nothing to eat and drink in that
place, you would not have cared to cumber yourself with diamonds
whilst plunging down into the unknown bowels of the earth, in the wild
hope of escape from an agonising death. If from the habits of a
lifetime, it had not become a sort of second nature with me never to
leave anything worth having behind if there was the slightest chance
of my being able to carry it away, I am sure that I should not have
bothered to fill my pockets and that basket.

"Come on, Quatermain," repeated Sir Henry, who was already standing on
the first step of the stone stair. "Steady, I will go first."

"Mind where you put your feet, there may be some awful hole
underneath," I answered.

"Much more likely to be another room," said Sir Henry, while he
descended slowly, counting the steps as he went.

When he got to "fifteen" he stopped. "Here's the bottom," he said.
"Thank goodness! I think it's a passage. Follow me down."

Good went next, and I came last, carrying the basket, and on reaching
the bottom lit one of the two remaining matches. By its light we could
just see that we were standing in a narrow tunnel, which ran right and
left at right angles to the staircase we had descended. Before we
could make out any more, the match burnt my fingers and went out. Then
arose the delicate question of which way to go. Of course, it was
impossible to know what the tunnel was, or where it led to, and yet to
turn one way might lead us to safety, and the other to destruction. We
were utterly perplexed, till suddenly it struck Good that when I had
lit the match the draught of the passage blew the flame to the left.

"Let us go against the draught," he said; "air draws inwards, not
outwards."

We took this suggestion, and feeling along the wall with our hands,
whilst trying the ground before us at every step, we departed from
that accursed treasure chamber on our terrible quest for life. If ever
it should be entered again by living man, which I do not think
probable, he will find tokens of our visit in the open chests of
jewels, the empty lamp, and the white bones of poor Foulata.

When we had groped our way for about a quarter of an hour along the
passage, suddenly it took a sharp turn, or else was bisected by
another, which we followed, only in course of time to be led into a
third. And so it went on for some hours. We seemed to be in a stone
labyrinth that led nowhere. What all these passages are, of course I
cannot say, but we thought that they must be the ancient workings of a
mine, of which the various shafts and adits travelled hither and
thither as the ore led them. This is the only way in which we could
account for such a multitude of galleries.

At length we halted, thoroughly worn out with fatigue and with that
hope deferred which maketh the heart sick, and ate up our poor
remaining piece of biltong and drank our last sup of water, for our
throats were like lime-kilns. It seemed to us that we had escaped
Death in the darkness of the treasure chamber only to meet him in the
darkness of the tunnels.

As we stood, once more utterly depressed, I thought that I caught a
sound, to which I called the attention of the others. It was very
faint and very far off, but it /was/ a sound, a faint, murmuring
sound, for the others heard it too, and no words can describe the
blessedness of it after all those hours of utter, awful stillness.

"By heaven! it's running water," said Good. "Come on."

Off we started again in the direction from which the faint murmur
seemed to come, groping our way as before along the rocky walls. I
remember that I laid down the basket full of diamonds, wishing to be
rid of its weight, but on second thoughts took it up again. One might
as well die rich as poor, I reflected. As we went the sound became
more and more audible, till at last it seemed quite loud in the quiet.
On, yet on; now we could distinctly make out the unmistakable swirl of
rushing water. And yet how could there be running water in the bowels
of the earth? Now we were quite near it, and Good, who was leading,
swore that he could smell it.

"Go gently, Good," said Sir Henry, "we must be close." /Splash!/ and a
cry from Good.

He had fallen in.

"Good! Good! where are you?" we shouted, in terrified distress. To our
intense relief an answer came back in a choky voice.

"All right; I've got hold of a rock. Strike a light to show me where
you are."

Hastily I lit the last remaining match. Its faint gleam discovered to
us a dark mass of water running at our feet. How wide it was we could
not see, but there, some way out, was the dark form of our companion
hanging on to a projecting rock.

"Stand clear to catch me," sung out Good. "I must swim for it."

Then we heard a splash, and a great struggle. Another minute and he
had grabbed at and caught Sir Henry's outstretched hand, and we had
pulled him up high and dry into the tunnel.

"My word!" he said, between his gasps, "that was touch and go. If I
hadn't managed to catch that rock, and known how to swim, I should
have been done. It runs like a mill-race, and I could feel no bottom."

We dared not follow the banks of the subterranean river for fear lest
we should fall into it again in the darkness. So after Good had rested
a while, and we had drunk our fill of the water, which was sweet and
fresh, and washed our faces, that needed it sadly, as well as we
could, we started from the banks of this African Styx, and began to
retrace our steps along the tunnel, Good dripping unpleasantly in
front of us. At length we came to another gallery leading to our
right.

"We may as well take it," said Sir Henry wearily; "all roads are alike
here; we can only go on till we drop."

Slowly, for a long, long while, we stumbled, utterly exhausted, along
this new tunnel, Sir Henry now leading the way. Again I thought of
abandoning that basket, but did not.

Suddenly he stopped, and we bumped up against him.

"Look!" he whispered, "is my brain going, or is that light?"

We stared with all our eyes, and there, yes, there, far ahead of us,
was a faint, glimmering spot, no larger than a cottage window pane. It
was so faint that I doubt if any eyes, except those which, like ours,
had for days seen nothing but blackness, could have perceived it at
all. 

With a gasp of hope we pushed on. In five minutes there was no longer
any doubt; it /was/ a patch of faint light. A minute more and a breath
of real live air was fanning us. On we struggled. All at once the
tunnel narrowed. Sir Henry went on his knees. Smaller yet it grew,
till it was only the size of a large fox's earth--it was /earth/ now,
mind you; the rock had ceased.

A squeeze, a struggle, and Sir Henry was out, and so was Good, and so
was I, dragging Foulata's basket after me; and there above us were the
blessed stars, and in our nostrils was the sweet air. Then suddenly
something gave, and we were all rolling over and over and over through
grass and bushes and soft, wet soil.

The basket caught in something and I stopped. Sitting up I halloed
lustily. An answering shout came from below, where Sir Henry's wild
career had been checked by some level ground. I scrambled to him, and
found him unhurt, though breathless. Then we looked for Good. A little
way off we discovered him also, hammed in a forked root. He was a good
deal knocked about, but soon came to himself.

We sat down together, there on the grass, and the revulsion of feeling
was so great that really I think we cried with joy. We had escaped
from that awful dungeon, which was so near to becoming our grave.
Surely some merciful Power guided our footsteps to the jackal hole,
for that is what it must have been, at the termination of the tunnel.
And see, yonder on the mountains the dawn we had never thought to look
upon again was blushing rosy red.

Presently the grey light stole down the slopes, and we saw that we
were at the bottom, or rather, nearly at the bottom, of the vast pit
in front of the entrance to the cave. Now we could make out the dim
forms of the three Colossi who sat upon its verge. Doubtless those
awful passages, along which we had wandered the livelong night, had
been originally in some way connected with the great diamond mine. As
for the subterranean river in the bowels of the mountain, Heaven only
knows what it is, or whence it flows, or whither it goes. I, for one,
have no anxiety to trace its course.

Lighter it grew, and lighter yet. We could see each other now, and
such a spectacle as we presented I have never set eyes on before or
since. Gaunt-cheeked, hollow-eyed wretches, smeared all over with dust
and mud, bruised, bleeding, the long fear of imminent death yet
written on our countenances, we were, indeed, a sight to frighten the
daylight. And yet it is a solemn fact that Good's eye-glass was still
fixed in Good's eye. I doubt whether he had ever taken it out at all.
Neither the darkness, nor the plunge in the subterranean river, nor
the roll down the slope, had been able to separate Good and his eye-
glass.

Presently we rose, fearing that our limbs would stiffen if we stopped
there longer, and commenced with slow and painful steps to struggle up
the sloping sides of the great pit. For an hour or more we toiled
steadfastly up the blue clay, dragging ourselves on by the help of the
roots and grasses with which it was clothed. But now I had no more
thought of leaving the basket; indeed, nothing but death should have
parted us.

At last it was done, and we stood by the great road, on that side of
the pit which is opposite to the Colossi.

At the side of the road, a hundred yards off, a fire was burning in
front of some huts, and round the fire were figures. We staggered
towards them, supporting one another, and halting every few paces.
Presently one of the figures rose, saw us and fell on to the ground,
crying out for fear.

"Infadoos, Infadoos! it is we, thy friends."

He rose; he ran to us, staring wildly, and still shaking with fear.

"Oh, my lords, my lords, it is indeed you come back from the dead!--
come back from the dead!"

And the old warrior flung himself down before us, and clasping Sir
Henry's knees, he wept aloud for joy.



CHAPTER XIX

IGNOSI'S FAREWELL

Ten days from that eventful morning found us once more in our old
quarters at Loo; and, strange to say, but little the worse for our
terrible experience, except that my stubbly hair came out of the
treasure cave about three shades greyer than it went in, and that Good
never was quite the same after Foulata's death, which seemed to move
him very greatly. I am bound to say, looking at the thing from the
point of view of an oldish man of the world, that I consider her
removal was a fortunate occurrence, since, otherwise, complications
would have been sure to ensue. The poor creature was no ordinary
native girl, but a person of great, I had almost said stately, beauty,
and of considerable refinement of mind. But no amount of beauty or
refinement could have made an entanglement between Good and herself a
desirable occurrence; for, as she herself put it, "Can the sun mate
with the darkness, or the white with the black?"

I need hardly state that we never again penetrated into Solomon's
treasure chamber. After we had recovered from our fatigues, a process
which took us forty-eight hours, we descended into the great pit in
the hope of finding the hole by which we had crept out of the
mountain, but with no success. To begin with, rain had fallen, and
obliterated our spoor; and what is more, the sides of the vast pit
were full of ant-bear and other holes. It was impossible to say to
which of these we owed our salvation. Also, on the day before we
started back to Loo, we made a further examination of the wonders of
the stalactite cave, and, drawn by a kind of restless feeling, even
penetrated once more into the Chamber of the Dead. Passing beneath the
spear of the White Death we gazed, with sensations which it would be
quite impossible for me to describe, at the mass of rock that had shut
us off from escape, thinking the while of priceless treasures beyond,
of the mysterious old hag whose flattened fragments lay crushed
beneath it, and of the fair girl of whose tomb it was the portal. I
say gazed at the "rock," for, examine as we could, we could find no
traces of the join of the sliding door; nor, indeed, could we hit upon
the secret, now utterly lost, that worked it, though we tried for an
hour or more. It is certainly a marvellous bit of mechanism,
characteristic, in its massive and yet inscrutable simplicity, of the
age which produced it; and I doubt if the world has such another to
show.

At last we gave it up in disgust; though, if the mass had suddenly
risen before our eyes, I doubt if we should have screwed up courage to
step over Gagool's mangled remains, and once more enter the treasure
chamber, even in the sure and certain hope of unlimited diamonds. And
yet I could have cried at the idea of leaving all that treasure, the
biggest treasure probably that in the world's history has ever been
accumulated in one spot. But there was no help for it. Only dynamite
could force its way through five feet of solid rock.

So we left it. Perhaps, in some remote unborn century, a more
fortunate explorer may hit upon the "Open Sesame," and flood the world
with gems. But, myself, I doubt it. Somehow, I seem to feel that the
tens of millions of pounds' worth of jewels which lie in the three
stone coffers will never shine round the neck of an earthly beauty.
They and Foulata's bones will keep cold company till the end of all
things.

With a sigh of disappointment we made our way back, and next day
started for Loo. And yet it was really very ungrateful of us to be
disappointed; for, as the reader will remember, by a lucky thought, I
had taken the precaution to fill the wide pockets of my old shooting
coat and trousers with gems before we left our prison-house, also
Foulata's basket, which held twice as many more, notwithstanding that
the water bottle had occupied some of its space. A good many of these
fell out in the course of our roll down the side of the pit, including
several of the big ones, which I had crammed in on the top in my coat
pockets. But, comparatively speaking, an enormous quantity still
remained, including ninety-three large stones ranging from over two
hundred to seventy carats in weight. My old shooting coat and the
basket still held sufficient treasure to make us all, if not
millionaires as the term is understood in America, at least
exceedingly wealthy men, and yet to keep enough stones each to make
the three finest sets of gems in Europe. So we had not done so badly.

On arriving at Loo we were most cordially received by Ignosi, whom we
found well, and busily engaged in consolidating his power, and
reorganising the regiments which had suffered most in the great
struggle with Twala.

He listened with intense interest to our wonderful story; but when we
told him of old Gagool's frightful end he grew thoughtful.

"Come hither," he called, to a very old Induna or councillor, who was
sitting with others in a circle round the king, but out of ear-shot.
The ancient man rose, approached, saluted, and seated himself.

"Thou art aged," said Ignosi.

"Ay, my lord the king! Thy father's father and I were born on the same
day."

"Tell me, when thou wast little, didst thou know Gagaoola the witch
doctress?"

"Ay, my lord the king!"

"How was she then--young, like thee?"

"Not so, my lord the king! She was even as she is now and as she was
in the days of my great grandfather before me; old and dried, very
ugly, and full of wickedness."

"She is no more; she is dead."

"So, O king! then is an ancient curse taken from the land."

"Go!"

"/Koom!/ I go, Black Puppy, who tore out the old dog's throat.
/Koom!/"

"Ye see, my brothers," said Ignosi, "this was a strange woman, and I
rejoice that she is dead. She would have let you die in the dark
place, and mayhap afterwards she had found a way to slay me, as she
found a way to slay my father, and set up Twala, whom her black heart
loved, in his place. Now go on with the tale; surely there never was
its like!"

After I had narrated all the story of our escape, as we had agreed
between ourselves that I should, I took the opportunity to address
Ignosi as to our departure from Kukuanaland.

"And now, Ignosi," I said, "the time has come for us to bid thee
farewell, and start to see our own land once more. Behold, Ignosi,
thou camest with us a servant, and now we leave thee a mighty king. If
thou art grateful to us, remember to do even as thou didst promise: to
rule justly, to respect the law, and to put none to death without a
cause. So shalt thou prosper. To-morrow, at break of day, Ignosi, thou
wilt give us an escort who shall lead us across the mountains. Is it
not so, O king?"

Ignosi covered his face with his hands for a while before answering.

"My heart is sore," he said at last; "your words split my heart in
twain. What have I done to you, Incubu, Macumazahn, and Bougwan, that
ye should leave me desolate? Ye who stood by me in rebellion and in
battle, will ye leave me in the day of peace and victory? What will ye
--wives? Choose from among the maidens! A place to live in? Behold,
the land is yours as far as ye can see. The white man's houses? Ye
shall teach my people how to build them. Cattle for beef and milk?
Every married man shall bring you an ox or a cow. Wild game to hunt?
Does not the elephant walk through my forests, and the river-horse
sleep in the reeds? Would ye make war? My Impis wait your word. If
there is anything more which I can give, that will I give you."

"Nay, Ignosi, we want none of these things," I answered; "we would
seek our own place."

"Now do I learn," said Ignosi bitterly, and with flashing eyes, "that
ye love the bright stones more than me, your friend. Ye have the
stones; now ye would go to Natal and across the moving black water and
sell them, and be rich, as it is the desire of a white man's heart to
be. Cursed for your sake be the white stones, and cursed he who seeks
them. Death shall it be to him who sets foot in the place of Death to
find them. I have spoken. White men, ye can go."

I laid my hand upon his arm. "Ignosi," I said, "tell us, when thou
didst wander in Zululand, and among the white people of Natal, did not
thine heart turn to the land thy mother told thee of, thy native
place, where thou didst see the light, and play when thou wast little,
the land where thy place was?"

"It was even so, Macumazahn."

"In like manner, Ignosi, do our hearts turn to our land and to our own
place."

Then came a silence. When Ignosi broke it, it was in a different
voice.

"I do perceive that now as ever thy words are wise and full of
reason, Macumazahn; that which flies in the air loves not to run along
the ground; the white man loves not to live on the level of the black
or to house among his kraals. Well, ye must go, and leave my heart
sore, because ye will be as dead to me, since from where ye are no
tidings can come to me.

"But listen, and let all your brothers know my words. No other white
man shall cross the mountains, even if any man live to come so far. I
will see no traders with their guns and gin. My people shall fight
with the spear, and drink water, like their forefathers before them. I
will have no praying-men to put a fear of death into men's hearts, to
stir them up against the law of the king, and make a path for the
white folk who follow to run on. If a white man comes to my gates I
will send him back; if a hundred come I will push them back; if armies
come, I will make war on them with all my strength, and they shall not
prevail against me. None shall ever seek for the shining stones: no,
not an army, for if they come I will send a regiment and fill up the
pit, and break down the white columns in the caves and choke them with
rocks, so that none can reach even to that door of which ye speak, and
whereof the way to move it is lost. But for you three, Incubu,
Macumazahn, and Bougwan, the path is always open; for, behold, ye are
dearer to me than aught that breathes.

"And ye would go. Infadoos, my uncle, and my Induna, shall take you by
the hand and guide you with a regiment. There is, as I have learned,
another way across the mountains that he shall show you. Farewell, my
brothers, brave white men. See me no more, for I have no heart to bear
it. Behold! I make a decree, and it shall be published from the
mountains to the mountains; your names, Incubu, Macumazahn, and
Bougwan, shall be "/hlonipa/" even as the names of dead kings, and he
who speaks them shall die.[*] So shall your memory be preserved in the
land for ever.

[*] This extraordinary and negative way of showing intense respect is
    by no means unknown among African people, and the result is that
    if, as is usual, the name in question has a significance, the
    meaning must be expressed by an idiom or other word. In this way a
    memory is preserved for generations, or until the new word utterly
    supplants the old.

"Go now, ere my eyes rain tears like a woman's. At times as ye look
back down the path of life, or when ye are old and gather yourselves
together to crouch before the fire, because for you the sun has no
more heat, ye will think of how we stood shoulder to shoulder, in that
great battle which thy wise words planned, Macumazahn; of how thou
wast the point of the horn that galled Twala's flank, Bougwan; whilst
thou stood in the ring of the Greys, Incubu, and men went down before
thine axe like corn before a sickle; ay, and of how thou didst break
that wild bull Twala's strength, and bring his pride to dust. Fare ye
well for ever, Incubu, Macumazahn, and Bougwan, my lords and my
friends."

Ignosi rose and looked earnestly at us for a few seconds. Then he
threw the corner of his karross over his head, so as to cover his face
from us.

We went in silence.



Next day at dawn we left Loo, escorted by our old friend Infadoos, who
was heart-broken at our departure, and by the regiment of Buffaloes.
Early as was the hour, all the main street of the town was lined with
multitudes of people, who gave us the royal salute as we passed at the
head of the regiment, while the women blessed us for having rid the
land of Twala, throwing flowers before us as we went. It was really
very affecting, and not the sort of thing one is accustomed to meet
with from natives.

One ludicrous incident occurred, however, which I rather welcomed, as
it gave us something to laugh at.

Just before we reached the confines of the town, a pretty young girl,
with some lovely lilies in her hand, ran forward and presented them to
Good--somehow they all seemed to like Good; I think his eye-glass and
solitary whisker gave him a fictitious value--and then said that she
had a boon to ask.

"Speak on," he answered.

"Let my lord show his servant his beautiful white legs, that his
servant may look upon them, and remember them all her days, and tell
of them to her children; his servant has travelled four days' journey
to see them, for the fame of them has gone throughout the land."

"I'll be hanged if I do!" exclaimed Good excitedly.

"Come, come, my dear fellow," said Sir Henry, "you can't refuse to
oblige a lady."

"I won't," replied Good obstinately; "it is positively indecent."

However, in the end he consented to draw up his trousers to the knee,
amidst notes of rapturous admiration from all the women present,
especially the gratified young lady, and in this guise he had to walk
till we got clear of the town.

Good's legs, I fear, will never be so greatly admired again. Of his
melting teeth, and even of his "transparent eye," the Kukuanas wearied
more or less, but of his legs never.

As we travelled, Infadoos told us that there was another pass over the
mountains to the north of the one followed by Solomon's Great Road, or
rather that there was a place where it was possible to climb down the
wall of cliff which separates Kukuanaland from the desert, and is
broken by the towering shapes of Sheba's Breasts. It appeared, also,
that rather more than two years previously a party of Kukuana hunters
had descended this path into the desert in search of ostriches, whose
plumes are much prized among them for war head-dresses, and that in
the course of their hunt they had been led far from the mountains and
were much troubled by thirst. Seeing trees on the horizon, however,
they walked towards them, and discovered a large and fertile oasis
some miles in extent, and plentifully watered. It was by way of this
oasis that Infadoos suggested we should return, and the idea seemed to
us a good one, for it appeared that we should thus escape the rigours
of the mountain pass. Also some of the hunters were in attendance to
guide us to the oasis, from which, they stated, they could perceive
other fertile spots far away in the desert.[*]

[*] It often puzzled all of us to understand how it was possible that
    Ignosi's mother, bearing the child with her, should have survived
    the dangers of her journey across the mountains and the desert,
    dangers which so nearly proved fatal to ourselves. It has since
    occurred to me, and I give the idea to the reader for what it is
    worth, that she must have taken this second route, and wandered
    out like Hagar into the wilderness. If she did so, there is no
    longer anything inexplicable about the story, since, as Ignosi
    himself related, she may well have been picked up by some ostrich
    hunters before she or the child was exhausted, was led by them to
    the oasis, and thence by stages to the fertile country, and so on
    by slow degrees southwards to Zululand.--A.Q.

Travelling easily, on the night of the fourth day's journey we found
ourselves once more on the crest of the mountains that separate
Kukuanaland from the desert, which rolled away in sandy billows at our
feet, and about twenty-five miles to the north of Sheba's Breasts.

At dawn on the following day, we were led to the edge of a very
precipitous chasm, by which we were to descend the precipice, and gain
the plain two thousand and more feet below.

Here we bade farewell to that true friend and sturdy old warrior,
Infadoos, who solemnly wished all good upon us, and nearly wept with
grief. "Never, my lords," he said, "shall mine old eyes see the like
of you again. Ah! the way that Incubu cut his men down in the battle!
Ah! for the sight of that stroke with which he swept off my brother
Twala's head! It was beautiful--beautiful! I may never hope to see
such another, except perchance in happy dreams."

We were very sorry to part from him; indeed, Good was so moved that he
gave him as a souvenir--what do you think?--an /eye-glass/; afterwards
we discovered that it was a spare one. Infadoos was delighted,
foreseeing that the possession of such an article would increase his
prestige enormously, and after several vain attempts he actually
succeeded in screwing it into his own eye. Anything more incongruous
than the old warrior looked with an eye-glass I never saw. Eye-glasses
do not go well with leopard-skin cloaks and black ostrich plumes.

Then, after seeing that our guides were well laden with water and
provisions, and having received a thundering farewell salute from the
Buffaloes, we wrung Infadoos by the hand, and began our downward
climb. A very arduous business it proved to be, but somehow that
evening we found ourselves at the bottom without accident.

"Do you know," said Sir Henry that night, as we sat by our fire and
gazed up at the beetling cliffs above us, "I think that there are
worse places than Kukuanaland in the world, and that I have known
unhappier times than the last month or two, though I have never spent
such queer ones. Eh! you fellows?"

"I almost wish I were back," said Good, with a sigh.

As for myself, I reflected that all's well that ends well; but in the
course of a long life of shaves, I never had such shaves as those
which I had recently experienced. The thought of that battle makes me
feel cold all over, and as for our experience in the treasure
chamber--!



Next morning we started on a toilsome trudge across the desert, having
with us a good supply of water carried by our five guides, and camped
that night in the open, marching again at dawn on the morrow.

By noon of the third day's journey we could see the trees of the oasis
of which the guides spoke, and within an hour of sundown we were
walking once more upon grass and listening to the sound of running
water.



CHAPTER XX

FOUND

And now I come to perhaps the strangest adventure that happened to us
in all this strange business, and one which shows how wonderfully
things are brought about.

I was walking along quietly, some way in front of the other two, down
the banks of the stream which runs from the oasis till it is swallowed
up in the hungry desert sands, when suddenly I stopped and rubbed my
eyes, as well I might. There, not twenty yards in front of me, placed
in a charming situation, under the shade of a species of fig-tree, and
facing to the stream, was a cosy hut, built more or less on the Kafir
principle with grass and withes, but having a full-length door instead
of a bee-hole.

"What the dickens," said I to myself, "can a hut be doing here?" Even
as I said it the door of the hut opened, and there limped out of it a
/white man/ clothed in skins, and with an enormous black beard. I
thought that I must have got a touch of the sun. It was impossible. No
hunter ever came to such a place as this. Certainly no hunter would
ever settle in it. I stared and stared, and so did the other man, and
just at that juncture Sir Henry and Good walked up.

"Look here, you fellows," I said, "is that a white man, or am I mad?"

Sir Henry looked, and Good looked, and then all of a sudden the lame
white man with a black beard uttered a great cry, and began hobbling
towards us. When he was close he fell down in a sort of faint.

With a spring Sir Henry was by his side.

"Great Powers!" he cried, "/it is my brother George!/"

At the sound of this disturbance, another figure, also clad in skins,
emerged from the hut, a gun in his hand, and ran towards us. On seeing
me he too gave a cry.

"Macumazahn," he halloed, "don't you know me, Baas? I'm Jim the
hunter. I lost the note you gave me to give to the Baas, and we have
been here nearly two years." And the fellow fell at my feet, and
rolled over and over, weeping for joy.

"You careless scoundrel!" I said; "you ought to be well /sjambocked/"
--that is, hided.

Meanwhile the man with the black beard had recovered and risen, and he
and Sir Henry were pump-handling away at each other, apparently
without a word to say. But whatever they had quarrelled about in the
past--I suspect it was a lady, though I never asked--it was evidently
forgotten now.

"My dear old fellow," burst out Sir Henry at last, "I thought you were
dead. I have been over Solomon's Mountains to find you. I had given up
all hope of ever seeing you again, and now I come across you perched
in the desert, like an old /assvogel/."[*]

[*] Vulture.

"I tried to cross Solomon's Mountains nearly two years ago," was the
answer, spoken in the hesitating voice of a man who has had little
recent opportunity of using his tongue, "but when I reached here a
boulder fell on my leg and crushed it, and I have been able to go
neither forward nor back."

Then I came up. "How do you do, Mr. Neville?" I said; "do you remember
me?"

"Why," he said, "isn't it Hunter Quatermain, eh, and Good too? Hold on
a minute, you fellows, I am getting dizzy again. It is all so very
strange, and, when a man has ceased to hope, so very happy!"

That evening, over the camp fire, George Curtis told us his story,
which, in its way, was almost as eventful as our own, and, put
shortly, amounted to this. A little less than two years before, he had
started from Sitanda's Kraal, to try to reach Suliman's Berg. As for
the note I had sent him by Jim, that worthy lost it, and he had never
heard of it till to-day. But, acting upon information he had received
from the natives, he headed not for Sheba's Breasts, but for the
ladder-like descent of the mountains down which we had just come,
which is clearly a better route than that marked out in old Dom
Silvestra's plan. In the desert he and Jim had suffered great
hardships, but finally they reached this oasis, where a terrible
accident befell George Curtis. On the day of their arrival he was
sitting by the stream, and Jim was extracting the honey from the nest
of a stingless bee which is to be found in the desert, on the top of a
bank immediately above him. In so doing he loosened a great boulder of
rock, which fell upon George Curtis's right leg, crushing it
frightfully. From that day he had been so lame that he found it
impossible to go either forward or back, and had preferred to take the
chances of dying in the oasis to the certainty of perishing in the
desert.

As for food, however, they got on pretty well, for they had a good
supply of ammunition, and the oasis was frequented, especially at
night, by large quantities of game, which came thither for water.
These they shot, or trapped in pitfalls, using the flesh for food,
and, after their clothes wore out, the hides for clothing.

"And so," George Curtis ended, "we have lived for nearly two years,
like a second Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday, hoping against hope
that some natives might come here to help us away, but none have come.
Only last night we settled that Jim should leave me, and try to reach
Sitanda's Kraal to get assistance. He was to go to-morrow, but I had
little hope of ever seeing him back again. And now /you/, of all
people in the world, /you/, who, as I fancied, had long ago forgotten
all about me, and were living comfortably in old England, turn up in a
promiscuous way and find me where you least expected. It is the most
wonderful thing that I have ever heard of, and the most merciful too."

Then Sir Henry set to work, and told him the main facts of our
adventures, sitting till late into the night to do it.

"By Jove!" said George Curtis, when I showed him some of the diamonds:
"well, at least you have got something for your pains, besides my
worthless self."

Sir Henry laughed. "They belong to Quatermain and Good. It was a part
of the bargain that they should divide any spoils there might be."

This remark set me thinking, and having spoken to Good, I told Sir
Henry that it was our joint wish that he should take a third portion
of the diamonds, or, if he would not, that his share should be handed
to his brother, who had suffered even more than ourselves on the
chance of getting them. Finally, we prevailed upon him to consent to
this arrangement, but George Curtis did not know of it until some time
afterwards.

*****

Here, at this point, I think that I shall end my history. Our journey
across the desert back to Sitanda's Kraal was most arduous, especially
as we had to support George Curtis, whose right leg was very weak
indeed, and continually threw out splinters of bone. But we did
accomplish it somehow, and to give its details would only be to
reproduce much of what happened to us on the former occasion.

Six months from the date of our re-arrival at Sitanda's, where we
found our guns and other goods quite safe, though the old rascal in
charge was much disgusted at our surviving to claim them, saw us all
once more safe and sound at my little place on the Berea, near Durban,
where I am now writing. Thence I bid farewell to all who have
accompanied me through the strangest trip I ever made in the course of
a long and varied experience.

P.S.--Just as I had written the last word, a Kafir came up my avenue
of orange trees, carrying a letter in a cleft stick, which he had
brought from the post. It turned out to be from Sir Henry, and as it
speaks for itself I give it in full.

October 1, 1884.
Brayley Hall, Yorkshire.

  My Dear Quatermain,

  I send you a line a few mails back to say that the three of us,
  George, Good, and myself, fetched up all right in England. We got
  off the boat at Southampton, and went up to town. You should have
  seen what a swell Good turned out the very next day, beautifully
  shaved, frock coat fitting like a glove, brand new eye-glass,
  etc., etc. I went and walked in the park with him, where I met
  some people I know, and at once told them the story of his
  "beautiful white legs."

  He is furious, especially as some ill-natured person has printed
  it in a Society paper.

  To come to business, Good and I took the diamonds to Streeter's to
  be valued, as we arranged, and really I am afraid to tell you what
  they put them at, it seems so enormous. They say that of course it
  is more or less guess-work, as such stones have never to their
  knowledge been put on the market in anything like such quantities.
  It appears that (with the exception of one or two of the largest)
  they are of the finest water, and equal in every way to the best
  Brazilian stones. I asked them if they would buy them, but they
  said that it was beyond their power to do so, and recommended us
  to sell by degrees, over a period of years indeed, for fear lest
  we should flood the market. They offer, however, a hundred and
  eighty thousand for a very small portion of them.

  You must come home, Quatermain, and see about these things,
  especially if you insist upon making the magnificent present of
  the third share, which does /not/ belong to me, to my brother
  George. As for Good, he is /no good/. His time is too much
  occupied in shaving, and other matters connected with the vain
  adorning of the body. But I think he is still down on his luck
  about Foulata. He told me that since he had been home he hadn't
  seen a woman to touch her, either as regards her figure or the
  sweetness of her expression.

  I want you to come home, my dear old comrade, and to buy a house
  near here. You have done your day's work, and have lots of money
  now, and there is a place for sale quite close which would suit
  you admirably. Do come; the sooner the better; you can finish
  writing the story of our adventures on board ship. We have refused
  to tell the tale till it is written by you, for fear lest we shall
  not be believed. If you start on receipt of this you will reach
  here by Christmas, and I book you to stay with me for that. Good
  is coming, and George; and so, by the way, is your boy Harry
  (there's a bribe for you). I have had him down for a week's
  shooting, and like him. He is a cool young hand; he shot me in the
  leg, cut out the pellets, and then remarked upon the advantages of
  having a medical student with every shooting party!

  Good-bye, old boy; I can't say any more, but I know that you will
  come, if it is only to oblige

Your sincere friend,
Henry Curtis.

  P.S.--The tusks of the great bull that killed poor Khiva have now
  been put up in the hall here, over the pair of buffalo horns you
  gave me, and look magnificent; and the axe with which I chopped
  off Twala's head is fixed above my writing-table. I wish that we
  could have managed to bring away the coats of chain armour. Don't
  lose poor Foulata's basket in which you brought away the diamonds.
H.C.

To-day is Tuesday. There is a steamer going on Friday, and I really

think that I must take Quatermain at his word, and sail by her for
England, if it is only to see you, Harry, my boy, and to look after
the printing of this history, which is a task that I do not like to
trust to anybody else.

ALLAN QUATERMAIN.





End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of King Solomon's Mines, by Haggard