Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Six.Into Empty Air.I had completed my purchase of the farm, and was well satisfied with my bargain. It was a nice place, and the homestead was in good repair and very picturesquely situated, commanding a beautiful view. Aïda would revel in it. The veldt was good, and so were the faculties for stocking water. Game too was plentiful, though the dark bushy kloofs intersecting a highrandon one side of the place gave promise of the more undesirable kind from the stock-raiser’s point of view—such as leopards and wild dogs and baboons. However it would be hard if I couldn’t manage to keep the numbers of these down, and if they took toll of a calf or two now and then, why one could take toll of them in the way of sport—so that the thing was as broad as it was long.Yes, I was well satisfied, and as I rode homeward I fell castle building. The place would be a Paradise when I should take Aïda there. It was too marvellous. How could such a wealth of happiness come my way? There was no cloud to mar it. Even as the vivid, unbroken blue of the sky overhead so was this marvel of bliss which had come in upon my life. There was no cloud to mar it.I was not rich but I had enough. I had done myself exceedingly well in the course of my ventures, and was beyond any anxiety or care for the future from a pecuniary point of view. I had always lived simply and had no expensive tastes. Now I was beginning to reap the benefit of that fortunate condition of things. I could afford the luxury of castle building as I cantered along mile after mile in the glorious sunlight.I had not seen Aïda for three whole days, it was that time since the uncanny episode of the waterhole. Now I was treasuring up the anticipation of our meeting, the light of glad welcome that would come into her eyes, only a few hours hence, for I would call in at my own place to see that things were all right, and get a bit of dinner, and ride on immediately afterwards. So, mile upon mile went by and at last shortly after mid-day I walked my horse up the long acclivity that led to my trading store.As I gained the latter I descried a horseman approaching from the other direction, and he was riding too—riding as if he didn’t want to use his horse again for at least a week. By Jove! it was Kendrew, I made out as he came nearer, but—what the devil was Kendrew in such a cast-iron, splitting hurry about?My boy Tom came out as I dismounted. I hardly noticed that he hadn’t got on the usual broad grin of welcome.“Where is Jan Boom?” I asked.“He is out after the cattle,Nkose,” answered Tom, rather glumly I thought. But I paid no attention to this, because Tom had taken it into his head to be rather jealous of Jan Boom of late, as a newcomer and an alien who seemed to be rather more in his master’s confidence than he had any right to be—from Tom’s point of view.“Well, wait a bit,” I said. “Here comes anotherNkose, Nyamaki’s nephew. You can take his horse at the same time.”Kendrew came racing up as if he were riding for his life.“You back, Glanton?” he cried, as he flung himself off his panting, dripping steed. “Well, that’s a devilish good job. I say. What does this mean?”“What does what mean?”“Man! Haven’t you heard? They sent for me post-haste this morning. Knew you were away.”“Quit jaw, Kendrew, and tell me what the devil’s the row,” I said roughly, for some horrible fear had suddenly beset me.“Miss Sewin. She’s disappeared,” he jerked forth.“What?”I have an idea that I articulated the word, though speech stuck in my throat I felt myself go white and cold, and strong healthy man that I was, the surroundings danced before my eyes as though I were about to swoon. I remember too, that Kendrew ground his teeth with pain under the grip that I had fastened upon his shoulder.“What do you say? Disappeared?” I gasped forth again. “How? When?”I heard him as through a mist as he told me how the afternoon before she had gone for a walk alone with her dog. It was towards sundown. She had not returned, and a search had been instituted, with the result that her dog had been found dead not very far from the waterhole, but of her no trace remained. “My God, Glanton,” he ended up. “Buck up, man. Pull yourself together or you’ll go clean off your chump. Buck up, d’you hear!”I daresay I had a look that way, for I noticed Tom staring at me as if he contemplated taking to his heels.“I’m on my way down there now,” said Kendrew.I nodded. I couldn’t speak just then somehow. I went into the house, slung on a heavy revolver, and crammed a handful of cartridges into my pocket. Then I remounted, Kendrew doing likewise, and so we took our way down that rocky bush path at a pace that was neither wise nor safe.“Is that all they have to go upon?” I said presently, as soon as I had recovered my voice.“That’s all—I gather from the old man’s note. I say, Glanton, what can be behind it all? It seems on all fours with my old uncle taking himself off. I’m beginning to think now there’s some infernal foul play going on among the niggers round us.”I was thinking the same. At first a thought of Dolf Norbury had crossed my mind, but I dismissed it. Ukozi was behind this, somewhere. The proximity to the waterhole associated him in my mind with the outrage. His beastly performance with the snake!—was he training it to seize human beings, in the furtherance of some devilish form of native superstition? Oh, good Heavens no! That wouldn’t bear thinking about. But Aïda—my love—had disappeared—had disappeared even as Hensley had. He had never been found; the mystery of his disappearance had never been solved. And she! Had she been hideously and secretly done to death? Oh God! I shall go mad!When we arrived, the Major and Falkner had just returned, and their horses were simply reeking. They had scoured the whole farm, but utterly without result. As for Mrs Sewin and Edith their grief was pitiable—would have been only it was nothing by the side of mine.“How was the dog killed?” was my first question, ignoring all greeting. I had resolved to waste no time in grief. I had now pulled myself together, and was going to do all that man was capable of to find my loved one again.“That’s the strange part of it,” said Falkner gruffly. “There’s no wound of any kind about the beast, and he hasn’t even been hit on the head, for his skull is quite smooth and unbroken. But, there he is—as dead as the traditional herring.”“You didn’t move him, did you?”“No. He’s there still.”“Well let’s go there. I may light on a clue.”“You’d better not come, uncle,” said Falkner. “You’re played out, for one thing, and there ought to be one man on the place with all this devilish mystery going about.”“Played out be damned, sir,” retorted the Major fiercely. “I’d tire you any day. I’m going.”The dead dog was lying right in the path, just beyond where we had found the lost coin on that memorable day. The first thing I looked for were traces of a struggle, but if there had been any they were now completely obliterated by hoof marks and footmarks made by Falkner and the Major when they first made the discovery.“The dog died before sundown,” I said, after a momentary examination.“How do you know that?” asked Falkner.“Because the ground underneath him is perfectly dry. If he had been killed or died later it wouldn’t have been. It would have been damp with dew. Look—Ah!”The last exclamation was evoked by a curious circumstance as I moved the body of the dead animal. A strange odour greeted my nostrils. It was as the odour of death, and yet not altogether, and—it was the same that poisoned the air on the occasion of my horse refusing to go forward on that night at Kendrew’s, and again here, almost on this very spot three nights ago when we had come away from witnessing Ukozi’s uncanny performance at the pool. Some dark villainy underlay this, and that the witch doctor was connected with it was borne in upon my mind without a doubt.I examined the dead dog long and carefully, but could read no clue as to the manner of his death, unless he had been poisoned, but this I thought unlikely. One thing was certain. Never in life would he have allowed harm or violence to reach his mistress. Poor Arlo! At any other time I should have been moved to genuine grief for his loss; now that loss was not even felt.Quickly, eagerly, I cast around for spoor, beyond the radius of the disturbed part of the ground. All in vain. No trace. No trampled grass or broken twig, or displaced leaf, absolutely nothing to afford a clue. The thing was incomprehensible. It was as if she had been caught up bodily into the air.The ground here was a gentle declivity, moderately studded with bush. It was not rocky nor rugged, and was entirely devoid of holes or caves into which anyone might fall.Suddenly every drop of blood within me was set tingling. I had found a trace. Where the ground was stony, just above the path I discovered an abrasion, as though a boot, with nail heads in the soles, had scraped it.It was very faint, but still—there was no mistaking it. It was a genuine spoor. And it led on and on, utterly undiscernible to the Major or Falkner, hardly visible to Kendrew at times, but plain enough to me. And now hope beat high. We would find her. We had only to follow on this spoor which we had struck, and we would find her. Heaven knew how, but still! we would find her. She might have met with an accident and be sorely in need of help, but—still we would find her, and this—even this—after the blank, awful realisation of her loss, akin, as it was, to the disappearance of Hensley—contained relative comfort.The others were watching me with mingled anxiety and curiosity as, bent low over the ground, I followed these faint indications. The latter were tolerably perceptible now to a practised eye, though to no other, and I kept upon them steadily. Then a ghastly fear smote me again upon the heart. The spoor was leading straight for the waterhole.What did it mean? She would not have gone there—voluntarily. After the spectacle we had witnessed that night nothing on earth would have induced her to revisit the uncanny place alone, even by daylight. Yet the dreadful thought had already forced itself upon my mind, that there, if anywhere, would the mystery be solved.In silence, eager, intensified, we pursued our way; for the others would not speak lest they should distract my mind from its concentration. Thus we came out upon the waterhole.The spoor had led us straight to the high brow of cliff overhanging the pool—the spot upon which we had all stood that afternoon when we had first seen the mysterious monster which had disturbed the water. And—what was this?All the soil here, where it was not solid rock, had been swept with branches. There was the pattern in the dust, even if stray leaves and twigs scattered about had not gone towards showing that, beyond a doubt. The object was manifest—to efface all traces of a struggle.Heavens! my brain seemed to be turning to mud with the drear despair of each fresh discovery. The witch doctor’s promise to show the old man the mystery of the waterhole came back to my mind. I put together the words ofsibongoto the snake I had heard him chanting. Ukozi had been preparing a way towards a sacrifice to his demon. He had accustomed the great python to seizing its victim as he brought it—and he had always brought it, so small, so insufficient, in the shape of the kid we had seen him give it, as to excite the appetite of the monster rather than to gratify it. He had been practising on Major Sewin’s curiosity, so that when the time should be ripe he would bring him to the edge of the pool, where all unsuspecting he would be seized by the monster and never be seen or heard of again. And now, and now—this unspeakably horrible and revolting fate, instead of overtaking the old man, had overtaken Aïda, my love, the sun and Paradise of my life, instead. She had been substituted for him, as the easier, possibly the more acceptable victim.But, Ukozi! Whatever might happen to me I would capture and revenge myself upon him in a manner which should out-do the vengeance of the most vindictive and cruel of his own countrymen. I would spend days and nights gloating over his agony, and afterwards it should be talked about with fear and shuddering among the whole population of the border—ay, and beyond it I would do it; how I knew not, but, I would do it. All hell was seething in my brain just then—all hell, as I thought of my love, in her daintiness and grace; the very embodiment of a refinement and an elevating influence that was almost—no, entirely—divine, sacrificed horribly to the revolting superstitions of these savages, whom I had hitherto regarded as equalling in manly virtues those who could boast of centuries of so-called civilisation at their backs. And yet—revenge—could it bring back to me my love—my sweet lost love?

I had completed my purchase of the farm, and was well satisfied with my bargain. It was a nice place, and the homestead was in good repair and very picturesquely situated, commanding a beautiful view. Aïda would revel in it. The veldt was good, and so were the faculties for stocking water. Game too was plentiful, though the dark bushy kloofs intersecting a highrandon one side of the place gave promise of the more undesirable kind from the stock-raiser’s point of view—such as leopards and wild dogs and baboons. However it would be hard if I couldn’t manage to keep the numbers of these down, and if they took toll of a calf or two now and then, why one could take toll of them in the way of sport—so that the thing was as broad as it was long.

Yes, I was well satisfied, and as I rode homeward I fell castle building. The place would be a Paradise when I should take Aïda there. It was too marvellous. How could such a wealth of happiness come my way? There was no cloud to mar it. Even as the vivid, unbroken blue of the sky overhead so was this marvel of bliss which had come in upon my life. There was no cloud to mar it.

I was not rich but I had enough. I had done myself exceedingly well in the course of my ventures, and was beyond any anxiety or care for the future from a pecuniary point of view. I had always lived simply and had no expensive tastes. Now I was beginning to reap the benefit of that fortunate condition of things. I could afford the luxury of castle building as I cantered along mile after mile in the glorious sunlight.

I had not seen Aïda for three whole days, it was that time since the uncanny episode of the waterhole. Now I was treasuring up the anticipation of our meeting, the light of glad welcome that would come into her eyes, only a few hours hence, for I would call in at my own place to see that things were all right, and get a bit of dinner, and ride on immediately afterwards. So, mile upon mile went by and at last shortly after mid-day I walked my horse up the long acclivity that led to my trading store.

As I gained the latter I descried a horseman approaching from the other direction, and he was riding too—riding as if he didn’t want to use his horse again for at least a week. By Jove! it was Kendrew, I made out as he came nearer, but—what the devil was Kendrew in such a cast-iron, splitting hurry about?

My boy Tom came out as I dismounted. I hardly noticed that he hadn’t got on the usual broad grin of welcome.

“Where is Jan Boom?” I asked.

“He is out after the cattle,Nkose,” answered Tom, rather glumly I thought. But I paid no attention to this, because Tom had taken it into his head to be rather jealous of Jan Boom of late, as a newcomer and an alien who seemed to be rather more in his master’s confidence than he had any right to be—from Tom’s point of view.

“Well, wait a bit,” I said. “Here comes anotherNkose, Nyamaki’s nephew. You can take his horse at the same time.”

Kendrew came racing up as if he were riding for his life.

“You back, Glanton?” he cried, as he flung himself off his panting, dripping steed. “Well, that’s a devilish good job. I say. What does this mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“Man! Haven’t you heard? They sent for me post-haste this morning. Knew you were away.”

“Quit jaw, Kendrew, and tell me what the devil’s the row,” I said roughly, for some horrible fear had suddenly beset me.

“Miss Sewin. She’s disappeared,” he jerked forth.

“What?”

I have an idea that I articulated the word, though speech stuck in my throat I felt myself go white and cold, and strong healthy man that I was, the surroundings danced before my eyes as though I were about to swoon. I remember too, that Kendrew ground his teeth with pain under the grip that I had fastened upon his shoulder.

“What do you say? Disappeared?” I gasped forth again. “How? When?”

I heard him as through a mist as he told me how the afternoon before she had gone for a walk alone with her dog. It was towards sundown. She had not returned, and a search had been instituted, with the result that her dog had been found dead not very far from the waterhole, but of her no trace remained. “My God, Glanton,” he ended up. “Buck up, man. Pull yourself together or you’ll go clean off your chump. Buck up, d’you hear!”

I daresay I had a look that way, for I noticed Tom staring at me as if he contemplated taking to his heels.

“I’m on my way down there now,” said Kendrew.

I nodded. I couldn’t speak just then somehow. I went into the house, slung on a heavy revolver, and crammed a handful of cartridges into my pocket. Then I remounted, Kendrew doing likewise, and so we took our way down that rocky bush path at a pace that was neither wise nor safe.

“Is that all they have to go upon?” I said presently, as soon as I had recovered my voice.

“That’s all—I gather from the old man’s note. I say, Glanton, what can be behind it all? It seems on all fours with my old uncle taking himself off. I’m beginning to think now there’s some infernal foul play going on among the niggers round us.”

I was thinking the same. At first a thought of Dolf Norbury had crossed my mind, but I dismissed it. Ukozi was behind this, somewhere. The proximity to the waterhole associated him in my mind with the outrage. His beastly performance with the snake!—was he training it to seize human beings, in the furtherance of some devilish form of native superstition? Oh, good Heavens no! That wouldn’t bear thinking about. But Aïda—my love—had disappeared—had disappeared even as Hensley had. He had never been found; the mystery of his disappearance had never been solved. And she! Had she been hideously and secretly done to death? Oh God! I shall go mad!

When we arrived, the Major and Falkner had just returned, and their horses were simply reeking. They had scoured the whole farm, but utterly without result. As for Mrs Sewin and Edith their grief was pitiable—would have been only it was nothing by the side of mine.

“How was the dog killed?” was my first question, ignoring all greeting. I had resolved to waste no time in grief. I had now pulled myself together, and was going to do all that man was capable of to find my loved one again.

“That’s the strange part of it,” said Falkner gruffly. “There’s no wound of any kind about the beast, and he hasn’t even been hit on the head, for his skull is quite smooth and unbroken. But, there he is—as dead as the traditional herring.”

“You didn’t move him, did you?”

“No. He’s there still.”

“Well let’s go there. I may light on a clue.”

“You’d better not come, uncle,” said Falkner. “You’re played out, for one thing, and there ought to be one man on the place with all this devilish mystery going about.”

“Played out be damned, sir,” retorted the Major fiercely. “I’d tire you any day. I’m going.”

The dead dog was lying right in the path, just beyond where we had found the lost coin on that memorable day. The first thing I looked for were traces of a struggle, but if there had been any they were now completely obliterated by hoof marks and footmarks made by Falkner and the Major when they first made the discovery.

“The dog died before sundown,” I said, after a momentary examination.

“How do you know that?” asked Falkner.

“Because the ground underneath him is perfectly dry. If he had been killed or died later it wouldn’t have been. It would have been damp with dew. Look—Ah!”

The last exclamation was evoked by a curious circumstance as I moved the body of the dead animal. A strange odour greeted my nostrils. It was as the odour of death, and yet not altogether, and—it was the same that poisoned the air on the occasion of my horse refusing to go forward on that night at Kendrew’s, and again here, almost on this very spot three nights ago when we had come away from witnessing Ukozi’s uncanny performance at the pool. Some dark villainy underlay this, and that the witch doctor was connected with it was borne in upon my mind without a doubt.

I examined the dead dog long and carefully, but could read no clue as to the manner of his death, unless he had been poisoned, but this I thought unlikely. One thing was certain. Never in life would he have allowed harm or violence to reach his mistress. Poor Arlo! At any other time I should have been moved to genuine grief for his loss; now that loss was not even felt.

Quickly, eagerly, I cast around for spoor, beyond the radius of the disturbed part of the ground. All in vain. No trace. No trampled grass or broken twig, or displaced leaf, absolutely nothing to afford a clue. The thing was incomprehensible. It was as if she had been caught up bodily into the air.

The ground here was a gentle declivity, moderately studded with bush. It was not rocky nor rugged, and was entirely devoid of holes or caves into which anyone might fall.

Suddenly every drop of blood within me was set tingling. I had found a trace. Where the ground was stony, just above the path I discovered an abrasion, as though a boot, with nail heads in the soles, had scraped it.

It was very faint, but still—there was no mistaking it. It was a genuine spoor. And it led on and on, utterly undiscernible to the Major or Falkner, hardly visible to Kendrew at times, but plain enough to me. And now hope beat high. We would find her. We had only to follow on this spoor which we had struck, and we would find her. Heaven knew how, but still! we would find her. She might have met with an accident and be sorely in need of help, but—still we would find her, and this—even this—after the blank, awful realisation of her loss, akin, as it was, to the disappearance of Hensley—contained relative comfort.

The others were watching me with mingled anxiety and curiosity as, bent low over the ground, I followed these faint indications. The latter were tolerably perceptible now to a practised eye, though to no other, and I kept upon them steadily. Then a ghastly fear smote me again upon the heart. The spoor was leading straight for the waterhole.

What did it mean? She would not have gone there—voluntarily. After the spectacle we had witnessed that night nothing on earth would have induced her to revisit the uncanny place alone, even by daylight. Yet the dreadful thought had already forced itself upon my mind, that there, if anywhere, would the mystery be solved.

In silence, eager, intensified, we pursued our way; for the others would not speak lest they should distract my mind from its concentration. Thus we came out upon the waterhole.

The spoor had led us straight to the high brow of cliff overhanging the pool—the spot upon which we had all stood that afternoon when we had first seen the mysterious monster which had disturbed the water. And—what was this?

All the soil here, where it was not solid rock, had been swept with branches. There was the pattern in the dust, even if stray leaves and twigs scattered about had not gone towards showing that, beyond a doubt. The object was manifest—to efface all traces of a struggle.

Heavens! my brain seemed to be turning to mud with the drear despair of each fresh discovery. The witch doctor’s promise to show the old man the mystery of the waterhole came back to my mind. I put together the words ofsibongoto the snake I had heard him chanting. Ukozi had been preparing a way towards a sacrifice to his demon. He had accustomed the great python to seizing its victim as he brought it—and he had always brought it, so small, so insufficient, in the shape of the kid we had seen him give it, as to excite the appetite of the monster rather than to gratify it. He had been practising on Major Sewin’s curiosity, so that when the time should be ripe he would bring him to the edge of the pool, where all unsuspecting he would be seized by the monster and never be seen or heard of again. And now, and now—this unspeakably horrible and revolting fate, instead of overtaking the old man, had overtaken Aïda, my love, the sun and Paradise of my life, instead. She had been substituted for him, as the easier, possibly the more acceptable victim.

But, Ukozi! Whatever might happen to me I would capture and revenge myself upon him in a manner which should out-do the vengeance of the most vindictive and cruel of his own countrymen. I would spend days and nights gloating over his agony, and afterwards it should be talked about with fear and shuddering among the whole population of the border—ay, and beyond it I would do it; how I knew not, but, I would do it. All hell was seething in my brain just then—all hell, as I thought of my love, in her daintiness and grace; the very embodiment of a refinement and an elevating influence that was almost—no, entirely—divine, sacrificed horribly to the revolting superstitions of these savages, whom I had hitherto regarded as equalling in manly virtues those who could boast of centuries of so-called civilisation at their backs. And yet—revenge—could it bring back to me my love—my sweet lost love?

Chapter Twenty Seven.The Dive of the Water Rat.We stood there—we four—gazing into each other’s livid faces. Then the Major broke down. Sinking to the ground he covered his face with his hands and sobbed. I broke fiercely away. I could not stand for a moment doing nothing, so I set to work to go right round the pool and see if I could find any further trace. But the search was a vain one.“The next thing is, what are we going to do?” said Falkner when we had rejoined them. “We don’t propose to spend the rest of the day staring at each other like stuck pigs, I take it?”“We ought to drag the hole,” I said, “but we haven’t got the necessary appliances, nor even a draw net. Can any of you think of some expedient?”“We might get a long pole, and splice a couple of meat-hooks to the end somehow,” said Falkner, “and probe about with that. Only, the cursed hole is about a mile too deep for the longest pole to get anywhere near the bottom in the middle.”“Amakosi!”We started at the interruption. So intent had we been that not one of us had been aware of the approach of a fifth—and he a native.“Ha, Ivondwe!” I cried, recognising him. “What knowest thou of this, for I think thou couldst not have been far from this place at sundown yesterday?”He answered in English.“Do theAmakosithink the young missis has got into the water?”“They do,” I said, still keeping to the vernacular. “Now, Water Rat, prove worthy of thy name. Dive down, explore yon water to its furthest depths for her we seek. Then shall thy reward be great.”“That will I do, Iqalaqala,” he answered—greatly to my surprise I own, for I had been mocking him by reason of his name.“And the snake?” I said. “The snake that dwells in the pool. Dost thou not fear it?”I had been keenly watching his face, and the wonder that came into it looked genuine.“Why as to that,” he answered, “and if there be a snake yet I fear it not. I will go.”He stood looking down upon the water for a moment; he needed to lose no time in undressing, for save for hismútyahe was unclad. Now he picked up two large stones and holding one in each hand, he poised himself at a point about ten feet above the surface. Then he dived.Down he went—straight down—and the water closed over him. We stood staring at the widening circles, but could see nothing beneath the surface. Then it suddenly dawned upon us that he had been under water an abnormally long time.“He’ll never come up again now,” declared Falkner. “No man living could stick under water all that time,” he went on after a wait that seemed like an hour to us. “The beast has either got hold of him, or he’s got stuck somehow and drowned. Oh good Lord!”For a black head shot up on the further side of the hole, and a couple of strokes bringing it and its owner to the brink, he proceeded calmly to climb out, showing no sign of any undue strain upon his powers of endurance.“Thou art indeed well named, Ivondwe,” I said. “We thought the snake had got thee.”“Snake? I saw no snake,” he answered. “But I will go down again. There is still one part which I left unsearched.”He sat for a moment, then picked up two stones as before. He walked round to an even higher point above the water, and this time dived obliquely.“By Jove, he must have come to grief now,” said Falkner. “Why he’s been a much longer time down.”As we waited and still Ivondwe did not reappear, the rest of us began to think that Falkner was right. It seemed incredible that any man could remain under so long unless artificially supplied with air. Then just as we had given him up Ivondwe rose to the surface as before.This time he was panting somewhat, as well he might. “There is no one down there,” he began, as soon as he had recovered breath.“No one?”“No one. All round the bottom did I go—and there was no one.Au! it is fearsome down there in the gloom and the silence, and the great eels gliding about like snakes. But she whom you seek must be found elsewhere. Not under that water is she.”Was he going on the native principle of telling you what you would most like to know? I wondered. Then Falkner began kicking off his boots.“Here goes for a search on my own account,” he said. “Coming, Glanton? If there’s nothing to hurt him, there’s nothing to hurt us. We’ll try his dodge of holding a couple of stones. We’ll get down further that way.”Ivondwe shook his head.“You will not get down at all,” he said, in English.“I’ll have a try at any rate. Come along, Glanton.”I am at home in the water but not for any time under it. Half the time spent by Ivondwe down there would have been enough to drown me several times over. However I would make the attempt.The result was even as I expected. With all the will in the world I had not the power, and so far from getting to the bottom, I was forced to return to the surface almost immediately. Falkner fared not much better.“It must be an awful depth,” he said. “I couldn’t even touch bottom, and I’m no slouch in the diving line.”“Where ought we to search, Ivondwe?” I said in the vernacular, “for so far there is no more trace than that left by a bird in the air? It will mean large reward to any who should help to find her—yes, many cattle.”“Would that I might win such,” he answered. Then pointing with his stick, “Lo, theAmapolise.”Our horses began to snort and neigh, as the police patrol rode up. I recognised my former acquaintance, Sergeant Simcox, but the inspector in command of the troop was along.“I’ve just come from your house, Major Sewin,” he said after a few words of sympathy, “and I left a couple of men there, so you need be under no apprehension by reason of your ladies being alone. Now have you lighted upon any fresh clue?”“Eh? What? Clue?” echoed the old man dazedly. “No.”So I took up the parable, telling how I had found spoor leading to the waterhole and that here it had stopped. I pointed out where the ground had been smoothed over as though to erase the traces of a struggle.“Now,” I concluded, “if you will come a little apart with me, I’ll tell you something that seems to bolster up my theory with a vengeance.”He looked at me somewhat strangely, I thought. But he agreed, and I put him in possession of the facts about Ukozi in his relations with Major Sewin, and how Aïda had consulted me about them during my absence in Zululand, bringing the story down to that last startling scene here on this very spot three nights ago.“Well you ought to know something about native superstitions, Mr Glanton,” he said. “Yet this seems a strange one, and utterly without motive to boot.”“I know enough about native superstitions to know that I know nothing,” I answered. “I know this, that those exist which are not so much as suspected by white men, and produce actions which, as you say, seem utterly without motive.”“If we could only lay claw on this witch doctor,” he said, thoughtfully.“Yes indeed. But he’ll take uncommonly good care that we can’t.”“Meanwhile I propose to arrest this boy on suspicion, for I find that he couldn’t have been very far from where Miss Sewin was last seen, at the time.”“Ivondwe?”“That’s his name. It may only be a coincidence mind—but you remember old Hensley’s disappearance?”“Rather.”“Well this Ivondwe was temporarily doing some cattle herding for Hensley at the time, filling another man’s place. It certainly is a coincidence that another mysterious disappearance should take place, and he right at hand again.”“It certainly is,” I agreed. “But Ivondwe has been here for months, and I’ve known him for years. There isn’t a native I’ve a higher opinion of.”“For all that I’m going to arrest him. It can do no harm and may do a great deal of good. But first I’ll ask him a few questions.”Inspector Manvers was colonial born and could speak the native language fluently. I warned him of Ivondwe’s acquaintance with English in case he should say anything in an aside to me.To every question, Ivondwe answered without hesitation. He had been looking after the cattle, yonder, over the rise, at the time, much too far off to have heard or seen anything. Had he been near, the dog would have kept him off. The dog was always unfriendly towards him.“Where is Ukozi?” asked the inspector. The question was met by a deprecatory laugh.“Where is the bird that flew over our heads a few hours ago?” asked Ivondwe. “I would remind the chief of theAmapolisethat the one question is as easy to answer as the other. A greatisanusisuch as Ukozi does not send men before him crying aloud his movements.”“That we shall see,” said the inspector. “Meanwhile Ivondwe, you are arrested and must go with us.”“Have I not searched the depths of yonder pool?” was Ivondwe’s unconcerned remark. “Ask these.”“Well, you are a prisoner, and if you make any attempt to escape you will be shot without challenge.” Then turning to me. “Now I think we had better continue our search down to the river bank. I need hardly tell you, Mr Glanton, how I sympathise with you, but we must not lose hope yet. People do strange and unaccountable things at times—generally the last people in the world who would be likely to do them. We shall find Miss Sewin yet.”“Have you found Hensley yet?” I said bitterly.He looked grave. The cases were too startlingly akin.“The old gentleman had better be persuaded to go home,” he said, with a pitying glance at the Major, who was sitting in a state of utter collapse. Kendrew volunteered to effect this. He could join us afterwards, he said.For the remaining hours of daylight we searched, leaving not a square yard of ground uninvestigated for a radius of miles. But—we found nothing—not even the remotest trace or clue.I suppose, if I lived to be a thousand I should never forget the agony of that day. Mile after mile of our patient and exhaustive search, and still—nothing. The sickening blank as we returned, obliged to give it up for that day, only to renew our efforts with the first glimmer of returning light!The moon rose, flooding down over the dim veldt. I recalled that last time when we two had wandered so happily over this very same ground. No presentiment had we then, no warning of mysterious danger hanging over us. How happy we had been—how secure in each other’s love—and now! Oh God! it was too much.“Look here,” I burst forth roughly. “What’s the good of you people? Yes, what the devil’s the good of you? What do you draw your pay for anyway? If you had unearthed the secret of Hensley’s disappearance this one would never have come about. Your whole force isn’t worth a tinker’s twopenny damn and the sooner it’s disbanded and sent about its silly business the better.”The police inspector was a thoroughly good fellow, and a gentleman. He didn’t take any offence at this, for he knew and respected the agony I was undergoing. We were riding a little ahead of the patrol, and therefore were alone together.“Look here, Glanton,” he said. “Abuse us as much as ever you like and welcome if only it’ll relieve your feelings. I don’t resent it. You may be, in a measure, right as to Hensley. We all thought—and you thought yourself if you remember—that the old chap had got off the rails somehow, in an ordinarily natural if mysterious way. But now I’m certain there’s some devilish foul play going on, and the thing is to get to the bottom of it. Now let’s keep our heads, above all things, and get to the bottom of it. This is my idea. While we go on with our search to-morrow, you go and find Tyingoza and enlist his aid. He’s a very influential chief, and has a good reputation, moreover you’re on first-rate terms with him. I believe he could help us if anybody could. What do you think?”“I have thought of that already,” I answered gloomily. “But anisanusiof Ukozi’s repute is more powerful than the most powerful chief—at any rate on this side of the river. Still it’s a stone not to be left unturned. I’ll ride up the first thing in the morning. No, I’ll go before. I’ll start to-night.”But I was not destined to do so. On returning to the house I found that both the Major and his wife were in a state of complete prostration. They seemed to cling to the idea of my presence. It was of no use for me to point out to them that the police patrol was camped, so to say, right under their very windows, not to mention Falkner and Kendrew in the house itself. They would not hear of my leaving that night. Edith, too, begged me to fall in with their wishes. A refusal might be dangerous to her father, she put it. Utterly exasperated and amazed at the selfishness, as I deemed it, of the old people, I seemed to have run my head against a blank wall.“Look here, Edith,” I said. “They are simply sacrificing Aïda by throwing obstacles in my way like this. What am I to do?”“This,” she answered. “Fall in with their wishes, till they are asleep. They will sleep, if only through sheer exhaustion, and if they don’t I’ll take care that they do, through another agency. Then, carry out your own plan and God bless you in it.”“God bless you, for the brave resourceful girl you are,” I rejoined. “Manvers and I have been knocking together a scheme, and nothing on God’s earth is going to interfere with it. Well, we’ll make believe—but, at midnight I’m off, no matter what happens.”“That’s right, Glanton,” said Kendrew, who had entered with an opportuneness that under other and less interested circumstances I should have regarded as suspicious. “Edith and I will take care of the old birds, never fear.”Utterly heartsick, and though unconsciously so, physically weary by reason of the awful strain of the last twelve hours, I only sought to be alone. I went into the room I always occupied and shut myself in. Sleep? Yes, I would welcome it, if only as a respite. I don’t know whether it came or not.

We stood there—we four—gazing into each other’s livid faces. Then the Major broke down. Sinking to the ground he covered his face with his hands and sobbed. I broke fiercely away. I could not stand for a moment doing nothing, so I set to work to go right round the pool and see if I could find any further trace. But the search was a vain one.

“The next thing is, what are we going to do?” said Falkner when we had rejoined them. “We don’t propose to spend the rest of the day staring at each other like stuck pigs, I take it?”

“We ought to drag the hole,” I said, “but we haven’t got the necessary appliances, nor even a draw net. Can any of you think of some expedient?”

“We might get a long pole, and splice a couple of meat-hooks to the end somehow,” said Falkner, “and probe about with that. Only, the cursed hole is about a mile too deep for the longest pole to get anywhere near the bottom in the middle.”

“Amakosi!”

We started at the interruption. So intent had we been that not one of us had been aware of the approach of a fifth—and he a native.

“Ha, Ivondwe!” I cried, recognising him. “What knowest thou of this, for I think thou couldst not have been far from this place at sundown yesterday?”

He answered in English.

“Do theAmakosithink the young missis has got into the water?”

“They do,” I said, still keeping to the vernacular. “Now, Water Rat, prove worthy of thy name. Dive down, explore yon water to its furthest depths for her we seek. Then shall thy reward be great.”

“That will I do, Iqalaqala,” he answered—greatly to my surprise I own, for I had been mocking him by reason of his name.

“And the snake?” I said. “The snake that dwells in the pool. Dost thou not fear it?”

I had been keenly watching his face, and the wonder that came into it looked genuine.

“Why as to that,” he answered, “and if there be a snake yet I fear it not. I will go.”

He stood looking down upon the water for a moment; he needed to lose no time in undressing, for save for hismútyahe was unclad. Now he picked up two large stones and holding one in each hand, he poised himself at a point about ten feet above the surface. Then he dived.

Down he went—straight down—and the water closed over him. We stood staring at the widening circles, but could see nothing beneath the surface. Then it suddenly dawned upon us that he had been under water an abnormally long time.

“He’ll never come up again now,” declared Falkner. “No man living could stick under water all that time,” he went on after a wait that seemed like an hour to us. “The beast has either got hold of him, or he’s got stuck somehow and drowned. Oh good Lord!”

For a black head shot up on the further side of the hole, and a couple of strokes bringing it and its owner to the brink, he proceeded calmly to climb out, showing no sign of any undue strain upon his powers of endurance.

“Thou art indeed well named, Ivondwe,” I said. “We thought the snake had got thee.”

“Snake? I saw no snake,” he answered. “But I will go down again. There is still one part which I left unsearched.”

He sat for a moment, then picked up two stones as before. He walked round to an even higher point above the water, and this time dived obliquely.

“By Jove, he must have come to grief now,” said Falkner. “Why he’s been a much longer time down.”

As we waited and still Ivondwe did not reappear, the rest of us began to think that Falkner was right. It seemed incredible that any man could remain under so long unless artificially supplied with air. Then just as we had given him up Ivondwe rose to the surface as before.

This time he was panting somewhat, as well he might. “There is no one down there,” he began, as soon as he had recovered breath.

“No one?”

“No one. All round the bottom did I go—and there was no one.Au! it is fearsome down there in the gloom and the silence, and the great eels gliding about like snakes. But she whom you seek must be found elsewhere. Not under that water is she.”

Was he going on the native principle of telling you what you would most like to know? I wondered. Then Falkner began kicking off his boots.

“Here goes for a search on my own account,” he said. “Coming, Glanton? If there’s nothing to hurt him, there’s nothing to hurt us. We’ll try his dodge of holding a couple of stones. We’ll get down further that way.”

Ivondwe shook his head.

“You will not get down at all,” he said, in English.

“I’ll have a try at any rate. Come along, Glanton.”

I am at home in the water but not for any time under it. Half the time spent by Ivondwe down there would have been enough to drown me several times over. However I would make the attempt.

The result was even as I expected. With all the will in the world I had not the power, and so far from getting to the bottom, I was forced to return to the surface almost immediately. Falkner fared not much better.

“It must be an awful depth,” he said. “I couldn’t even touch bottom, and I’m no slouch in the diving line.”

“Where ought we to search, Ivondwe?” I said in the vernacular, “for so far there is no more trace than that left by a bird in the air? It will mean large reward to any who should help to find her—yes, many cattle.”

“Would that I might win such,” he answered. Then pointing with his stick, “Lo, theAmapolise.”

Our horses began to snort and neigh, as the police patrol rode up. I recognised my former acquaintance, Sergeant Simcox, but the inspector in command of the troop was along.

“I’ve just come from your house, Major Sewin,” he said after a few words of sympathy, “and I left a couple of men there, so you need be under no apprehension by reason of your ladies being alone. Now have you lighted upon any fresh clue?”

“Eh? What? Clue?” echoed the old man dazedly. “No.”

So I took up the parable, telling how I had found spoor leading to the waterhole and that here it had stopped. I pointed out where the ground had been smoothed over as though to erase the traces of a struggle.

“Now,” I concluded, “if you will come a little apart with me, I’ll tell you something that seems to bolster up my theory with a vengeance.”

He looked at me somewhat strangely, I thought. But he agreed, and I put him in possession of the facts about Ukozi in his relations with Major Sewin, and how Aïda had consulted me about them during my absence in Zululand, bringing the story down to that last startling scene here on this very spot three nights ago.

“Well you ought to know something about native superstitions, Mr Glanton,” he said. “Yet this seems a strange one, and utterly without motive to boot.”

“I know enough about native superstitions to know that I know nothing,” I answered. “I know this, that those exist which are not so much as suspected by white men, and produce actions which, as you say, seem utterly without motive.”

“If we could only lay claw on this witch doctor,” he said, thoughtfully.

“Yes indeed. But he’ll take uncommonly good care that we can’t.”

“Meanwhile I propose to arrest this boy on suspicion, for I find that he couldn’t have been very far from where Miss Sewin was last seen, at the time.”

“Ivondwe?”

“That’s his name. It may only be a coincidence mind—but you remember old Hensley’s disappearance?”

“Rather.”

“Well this Ivondwe was temporarily doing some cattle herding for Hensley at the time, filling another man’s place. It certainly is a coincidence that another mysterious disappearance should take place, and he right at hand again.”

“It certainly is,” I agreed. “But Ivondwe has been here for months, and I’ve known him for years. There isn’t a native I’ve a higher opinion of.”

“For all that I’m going to arrest him. It can do no harm and may do a great deal of good. But first I’ll ask him a few questions.”

Inspector Manvers was colonial born and could speak the native language fluently. I warned him of Ivondwe’s acquaintance with English in case he should say anything in an aside to me.

To every question, Ivondwe answered without hesitation. He had been looking after the cattle, yonder, over the rise, at the time, much too far off to have heard or seen anything. Had he been near, the dog would have kept him off. The dog was always unfriendly towards him.

“Where is Ukozi?” asked the inspector. The question was met by a deprecatory laugh.

“Where is the bird that flew over our heads a few hours ago?” asked Ivondwe. “I would remind the chief of theAmapolisethat the one question is as easy to answer as the other. A greatisanusisuch as Ukozi does not send men before him crying aloud his movements.”

“That we shall see,” said the inspector. “Meanwhile Ivondwe, you are arrested and must go with us.”

“Have I not searched the depths of yonder pool?” was Ivondwe’s unconcerned remark. “Ask these.”

“Well, you are a prisoner, and if you make any attempt to escape you will be shot without challenge.” Then turning to me. “Now I think we had better continue our search down to the river bank. I need hardly tell you, Mr Glanton, how I sympathise with you, but we must not lose hope yet. People do strange and unaccountable things at times—generally the last people in the world who would be likely to do them. We shall find Miss Sewin yet.”

“Have you found Hensley yet?” I said bitterly.

He looked grave. The cases were too startlingly akin.

“The old gentleman had better be persuaded to go home,” he said, with a pitying glance at the Major, who was sitting in a state of utter collapse. Kendrew volunteered to effect this. He could join us afterwards, he said.

For the remaining hours of daylight we searched, leaving not a square yard of ground uninvestigated for a radius of miles. But—we found nothing—not even the remotest trace or clue.

I suppose, if I lived to be a thousand I should never forget the agony of that day. Mile after mile of our patient and exhaustive search, and still—nothing. The sickening blank as we returned, obliged to give it up for that day, only to renew our efforts with the first glimmer of returning light!

The moon rose, flooding down over the dim veldt. I recalled that last time when we two had wandered so happily over this very same ground. No presentiment had we then, no warning of mysterious danger hanging over us. How happy we had been—how secure in each other’s love—and now! Oh God! it was too much.

“Look here,” I burst forth roughly. “What’s the good of you people? Yes, what the devil’s the good of you? What do you draw your pay for anyway? If you had unearthed the secret of Hensley’s disappearance this one would never have come about. Your whole force isn’t worth a tinker’s twopenny damn and the sooner it’s disbanded and sent about its silly business the better.”

The police inspector was a thoroughly good fellow, and a gentleman. He didn’t take any offence at this, for he knew and respected the agony I was undergoing. We were riding a little ahead of the patrol, and therefore were alone together.

“Look here, Glanton,” he said. “Abuse us as much as ever you like and welcome if only it’ll relieve your feelings. I don’t resent it. You may be, in a measure, right as to Hensley. We all thought—and you thought yourself if you remember—that the old chap had got off the rails somehow, in an ordinarily natural if mysterious way. But now I’m certain there’s some devilish foul play going on, and the thing is to get to the bottom of it. Now let’s keep our heads, above all things, and get to the bottom of it. This is my idea. While we go on with our search to-morrow, you go and find Tyingoza and enlist his aid. He’s a very influential chief, and has a good reputation, moreover you’re on first-rate terms with him. I believe he could help us if anybody could. What do you think?”

“I have thought of that already,” I answered gloomily. “But anisanusiof Ukozi’s repute is more powerful than the most powerful chief—at any rate on this side of the river. Still it’s a stone not to be left unturned. I’ll ride up the first thing in the morning. No, I’ll go before. I’ll start to-night.”

But I was not destined to do so. On returning to the house I found that both the Major and his wife were in a state of complete prostration. They seemed to cling to the idea of my presence. It was of no use for me to point out to them that the police patrol was camped, so to say, right under their very windows, not to mention Falkner and Kendrew in the house itself. They would not hear of my leaving that night. Edith, too, begged me to fall in with their wishes. A refusal might be dangerous to her father, she put it. Utterly exasperated and amazed at the selfishness, as I deemed it, of the old people, I seemed to have run my head against a blank wall.

“Look here, Edith,” I said. “They are simply sacrificing Aïda by throwing obstacles in my way like this. What am I to do?”

“This,” she answered. “Fall in with their wishes, till they are asleep. They will sleep, if only through sheer exhaustion, and if they don’t I’ll take care that they do, through another agency. Then, carry out your own plan and God bless you in it.”

“God bless you, for the brave resourceful girl you are,” I rejoined. “Manvers and I have been knocking together a scheme, and nothing on God’s earth is going to interfere with it. Well, we’ll make believe—but, at midnight I’m off, no matter what happens.”

“That’s right, Glanton,” said Kendrew, who had entered with an opportuneness that under other and less interested circumstances I should have regarded as suspicious. “Edith and I will take care of the old birds, never fear.”

Utterly heartsick, and though unconsciously so, physically weary by reason of the awful strain of the last twelve hours, I only sought to be alone. I went into the room I always occupied and shut myself in. Sleep? Yes, I would welcome it, if only as a respite. I don’t know whether it came or not.

Chapter Twenty Eight.What Jan Boom Told.It seemed as though I had slept five minutes when I started wide awake, listening. There was a faint sound of scratching upon the window pane. Then it ceased, to be followed by a succession of gentle taps.Noiselessly I got out of bed, and drawing my revolver from its holster, stood listening once more. There was no mistake about it. Somebody was trying to attract my attention.Even then—in that tense moment, the drear anguish of yesterday surged like a wave through my mind; but, upon it a gleam of hope. What was this fresh mystery, for, of course, it was in some way connected with the suggestion of tragedy—with the mysterious disappearance of my love?There were no curtains, only blinds. Softly, noiselessly, I slipped to the window and displaced one of these, just sufficiently to leave a crack to be able to see through. The moon was shining, bright and clear, and all in the front of the house was illuminated almost as though by daylight I made out a dark figure crouching under the window, and held the revolver clenched and ready as I put up the sash.“Who?” I said, in the Zulu.“Nkose! It is I—Jan Boom.”“Yes. And what do you want?”“Nkose! Try and slip out of the house, unseen I want to talk. But others may be waking too. Do it. It concerns her whom you seek.”I knew the ways of a native in such a matter, wherefore without hesitation, I put up the window as noiselessly as I could, and was out in a moment. Bearing in mind the strange and mysterious times upon which we had fallen I didn’t leave the weapon behind me in the room either.“You are alone?” I said.“I am alone,Nkose. Come round behind the waggon shed—or, better still, into the openness of the bush itself. There can we hold ourindaba.”“Good. Now—lead on.”As I walked behind the Xosa, I was all aglow with eagerness. What had he discovered—or, had he discovered anything? Could I trust him? I remembered my first dislike of him, and how it had faded. What could he know of this last outrage? What part had he borne in it, if any? And if none, how could he be of any assistance?“Well, Jan Boom,” I said when we were safe from possible interruption. “You know of course that the man who is the one to enable me to recover theInkosikaziunharmed, will find himself in possession of sufficient cattle to purchase two new wives, with something to spare?”“I know it,Nkose, and you—you also know what I said to you when I wanted to remain and work for you,” he answered significantly.I did remember it. His words came back to me, though I had long since dismissed them from my mind. The plot was thickening.The Xosa took a long and careful look round, and if my patience was strained to bursting point I knew enough of these people to know that you never get anything out of them by hurrying them. Then he bent his head towards me and whispered:“If you follow my directions exactly you will recover theInkosikazi. If not you will never see her again.”“Never see her again?” I echoed with some idea of gaining time in order to collect myself.“Has Nyamaki ever been seen again?” said Jan Boom.“Do you know where she is?”“I know where she will be to-morrow night.”To-morrow night! And I had been expecting instant action.“Look here,” I said, seizing him by the shoulder with a grip that must have hurt. “Has she been injured in any way? Tell me. Has she?”“Not yet,” he answered. “No—not yet. But—if you fail to find her, and take her from where she is, to-morrow night—she will die, and that not easily.”This time he did wince under my grip. In my awful agony I seemed hardly to know what I was doing. The whole moonlit scene seemed to be whirling round with me. My love—in peril! in peril of some frightful and agonising form of death! Oh Heaven help me to keep my wits about me! Some such idea must have communicated itself to the Xosa’s mind, for he said:“Nkosemust keep cool. No man can do a difficult thing if his head is not cool.”Even then I noticed that he was looking at me with wonder tinged with concern. In ordinary matters—and some out of the ordinary—I was among the coolest headed of mortals. Now I seemed quite thrown off my balance. Somehow it never occurred to me to doubt the truth of Jan Boom’s statement.“Where is this place?” I asked.“That you will learn to-morrow night,Nkose, for I myself will take you there—if you are cautious. If not—!”“Look here, Jan Boom. You want to earn the cattle which I shall give as a reward?”“Cattle are always good to have,Nkose!”“Well what other motive have you in helping me in this matter? You have not been very long with me, and I cannot recall any special reason why you should serve me outside of ordinary things.”“Be not too curious,Nkose!” he answered, with a slight smile. “But, whether you fail or succeed to-morrow night, my life will be sought, for it will be known how you came there.”“Have no fear as to that, Jan Boom, for I will supply you with the means of defending your life six times over—and you, too, come of a warrior race.”“That is so,Nkose. I am of the Ama Gcaleka. Now talk we of our plan. To-morrow you will return home, starting from here after the sun is at its highest. Up to the time of starting you will help in the search in whatever direction it is made. But if you show any sign or give reason to suspect you know it is all being made in vain, it will mean the failure of our plan, and then—”“Not on my account shall it fail then,” I said. “Tell me, Jan Boom. Is Ukozi at the back of this?”“His eyes and ears are everywhere,” was the reply, accompanied by a significant glance around. “When you ride homeward to-morrow, your horse will be very lame.”“Very lame?” I echoed in astonishment.“Very lame. You yourself will lame it. So shall Ukozi’s eyes be deceived. For a man who has just returned home does not ride forth immediately on a horse that is very lame.”I saw his drift—and it was ingenious.“You will give out that you are tired of a useless search, that you are exhausted and intend to sleep for three days, and you will pretend to have drunk too much of the strong waters. So shall Ukozi’s eyes be deceived.”“But Jan Boom, you and Tom are the only people on the place,” I urged.“U’ Tom?Hau! Ukozi’s eyes and ears are everywhere,” was the enigmatical answer.“And if my horse is lame how shall I use him?”“You would not use him in any case,” was his answer. “The sound of a horse’s hoof travels far at night, that of a man’s foot, not. We walk.”“Walk? Why then the place must be quite near.”“Quite near it is, Iqalaqala,” slipping into rather an unwarrantable familiarity in addressing me by my native name, but this didn’t exercise me you may be sure. “Quite near, but—nowhere near the snake pool. Quite the other way. You will take the nephew of Nyamaki with you.”“Ah! And—what of Umsindo?”“Ha! Umsindo? He is a good fighting bull—but then he is a blundering bull. Yet we will take him, for his strength will be useful. For, we will take Ukozi alive.”“That will not be easy, Jan Boom. And then—just think, how much easier it will be to kill him.”“Yet we will do it. We will take him alive. You were asking but now,Nkose, what other motive I had in helping you,” he answered, with a dash of significance.“Ah!”“So we will take Ukozi alive. Is that to be?”“Most certainly, if possible. But will it be possible? He is sure to fight. He will have people with him of course.”“Two, at the most. We had better take them alive too, if we can. It will make things worse for Ukozi. But to no one living save to the two we have named will you by word or hint give knowledge of what I have told you. To do so will mean certain failure.”I promised.“Tell me now about this place, Jan Boom, and how you learned of its existence,” I said, for now in my feverish impatience I would rather talk for the remainder of the night than go in to shut myself up with my thoughts throughout its hours of silence.“I will do better,Nkose, I will show it you,” he answered. “Whau! if we succeed in what we are to do—and we must if the three of you only keep strictly to my directions—why then I may tell you; and with it a tale so strange that you, or other white people, will give it half belief or perhaps not any. Now I must go. There is still some of the night left, and it is important that none should know we have talked or even that I have been away from Isipanga. Return as silently as you came, and to-morrow, well before the sun goes down ride up to the house on a very lame horse.”“And with the other two?”“With the other two.Nkose!” With which parting salute he was gone.I waited a little, listening. No sound disturbed the dead silence save here and there the ordinary voices of the night. Then I regained my room.Sleep was of course out of the question, and now I set to work deliberately to marshal my thoughts and bring them to bear on the situation. I felt no misgiving as to the Xosa’s good faith—the fact that he had agreed to my being accompanied by two tried and trusted comrades seemed to prove that. Though had he stipulated that I should have gone alone, I should, while prepared for any emergency, unhesitatingly have accepted the conditions. Again, the reward was quite enough to tempt a man of his courage, especially as he came of a totally different race, added to which the corner of curtain which he had just lifted was sufficient to show that he bore a grudge against the witch doctor, not to say a very pretty feud. How and why this should be, passed my understanding, but I knew enough of natives and their ways to know that I didn’t know them, as, indeed, I believe no white man ever really does.And the motive of this outrage? Clearly, it was due to some dark superstition, as I had suspected from the very first. She had not been injured up till now, would not be unless we failed to arrive in time. There was unspeakable comfort in this, for I felt confident the Xosa was sure of his facts. But what stages of horror and despair must she not have passed through since her mysterious capture? Well the villainous witch doctor should pay a heavy reckoning and those who had helped him; and, thinking of it, I, too, was all eagerness he should be taken alive; for a great many years of hard labour—perhaps with lashes thrown in—which should be his reward, would be a far worse thing to him than a mere swift and easy death.Then followed a reaction. What if Jan Boom had miscalculated and we arrived too late after all? A cold perspiration poured down me at the thought. “She will die, and that not easily,” had been his words. That pointed to torture—oh good God! My innocent beautiful love! in the power of these fiends, and sacrificed to their hellish superstitions, and I helpless here! I seemed to be going mad.No. That wouldn’t do. I was letting my imagination run away with me in the silence and the darkness, and above all I wanted cool-headedness and strength. I must make up my mind to believe the Xosa’s word and that all would yet be well. By this time the next night she would be with us again safe and sound.Then I fell to wondering what sort of hiding-place could be found within a walk—an easy walk apparently—of my dwelling, and it baffled me. I could think of none. Moreover the surroundings had been scoured in search of the missing Hensley, and nothing of the kind had come to light. And then the first signs of dawn began to show, and I felt relieved, for now at any rate, one could be up and doing.

It seemed as though I had slept five minutes when I started wide awake, listening. There was a faint sound of scratching upon the window pane. Then it ceased, to be followed by a succession of gentle taps.

Noiselessly I got out of bed, and drawing my revolver from its holster, stood listening once more. There was no mistake about it. Somebody was trying to attract my attention.

Even then—in that tense moment, the drear anguish of yesterday surged like a wave through my mind; but, upon it a gleam of hope. What was this fresh mystery, for, of course, it was in some way connected with the suggestion of tragedy—with the mysterious disappearance of my love?

There were no curtains, only blinds. Softly, noiselessly, I slipped to the window and displaced one of these, just sufficiently to leave a crack to be able to see through. The moon was shining, bright and clear, and all in the front of the house was illuminated almost as though by daylight I made out a dark figure crouching under the window, and held the revolver clenched and ready as I put up the sash.

“Who?” I said, in the Zulu.

“Nkose! It is I—Jan Boom.”

“Yes. And what do you want?”

“Nkose! Try and slip out of the house, unseen I want to talk. But others may be waking too. Do it. It concerns her whom you seek.”

I knew the ways of a native in such a matter, wherefore without hesitation, I put up the window as noiselessly as I could, and was out in a moment. Bearing in mind the strange and mysterious times upon which we had fallen I didn’t leave the weapon behind me in the room either.

“You are alone?” I said.

“I am alone,Nkose. Come round behind the waggon shed—or, better still, into the openness of the bush itself. There can we hold ourindaba.”

“Good. Now—lead on.”

As I walked behind the Xosa, I was all aglow with eagerness. What had he discovered—or, had he discovered anything? Could I trust him? I remembered my first dislike of him, and how it had faded. What could he know of this last outrage? What part had he borne in it, if any? And if none, how could he be of any assistance?

“Well, Jan Boom,” I said when we were safe from possible interruption. “You know of course that the man who is the one to enable me to recover theInkosikaziunharmed, will find himself in possession of sufficient cattle to purchase two new wives, with something to spare?”

“I know it,Nkose, and you—you also know what I said to you when I wanted to remain and work for you,” he answered significantly.

I did remember it. His words came back to me, though I had long since dismissed them from my mind. The plot was thickening.

The Xosa took a long and careful look round, and if my patience was strained to bursting point I knew enough of these people to know that you never get anything out of them by hurrying them. Then he bent his head towards me and whispered:

“If you follow my directions exactly you will recover theInkosikazi. If not you will never see her again.”

“Never see her again?” I echoed with some idea of gaining time in order to collect myself.

“Has Nyamaki ever been seen again?” said Jan Boom.

“Do you know where she is?”

“I know where she will be to-morrow night.”

To-morrow night! And I had been expecting instant action.

“Look here,” I said, seizing him by the shoulder with a grip that must have hurt. “Has she been injured in any way? Tell me. Has she?”

“Not yet,” he answered. “No—not yet. But—if you fail to find her, and take her from where she is, to-morrow night—she will die, and that not easily.”

This time he did wince under my grip. In my awful agony I seemed hardly to know what I was doing. The whole moonlit scene seemed to be whirling round with me. My love—in peril! in peril of some frightful and agonising form of death! Oh Heaven help me to keep my wits about me! Some such idea must have communicated itself to the Xosa’s mind, for he said:

“Nkosemust keep cool. No man can do a difficult thing if his head is not cool.”

Even then I noticed that he was looking at me with wonder tinged with concern. In ordinary matters—and some out of the ordinary—I was among the coolest headed of mortals. Now I seemed quite thrown off my balance. Somehow it never occurred to me to doubt the truth of Jan Boom’s statement.

“Where is this place?” I asked.

“That you will learn to-morrow night,Nkose, for I myself will take you there—if you are cautious. If not—!”

“Look here, Jan Boom. You want to earn the cattle which I shall give as a reward?”

“Cattle are always good to have,Nkose!”

“Well what other motive have you in helping me in this matter? You have not been very long with me, and I cannot recall any special reason why you should serve me outside of ordinary things.”

“Be not too curious,Nkose!” he answered, with a slight smile. “But, whether you fail or succeed to-morrow night, my life will be sought, for it will be known how you came there.”

“Have no fear as to that, Jan Boom, for I will supply you with the means of defending your life six times over—and you, too, come of a warrior race.”

“That is so,Nkose. I am of the Ama Gcaleka. Now talk we of our plan. To-morrow you will return home, starting from here after the sun is at its highest. Up to the time of starting you will help in the search in whatever direction it is made. But if you show any sign or give reason to suspect you know it is all being made in vain, it will mean the failure of our plan, and then—”

“Not on my account shall it fail then,” I said. “Tell me, Jan Boom. Is Ukozi at the back of this?”

“His eyes and ears are everywhere,” was the reply, accompanied by a significant glance around. “When you ride homeward to-morrow, your horse will be very lame.”

“Very lame?” I echoed in astonishment.

“Very lame. You yourself will lame it. So shall Ukozi’s eyes be deceived. For a man who has just returned home does not ride forth immediately on a horse that is very lame.”

I saw his drift—and it was ingenious.

“You will give out that you are tired of a useless search, that you are exhausted and intend to sleep for three days, and you will pretend to have drunk too much of the strong waters. So shall Ukozi’s eyes be deceived.”

“But Jan Boom, you and Tom are the only people on the place,” I urged.

“U’ Tom?Hau! Ukozi’s eyes and ears are everywhere,” was the enigmatical answer.

“And if my horse is lame how shall I use him?”

“You would not use him in any case,” was his answer. “The sound of a horse’s hoof travels far at night, that of a man’s foot, not. We walk.”

“Walk? Why then the place must be quite near.”

“Quite near it is, Iqalaqala,” slipping into rather an unwarrantable familiarity in addressing me by my native name, but this didn’t exercise me you may be sure. “Quite near, but—nowhere near the snake pool. Quite the other way. You will take the nephew of Nyamaki with you.”

“Ah! And—what of Umsindo?”

“Ha! Umsindo? He is a good fighting bull—but then he is a blundering bull. Yet we will take him, for his strength will be useful. For, we will take Ukozi alive.”

“That will not be easy, Jan Boom. And then—just think, how much easier it will be to kill him.”

“Yet we will do it. We will take him alive. You were asking but now,Nkose, what other motive I had in helping you,” he answered, with a dash of significance.

“Ah!”

“So we will take Ukozi alive. Is that to be?”

“Most certainly, if possible. But will it be possible? He is sure to fight. He will have people with him of course.”

“Two, at the most. We had better take them alive too, if we can. It will make things worse for Ukozi. But to no one living save to the two we have named will you by word or hint give knowledge of what I have told you. To do so will mean certain failure.”

I promised.

“Tell me now about this place, Jan Boom, and how you learned of its existence,” I said, for now in my feverish impatience I would rather talk for the remainder of the night than go in to shut myself up with my thoughts throughout its hours of silence.

“I will do better,Nkose, I will show it you,” he answered. “Whau! if we succeed in what we are to do—and we must if the three of you only keep strictly to my directions—why then I may tell you; and with it a tale so strange that you, or other white people, will give it half belief or perhaps not any. Now I must go. There is still some of the night left, and it is important that none should know we have talked or even that I have been away from Isipanga. Return as silently as you came, and to-morrow, well before the sun goes down ride up to the house on a very lame horse.”

“And with the other two?”

“With the other two.Nkose!” With which parting salute he was gone.

I waited a little, listening. No sound disturbed the dead silence save here and there the ordinary voices of the night. Then I regained my room.

Sleep was of course out of the question, and now I set to work deliberately to marshal my thoughts and bring them to bear on the situation. I felt no misgiving as to the Xosa’s good faith—the fact that he had agreed to my being accompanied by two tried and trusted comrades seemed to prove that. Though had he stipulated that I should have gone alone, I should, while prepared for any emergency, unhesitatingly have accepted the conditions. Again, the reward was quite enough to tempt a man of his courage, especially as he came of a totally different race, added to which the corner of curtain which he had just lifted was sufficient to show that he bore a grudge against the witch doctor, not to say a very pretty feud. How and why this should be, passed my understanding, but I knew enough of natives and their ways to know that I didn’t know them, as, indeed, I believe no white man ever really does.

And the motive of this outrage? Clearly, it was due to some dark superstition, as I had suspected from the very first. She had not been injured up till now, would not be unless we failed to arrive in time. There was unspeakable comfort in this, for I felt confident the Xosa was sure of his facts. But what stages of horror and despair must she not have passed through since her mysterious capture? Well the villainous witch doctor should pay a heavy reckoning and those who had helped him; and, thinking of it, I, too, was all eagerness he should be taken alive; for a great many years of hard labour—perhaps with lashes thrown in—which should be his reward, would be a far worse thing to him than a mere swift and easy death.

Then followed a reaction. What if Jan Boom had miscalculated and we arrived too late after all? A cold perspiration poured down me at the thought. “She will die, and that not easily,” had been his words. That pointed to torture—oh good God! My innocent beautiful love! in the power of these fiends, and sacrificed to their hellish superstitions, and I helpless here! I seemed to be going mad.

No. That wouldn’t do. I was letting my imagination run away with me in the silence and the darkness, and above all I wanted cool-headedness and strength. I must make up my mind to believe the Xosa’s word and that all would yet be well. By this time the next night she would be with us again safe and sound.

Then I fell to wondering what sort of hiding-place could be found within a walk—an easy walk apparently—of my dwelling, and it baffled me. I could think of none. Moreover the surroundings had been scoured in search of the missing Hensley, and nothing of the kind had come to light. And then the first signs of dawn began to show, and I felt relieved, for now at any rate, one could be up and doing.

Chapter Twenty Nine.What we Found.I have seen a good many astonished natives in my time but never a more astonished one than my boy Tom that evening after supper, when staggering to my feet and lurching unsteadily I bade him in thick and indistinct accents to go into the store and fetch some new blankets for my two guests to sleep on. When on his return, I cursed him roundly, and threw an empty bottle at his head, taking good care however that it shouldn’t hit him, then subsided on to the floor to all outward appearances in the last stage of helpless intoxication, poor Tom must have thought the end of the world had come. This, of course, was part of the programme as drawn up between myself and Jan Boom.In every other particular I had scrupulously observed it even to the severe laming of my unfortunate horse. Poor beast! but then what were the passing sufferings of a mere animal, when issues such as this were in the balance! I had got through the morning joining in the pretended search, and it was while thus engaged that I found an opportunity of imparting to the other two our plan of rescue.“By the Lord!” exclaimed Kendrew, “I never heard such an extraordinary thing in my life.”“The thing is, can we swallow it?” was Falkner’s remark. “These niggers are such infernal liars.”“Well. I’m going to follow it up, even if I go alone,” I said.“Who the devil said you were going alone, Glanton?” he answered gruffly. “Look here, we rather hate each other, but you can’t say that up there in Zululand, for instance, I ever backed down.”“Certainly I can’t, Sewin,” I said. “What I can say is that in any sort of scrap there’s no man I’d rather have alongside than yourself. And as for hating each other, it’s only natural you should hate me I suppose, but I’ve never returned the compliment.”“Well we’ll knock hell out of someone to-night anyhow,” he said. “Now let’s have all particulars of the scheme.”I gave them, exactly as I had had them from Jan Boom.“The thing is to keep it up,” I said. “That’ll be the stiffest part of all—to keep it up. We mustn’t go about looking as if we had found her already. Native eyes and ears are sharp, and native deductions are swiftly drawn.”This was agreed upon, and we continued our mock search more strenuously than ever. We dared not even let fall so much as a hint to the old people. Pitiable as it was to witness their distress, yet it was better that this should continue a little longer rather than that our success should be imperilled, as certainly would have been the case had we let slip the slightest inkling that there was ground for hope.“Has Ivondwe made any revelation?” I asked the police inspector, later on as we were about to start. “Not a word. Would you like to talk to him, Glanton? You might get something out of him.”“Not to-day. To-morrow perhaps. Only keep him doubly guarded. He’ll certainly escape if he can.”“He’ll be a bigger magician than Ukozi if he does. He’s handcuffed in a hut, with four of my men guarding him, two inside and two out. And the two out are just dead shots with rifle or pistol, although they do belong to the poor old police,” he added meaningly.“All right. Now I’m off to try and work the native intelligence department.”“And I hope to God you may succeed,” had been the fervent answer. “Good-bye.”So here we were, only awaiting our guide in order to set forth. The other two had also simulated inebriation, but only to a slight extent. We had a business-like revolver apiece and plenty of cartridges, but no guns. Another significant item of our outfit comprised several strong, newreims. At last, after further waiting, which seemed an eternity, Jan Boom appeared.There was mirth lurking in his face as he explained that he had come over at Tom’s instance. Tom should have come to see if anything more was wanted before he turned in for the night, but he was afraid. His master seemed bewitched, he declared. He and the other two white men were all drunk, but his master was the most drunk of all—yes, by far. His master drunk!At any other time we would have roared over the absurdity of the situation, and Tom’s very justifiable amazement. Now Jan Boom was directed to tell him to turn in, and then come back. He came back, but took rather long about it. “NowAmakosi!” he said. “We will start, but no word must be spoken save in the faintest of whispers, and only then if it cannot be avoided.”“What if Tom should take into his head to come here again?” I asked.“He will not,Nkose, I have tied him up so that he can neither move nor speak.”“Good,” I said.The night seemed very dark as we set forth, for the moon had not yet risen, and the starlight was insufficient to render our march easy, as we followed the elastic stride of our silent guide. Our excitement was intense, as we threaded the thickness of some bushy kloof by narrow game paths known to our guide and lit upon in the darkness with the unerring instinct of the savage. Every now and then a rustle and patter, as something scurried away, and once some large animal, alarmed, started away with a sudden and tremendous crash which it seemed must have been heard for miles. Not one of us dared break the Xosa’s enjoinment to strict silence, and thus we proceeded. How long this lasted we could only guess, but it seemed that we were hours traversing the interminable tortuousness of bushy ravines, or scaling the side of a slope with such care as not to disturb a single stone. At last Jan Boom came to a halt, and stood, listening intently.In the gloom we could make out nothing distinct. We were facing a dark mass of thick bush, with a rugged boulder here and there breaking through, as if it had fallen from a stunted krantz which crowned the slope not very much higher above. It took some straining of the eyes to grasp these details. When we looked again our guide had disappeared.“What does it mean, Glanton?” whispered Falkner. “What if this is another trap and we are going to be the next to disappear? Well, we sha’n’t do it so quietly, that’s one thing.”Then through the silence came Jan Boom’s voice, and—it seemed to come from right beneath our feet.“Down here,Amakosi. Iqalaqala first.”“Down here?” Yes—but where? Then I saw what was a hole or cavity, seeming to pierce the blackness of a dense wall of bush. Without a moment’s hesitation I obeyed, and finding Jan Boom’s outstretched hand I dropped into what was curiously like a sort of deep furrow. The others followed, and lo—something closed behind us. We were in pitch darkness, and a moist and earthy smell gave out a most uncomfortable suggestion of being buried alive.“Now walk,” whispered the Xosa. “Let each keep hold of the one in front of him. But—before all—silence!”In this way we advanced, Jan Boom leading, I keeping a hand on his shoulder, Kendrew doing ditto as to mine, while Falkner brought up the rear. The place was not a cave, for every now and again we could see a star or two glimmering high above. It seemed like a deep fissure or crevasse seaming the ground, but what on earth it was like above I had no idea.We walked lightly and on our toes in order to ensure silent progress. A few minutes of this and the Xosa halted. The fissure had widened out, and now a puff of fresh air bore token that we were getting into the light of day, or rather of night, once more. Nor were we sorry, for our subterranean progress was suggestive of snakes and all kinds of horrors. I, for one, knew by a certain feel in the air that we were approaching water.A little further and again we halted. A patch of stars overhead, and against it the black loom of what was probably a krantz or at any rate a high bluff. The murmur of running water, also sounding from overhead, at the same time smote upon our ears.It was getting lighter. The moon was rising at last, and as we strained our gaze through the thick bushy screen behind which we had halted, this is what we saw.We were looking down upon a circular pool whose surface reflected the twinkling of the stars. On three sides of it ran an amphitheatre of rock, varying from six to twenty feet in height. At the upper end where the water fell into it in a thin stream, the rock dipped to the form of a letter “V.” All this we could make out in the dim light of the stars, for as yet the face of the rock was in dark shadow. And yet, and yet—as I gazed I could descry a striking resemblance to our own waterhole except that this was more shut in.“Remember,” whispered the Xosa, impressively. “There is to be no shooting. They are to be taken alive.”We promised, wondering the while where “they” were. A tension of excitement, and eagerness for the coming struggle was upon all three of us. For me I rebelled against the agreement which should deter me from battering the life out of the black villains who had brought my darling to this horrible place. What terrors must she not have endured? What ghastly rites of devil worship were enacted here?Foot by foot the light crept downwards, revealing the face of the rock as the moon rose higher and higher. Then a violent nudge from Falkner, at my side—but I had already seen.The water was pouring down upon the head of what had once been a human being. Now it was a dreadful, glistening slimy thing, half worn away by the action of the running water. It was fixed in a crucified attitude, facing outwards, bound by the wrists to a thick pole which was stretched across horizontally from side to side of the pool, the feet resting upon a rock ledge beneath. It needed not the agonised stare upon that awful upturned face—or rather what once had been a face—to tell in what unspeakable torture this wretched being had died. To my mind and to Falkner’s came the recollection of our gruesome find that grey afternoon in the northern wilds of Zululand.Two more bodies, one little better than a skeleton, were bound similarly on each side of the central one. As we gazed, spellbound with horror, we saw that which pointed to one of these being the body of a white man.Now a dark figure appeared on the brink above the central victim, appeared so silently and suddenly as to lend further horror to this demon haunted spot. We watched it in curdling horror as it stooped, then reached down and cut the thongs which held first one wrist then the other. The body thus released toppled heavily into the pool with a dull splash that echoed among the overhanging rocks. Then it disappeared.The figure, straightened up now, stood watching the troubled surface for a moment. Standing there full in the moonlight I thought to recognise the face. It was that of one of Tyingoza’s people whom I knew by sight, but could not fit with a name. Then he turned to clamber back, crooning as he did so, a strange weird song. It was not very intelligible, but was full ofsibongoto the Water Spirit, who should now delight in a fresh victim, a rare victim, one by the side of which all former sacrifices were but poor. Then would the land have rain again—would drink all the rain it needed.Now the blood seemed to rush to my brain as though to burst it. A red mist came before my eyes, and my heart seemed to hammer within me as though it would betray our place of concealment without fail. For I realised who this new victim—this rare victim—was to be, the victim who was to take the place of the ghastly shapeless horror which we had seen disappear beneath that awful surface. A warning touch from Jan Boom brought me back to recollection and sanity again.Through our concealing screen we saw the man who had released the corpse drop down the rock. Another had joined him, and now the two crouched down in the shadow with an air of eager expectancy as though waiting for something or somebody. One held in his hand a coiled thong. Then we heard voices, one a full, sonorous, male tone talking in the Zulu; and another, rich, musical, feminine—and it I recognised with a tightening of the heart. Both were approaching, in such wise as would bring the speakers almost within touch of us.And the two fiends, the one with the coiled thong, and the other, crouched—waiting.

I have seen a good many astonished natives in my time but never a more astonished one than my boy Tom that evening after supper, when staggering to my feet and lurching unsteadily I bade him in thick and indistinct accents to go into the store and fetch some new blankets for my two guests to sleep on. When on his return, I cursed him roundly, and threw an empty bottle at his head, taking good care however that it shouldn’t hit him, then subsided on to the floor to all outward appearances in the last stage of helpless intoxication, poor Tom must have thought the end of the world had come. This, of course, was part of the programme as drawn up between myself and Jan Boom.

In every other particular I had scrupulously observed it even to the severe laming of my unfortunate horse. Poor beast! but then what were the passing sufferings of a mere animal, when issues such as this were in the balance! I had got through the morning joining in the pretended search, and it was while thus engaged that I found an opportunity of imparting to the other two our plan of rescue.

“By the Lord!” exclaimed Kendrew, “I never heard such an extraordinary thing in my life.”

“The thing is, can we swallow it?” was Falkner’s remark. “These niggers are such infernal liars.”

“Well. I’m going to follow it up, even if I go alone,” I said.

“Who the devil said you were going alone, Glanton?” he answered gruffly. “Look here, we rather hate each other, but you can’t say that up there in Zululand, for instance, I ever backed down.”

“Certainly I can’t, Sewin,” I said. “What I can say is that in any sort of scrap there’s no man I’d rather have alongside than yourself. And as for hating each other, it’s only natural you should hate me I suppose, but I’ve never returned the compliment.”

“Well we’ll knock hell out of someone to-night anyhow,” he said. “Now let’s have all particulars of the scheme.”

I gave them, exactly as I had had them from Jan Boom.

“The thing is to keep it up,” I said. “That’ll be the stiffest part of all—to keep it up. We mustn’t go about looking as if we had found her already. Native eyes and ears are sharp, and native deductions are swiftly drawn.”

This was agreed upon, and we continued our mock search more strenuously than ever. We dared not even let fall so much as a hint to the old people. Pitiable as it was to witness their distress, yet it was better that this should continue a little longer rather than that our success should be imperilled, as certainly would have been the case had we let slip the slightest inkling that there was ground for hope.

“Has Ivondwe made any revelation?” I asked the police inspector, later on as we were about to start. “Not a word. Would you like to talk to him, Glanton? You might get something out of him.”

“Not to-day. To-morrow perhaps. Only keep him doubly guarded. He’ll certainly escape if he can.”

“He’ll be a bigger magician than Ukozi if he does. He’s handcuffed in a hut, with four of my men guarding him, two inside and two out. And the two out are just dead shots with rifle or pistol, although they do belong to the poor old police,” he added meaningly.

“All right. Now I’m off to try and work the native intelligence department.”

“And I hope to God you may succeed,” had been the fervent answer. “Good-bye.”

So here we were, only awaiting our guide in order to set forth. The other two had also simulated inebriation, but only to a slight extent. We had a business-like revolver apiece and plenty of cartridges, but no guns. Another significant item of our outfit comprised several strong, newreims. At last, after further waiting, which seemed an eternity, Jan Boom appeared.

There was mirth lurking in his face as he explained that he had come over at Tom’s instance. Tom should have come to see if anything more was wanted before he turned in for the night, but he was afraid. His master seemed bewitched, he declared. He and the other two white men were all drunk, but his master was the most drunk of all—yes, by far. His master drunk!

At any other time we would have roared over the absurdity of the situation, and Tom’s very justifiable amazement. Now Jan Boom was directed to tell him to turn in, and then come back. He came back, but took rather long about it. “NowAmakosi!” he said. “We will start, but no word must be spoken save in the faintest of whispers, and only then if it cannot be avoided.”

“What if Tom should take into his head to come here again?” I asked.

“He will not,Nkose, I have tied him up so that he can neither move nor speak.”

“Good,” I said.

The night seemed very dark as we set forth, for the moon had not yet risen, and the starlight was insufficient to render our march easy, as we followed the elastic stride of our silent guide. Our excitement was intense, as we threaded the thickness of some bushy kloof by narrow game paths known to our guide and lit upon in the darkness with the unerring instinct of the savage. Every now and then a rustle and patter, as something scurried away, and once some large animal, alarmed, started away with a sudden and tremendous crash which it seemed must have been heard for miles. Not one of us dared break the Xosa’s enjoinment to strict silence, and thus we proceeded. How long this lasted we could only guess, but it seemed that we were hours traversing the interminable tortuousness of bushy ravines, or scaling the side of a slope with such care as not to disturb a single stone. At last Jan Boom came to a halt, and stood, listening intently.

In the gloom we could make out nothing distinct. We were facing a dark mass of thick bush, with a rugged boulder here and there breaking through, as if it had fallen from a stunted krantz which crowned the slope not very much higher above. It took some straining of the eyes to grasp these details. When we looked again our guide had disappeared.

“What does it mean, Glanton?” whispered Falkner. “What if this is another trap and we are going to be the next to disappear? Well, we sha’n’t do it so quietly, that’s one thing.”

Then through the silence came Jan Boom’s voice, and—it seemed to come from right beneath our feet.

“Down here,Amakosi. Iqalaqala first.”

“Down here?” Yes—but where? Then I saw what was a hole or cavity, seeming to pierce the blackness of a dense wall of bush. Without a moment’s hesitation I obeyed, and finding Jan Boom’s outstretched hand I dropped into what was curiously like a sort of deep furrow. The others followed, and lo—something closed behind us. We were in pitch darkness, and a moist and earthy smell gave out a most uncomfortable suggestion of being buried alive.

“Now walk,” whispered the Xosa. “Let each keep hold of the one in front of him. But—before all—silence!”

In this way we advanced, Jan Boom leading, I keeping a hand on his shoulder, Kendrew doing ditto as to mine, while Falkner brought up the rear. The place was not a cave, for every now and again we could see a star or two glimmering high above. It seemed like a deep fissure or crevasse seaming the ground, but what on earth it was like above I had no idea.

We walked lightly and on our toes in order to ensure silent progress. A few minutes of this and the Xosa halted. The fissure had widened out, and now a puff of fresh air bore token that we were getting into the light of day, or rather of night, once more. Nor were we sorry, for our subterranean progress was suggestive of snakes and all kinds of horrors. I, for one, knew by a certain feel in the air that we were approaching water.

A little further and again we halted. A patch of stars overhead, and against it the black loom of what was probably a krantz or at any rate a high bluff. The murmur of running water, also sounding from overhead, at the same time smote upon our ears.

It was getting lighter. The moon was rising at last, and as we strained our gaze through the thick bushy screen behind which we had halted, this is what we saw.

We were looking down upon a circular pool whose surface reflected the twinkling of the stars. On three sides of it ran an amphitheatre of rock, varying from six to twenty feet in height. At the upper end where the water fell into it in a thin stream, the rock dipped to the form of a letter “V.” All this we could make out in the dim light of the stars, for as yet the face of the rock was in dark shadow. And yet, and yet—as I gazed I could descry a striking resemblance to our own waterhole except that this was more shut in.

“Remember,” whispered the Xosa, impressively. “There is to be no shooting. They are to be taken alive.”

We promised, wondering the while where “they” were. A tension of excitement, and eagerness for the coming struggle was upon all three of us. For me I rebelled against the agreement which should deter me from battering the life out of the black villains who had brought my darling to this horrible place. What terrors must she not have endured? What ghastly rites of devil worship were enacted here?

Foot by foot the light crept downwards, revealing the face of the rock as the moon rose higher and higher. Then a violent nudge from Falkner, at my side—but I had already seen.

The water was pouring down upon the head of what had once been a human being. Now it was a dreadful, glistening slimy thing, half worn away by the action of the running water. It was fixed in a crucified attitude, facing outwards, bound by the wrists to a thick pole which was stretched across horizontally from side to side of the pool, the feet resting upon a rock ledge beneath. It needed not the agonised stare upon that awful upturned face—or rather what once had been a face—to tell in what unspeakable torture this wretched being had died. To my mind and to Falkner’s came the recollection of our gruesome find that grey afternoon in the northern wilds of Zululand.

Two more bodies, one little better than a skeleton, were bound similarly on each side of the central one. As we gazed, spellbound with horror, we saw that which pointed to one of these being the body of a white man.

Now a dark figure appeared on the brink above the central victim, appeared so silently and suddenly as to lend further horror to this demon haunted spot. We watched it in curdling horror as it stooped, then reached down and cut the thongs which held first one wrist then the other. The body thus released toppled heavily into the pool with a dull splash that echoed among the overhanging rocks. Then it disappeared.

The figure, straightened up now, stood watching the troubled surface for a moment. Standing there full in the moonlight I thought to recognise the face. It was that of one of Tyingoza’s people whom I knew by sight, but could not fit with a name. Then he turned to clamber back, crooning as he did so, a strange weird song. It was not very intelligible, but was full ofsibongoto the Water Spirit, who should now delight in a fresh victim, a rare victim, one by the side of which all former sacrifices were but poor. Then would the land have rain again—would drink all the rain it needed.

Now the blood seemed to rush to my brain as though to burst it. A red mist came before my eyes, and my heart seemed to hammer within me as though it would betray our place of concealment without fail. For I realised who this new victim—this rare victim—was to be, the victim who was to take the place of the ghastly shapeless horror which we had seen disappear beneath that awful surface. A warning touch from Jan Boom brought me back to recollection and sanity again.

Through our concealing screen we saw the man who had released the corpse drop down the rock. Another had joined him, and now the two crouched down in the shadow with an air of eager expectancy as though waiting for something or somebody. One held in his hand a coiled thong. Then we heard voices, one a full, sonorous, male tone talking in the Zulu; and another, rich, musical, feminine—and it I recognised with a tightening of the heart. Both were approaching, in such wise as would bring the speakers almost within touch of us.

And the two fiends, the one with the coiled thong, and the other, crouched—waiting.

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