Chapter Twenty Five.

Chapter Twenty Five.“Made of India-Rubber.”The “something else” the cousins looked across was one of the pigmies—evidently a chief of higher rank than the little leader they had last seen, though he seemed to be less in size.He was rich in bangles, for he had four upon each arm and wrist and a wider ribbon of gold about his forehead, in which band were stuck two ostrich feathers, a black and a white. But, as Mark afterwards said laughingly, that was almost all he wore, except a bow and arrows and a spear.“Well, who are you?” began Mark. “And what—why, Dean, it’s our little chap!”“It can’t be,” said Dean, whose back was towards the increasing light.“But it is,” cried Mark. “Look here;” and he laid his hand tenderly about the pigmy’s shoulder, where the black skin was somewhat puckered up, showing that a great scar was forming. “Why, little one, you can’t say we didn’t make a good job of mending you up.”“But it can’t be,” said Dean, staring doubtingly at their little visitor. “But I don’t know—he is very thin.”The little fellow raised himself up slightly as he knelt upon the great chest, and looked first at one and then at the other with a calm air of satisfaction as if he found it pleasant to be scanned and praised, but making very little sign besides as he turned from one to the other in obedience to a touch, and ended by changing his bow from his right to his left hand, where it lay in company with his spear, and then placing three fingers upon Mark’s wrist.“Oh, come, I say,” cried the latter, “I am all right; I don’t want my pulse felt. How’s yours?” and the boy played the part of a doctor for a few moments, but blunderingly felt for the pulse in the wrong wrist. “Well, you seem uncommonly fit, little chap. Are you growing quite strong again? Tell us how you got here.”The visitor could not respond to the question, nor comprehend it in the least, but he looked gravely at Mark again and once more laid three fingers upon his arm.—“Oh, I wish he would talk,” cried Mark.“You don’t even grunt,” said Dean.“Pigs do grunt in our country,” said Mark. “But I say, Pig—Pigmy, what a little dandy you have grown! Ostrich feathers—gold,” continued the boy, touching the bangles, “where do you get them?”The little fellow took his spear in his right hand again and used it to point out of the waggon in the direction where the lads had seen the towering masses of stone on the previous night.“Oh, come,” said Dean, “he understands that.”“Yes; so do we, and I want to get off to see what sort of a place this is. But we mustn’t be rude to the visitor who brought us so much venison. I wonder where father is.”“And the doctor,” added Dean, peering out of the waggon. “Oh, there they are, going up to the top of the kopje. Hi, Mak! Come here!”The black was standing half way between the waggon and the top of the kopje, shading his eyes from the newly risen sun, as he stood scanning the veldt in different directions, but began to descend directly with his customary deliberation as if he had nothing whatever to do with the preparations for the morning start.“I say, Dean, we must have breakfast before we go, this morning. We can’t send company away—and such a grandee as this—without a feed.”A few minutes later, as the boys sat silently gazing at their little visitor, noting that in spite of being thin and rather hollow of cheek his eyes were bright and there was no sign of weakness in his movements, while his skin, in spite of its swarthiness, looked healthy and clean, Mak strode up to the open end of the waggon and looked in; and his eyes opened wider as he displayed his beautifully white teeth in a pleasant smile.“What do you think of this?” cried Mark, as he checked himself in laying his hand upon the scar of the pigmy’s wounded shoulder and placed it upon his right.And now for the first time the little fellow displayed animation, for he snatched the hand away quickly and placed it upon the scar.“Oh, very well,” said Mark. “I was afraid of hurting you. Well, Mak, aren’t you surprised?”The black shook his head, and then quietly nodded it.“Come,” he said. “Pig come.”“Thank you,” said Mark, laughing; “but we knew that. Well, we will chance whether the boss likes it or not; tell Dan we shall want some breakfast before we start.”“Yes, mps,” said the black, nodding his head. “Coff. Plenty eat;” and he went away.“Well, jump down, little one,” said Mark. “Come on, Dean; there’s a splendid chance here for a dip, so let’s go and have one. Pig here won’t mind.”He leaped down, and the little fellow followed him at once, Dean coming last.“I say,” said Mark merrily, “that’s better, young fellow. You can get along now without being carried in a basket. But I can’t understand how you managed to get right so soon.”“’Tis his nature to,” said Dean drily; and as the boys chatted from one to another across him, throwing, so to speak, verbal balls from one to the other, their little visitor seemed to be listening intently and with a grave look of satisfaction upon his countenance, as he walked with them down to the stream which Mark had selected overnight for his bathe.“Now I wonder whether he will do as we do,” said Mark, as he quickly made ready and plunged in.“No,” said Dean, sending the water flying as he plunged in after his cousin. “Look at him!” For the pigmy gravely seated himself upon a little block of granite, laid his bow and spear across his knees, and sat watching the wet gambols of the lads, till, quite refreshed, they both sprang out, had a run over the sand in the hot sunshine, and then returned to dress.“Don’t you ever bathe?” said Mark, rather breathlessly, as he hurried on his flannels.“Not he,” said Dean. “If he could speak to us he would say, I never wash; there’s no need.”“Why, boys,” cried the doctor, who had descended from the kopje and approached with Sir James, unobserved, “is this another of the pigmies?”“Look again, sir,” said Dean. “He’s got your stamp upon him.”“What!” cried the doctor, bending down over the seated visitor. “Impossible! Look here, Sir James; it is; and his wound has closed up again as if he were madeof india-rubber. Splendid! Why, he has followed us right across this veldt.”“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Mark, “if he has followed us all the way. Oh, no, he could not have done that. He must have come across from this side of the forest. We are going to give him some breakfast, father, before he goes back. Is that right?”“Of course, my boy,” said Sir James, walking up and gently patting the pigmy on the shoulder. “Well, I like this, doctor. It shows the little fellow’s grateful; but I should like to see him smile.”“He did just now, father.”“No, not quite, uncle,” said Dean; “only very nearly.”Dan was not long getting the morning meal ready, and Mark took upon himself to supply the visitor’s wants. But the pigmy now showed that he had notions of his own, for he walked straight away and dropped down by the side of Mak, whose breakfast he shared along with the men.“I like that, Mr Mark, sir,” said Dan. “The little chap looks quite a gentleman in his way; and he acted as such too, didn’t he, Buck?”“Ay,” growled the big driver. “There arn’t much of him, but he makes the most of it; don’t he, Bob?”“Yes,” said Bob, laughing. “Peter Dance and me have been talking him over. We should like to take him home with us. They would give anything we liked to ask for him in London, to put in a circus or a show.”“Indeed!” said Mark, with a snort. “Thank you! But you had better not let your master hear you talk like that, Bob. He’d begin making your ears warm by telling you what the slave trade was. This little fellow’s a visitor, and my cousin and I want you men to treat him well. No nonsense, sir. He has only come to stay till we start, and then he is going back to the forest.”But nothing seemed farther from the pigmy’s thoughts, for when a fresh start was made, with the distant kopjes and piles of stone now hidden by the heated haze, the little chief shouldered his spear, crossed to the Illaka’s side, and marching beside him, two steps to his one, kept abreast.“I do like that, Mr Mark, sir,” said Dan. “Look at old Brown going along yonder with his foreloping. Why, it would take three of that little chap to make one of he, and I don’t know how many of him to weigh down Buck Denham in a pair of scales. But is the little one coming along with us?”“I suppose so,” said Mark: “eh, Dean?” he continued, and signing to him to follow he dropped back a few paces and continued to his cousin, “I have only just thought of it; he is coming with us to show where they find the gold.”“Why, of course!” cried Dean. “I might have thought of that.”“Yes, but you didn’t. Here, let’s go and tell father and the doctor. Come on! And then I’ll give you your chance. You tell them just as if it had occurred to you.”“No, thank you,” said Dean quietly. “I don’t like borrowed plumes.”

The “something else” the cousins looked across was one of the pigmies—evidently a chief of higher rank than the little leader they had last seen, though he seemed to be less in size.

He was rich in bangles, for he had four upon each arm and wrist and a wider ribbon of gold about his forehead, in which band were stuck two ostrich feathers, a black and a white. But, as Mark afterwards said laughingly, that was almost all he wore, except a bow and arrows and a spear.

“Well, who are you?” began Mark. “And what—why, Dean, it’s our little chap!”

“It can’t be,” said Dean, whose back was towards the increasing light.

“But it is,” cried Mark. “Look here;” and he laid his hand tenderly about the pigmy’s shoulder, where the black skin was somewhat puckered up, showing that a great scar was forming. “Why, little one, you can’t say we didn’t make a good job of mending you up.”

“But it can’t be,” said Dean, staring doubtingly at their little visitor. “But I don’t know—he is very thin.”

The little fellow raised himself up slightly as he knelt upon the great chest, and looked first at one and then at the other with a calm air of satisfaction as if he found it pleasant to be scanned and praised, but making very little sign besides as he turned from one to the other in obedience to a touch, and ended by changing his bow from his right to his left hand, where it lay in company with his spear, and then placing three fingers upon Mark’s wrist.

“Oh, come, I say,” cried the latter, “I am all right; I don’t want my pulse felt. How’s yours?” and the boy played the part of a doctor for a few moments, but blunderingly felt for the pulse in the wrong wrist. “Well, you seem uncommonly fit, little chap. Are you growing quite strong again? Tell us how you got here.”

The visitor could not respond to the question, nor comprehend it in the least, but he looked gravely at Mark again and once more laid three fingers upon his arm.—“Oh, I wish he would talk,” cried Mark.

“You don’t even grunt,” said Dean.

“Pigs do grunt in our country,” said Mark. “But I say, Pig—Pigmy, what a little dandy you have grown! Ostrich feathers—gold,” continued the boy, touching the bangles, “where do you get them?”

The little fellow took his spear in his right hand again and used it to point out of the waggon in the direction where the lads had seen the towering masses of stone on the previous night.

“Oh, come,” said Dean, “he understands that.”

“Yes; so do we, and I want to get off to see what sort of a place this is. But we mustn’t be rude to the visitor who brought us so much venison. I wonder where father is.”

“And the doctor,” added Dean, peering out of the waggon. “Oh, there they are, going up to the top of the kopje. Hi, Mak! Come here!”

The black was standing half way between the waggon and the top of the kopje, shading his eyes from the newly risen sun, as he stood scanning the veldt in different directions, but began to descend directly with his customary deliberation as if he had nothing whatever to do with the preparations for the morning start.

“I say, Dean, we must have breakfast before we go, this morning. We can’t send company away—and such a grandee as this—without a feed.”

A few minutes later, as the boys sat silently gazing at their little visitor, noting that in spite of being thin and rather hollow of cheek his eyes were bright and there was no sign of weakness in his movements, while his skin, in spite of its swarthiness, looked healthy and clean, Mak strode up to the open end of the waggon and looked in; and his eyes opened wider as he displayed his beautifully white teeth in a pleasant smile.

“What do you think of this?” cried Mark, as he checked himself in laying his hand upon the scar of the pigmy’s wounded shoulder and placed it upon his right.

And now for the first time the little fellow displayed animation, for he snatched the hand away quickly and placed it upon the scar.

“Oh, very well,” said Mark. “I was afraid of hurting you. Well, Mak, aren’t you surprised?”

The black shook his head, and then quietly nodded it.

“Come,” he said. “Pig come.”

“Thank you,” said Mark, laughing; “but we knew that. Well, we will chance whether the boss likes it or not; tell Dan we shall want some breakfast before we start.”

“Yes, mps,” said the black, nodding his head. “Coff. Plenty eat;” and he went away.

“Well, jump down, little one,” said Mark. “Come on, Dean; there’s a splendid chance here for a dip, so let’s go and have one. Pig here won’t mind.”

He leaped down, and the little fellow followed him at once, Dean coming last.

“I say,” said Mark merrily, “that’s better, young fellow. You can get along now without being carried in a basket. But I can’t understand how you managed to get right so soon.”

“’Tis his nature to,” said Dean drily; and as the boys chatted from one to another across him, throwing, so to speak, verbal balls from one to the other, their little visitor seemed to be listening intently and with a grave look of satisfaction upon his countenance, as he walked with them down to the stream which Mark had selected overnight for his bathe.

“Now I wonder whether he will do as we do,” said Mark, as he quickly made ready and plunged in.

“No,” said Dean, sending the water flying as he plunged in after his cousin. “Look at him!” For the pigmy gravely seated himself upon a little block of granite, laid his bow and spear across his knees, and sat watching the wet gambols of the lads, till, quite refreshed, they both sprang out, had a run over the sand in the hot sunshine, and then returned to dress.

“Don’t you ever bathe?” said Mark, rather breathlessly, as he hurried on his flannels.

“Not he,” said Dean. “If he could speak to us he would say, I never wash; there’s no need.”

“Why, boys,” cried the doctor, who had descended from the kopje and approached with Sir James, unobserved, “is this another of the pigmies?”

“Look again, sir,” said Dean. “He’s got your stamp upon him.”

“What!” cried the doctor, bending down over the seated visitor. “Impossible! Look here, Sir James; it is; and his wound has closed up again as if he were madeof india-rubber. Splendid! Why, he has followed us right across this veldt.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Mark, “if he has followed us all the way. Oh, no, he could not have done that. He must have come across from this side of the forest. We are going to give him some breakfast, father, before he goes back. Is that right?”

“Of course, my boy,” said Sir James, walking up and gently patting the pigmy on the shoulder. “Well, I like this, doctor. It shows the little fellow’s grateful; but I should like to see him smile.”

“He did just now, father.”

“No, not quite, uncle,” said Dean; “only very nearly.”

Dan was not long getting the morning meal ready, and Mark took upon himself to supply the visitor’s wants. But the pigmy now showed that he had notions of his own, for he walked straight away and dropped down by the side of Mak, whose breakfast he shared along with the men.

“I like that, Mr Mark, sir,” said Dan. “The little chap looks quite a gentleman in his way; and he acted as such too, didn’t he, Buck?”

“Ay,” growled the big driver. “There arn’t much of him, but he makes the most of it; don’t he, Bob?”

“Yes,” said Bob, laughing. “Peter Dance and me have been talking him over. We should like to take him home with us. They would give anything we liked to ask for him in London, to put in a circus or a show.”

“Indeed!” said Mark, with a snort. “Thank you! But you had better not let your master hear you talk like that, Bob. He’d begin making your ears warm by telling you what the slave trade was. This little fellow’s a visitor, and my cousin and I want you men to treat him well. No nonsense, sir. He has only come to stay till we start, and then he is going back to the forest.”

But nothing seemed farther from the pigmy’s thoughts, for when a fresh start was made, with the distant kopjes and piles of stone now hidden by the heated haze, the little chief shouldered his spear, crossed to the Illaka’s side, and marching beside him, two steps to his one, kept abreast.

“I do like that, Mr Mark, sir,” said Dan. “Look at old Brown going along yonder with his foreloping. Why, it would take three of that little chap to make one of he, and I don’t know how many of him to weigh down Buck Denham in a pair of scales. But is the little one coming along with us?”

“I suppose so,” said Mark: “eh, Dean?” he continued, and signing to him to follow he dropped back a few paces and continued to his cousin, “I have only just thought of it; he is coming with us to show where they find the gold.”

“Why, of course!” cried Dean. “I might have thought of that.”

“Yes, but you didn’t. Here, let’s go and tell father and the doctor. Come on! And then I’ll give you your chance. You tell them just as if it had occurred to you.”

“No, thank you,” said Dean quietly. “I don’t like borrowed plumes.”

Chapter Twenty Six.Finding an Antiquity.The kopjes with their supposed buildings proved to be farther away than was expected, and a halt was made at night at the first of the outlying piles of tree overgrown stones, while it was the middle of the next day before their goal was reached. A regular halt was made at a very chaos of stones, some being evidently artificially built up after the fashion of walls huge in size, but so overwhelmed, as it were, by a wave of ancient verdure, and dragged down by the wonderfully abundant growth of vines and creepers, that it was difficult to tell which were the stones that had been piled together and which formed part of the nature-erected kopje.“Well, doctor,” said Sir James, later on, “what do you think of this?”“Grand,” was the reply. “Even if there were nothing more than we can see now, this place would be full of interest.”“Do you really think that this is the place of which we have heard?”“It must be,” said the doctor; “and it is proved by what we can gather from these two blacks.”“Yes,” cried Mark excitedly; “and it is there the pigmy obtained his gold.”“Yes, boy. Those ornaments were never made by people in such a savage state as he is. Well, the first thing to do is to settle down here and make as strong a camp as we can.”“Just here?” said Sir James.“Certainly, for the present. We may no doubt find later on some old temple or other building that we can add to, but for the time being we must contrive a kraal where we can set dangerous visitors to our cattle quite at defiance.”“But you talk about temples,” said Sir James. “Do you really think there are more buildings here than we can see?”“My dear sir,” cried the doctor, “I just climbed up fifty or sixty feet amongst the masses of rock, and as far as I can see in three directions there seems to be quite a wilderness of natural and artificial ruins.”“Then what do you propose?” said Sir James.“To have the waggons drawn up across that opening that lies between those two walls.”“Walls!” said Mark. “You mean that ravine of old stones that looks like a split made by an earthquake.”“My dear boy,” said the doctor enthusiastically, “that earthquake, as you call it, I am sure was caused by men. What we see across there are two walls.”“Well, they don’t look like it,” said Dean.“Not as they are, boy,” said the doctor, “crumbled, grown over, and in utter ruins; but I have had a look long enough to satisfy me that all this was built up—perhaps thousands of years ago. We can prove all that by-and-by. I want to see everyone at work making what will be an easy task—a strongly fortified little camp into which no lions can break and we can sleep in peace.”“Yes,” said Sir James; “those are the words of wisdom, boys, and we shan’t have to go far for our materials. But I don’t see any water.”“We did, father,” cried Mark. “Mak took us over those piles—oh, not above fifty yards—and in what seemed to be a gully there was a beautiful river of water running along at the foot of a precipice.”“Well, it wasn’t a precipice,” said Dean. “We were looking down upon it from the top of what if it had been built up we should call a wall; but I think it’s the side of a kopje.”“Never mind what it was,” said the doctor, “so long as the water was there. We might have known that the black would not select a place without a supply. Now then, I think we can make a very good temporary shelter before it grows dark in the place I have pointed out, for it is one that we can go on improving by degrees.”Under the doctor’s instructions everyone set to work with a will; a shot or two was fired to scare away any undesirable lurking beasts, with the result that the reports went echoing away amongst the rocks with many a strange reverberation, and then the ponies and bullocks were driven into the undergrowth to browse, while the men set to hacking and chopping with axe and billhook, Dan proving himself an adept at twisting up tough willow-like wands to form bands which the two keepers utilised for securing the faggots; till Buck cried “Hold! enough!” Then Dan started a fire in the shelter of a pile of stones, and when that was blazing well and heating water and cooking meat, the rest blocked up an opening here, heaped up thorns there, and by means of sharp pegs and a cloth or two contrived a covered-in shed for the men against what might have been an old wall, but looked like an almost perpendicular bank of rock.The evening closed in upon them with its threats of total darkness, their surroundings making their position the more secure from the numbers of towering trees that sheltered them in almost every direction.The cattle were driven in near to where the fire was blazing, every branch that was thrown upon it having been selected with the idea of clearing a wider space where progress was literally choked up by the wealth of growth everywhere around.“For I never see such a place, Mr Mark, sir,” said Bob. “Seems to me as if this is where the world was finished, and where all as warn’t wanted was chucked in a heap.”“I know what I should like,” said Peter Dance.“What, mate?” asked Bob.“Why, to set our Mak making a lot of basket coops.”“What for?” cried Mark.“What for, sir? Why, if you stopped here and give me the chance and a few dozen sittings of eggs I could show you some pheasant shooting in a year’s time. But I suppose I shan’t have the chance to make that big chap a bit useful. He arn’t got a mossel of work in him.”“What, Mak?” cried Mark merrily. “But see what a splendid fellow he is to look on.”“Oh, yes, he can look on, sir. But I could do that, easy.”“And guide?” said Mark. “But you couldn’t do that, Peter.”“Well, but I arn’t had no practice, sir.”“And find water for camping by,” continued Mark.“Yes, sir, he can do that.”“And you said yourself the other day that he could track the bucks splendidly.”“Yes, sir. You see, he’s used to it.”“And we have never wanted for game since we have come to Africa.”“That we haven’t, sir,” said Bob Bacon.“Then he is some use, after all,” cried Mark.That night, with their strange surroundings wonderfully illuminated by the glowing fire, and a feeling of safety infused by the knowledge that the doctor and Buck Denham were their well armed watch, all slept off their weariness soundly and well.There were two little interruptions to their rest, one of which Mark, as he was awakened, knew at once to be the barking roar of a lion far out upon the plain; but he dropped off to sleep directly, and the next one to rouse up suddenly was Dean, who found himself gazing at the doctor standing full in the light cast by the fire, and who at a word from the boy came slowly up to his side.“What is it?” he said. “Well, Dean, I am rather puzzled myself. The cries were those of a drove of some animals, but I don’t think they were either hyaenas or jackals. Whatever they were, they were scared by the fire, and—there, you can hear them going farther and farther away among the ruins. I could almost fancy it was a pack of some kind of dogs hunting. There, go back to your blanket. The air’s quite cool, and I was glad to come closer to the fire for a warm. Get to sleep again, for I want to explore as much as we can to-morrow. The more I think, the more sure I feel that we have hit upon a very wonderful place, and I am longing for the morning and breakfast, so that we can start for our exploration and see what there is to see.”“Do you think we shall be able to go all over the ruins to-morrow, sir?” asked Dean.“No, my boy,” said the doctor, laughing; “I certainly do not. There, lie down.”As Mark said, it was his nature to, and Dean had no sooner lain down than he dropped off fast asleep, to be roused by his cousin in the pale grey dawn to look at the pigmy seated upon a block of stone just outside the end of the waggon, waiting for the boys to appear, ready to continue his occupation of the previous day and follow both wherever they went.“There he is,” said Mark. “I don’t know how long he means to stop, but he watches me like a dog. I wish he’d talk, and understand what I say. He can’t half take in what Mak says, and Mak’s nearly as bad; but somehow they get on together, with a few signs to help, and they are capital friends.”“Dan seems quite to put life into us,” said Mark, later on. “One feels quite different after a good breakfast. He’s been begging me to get the doctor to take him with us as soon as we start to explore.”“Well, you don’t want any begging,” replied Dean.“Oh, no, I shall ask; but Bob Bacon has been at me too, and you saw Buck Denham beckoning to me just now?”“Yes; but he doesn’t want to come, does he?”“Doesn’t he! Why, he began by telling me that Peter Dance had promised to look after the bullocks and help Dunn. He said he liked driving, but he was fond of hunting too, and he should like a change now and then.”“Well, let’s ask the doctor.”“I have, and he said that he can’t take everybody, because everything’s new as yet, and the camp must be protected.”“Well, that’s true,” said Dean, “and we want to go.”“But it’s all right,” said Mark. “Father says that he will be glad of a day’s rest, and he will stay and be sentry.”“Now, boys!” cried the doctor just then, and a short time later the well armed party started to see what they could make out of their strange surroundings, each of the men carrying now either a billhook or a small sharp hatchet stuck in his belt.They soon found though their progress was so impeded by trees and tangled growth that the doctor turned as much as was possible to what proved to be kopje after kopje of piled up stones in their natural state, to find that the rocks were scored with ravine and gully, while in the higher parts some of these took the form of cavernous hollows pretty well choked with creepers, vines and thorns, and into which they could peer, to find darkness, while their voices sounded echoing, hollow and strange.Every here and there too they came upon signs that the hollows had been crossed by piled up stones looking like rough walls, which half cut off the entrances. In another place what seemed to be a cavern was completely shut in, save that a hole was left, into which Mark pitched a loose stone that he managed to dislodge, to hear it go rumbling away into the darkness as if it had fallen to where there was a steep slope.“There’s something to see there,” said the doctor, “some day when we are provided with lanterns and a rope or two. Why, boys, all this grows on one. There’s no doubt now that we are amongst ruins, and how far they extend it is impossible to say. Stop here a few minutes, and let’s have a look round. This bit is evidently natural kopje.”The party stood and sat about the steep slope of rock, and taking out a small field glass the doctor carefully scanned the rocky expanse for a few minutes, before handing it to the boys, who used it in turn.“Why, it is a wilderness, doctor,” cried Mark. “You look there,” he continued, returning the glass, “just to the left of that clump of trees. I am sure that must have been a wall. You can see the what-you-may-call-them—layers of stones—courses. They are rough enough. But it must have been built up, because every here and there regularly holes are left.”“Yes,” said the doctor, “you are quite right;” and he closed the glass again. “That is a regular chequer pattern. That must have been the top of the wall, and just below I made out a line of stones laid edgeways to form a zig-zag band. Old buildings, my boy, without doubt.”“But I want to see where our little chap found the gold,” said Mark.“Well, let’s ask him,” said Dean.The boys turned to where the two blacks were standing watching them, a strangely assorted pair as they kept together, Mak towering up above the eager-looking pigmy, who seemed to have grown during the few hours that he had been with the party more active and better than before.Mark began with Mak, asking a question to which the only answer he could get was a wave of the spear; but when he turned impatiently to the pigmy and began to question him in signs, touching the gold ornaments in the same way as he had tried to enquire of his fellow of the forest camp, the only reply he could get was a shake of the head.“Well, I call that disappointing,” said Mark. “It is just as if he had brought us here on purpose to show us, and now won’t tell.”“Wait a bit,” said the doctor. “We can’t find out everything at once. Come along, and don’t wander away to a distance. Let Mak lead so that he may be able to follow the back track. I don’t want to have any troubles of getting lost.”“But we can’t get lost here, sir,” said Mark, “for we can see for miles around.”“Yes, but the place is a regular maze. It’s terribly hard work climbing about, and before long we shall want to return to camp.”And then oddly enough the doctor in his interest forgot his words and took the lead himself, descending into a gulch between the rocky slopes where they had been gazing into the rifts and cavernous places, and then rising and climbing to what is commonly known as a hog’s-back ridge, which proved to be the untouched massive pile of granite that rose higher than any other near, and was found to be broken up at the top with tumbled together heaps of rough blocks through which they wound in and out till they found their way narrowing with the walls inclining more and more till they touched. They paused at last in obedience to a call from the black, who shook his head, frowned, and signed to them to come back.“What does that mean?” said the doctor.“I don’t know,” replied Mark. “Hallo! Look here!”For though the doctor and his white companions stopped short, the pigmy darted off quickly, not stopping till he reached Mak, who was some distance away, and who now began to retire more and more.“I don’t see anything to make him shrink away,” said the doctor. “Shout to him, Mark, and tell him to return directly.”The boy leaped upon a stone and began waving his hand to their guide, signing to him to come on, but without effect, for Mak shook his head, gave the pigmy a sign to follow him, and retired more and more till they passed round behind some tall bushes and disappeared.“This is tiresome,” said the doctor. “We want the fellow here, for he goes about just as if he knows the place, and it strikes me that he must have been here before. Well, I suppose we may as well turn back.”“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, sir,” said Mark. “Look, we can surely find our way without him. I know I could. It only means going down into the hollow, getting up on the other side, and then—oh, I could find my way. Let’s go on now. I want to see where this leads to. What do you say, Buck? Could you find your way back to the waggons?”“Find my way back, sir? No fear of that! What do you say, Bob? And you, Dan?”“Oh, yes,” they replied; “that will be easy enough.”“But there must be some reason,” said the doctor, “for Mak wanting to go back. Perhaps he’s afraid of our being attacked.”“No, sir,” said Buck, “it arn’t that. I know what these fellows are better than you do, perhaps. If there had been any chance of a fight he would have stuck to you.”“Unless he was afraid of numbers,” said the doctor.“No, sir; that wouldn’t make him turn tail. These Illakas are brave enough for anything. But Mak’s a bit scared, all the same.”“But you said they were brave,” cried Mark.“So they are, sir, over anything they can see; but when it’s anything they can’t, then they are like so many children as are afraid to go in the dark. I believe he’s got an idea in his head that there’s a something no canny, as the Scotch people call it, as lives in that there hole in the rocks, and nothing will make him go in for fear he should be cursed, or something of the kind.”“Very likely,” said the doctor. “All about here has some time been a town, or towns, and it may bear the reputation of being haunted by the spirits of the dead.”“Yes, sir; that’s something what I meant to make you understand,” said Buck. “It’s very babyish, but you see these Illakas are only savage blacks, and we can’t say much about it, for there’s plenty of people at home—country people—as wouldn’t go across a churchyard in the dark to save their lives.”“Well,” said the doctor, “I may understand by this that you wouldn’t be afraid to go into some dark cavern?”“Well, sir, I don’t know as I should,” replied the big driver. “I think I should like to have a light, in case there was any holes that one might go down; but I am like Bob Bacon here, who tells me that he watches for poachers when he’s at home, and Dan, who has been used to keep watch at sea; we shouldn’t stop from going into the dark for fear of the bogeys that would scare the niggers. Mean ter to go on, sir?”“Can we get a light if we want it?”“I have got matches, sir, and Bob Bacon here, sir, has got a bit of old dead sort of fir wood as will burn well enough.”“What do you say, boys?”“Let’s go on,” they cried eagerly.The doctor looked back, and for a moment or two he could make out no sign of the two blacks. Then from close to the ground a long way back the sun shone upon a couple of dancing feathers, and some three feet above them appeared the black head of their guide.“They are watching us,” said the doctor. “No: they are gone. Come along, then.” And the party passed on, with the sides of the ravine closing in till the way grew half dark, and as far as they could make out they were at the mouth of a good-sized cavern.Here they stopped short, and the doctor held up his hand.“What is it?” whispered Mark.“It may be fancy,” replied the doctor, “but I fancied I heard a faint rustling.”This sounded so like a warning to beware of any wild beast which might be the occupant of the cavern that three of the party cocked their pieces and waited for the doctor to go on.“Like me to go first, sir?” said Buck quietly.“No, I will go on directly, my man; but look here.”Everyone pressed forward to look at that which had taken the doctor’s attention, for he was gazing into a side nook that suggested, from a dry heap of fern-like growth and grass, that it had lately been occupied.Bob Bacon pushed past Mark, went down upon one knee, and began feeling the dry grass. “Well?” said Mark sharply.“It arn’t cold, sir, nor it arn’t warm; but I should be ready to say that something’s been lying here not long ago.”“An animal of some kind, then,” said the doctor, lowering his rifle. “You, Bacon, you are a very fair shot; come beside me; but don’t fire unless there is real necessity. You boys, come along cautiously. There may be a leopard here. Don’t fire unless it springs.”“All right, sir,” said Mark. “Well, Buck, you can come next.”“Well, no, sir; if you wouldn’t mind I think I will walk close to the doctor. I am big and strong, and I shouldn’t like to see you hurt.”“Oh, nonsense!” cried Mark. “I am not going to give up my place, and I don’t believe that there is anything here after all.”“Stop again,” said the doctor. “I am sure I heard something moving, and it’s getting quite dark in front. Let’s have a light.”“Here you are, sir,” cried Buck Denham. “Strike a match, somebody.”This was done, the big driver holding Bob’s resinous wood to the flame till it began to blaze well, and then winking to himself, as Dean saw, the big fellow stepped right forward before the rest, holding the improvised torch so that the light illumined the glittering walls and ceiling of the rift of beautifully clean granite rock.Everyone was on the alert, as Buck now led on and on into the darkness, till he said, “You will mind and not shoot me, gen’lemen; but be on the look out, for there is something here.”The man stopped short as he spoke, holding up the torch as high as he could, and the doctor and Mark pressed forward with their rifles extended on either side of the big driver.“That’s right, gen’lemen,” he said. “Now you can’t hurt me, so you can let go when you like.”“One minute, gentlemen,” said Bob Bacon. “This was to be my job. You, Bob, hand over that there link; I only give it to you to hold while I struck a match.”“Yes, I know, mate,” replied Buck, “but it’s well alight now, and you are quite safe there. Now, gen’lemen, can you see him?”“Yes; take care!” cried Mark. “I can see its eyes gleaming. Look, doctor—can’t you see?”“Yes, quite plainly. Some animal that has crept in here to die.”“That’s it, sir,” cried Bob Bacon. “I can see him too. Here, don’t waggle the light about like that, Buck. Look, gentlemen; there arn’t much sperrit left in him, for he’s lying up against the side there as quiet as a mouse.”“Quiet enough,” said the doctor; “but take care. The brute may have life enough left in it to scratch.”“Not him, sir,” said Buck, who now took a couple of steps forward, shaking the light to and fro to make it flare more brightly. “He arn’t got much scrat left in him, sir.”“What is it—an old leopard?”“No, sir. There, I can see quite plain now. It’s one of them baboons, same as live on some of these kopjes; and a whacker too, and as grey as a Devon badger. Here, Bob Bacon, as you are so precious anxious to have the light, catch hold. I will soon see whether he will scratch or not.”“What are you going to do, man?” cried the doctor, as the exchange of torchbearer was effected.“Lug him out, sir.”“No, no! You will get torn.”“Nay, sir. He’s got no scrat in him.”“Perhaps not, Buck,” said Mark excitedly, “but I have read that those things can bite like a dog. Stand still and let me shoot.”“Nay, sir; let’s have him out into the light.”Before any protest or fresh order could be given the big driver thrust out a hand and gripped the grey-looking object which had crawled apparently right to the end of the cavernous hole. There was a faint struggle, and a low guttural cry.“There’s no bite in him, sir,” cried Buck. “I don’t believe he’s got a tooth in his head. Now then, old ’un; out you come!”By this time Buck had got hold of a long, thin, hairy arm, and overcoming a slight resistance and scuffling, began to walk backwards, dragging his prisoner after him, his companions making way, a low whining noise escaping from the prisoner the while.“Gently, Bob Bacon,” cried Buck. “My hair’s quite short enough. No singeing, please. You might have seen that I got Dunn Brown to operate upon me with those scissors of his.”“Here, let me come by you, Mark,” cried the doctor, excitedly.“No, sir; I wouldn’t, sir,” cried Bob Bacon. “I have only just got room to hold the light up as it is, and Buck Denham’s so precious particular.”“Yes,” said Buck, “and I want to get my catch out. You back with the light, Bob; and make a little room, gen’lemen. It’s all right. We don’t want any light now to show as this is one of them baboons—a long one, ’most as big as me.”All backed away now, leaving room for Buck, who dragged his captive along the windings of the dark cavern, commenting upon his appearance the while.“Yes, gen’lemen, I want to get him out and show black Mak the sperrit as he is afraid of. Rum beggars, these natives are, ready enough to fight and spear anybody. Got as much pluck as we have; but they are just like kids in being frightened about ghosts and by stories told by old women. Now then, it’s no use to kick. Poor old chap! Here, I could tuck him under my arm and carry him, only he may as well walk. He is just like a skin bag of bones. Hallo, you, Bob Bacon, who told you to put a ’stinguisher on that light?” For a sudden darkness came upon them all.“’Stinguished itself,” growled Bob.But the darkness was only apparent for a few moments, for about fifty yards ahead there was a bright gleam of sunshine at the mouth of the cavern, and two shadows moved, which proved to be Mak and the pigmy peering in as if listening and trying to make out what was going on inside.“Hi, you sir!” shouted Dean. “We have caught your spirit. Come and help him out.”But as if grasping the lad’s meaning by the tone of his voice, Mak turned sharply and darted away at a rate which carried him in a series of bounds down the slope of the great kopje, so that by the time the little party of explorers were out in the broad sunshine with their captive, Mak was threading his way amongst the rocks, closely followed once more by the pigmy, and about to disappear.“There, gents!” cried Buck. “What do you make of him, sir?” And he thrust his captive more into the light. “Why, he must have been a monkey as big as me when he was in full fettle.”“Monkey!” cried Mark. “Why, it’s a man!”“Man, sir!” cried Buck scornfully. “He arn’t a black; he’s grey. Who ever see a man like that?”“Not I,” said the doctor, laughing.“There, Mr Mark,” cried Buck triumphantly.“But a man it is, Buck,” said the doctor. “Poor old fellow! Doesn’t say much for the natives’ civilisation, for there must have been some living near. Crawled into that cave to die. Now, I should say he’s one of their old priests or medicine men, who, taking advantage of his great age and supposed wisdom, has imposed upon his fellows till he got to be looked upon as one who held intercourse with the unknown world, and lived upon his reputation, till his fellows grew to look upon him and talked about him as a spirit. That’s why Mak objected to our exploring this cave. Poor fellow, he meant well; and he made his objections no doubt in our interest, for fear that we might come to harm.”“Why, a poor old scarecrow, sir!” said Buck. “He only wants one or two old clothes put on him, and he’d make a fine tatter-dooley. Not much to be afraid of in him! Well, gentlemen, we have got him.”“Yes, we have got him,” said Mark; “but it seems to me that the question is, what are we going to do with him now we have got him?”“Yes,” said the doctor; “that is a bit of a puzzle. We can’t take him into camp. What do you say, Dean?”The boy wrinkled up his forehead as he gazed down at the curious, weirdly thin object at their feet, who lay there looking like a re-animated mummy, gazing feebly up at his captors, his dull eyes gleaming faintly through the nearly closed lids as if suffering from the broad light of day, before they were tightly shut, as the wretched creature, who seemed hardly to exist, sank back into a stupor that looked like the precursor of his final sleep.“Well, Dean, what have you got to propose?” said Mark. “Nothing. But if he’s coming into camp along with us I am going to camp out.”“It’s a rum ’un,” grumbled Buck. “My word, he must be an old ’un!”“Yes,” said the doctor; “of a great age.”“And he is a man, sir?”“Oh, yes, and he must have been a fine man in his time—six feet three or four, I should say.”“Yes, sir,” said Buck, “and that’s the pity of it.”“What has his being six feet three or four got to do with it being a pity?” said Mark sharply.“I didn’t mean that, sir,” said Buck. “I meant it was a pity as he’s a man.”“Why?” asked the boys in a breath. “Because if he had been only a beast, sir—I mean, a big monkey—it would have been a charity to put him out of his misery.”“Poor wretch, yes,” said the doctor. “But you can’t do that, sir. I know what I should do if it was me.”“What should you do, Buck?” asked Mark. “Well, sir, he arn’t nothing to us. If it was me, as I said, I should put him back again.”“Humph!” grunted the doctor. “Well, one wants to behave in a Christian-like way to a fellow-creature. Lay him in his place there at the mouth of the cavern, where we scared him out.”This was done, and the doctor turned to Mark. “Now, boy, what next?”“I know,” cried Mark. “Here, Dan, what about the soup?”“Plenty, sir—only wants making hot.”“Be off and get a tinful, if you can find your way.”“If I can find my way, sir!” said the little sailor, laughing. “I think I can do that;” and he trotted off.“That ought to put some life into him,” growled Buck; “but I want them two chaps to come and see their spirit. There they are, peeping round the corner at us.”“Yes,” said Mark, “but we are not going to stop here. Don’t you think they ought to come and look after the old savage?”“Well, I don’t know,” said the doctor. “I should be afraid to trust them. They might do the poor old fellow a mischief. Here, boys, call them up.”Mark cooeyed, but only made the two blacks shrink back again.“It’s of no use,” said the doctor. “We must leave him alone.” And after laying their find carefully in his den the little party wended their way back to the camp to report their adventures to Sir James.

The kopjes with their supposed buildings proved to be farther away than was expected, and a halt was made at night at the first of the outlying piles of tree overgrown stones, while it was the middle of the next day before their goal was reached. A regular halt was made at a very chaos of stones, some being evidently artificially built up after the fashion of walls huge in size, but so overwhelmed, as it were, by a wave of ancient verdure, and dragged down by the wonderfully abundant growth of vines and creepers, that it was difficult to tell which were the stones that had been piled together and which formed part of the nature-erected kopje.

“Well, doctor,” said Sir James, later on, “what do you think of this?”

“Grand,” was the reply. “Even if there were nothing more than we can see now, this place would be full of interest.”

“Do you really think that this is the place of which we have heard?”

“It must be,” said the doctor; “and it is proved by what we can gather from these two blacks.”

“Yes,” cried Mark excitedly; “and it is there the pigmy obtained his gold.”

“Yes, boy. Those ornaments were never made by people in such a savage state as he is. Well, the first thing to do is to settle down here and make as strong a camp as we can.”

“Just here?” said Sir James.

“Certainly, for the present. We may no doubt find later on some old temple or other building that we can add to, but for the time being we must contrive a kraal where we can set dangerous visitors to our cattle quite at defiance.”

“But you talk about temples,” said Sir James. “Do you really think there are more buildings here than we can see?”

“My dear sir,” cried the doctor, “I just climbed up fifty or sixty feet amongst the masses of rock, and as far as I can see in three directions there seems to be quite a wilderness of natural and artificial ruins.”

“Then what do you propose?” said Sir James.

“To have the waggons drawn up across that opening that lies between those two walls.”

“Walls!” said Mark. “You mean that ravine of old stones that looks like a split made by an earthquake.”

“My dear boy,” said the doctor enthusiastically, “that earthquake, as you call it, I am sure was caused by men. What we see across there are two walls.”

“Well, they don’t look like it,” said Dean.

“Not as they are, boy,” said the doctor, “crumbled, grown over, and in utter ruins; but I have had a look long enough to satisfy me that all this was built up—perhaps thousands of years ago. We can prove all that by-and-by. I want to see everyone at work making what will be an easy task—a strongly fortified little camp into which no lions can break and we can sleep in peace.”

“Yes,” said Sir James; “those are the words of wisdom, boys, and we shan’t have to go far for our materials. But I don’t see any water.”

“We did, father,” cried Mark. “Mak took us over those piles—oh, not above fifty yards—and in what seemed to be a gully there was a beautiful river of water running along at the foot of a precipice.”

“Well, it wasn’t a precipice,” said Dean. “We were looking down upon it from the top of what if it had been built up we should call a wall; but I think it’s the side of a kopje.”

“Never mind what it was,” said the doctor, “so long as the water was there. We might have known that the black would not select a place without a supply. Now then, I think we can make a very good temporary shelter before it grows dark in the place I have pointed out, for it is one that we can go on improving by degrees.”

Under the doctor’s instructions everyone set to work with a will; a shot or two was fired to scare away any undesirable lurking beasts, with the result that the reports went echoing away amongst the rocks with many a strange reverberation, and then the ponies and bullocks were driven into the undergrowth to browse, while the men set to hacking and chopping with axe and billhook, Dan proving himself an adept at twisting up tough willow-like wands to form bands which the two keepers utilised for securing the faggots; till Buck cried “Hold! enough!” Then Dan started a fire in the shelter of a pile of stones, and when that was blazing well and heating water and cooking meat, the rest blocked up an opening here, heaped up thorns there, and by means of sharp pegs and a cloth or two contrived a covered-in shed for the men against what might have been an old wall, but looked like an almost perpendicular bank of rock.

The evening closed in upon them with its threats of total darkness, their surroundings making their position the more secure from the numbers of towering trees that sheltered them in almost every direction.

The cattle were driven in near to where the fire was blazing, every branch that was thrown upon it having been selected with the idea of clearing a wider space where progress was literally choked up by the wealth of growth everywhere around.

“For I never see such a place, Mr Mark, sir,” said Bob. “Seems to me as if this is where the world was finished, and where all as warn’t wanted was chucked in a heap.”

“I know what I should like,” said Peter Dance.

“What, mate?” asked Bob.

“Why, to set our Mak making a lot of basket coops.”

“What for?” cried Mark.

“What for, sir? Why, if you stopped here and give me the chance and a few dozen sittings of eggs I could show you some pheasant shooting in a year’s time. But I suppose I shan’t have the chance to make that big chap a bit useful. He arn’t got a mossel of work in him.”

“What, Mak?” cried Mark merrily. “But see what a splendid fellow he is to look on.”

“Oh, yes, he can look on, sir. But I could do that, easy.”

“And guide?” said Mark. “But you couldn’t do that, Peter.”

“Well, but I arn’t had no practice, sir.”

“And find water for camping by,” continued Mark.

“Yes, sir, he can do that.”

“And you said yourself the other day that he could track the bucks splendidly.”

“Yes, sir. You see, he’s used to it.”

“And we have never wanted for game since we have come to Africa.”

“That we haven’t, sir,” said Bob Bacon.

“Then he is some use, after all,” cried Mark.

That night, with their strange surroundings wonderfully illuminated by the glowing fire, and a feeling of safety infused by the knowledge that the doctor and Buck Denham were their well armed watch, all slept off their weariness soundly and well.

There were two little interruptions to their rest, one of which Mark, as he was awakened, knew at once to be the barking roar of a lion far out upon the plain; but he dropped off to sleep directly, and the next one to rouse up suddenly was Dean, who found himself gazing at the doctor standing full in the light cast by the fire, and who at a word from the boy came slowly up to his side.

“What is it?” he said. “Well, Dean, I am rather puzzled myself. The cries were those of a drove of some animals, but I don’t think they were either hyaenas or jackals. Whatever they were, they were scared by the fire, and—there, you can hear them going farther and farther away among the ruins. I could almost fancy it was a pack of some kind of dogs hunting. There, go back to your blanket. The air’s quite cool, and I was glad to come closer to the fire for a warm. Get to sleep again, for I want to explore as much as we can to-morrow. The more I think, the more sure I feel that we have hit upon a very wonderful place, and I am longing for the morning and breakfast, so that we can start for our exploration and see what there is to see.”

“Do you think we shall be able to go all over the ruins to-morrow, sir?” asked Dean.

“No, my boy,” said the doctor, laughing; “I certainly do not. There, lie down.”

As Mark said, it was his nature to, and Dean had no sooner lain down than he dropped off fast asleep, to be roused by his cousin in the pale grey dawn to look at the pigmy seated upon a block of stone just outside the end of the waggon, waiting for the boys to appear, ready to continue his occupation of the previous day and follow both wherever they went.

“There he is,” said Mark. “I don’t know how long he means to stop, but he watches me like a dog. I wish he’d talk, and understand what I say. He can’t half take in what Mak says, and Mak’s nearly as bad; but somehow they get on together, with a few signs to help, and they are capital friends.”

“Dan seems quite to put life into us,” said Mark, later on. “One feels quite different after a good breakfast. He’s been begging me to get the doctor to take him with us as soon as we start to explore.”

“Well, you don’t want any begging,” replied Dean.

“Oh, no, I shall ask; but Bob Bacon has been at me too, and you saw Buck Denham beckoning to me just now?”

“Yes; but he doesn’t want to come, does he?”

“Doesn’t he! Why, he began by telling me that Peter Dance had promised to look after the bullocks and help Dunn. He said he liked driving, but he was fond of hunting too, and he should like a change now and then.”

“Well, let’s ask the doctor.”

“I have, and he said that he can’t take everybody, because everything’s new as yet, and the camp must be protected.”

“Well, that’s true,” said Dean, “and we want to go.”

“But it’s all right,” said Mark. “Father says that he will be glad of a day’s rest, and he will stay and be sentry.”

“Now, boys!” cried the doctor just then, and a short time later the well armed party started to see what they could make out of their strange surroundings, each of the men carrying now either a billhook or a small sharp hatchet stuck in his belt.

They soon found though their progress was so impeded by trees and tangled growth that the doctor turned as much as was possible to what proved to be kopje after kopje of piled up stones in their natural state, to find that the rocks were scored with ravine and gully, while in the higher parts some of these took the form of cavernous hollows pretty well choked with creepers, vines and thorns, and into which they could peer, to find darkness, while their voices sounded echoing, hollow and strange.

Every here and there too they came upon signs that the hollows had been crossed by piled up stones looking like rough walls, which half cut off the entrances. In another place what seemed to be a cavern was completely shut in, save that a hole was left, into which Mark pitched a loose stone that he managed to dislodge, to hear it go rumbling away into the darkness as if it had fallen to where there was a steep slope.

“There’s something to see there,” said the doctor, “some day when we are provided with lanterns and a rope or two. Why, boys, all this grows on one. There’s no doubt now that we are amongst ruins, and how far they extend it is impossible to say. Stop here a few minutes, and let’s have a look round. This bit is evidently natural kopje.”

The party stood and sat about the steep slope of rock, and taking out a small field glass the doctor carefully scanned the rocky expanse for a few minutes, before handing it to the boys, who used it in turn.

“Why, it is a wilderness, doctor,” cried Mark. “You look there,” he continued, returning the glass, “just to the left of that clump of trees. I am sure that must have been a wall. You can see the what-you-may-call-them—layers of stones—courses. They are rough enough. But it must have been built up, because every here and there regularly holes are left.”

“Yes,” said the doctor, “you are quite right;” and he closed the glass again. “That is a regular chequer pattern. That must have been the top of the wall, and just below I made out a line of stones laid edgeways to form a zig-zag band. Old buildings, my boy, without doubt.”

“But I want to see where our little chap found the gold,” said Mark.

“Well, let’s ask him,” said Dean.

The boys turned to where the two blacks were standing watching them, a strangely assorted pair as they kept together, Mak towering up above the eager-looking pigmy, who seemed to have grown during the few hours that he had been with the party more active and better than before.

Mark began with Mak, asking a question to which the only answer he could get was a wave of the spear; but when he turned impatiently to the pigmy and began to question him in signs, touching the gold ornaments in the same way as he had tried to enquire of his fellow of the forest camp, the only reply he could get was a shake of the head.

“Well, I call that disappointing,” said Mark. “It is just as if he had brought us here on purpose to show us, and now won’t tell.”

“Wait a bit,” said the doctor. “We can’t find out everything at once. Come along, and don’t wander away to a distance. Let Mak lead so that he may be able to follow the back track. I don’t want to have any troubles of getting lost.”

“But we can’t get lost here, sir,” said Mark, “for we can see for miles around.”

“Yes, but the place is a regular maze. It’s terribly hard work climbing about, and before long we shall want to return to camp.”

And then oddly enough the doctor in his interest forgot his words and took the lead himself, descending into a gulch between the rocky slopes where they had been gazing into the rifts and cavernous places, and then rising and climbing to what is commonly known as a hog’s-back ridge, which proved to be the untouched massive pile of granite that rose higher than any other near, and was found to be broken up at the top with tumbled together heaps of rough blocks through which they wound in and out till they found their way narrowing with the walls inclining more and more till they touched. They paused at last in obedience to a call from the black, who shook his head, frowned, and signed to them to come back.

“What does that mean?” said the doctor.

“I don’t know,” replied Mark. “Hallo! Look here!”

For though the doctor and his white companions stopped short, the pigmy darted off quickly, not stopping till he reached Mak, who was some distance away, and who now began to retire more and more.

“I don’t see anything to make him shrink away,” said the doctor. “Shout to him, Mark, and tell him to return directly.”

The boy leaped upon a stone and began waving his hand to their guide, signing to him to come on, but without effect, for Mak shook his head, gave the pigmy a sign to follow him, and retired more and more till they passed round behind some tall bushes and disappeared.

“This is tiresome,” said the doctor. “We want the fellow here, for he goes about just as if he knows the place, and it strikes me that he must have been here before. Well, I suppose we may as well turn back.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, sir,” said Mark. “Look, we can surely find our way without him. I know I could. It only means going down into the hollow, getting up on the other side, and then—oh, I could find my way. Let’s go on now. I want to see where this leads to. What do you say, Buck? Could you find your way back to the waggons?”

“Find my way back, sir? No fear of that! What do you say, Bob? And you, Dan?”

“Oh, yes,” they replied; “that will be easy enough.”

“But there must be some reason,” said the doctor, “for Mak wanting to go back. Perhaps he’s afraid of our being attacked.”

“No, sir,” said Buck, “it arn’t that. I know what these fellows are better than you do, perhaps. If there had been any chance of a fight he would have stuck to you.”

“Unless he was afraid of numbers,” said the doctor.

“No, sir; that wouldn’t make him turn tail. These Illakas are brave enough for anything. But Mak’s a bit scared, all the same.”

“But you said they were brave,” cried Mark.

“So they are, sir, over anything they can see; but when it’s anything they can’t, then they are like so many children as are afraid to go in the dark. I believe he’s got an idea in his head that there’s a something no canny, as the Scotch people call it, as lives in that there hole in the rocks, and nothing will make him go in for fear he should be cursed, or something of the kind.”

“Very likely,” said the doctor. “All about here has some time been a town, or towns, and it may bear the reputation of being haunted by the spirits of the dead.”

“Yes, sir; that’s something what I meant to make you understand,” said Buck. “It’s very babyish, but you see these Illakas are only savage blacks, and we can’t say much about it, for there’s plenty of people at home—country people—as wouldn’t go across a churchyard in the dark to save their lives.”

“Well,” said the doctor, “I may understand by this that you wouldn’t be afraid to go into some dark cavern?”

“Well, sir, I don’t know as I should,” replied the big driver. “I think I should like to have a light, in case there was any holes that one might go down; but I am like Bob Bacon here, who tells me that he watches for poachers when he’s at home, and Dan, who has been used to keep watch at sea; we shouldn’t stop from going into the dark for fear of the bogeys that would scare the niggers. Mean ter to go on, sir?”

“Can we get a light if we want it?”

“I have got matches, sir, and Bob Bacon here, sir, has got a bit of old dead sort of fir wood as will burn well enough.”

“What do you say, boys?”

“Let’s go on,” they cried eagerly.

The doctor looked back, and for a moment or two he could make out no sign of the two blacks. Then from close to the ground a long way back the sun shone upon a couple of dancing feathers, and some three feet above them appeared the black head of their guide.

“They are watching us,” said the doctor. “No: they are gone. Come along, then.” And the party passed on, with the sides of the ravine closing in till the way grew half dark, and as far as they could make out they were at the mouth of a good-sized cavern.

Here they stopped short, and the doctor held up his hand.

“What is it?” whispered Mark.

“It may be fancy,” replied the doctor, “but I fancied I heard a faint rustling.”

This sounded so like a warning to beware of any wild beast which might be the occupant of the cavern that three of the party cocked their pieces and waited for the doctor to go on.

“Like me to go first, sir?” said Buck quietly.

“No, I will go on directly, my man; but look here.”

Everyone pressed forward to look at that which had taken the doctor’s attention, for he was gazing into a side nook that suggested, from a dry heap of fern-like growth and grass, that it had lately been occupied.

Bob Bacon pushed past Mark, went down upon one knee, and began feeling the dry grass. “Well?” said Mark sharply.

“It arn’t cold, sir, nor it arn’t warm; but I should be ready to say that something’s been lying here not long ago.”

“An animal of some kind, then,” said the doctor, lowering his rifle. “You, Bacon, you are a very fair shot; come beside me; but don’t fire unless there is real necessity. You boys, come along cautiously. There may be a leopard here. Don’t fire unless it springs.”

“All right, sir,” said Mark. “Well, Buck, you can come next.”

“Well, no, sir; if you wouldn’t mind I think I will walk close to the doctor. I am big and strong, and I shouldn’t like to see you hurt.”

“Oh, nonsense!” cried Mark. “I am not going to give up my place, and I don’t believe that there is anything here after all.”

“Stop again,” said the doctor. “I am sure I heard something moving, and it’s getting quite dark in front. Let’s have a light.”

“Here you are, sir,” cried Buck Denham. “Strike a match, somebody.”

This was done, the big driver holding Bob’s resinous wood to the flame till it began to blaze well, and then winking to himself, as Dean saw, the big fellow stepped right forward before the rest, holding the improvised torch so that the light illumined the glittering walls and ceiling of the rift of beautifully clean granite rock.

Everyone was on the alert, as Buck now led on and on into the darkness, till he said, “You will mind and not shoot me, gen’lemen; but be on the look out, for there is something here.”

The man stopped short as he spoke, holding up the torch as high as he could, and the doctor and Mark pressed forward with their rifles extended on either side of the big driver.

“That’s right, gen’lemen,” he said. “Now you can’t hurt me, so you can let go when you like.”

“One minute, gentlemen,” said Bob Bacon. “This was to be my job. You, Bob, hand over that there link; I only give it to you to hold while I struck a match.”

“Yes, I know, mate,” replied Buck, “but it’s well alight now, and you are quite safe there. Now, gen’lemen, can you see him?”

“Yes; take care!” cried Mark. “I can see its eyes gleaming. Look, doctor—can’t you see?”

“Yes, quite plainly. Some animal that has crept in here to die.”

“That’s it, sir,” cried Bob Bacon. “I can see him too. Here, don’t waggle the light about like that, Buck. Look, gentlemen; there arn’t much sperrit left in him, for he’s lying up against the side there as quiet as a mouse.”

“Quiet enough,” said the doctor; “but take care. The brute may have life enough left in it to scratch.”

“Not him, sir,” said Buck, who now took a couple of steps forward, shaking the light to and fro to make it flare more brightly. “He arn’t got much scrat left in him, sir.”

“What is it—an old leopard?”

“No, sir. There, I can see quite plain now. It’s one of them baboons, same as live on some of these kopjes; and a whacker too, and as grey as a Devon badger. Here, Bob Bacon, as you are so precious anxious to have the light, catch hold. I will soon see whether he will scratch or not.”

“What are you going to do, man?” cried the doctor, as the exchange of torchbearer was effected.

“Lug him out, sir.”

“No, no! You will get torn.”

“Nay, sir. He’s got no scrat in him.”

“Perhaps not, Buck,” said Mark excitedly, “but I have read that those things can bite like a dog. Stand still and let me shoot.”

“Nay, sir; let’s have him out into the light.”

Before any protest or fresh order could be given the big driver thrust out a hand and gripped the grey-looking object which had crawled apparently right to the end of the cavernous hole. There was a faint struggle, and a low guttural cry.

“There’s no bite in him, sir,” cried Buck. “I don’t believe he’s got a tooth in his head. Now then, old ’un; out you come!”

By this time Buck had got hold of a long, thin, hairy arm, and overcoming a slight resistance and scuffling, began to walk backwards, dragging his prisoner after him, his companions making way, a low whining noise escaping from the prisoner the while.

“Gently, Bob Bacon,” cried Buck. “My hair’s quite short enough. No singeing, please. You might have seen that I got Dunn Brown to operate upon me with those scissors of his.”

“Here, let me come by you, Mark,” cried the doctor, excitedly.

“No, sir; I wouldn’t, sir,” cried Bob Bacon. “I have only just got room to hold the light up as it is, and Buck Denham’s so precious particular.”

“Yes,” said Buck, “and I want to get my catch out. You back with the light, Bob; and make a little room, gen’lemen. It’s all right. We don’t want any light now to show as this is one of them baboons—a long one, ’most as big as me.”

All backed away now, leaving room for Buck, who dragged his captive along the windings of the dark cavern, commenting upon his appearance the while.

“Yes, gen’lemen, I want to get him out and show black Mak the sperrit as he is afraid of. Rum beggars, these natives are, ready enough to fight and spear anybody. Got as much pluck as we have; but they are just like kids in being frightened about ghosts and by stories told by old women. Now then, it’s no use to kick. Poor old chap! Here, I could tuck him under my arm and carry him, only he may as well walk. He is just like a skin bag of bones. Hallo, you, Bob Bacon, who told you to put a ’stinguisher on that light?” For a sudden darkness came upon them all.

“’Stinguished itself,” growled Bob.

But the darkness was only apparent for a few moments, for about fifty yards ahead there was a bright gleam of sunshine at the mouth of the cavern, and two shadows moved, which proved to be Mak and the pigmy peering in as if listening and trying to make out what was going on inside.

“Hi, you sir!” shouted Dean. “We have caught your spirit. Come and help him out.”

But as if grasping the lad’s meaning by the tone of his voice, Mak turned sharply and darted away at a rate which carried him in a series of bounds down the slope of the great kopje, so that by the time the little party of explorers were out in the broad sunshine with their captive, Mak was threading his way amongst the rocks, closely followed once more by the pigmy, and about to disappear.

“There, gents!” cried Buck. “What do you make of him, sir?” And he thrust his captive more into the light. “Why, he must have been a monkey as big as me when he was in full fettle.”

“Monkey!” cried Mark. “Why, it’s a man!”

“Man, sir!” cried Buck scornfully. “He arn’t a black; he’s grey. Who ever see a man like that?”

“Not I,” said the doctor, laughing.

“There, Mr Mark,” cried Buck triumphantly.

“But a man it is, Buck,” said the doctor. “Poor old fellow! Doesn’t say much for the natives’ civilisation, for there must have been some living near. Crawled into that cave to die. Now, I should say he’s one of their old priests or medicine men, who, taking advantage of his great age and supposed wisdom, has imposed upon his fellows till he got to be looked upon as one who held intercourse with the unknown world, and lived upon his reputation, till his fellows grew to look upon him and talked about him as a spirit. That’s why Mak objected to our exploring this cave. Poor fellow, he meant well; and he made his objections no doubt in our interest, for fear that we might come to harm.”

“Why, a poor old scarecrow, sir!” said Buck. “He only wants one or two old clothes put on him, and he’d make a fine tatter-dooley. Not much to be afraid of in him! Well, gentlemen, we have got him.”

“Yes, we have got him,” said Mark; “but it seems to me that the question is, what are we going to do with him now we have got him?”

“Yes,” said the doctor; “that is a bit of a puzzle. We can’t take him into camp. What do you say, Dean?”

The boy wrinkled up his forehead as he gazed down at the curious, weirdly thin object at their feet, who lay there looking like a re-animated mummy, gazing feebly up at his captors, his dull eyes gleaming faintly through the nearly closed lids as if suffering from the broad light of day, before they were tightly shut, as the wretched creature, who seemed hardly to exist, sank back into a stupor that looked like the precursor of his final sleep.

“Well, Dean, what have you got to propose?” said Mark. “Nothing. But if he’s coming into camp along with us I am going to camp out.”

“It’s a rum ’un,” grumbled Buck. “My word, he must be an old ’un!”

“Yes,” said the doctor; “of a great age.”

“And he is a man, sir?”

“Oh, yes, and he must have been a fine man in his time—six feet three or four, I should say.”

“Yes, sir,” said Buck, “and that’s the pity of it.”

“What has his being six feet three or four got to do with it being a pity?” said Mark sharply.

“I didn’t mean that, sir,” said Buck. “I meant it was a pity as he’s a man.”

“Why?” asked the boys in a breath. “Because if he had been only a beast, sir—I mean, a big monkey—it would have been a charity to put him out of his misery.”

“Poor wretch, yes,” said the doctor. “But you can’t do that, sir. I know what I should do if it was me.”

“What should you do, Buck?” asked Mark. “Well, sir, he arn’t nothing to us. If it was me, as I said, I should put him back again.”

“Humph!” grunted the doctor. “Well, one wants to behave in a Christian-like way to a fellow-creature. Lay him in his place there at the mouth of the cavern, where we scared him out.”

This was done, and the doctor turned to Mark. “Now, boy, what next?”

“I know,” cried Mark. “Here, Dan, what about the soup?”

“Plenty, sir—only wants making hot.”

“Be off and get a tinful, if you can find your way.”

“If I can find my way, sir!” said the little sailor, laughing. “I think I can do that;” and he trotted off.

“That ought to put some life into him,” growled Buck; “but I want them two chaps to come and see their spirit. There they are, peeping round the corner at us.”

“Yes,” said Mark, “but we are not going to stop here. Don’t you think they ought to come and look after the old savage?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said the doctor. “I should be afraid to trust them. They might do the poor old fellow a mischief. Here, boys, call them up.”

Mark cooeyed, but only made the two blacks shrink back again.

“It’s of no use,” said the doctor. “We must leave him alone.” And after laying their find carefully in his den the little party wended their way back to the camp to report their adventures to Sir James.

Chapter Twenty Seven.Query: King Solomon?“Well, Dan,” said Mark, as he and his cousin came upon their handy man, “did you give the poor old fellow the soup?”“No, sir.”“What! Then why didn’t you?”“Couldn’t find him, sir.”“Didn’t you go up to the old cavern?”“Yes, sir. I went right in to where there was that snug sort of place where Bob Bacon found he had been lying—where we left him, sir.”“Well, do you mean to say he wasn’t there?”“No, sir; that he wasn’t.”“Oh, how could you be so stupid! The doctor trusted you to fetch the soup because he thought you were a man he could depend upon.”“Well, that’s right, sir.”“And because you didn’t see him directly, the poor creature never got the soup.”“That’s right, sir, too,” said Dan, smiling.“There’s nothing to laugh at in it, sir,” cried Mark, angrily. “Did you ever know anything so stupid, Dean?”“No,” cried Dean, taking up his cousin’s tone. “You might have been sure, Dan, that as soon as we had gone the poor old fellow would have crawled right in as far as he could go.”“Yes, sir; that’s what I did think, sir.”“You went right in?” cried Mark. “Yes, sir; right to the very end, and he warn’t there.”“Where was he, then?”“Oh, I don’t know, sir.”“Did you look about well?”“Yes, sir, as far as there was anywhere to look about.”“As far as there was anywhere to look about?”“Yes, sir. Don’t you remember you could only go right on into the hole or come back again? You couldn’t climb up the sides without somebody had gone up there first with a rope and let it down to you.”“Yes, that’s right, Mark,” said Dean. “Yes, I suppose so,” replied Mark, “but I wanted that poor old fellow to have the soup. It might have been the means of saving his life.”Dan shook his head solemnly. Mark made no observation about that, but went on: “Look here, Dan, somebody must have been there and helped him.”Dan shook his head again solemnly. “Did you try to tell Mak about it?”“Yes, sir, as well as I could.”“But do you think you made him understand you?”“Yes, sir; I think he did.”“And what did he say?”“Nothing, sir. Only shook his head, just like that.”“Bother! Don’t get wagging your head in that way,” cried Mark angrily, “or you will have it come loose. Well, what did you do with the soup?”“Ate it, sir.”“What!” cried Mark sharply.“Well, sir, I couldn’t drink it, it was that thick and strong. It was some of my best.”“And so you ate it?”“Yes, sir; I was so precious hungry.”“Did you ever hear such impudence, Dean?”“Well, I thought it a pity to waste it, sir, and I have always got plenty more on the way.”“Bah!” cried Mark. “You couldn’t have half looked.”“No, sir; I put my back into it and did it thorough. But he was gone;” and Dan shook his head again.“What do you mean by that?” said Dean.“Same as black Mak did, sir.”“And what did black Mak mean?” cried Mark.“Seems to me as he thought the poor old chap had dried up like and gone.”“What nonsense!”“Well, sir, it may be nonsense, but I had a good look at the poor old chap when we had him out. Why, you see him, sir. Look what his face was like. Walnut shell was nothing to his skin. I have been thinking about it a deal, sir, and I have heard what you gentlemen have said about this ’ere place as we have found. I have been about a deal, sir, all round the world, and seen and heerd much more than you would think.”“Oh, of course you would see and hear a good deal, being aboard ship.”“Yes, gentlemen, and it set me thinking a deal, both as I was going up and as I was coming back again with the empty tin. I thought a deal, Mr Mark, sir.”“Perhaps it was the soup made you think so much, Dan,” said Mark sarcastically.“Very like, sir,” said the man with an innocent look.“Well, what did you think?” asked Mark.“I thought about that old fellow being so awful old, and that he must have had to do with the building up of them stones.”“Nonsense! It must be two or three thousand years since those walls were built.”“Daresay, sir, and he’s been there ever since.”“Oh, that’s impossible,” said Dean.“Ah, that’s what you say, sir, but nothing is impossible out in a place like this. Why, just look at him. Why, if you got him out in the sunshine where you could see what a way inside his eyes were, you would have found that he was always looking right backwards. He was a regular old ’un, he was—lots older than he knew hisself. You heard what the doctor said the other day about this being the place where King Solomon sent his ships to find gold?”“Yes, and it’s quite possible,” said Mark.“Oh, you own to that, sir?”“To be sure I do. He had ships built, and sent them round by Africa, or else south down by the Red Sea.”“Yes, sir, that’s right enough, sir. I have pretty well been both ways myself, and seen plenty of big stones there. Up in North Africa and in Egypt. I should say, sir, that that old chap will like as not been one of them as dug out and melted the gold. He don’t look a bit like the regular natives, do he? He was hook-nosed, wasn’t he, sir?”“Yes, Dan.”“Not a bit like one of the regular natives, sir?”“Not a bit.”“A lot of them seem as if their mothers used to sit upon their faces when they was kids, to keep them warm and flatten their noses out.”“Well, yes. They are of another race, though—the regular niggers. These Zulu sort of chaps like Mak are quite different.”“That’s so, sir; and this old fellow, he was a regular hooked beaked ’un. Put me in mind of one of them big tortoises as you see in the islands up by Mauritius.”“Never seen them, Dan.”“Well, you take my word for it, then, sir; they look as old as if they had come out of the Ark. Now then, sir, just you tell me this. What was King Solomon?”“King of Israel, of course.”“I don’t mean that, sir. Warn’t he a Jew?”“Of course: a descendant of Abraham.”“Well, that’s what that old chap is, sir.”“Stuff!” said Dean.“Ah, you may call it stuff, sir; but see where we found him, in this old cave. He’s been there for ages and ages, and he got so old at last that he crawled in there to die, but found he couldn’t die a bit. He’s been going on keeping just alive for nobody knows how long; and when an old man gets as old as that he has got past wanting to eat and drink. He just goes on living; and it’s my belief, as I said afore, that he’s one of them as set up those walls and dug the gold and melted it for King Solomon’s ships to take away. Did you ever hear of the wandering Jew, sir?”“Yes, Dan. Of course.”“Well, sir, that’s ’im.”“We did find a curiosity, then,” said Mark merrily.“Oh, bother!” said Dean. “Here, Dan, you had better leave history alone. I shouldn’t be at all surprised, though, if the animated fossil has lived as long as old Parr.”“Old Parr, sir? You mean him as made the Life Pills?”“No, he doesn’t,” said Mark, laughing. “He was an old fellow who lived to about a hundred and fifty.”“A hundred and fifty, sir! Why, that’s nothing! Why, look at ’Thusalem; he lived close upon a thousand years. Well, if a man could live to one thousand years, why couldn’t he live to three or four, or five, if you come to that? I don’t say as this ’ere old fellow is quite so old, but he’s the oldest chap I ever see except the mummies, and that’s what this chap might be, only he’s just got life enough in him to move, and they arn’t.”“Well, that will do, Dan,” said Mark. “But I am sorry you didn’t find the poor old fellow after all.”The boys related their conversation with Dan to Sir James and the doctor, the former laughing heartily at the little sailor’s belief.“I suppose,” said Sir James, “the poor old fellow must have summoned up strength enough to crawl away.”“I don’t think that was possible,” said the doctor. “He could not have stirred without help.”“But he had no help,” said Sir James.“I don’t know,” said the doctor quietly.“What do you mean?” said Sir James; and the boys listened in surprise.“I mean this, sir,” said the doctor. “We have found that these ruins were well known to Mak and the pigmy.”“Of course.”“And we have found too this poor old fellow in his sort of cell.”“Exactly,” said Sir James.“Well, we know that, however old, no man could exist without nutriment. Consequently we have just had proof that a tribe of the natives must have regular communication with this place.”“Yes, I suppose that must be the explanation,” said Sir James.“And I am disappointed,” said the doctor, “because I was in hopes that we had the place all to ourselves so that we could go on with our interesting researches.”“Well, it would have been better,” said Sir James. “But so long as they don’t interfere with us it will not matter.”“And very likely,” put in Mark, “if they come and find us here they will keep away.”“That’s what I hope,” said the doctor.“And you think,” said Dean, “that some of these people have been and carried that old fellow away?”“Yes, my boy; that’s exactly what I do think.”“Well,” said Mark musing, “I suppose we shall soon know. But we certainly don’t want them here.”

“Well, Dan,” said Mark, as he and his cousin came upon their handy man, “did you give the poor old fellow the soup?”

“No, sir.”

“What! Then why didn’t you?”

“Couldn’t find him, sir.”

“Didn’t you go up to the old cavern?”

“Yes, sir. I went right in to where there was that snug sort of place where Bob Bacon found he had been lying—where we left him, sir.”

“Well, do you mean to say he wasn’t there?”

“No, sir; that he wasn’t.”

“Oh, how could you be so stupid! The doctor trusted you to fetch the soup because he thought you were a man he could depend upon.”

“Well, that’s right, sir.”

“And because you didn’t see him directly, the poor creature never got the soup.”

“That’s right, sir, too,” said Dan, smiling.

“There’s nothing to laugh at in it, sir,” cried Mark, angrily. “Did you ever know anything so stupid, Dean?”

“No,” cried Dean, taking up his cousin’s tone. “You might have been sure, Dan, that as soon as we had gone the poor old fellow would have crawled right in as far as he could go.”

“Yes, sir; that’s what I did think, sir.”

“You went right in?” cried Mark. “Yes, sir; right to the very end, and he warn’t there.”

“Where was he, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know, sir.”

“Did you look about well?”

“Yes, sir, as far as there was anywhere to look about.”

“As far as there was anywhere to look about?”

“Yes, sir. Don’t you remember you could only go right on into the hole or come back again? You couldn’t climb up the sides without somebody had gone up there first with a rope and let it down to you.”

“Yes, that’s right, Mark,” said Dean. “Yes, I suppose so,” replied Mark, “but I wanted that poor old fellow to have the soup. It might have been the means of saving his life.”

Dan shook his head solemnly. Mark made no observation about that, but went on: “Look here, Dan, somebody must have been there and helped him.”

Dan shook his head again solemnly. “Did you try to tell Mak about it?”

“Yes, sir, as well as I could.”

“But do you think you made him understand you?”

“Yes, sir; I think he did.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing, sir. Only shook his head, just like that.”

“Bother! Don’t get wagging your head in that way,” cried Mark angrily, “or you will have it come loose. Well, what did you do with the soup?”

“Ate it, sir.”

“What!” cried Mark sharply.

“Well, sir, I couldn’t drink it, it was that thick and strong. It was some of my best.”

“And so you ate it?”

“Yes, sir; I was so precious hungry.”

“Did you ever hear such impudence, Dean?”

“Well, I thought it a pity to waste it, sir, and I have always got plenty more on the way.”

“Bah!” cried Mark. “You couldn’t have half looked.”

“No, sir; I put my back into it and did it thorough. But he was gone;” and Dan shook his head again.

“What do you mean by that?” said Dean.

“Same as black Mak did, sir.”

“And what did black Mak mean?” cried Mark.

“Seems to me as he thought the poor old chap had dried up like and gone.”

“What nonsense!”

“Well, sir, it may be nonsense, but I had a good look at the poor old chap when we had him out. Why, you see him, sir. Look what his face was like. Walnut shell was nothing to his skin. I have been thinking about it a deal, sir, and I have heard what you gentlemen have said about this ’ere place as we have found. I have been about a deal, sir, all round the world, and seen and heerd much more than you would think.”

“Oh, of course you would see and hear a good deal, being aboard ship.”

“Yes, gentlemen, and it set me thinking a deal, both as I was going up and as I was coming back again with the empty tin. I thought a deal, Mr Mark, sir.”

“Perhaps it was the soup made you think so much, Dan,” said Mark sarcastically.

“Very like, sir,” said the man with an innocent look.

“Well, what did you think?” asked Mark.

“I thought about that old fellow being so awful old, and that he must have had to do with the building up of them stones.”

“Nonsense! It must be two or three thousand years since those walls were built.”

“Daresay, sir, and he’s been there ever since.”

“Oh, that’s impossible,” said Dean.

“Ah, that’s what you say, sir, but nothing is impossible out in a place like this. Why, just look at him. Why, if you got him out in the sunshine where you could see what a way inside his eyes were, you would have found that he was always looking right backwards. He was a regular old ’un, he was—lots older than he knew hisself. You heard what the doctor said the other day about this being the place where King Solomon sent his ships to find gold?”

“Yes, and it’s quite possible,” said Mark.

“Oh, you own to that, sir?”

“To be sure I do. He had ships built, and sent them round by Africa, or else south down by the Red Sea.”

“Yes, sir, that’s right enough, sir. I have pretty well been both ways myself, and seen plenty of big stones there. Up in North Africa and in Egypt. I should say, sir, that that old chap will like as not been one of them as dug out and melted the gold. He don’t look a bit like the regular natives, do he? He was hook-nosed, wasn’t he, sir?”

“Yes, Dan.”

“Not a bit like one of the regular natives, sir?”

“Not a bit.”

“A lot of them seem as if their mothers used to sit upon their faces when they was kids, to keep them warm and flatten their noses out.”

“Well, yes. They are of another race, though—the regular niggers. These Zulu sort of chaps like Mak are quite different.”

“That’s so, sir; and this old fellow, he was a regular hooked beaked ’un. Put me in mind of one of them big tortoises as you see in the islands up by Mauritius.”

“Never seen them, Dan.”

“Well, you take my word for it, then, sir; they look as old as if they had come out of the Ark. Now then, sir, just you tell me this. What was King Solomon?”

“King of Israel, of course.”

“I don’t mean that, sir. Warn’t he a Jew?”

“Of course: a descendant of Abraham.”

“Well, that’s what that old chap is, sir.”

“Stuff!” said Dean.

“Ah, you may call it stuff, sir; but see where we found him, in this old cave. He’s been there for ages and ages, and he got so old at last that he crawled in there to die, but found he couldn’t die a bit. He’s been going on keeping just alive for nobody knows how long; and when an old man gets as old as that he has got past wanting to eat and drink. He just goes on living; and it’s my belief, as I said afore, that he’s one of them as set up those walls and dug the gold and melted it for King Solomon’s ships to take away. Did you ever hear of the wandering Jew, sir?”

“Yes, Dan. Of course.”

“Well, sir, that’s ’im.”

“We did find a curiosity, then,” said Mark merrily.

“Oh, bother!” said Dean. “Here, Dan, you had better leave history alone. I shouldn’t be at all surprised, though, if the animated fossil has lived as long as old Parr.”

“Old Parr, sir? You mean him as made the Life Pills?”

“No, he doesn’t,” said Mark, laughing. “He was an old fellow who lived to about a hundred and fifty.”

“A hundred and fifty, sir! Why, that’s nothing! Why, look at ’Thusalem; he lived close upon a thousand years. Well, if a man could live to one thousand years, why couldn’t he live to three or four, or five, if you come to that? I don’t say as this ’ere old fellow is quite so old, but he’s the oldest chap I ever see except the mummies, and that’s what this chap might be, only he’s just got life enough in him to move, and they arn’t.”

“Well, that will do, Dan,” said Mark. “But I am sorry you didn’t find the poor old fellow after all.”

The boys related their conversation with Dan to Sir James and the doctor, the former laughing heartily at the little sailor’s belief.

“I suppose,” said Sir James, “the poor old fellow must have summoned up strength enough to crawl away.”

“I don’t think that was possible,” said the doctor. “He could not have stirred without help.”

“But he had no help,” said Sir James.

“I don’t know,” said the doctor quietly.

“What do you mean?” said Sir James; and the boys listened in surprise.

“I mean this, sir,” said the doctor. “We have found that these ruins were well known to Mak and the pigmy.”

“Of course.”

“And we have found too this poor old fellow in his sort of cell.”

“Exactly,” said Sir James.

“Well, we know that, however old, no man could exist without nutriment. Consequently we have just had proof that a tribe of the natives must have regular communication with this place.”

“Yes, I suppose that must be the explanation,” said Sir James.

“And I am disappointed,” said the doctor, “because I was in hopes that we had the place all to ourselves so that we could go on with our interesting researches.”

“Well, it would have been better,” said Sir James. “But so long as they don’t interfere with us it will not matter.”

“And very likely,” put in Mark, “if they come and find us here they will keep away.”

“That’s what I hope,” said the doctor.

“And you think,” said Dean, “that some of these people have been and carried that old fellow away?”

“Yes, my boy; that’s exactly what I do think.”

“Well,” said Mark musing, “I suppose we shall soon know. But we certainly don’t want them here.”

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