“It may not be too late now,” he said.
It was not. Something was done—not much, but sufficient. Something was said—not much, but sufficient under the circumstances, as sufficient indeed as though that pile of boulders had been a cathedral. And no sooner was that so than the whole roaring, stamping rout came surging up to the opening.
But, barring the said opening, stood ten men with levelled guns, foremost among them the faithful Ujojo.
“Back!” cried the latter in stentorian tones. “You only enter here over us dead ones. But you will enter over even more of your own dead ones first.”
The crowd halted, so fierce and resolute was the aspect of Zwabeka’s guards. Some vociferated one thing, some another. Some cried that they would not harm the white doctor, but the man who had done such terrible execution against them. U’ Lamonti—him they must and would put to death; while others shouted that no difference should be made between either, that all whites should be stamped from the land, for had not Umlimo said it. And the abominable sorcerers, hanging on the outskirts of the crowd, took up this cue and worked it for all it was worth.
“Hear now!” cried Ujojo. “Zwabeka is my father and chief. He placed me here saying, ‘Suffer none to enter.’ If you can find the chief and induce him to say to me, ‘Let those men enter’—then ye enter—not otherwise.”
For a moment the rout looked staggered, then the uproar redoubled. As a matter of fact Zwabeka was at that moment about four miles away across the mountains, and, of course, in complete ignorance of the demonstration which was going on at his camp.
“I have an idea, but a desperate one,” said Lamont. “It may be worth something if only to gain a little time. Ho, amadoda!” he called out, advancing near the entrance, though not showing himself. “Remember what happened to those who would have plundered my house. Well, the white doctor and I have enough of the same evil múti to blow half this mountain away ten times over. Where will ye be then? But we, and these few men who are obeying their chief, will come to no harm. We and they will come through it safe, even as I did before, and those that were with me.”
The effect of this statement was greater than its propounder had dared to hope. The awful effects of the explosion at Lamont’s farm had been sounded throughout the length and breadth of the nation. The clamour, which had been deafening, was suddenly hushed, only finding vent in a buzzing murmur. The bloodthirsty fervour of the crowd seemed to have sizzled.
“May I use anything I find in your medicine chest, Father,” said Lamont hurriedly. “Thanks. Ah, this will do. It may be advisable to set up a preliminary scare.”