What was it? Did the speaker actually hear at that moment a shadowy echo of the mocking laugh which had been hurled at him from the darkness, or did he imagine it? The latter, of course. But here, in the very home of the superstition they had been discussing, could there, after all, be more in it—more than met the eye? He could not but feel vaguely uneasy. He glanced at his companion. She had altered neither attitude nor expression. He felt relieved.
Over less forbidding looking ground their way now lay. The grey chaotic billowings and craters of granite blocks gave way to table-land covered with long grass and abundant foliage. Here they advanced ever with caution, conversing but little, and then only in whispers. Indeed, after the rest and comparative safety of their late refuge, it was like entering into all the anxiety and apprehensions of peril renewed. Not very fast, however, could they travel, for Nidia, though a good walker, felt the heat, and John Ames, although, as he declared, he had “humped” a heavier “swag” than that comprised by their load, yet it demoralised him too.
A fireless camp amid the rocks, then on again in the cool of the morning. And as their way lay over high ground, the sun rose upon such a sea of vast and unrivalled wildness—castellated peaks and needle-like granite shafts, here a huge grey rock-dome, smooth, and banded round by a beautiful formation of delicate pink; there, and all around, cone-like kopjes of tumbled angular boulders, as though the fire whirlpool beneath earth’s surface had swept round and round, throwing on high its rocky billows, leaving in the centre this great dome, smooth and unriven. Doves cooed among the greenness of the acacias, whose feathery sprays gleamed bright against the background of grim rock in sombre masses.
“Yes, it is about as wild a bit of scene as you could find anywhere,” said John Ames, in reply to his companion’s cry of amazement and delight. “You will have something to talk about after this; for you can safely say you have been where very very few whites have ever set foot. Even now there are parts of the Matopos which have never been explored. The old-time hunters avoided them because there was no game—as we, by the way, know to our cost; the traders because there were no natives—as we know to our advantage; and the prospectors because granite and gold don’t go together.”
The foliage grew more abundant as they advanced; the “marula” and wild fig, and omnipresent acacia. Winding around the spurs of the great hills every turn of their way would reveal some fresh view of exquisite wildness and beauty.
“Look over there, Nidia. That might be the cave of the Umlimo himself,” said John Ames, pointing to a great granite cone which rose up from the valley bottom some little distance off. It was apparently about two hundred feet in height, and in the centre of its face yawned a great square hole, black and darksome.
“I wonder is it?” she said, gazing with interest at what was in fact a sufficiently remarkable object, “If it isn’t, it ought to be.”
“Look,” he went on. “Imagine it a bright moonlight night, and that valley bottom crowded with about half the Matabele fighting-men, all ranged in crescent formation, looking up at the cave there. Then imagine the oracle booming forth its answers from the blackness of yonder hole. Wouldn’t that make a scene—eh?”
“Yes, indeed it would. But—how could anybody get up there? It looks quite inaccessible.”
“So it probably is. But there would be no necessity for anybody to get up there. Messrs Shiminya and Co. would take care of that part of the entertainment, as I was telling you the other day. Well, we won’t camp near it on the off chance that it may be the real place.”