"The same," asserted the first speaker, in that sing-song hum in which natives, when among themselves, will carry on a conversation for hours.
Now the listener was interested indeed. On the mysterious subject of "The Spider" the Ba-gcatya had been close as death. No hint or indication tending to throw light upon it would they let fall in reply to any question, direct or indirect. Now he was going to hear something. These men, unaware of his presence, and talking freely among themselves, would certainly afford more than a clew to it. Nondwana, the king's brother, he suspected of being not over favourably disposed towards himself, possibly through jealousy.
"That will be when the second moon is at full?" continued one of the talkers.
"It will. Ha! The Spider will receive a brave offering. Yet how shall it devour one who bears its Sign?"
"It may not," rejoined the other. "Hau! that will in truth be a test—if the sign is real."
One who bears its Sign! The listener felt every drop of blood within him turn cold, freeze from head to foot. What sort of devil-god could it be from which this nation derived its name, and which these were talking about as one that devoured men?
He that bears its Sign! The words could apply to none other than himself. He had deduced that, although the Ba-gcatya held cannibalism in abhorrence, yet from time to time human sacrifices of very awesome and mysterious nature took place, and that on certain momentous occasions—the accession or death of a king, of an heir to any branch of the royal house, or such a one as this now under discussion—the admission to full privileges of manhood of a scion of the same. And the sacrifice on this occasion was to consist of himself? To this end he had been spared—even honoured.
"It will in truth be a test, for some doubt that the Sign as worn by this stranger hath any magic at all," continued one of the talkers. "If he comes out unharmed—hau! that will be a marvel, indeed—a marvel, indeed."
"E-hé!" they assented. Then they fell to talking of other things, and soon the concealed listener heard them rise up and depart.
Laurence decided to wait no more for his companions. He wanted to be alone and think this matter out. So when the voices of the talkers had fairly faded beyond earshot he left the cluster of trees on the farther side and took his way down the mountain slope.