When I turned to retrace my steps, lo! the sun had set below the rim of the world. But upon the tall, smooth-faced cliffs, which sheered upward to the sharp ridge of Inkume, lay an afterglow of surpassing brilliancy—a strange, weird, boding light, as though they had been plunged in a sea of blood. Blood-red, too, were the spurs of the great range. Hau! It was wonderful, it was terrifying, it was tagati! Never did I behold anything like it before.
And now, as I gazed in marvel and awe, the redness grew deeper, then faded; and the great rocks took on a colour as of the livid blue-blackness of a mighty thunder-cloud. And as the shadows were thrown out thus clearly, and every line stood forth, while every hollow receded into gloom, I noticed that the mountains here swept round into almost a half-circle. In front opened the mouth of the pass through which I had come, while on the one hand and on the other a deep, gloomy rift—bush-grown, overhung—ran up far into the heart of the range. Hau! It was as if a cold thing were creeping up my back; for now, as plainly as though they were shouted in my ears, came old Masuka’s words, “The Place of the Three Rifts!”
So I stood and gazed, my hand to my mouth, in amazement, in awe. This, then, was “The Place of the Three Rifts,” Here it was that strange things were to come upon me—so had predicted the old Mosutu.
Now day had faded into night, and already the shadows of forest and plain were blended together. Already the voices of the darkness were raised—the howl of ravening hyenas; the shrill cry of jackals; the wild, yelling bay of wild dogs, ordering the plan of their hunt! and, withal, the croaking of innumerable frogs in the adjoining reed-bed, the screech of the tree-crickets, and the whirr of the night-hawk. And beneath the misty loom of the tall cliffs it seemed to me that the voices of dark ghosts were calling one to another. “The Place of the Three Rifts!” Whau! I would rather engage the wagon-fort of the Amabuna again single-handed than face what might be before me ere morning should break upon that fearsome wizard glen.
While I stood thus, with a strange tagati spell upon me, as firmly rooted as one of the trees growing around, a glow burned in the sky afar, and the land grew light again, as a broad, full moon rose beyond the rim of the world, soaring slowly aloft, a great golden ball. And now the fear began to leave me, for I could see again. Moreover, it is only in the darkness that evil ghosts love to move; or, at any rate, are at their worst. Yet ever, in the tones of the wild creatures of the plain—in the cavernous echo of the sentinel baboon’s resounding bark, high up among the crags—it seemed that wizard voices were calling—grim, threatening, unceasing.
Now I moved forward, as though to root up the dread that was upon me. Moreover, I feared to face that dreadful pass—full of tagati and all evil things—in the darkness. And even then there broke from its portals such a wild, wailing, ghost-like howl, which rose in innumerable clamours, surging in a hundred voices around the caves and corners of the rocks—now roaring, now in strange and whistling scream. Hau! All the terrors of this spell of wizardry returned. Right in the moon-path, between each jutting elbow of the cliff portals, was a huge beast—ghost-like unto a hyena, yet four times larger, and more evil-looking than the largest of those foul and loathsome creatures in mortal life. Squatted on its haunches, its horrible head thrown back, and fangs, now glistening white, now concealed, it bayed hideously to the moon; and I, who feared not death in blood, in any shape or form, felt this ghost-voice go through me, turning my blood to water. This was no real animal, but a terrible ghost. Not to sit in the seat of Dingane would I again thread that pass until the fair and beauteous sun-rays should once more make glad the face of the world, dispersing such to their own abodes of horror and of gloom.
Silently I drew back among the shadows, for I feared to be seen by this ghost-like animal. Then spying a place where the rocks above me seemed to offer a secure hiding-place, which could only be approached from one side, I seized a branch of a tree which was rooted in a cleft, and swung myself up as noiselessly as possible.
I was right in the selection of my hiding-place so far. There was but one way up to it—that by which I had come. Yet behind anything, anybody, might drop down upon me from above. And now that I was here the spell of dread which had been upon me seemed to fade. I thought I could hear the wild, sweet singing of Lalusini, soothing me to sleep. The next thing—au! I was asleep. At first, strange visions chased each other across my dreams. Then I dreamed no more, but slept heavily, for I was weary.
Au, Nkose! How shall I say what next befell? For I saw before me Kwelanga, the little white child whom I had saved from the red spear-blades of our warriors in the wagon-fort of the Amabuna. There she stood, the golden sunlight of her hair dispelling the night; her great blue eyes wide open, and fixed upon mine in terrible fear and anxiety. Then my sleep became dreamless once more.
“Untúswa, my father! Wake, Untúswa, for thy life’s sake!”