"It is far, mother! Are we near the end?"
"Near the end—very near! Is it the dead ye carry, Ngonyama?"
"Nay, mother; the boy is but sick. But where are you, that ye see and are not seen, that your voice is near and yet far?"
The woman laughed. "So ye grow afraid, O great one? Said I not,
Indhlovu, that this was not your path? Death is around."
Mr. Hume went forward steadily, counting his paces to keep his mind from wandering, and to his great joy he came suddenly on an opening in the wall which led towards welcome light, away from the horrors of that unfathomable pit. The woman waited for him there, looking very tall against the light.
"The boy is sick, mother—a little water."
"It is water now. Outside it was the honey he asked for. Set him down, Ngonyama—the child is weakly; set him down, and see to yourself."
"What words we these, woman?"
"Woman, yes; but master here, Ngonyama; and my words are easy to understand. Let the child be, and I will bring you out of this."
"Bring me water," he said sternly.