"And Ngonyama?"
"Ngonyama! I have heard that name too often. See, young one, there is not room in a kraal for two strong bulls."
She nodded her head with a very hard look in her eyes.
Compton kept down his rising wrath at this ominous speech.
"Very well, mother," he said quietly. "You know best. I will now get about my work, if ye order that I am left in silence."
"I will see to that," she answered; "and see to it that you do all I have asked, lest you also go to those wizards you spoke of to the men."
She looked at him meaningly, and went on with her escort.
Compton watched them out of sight, then ran to his moulds. Taking out the canes, he split them down in turn, disclosing a dozen candles, roughly moulded, and very greasy, but he hoped suitable for his venture. One he fixed in the socket of the torch, the others he packed away carefully in an oilskin bag. Then slinging on his carbine, bandolier, haversack, and making them all secure by strapping a belt over all, he crept through the opening at the far end of the cave, replaced the rock, and lit his candle. After much spluttering and a great deal of smoke, the flame caught, and he started on his tour, breathing a fervent hope that it would lead him to his lost friends.