"Thank God," was the man's thought, "they are living." The suspense fell from him. He pulled himself together, and was ready for anything.
"Smoke!" The voice reached him in sharp shrill accents that pierced the continual growling of the waters. "Who is here?"
"Ngonyama!" was the reply uttered by several.
"He is terrible, sisters. Hear the thunder of his voice. Let us fly, lest he tear us." And the speaker laughed.
"That is not his voice! He is afraid; he crouches like the panther in the trap, trembling. His strength has gone from him."
"I heard a lion was in the plains, and the cows ran together in a cluster, for they were afraid."
A shrill laughter was the response, but the dull lights remained where they were, and again there was a long spell of silence, as far as the voices were concerned. Then the lights went out. The Hunter stooped forward, listening, but he could hear no footfall. He put the gun down, and grasped the knife in his right hand, for he could use it with better effect in a sudden assault.
"I smell meat!"
The voice came now from another quarter, and then the lights shone out one after another.
"What meat is this, sister?"