Mr. Hume gave a hail to the people below. "Bayate!" they shouted, recognizing him. Some of the men swam across and came up.
They made a humble salute to the white men. "Great ones, the people are afraid. The earth shook and the water arose, and out of the dark came men in canoes. We were afraid. It was witchcraft. Again the earth shook, the waters sank, and the canoes were swept away."
"Say to the women they may go about their work in peace, for the white chiefs keep watch, and all is well. And say to the headman to send up food, fruit, milk, and the flesh of a kid."
These orders were promptly obeyed, and the three were soon busy at a good meal, that put life and strength into them, so that when they feasted their eyes upon the wonderful beauty of-the garden-valley, the horrors of the underground world swiftly faded into the background, phantoms of reality.
And while they rested in the afternoon, Muata came out of the gorge chanting his song of triumph at the head of the picked warriors who had gone down into the forest to hang on the trail of the wild men.
His song died away as his eye fell upon the still swollen river, on the sheen of pools gathered where the ground was flat, on the banks of debris showing the highwater mark far up the little side valleys.
"Greeting, Ngonyama!"
"And to you, chief."
"My brothers have not slept." The young chief's eagle-glance dwelt swiftly on the three friends. "They have looked on great trouble."
"You have come from victory, chief; your men are fresh."