"Don't worry, lad; he'll pick up."
"I know you think I'm no good," was the boy's heartbroken reply.
Mr. Home was at his side. "Nonsense, lad. I know what it is to have a touch of fever; and besides, I believe it was you who gave warning."
"I heard some one calling Ngonyama," said the boy, in a whisper, "and I saw the face in the entrance—the same face I saw down under there. Were they the witches?"
"It was Hassan and some of his men. They must have escaped from the river and remained in hiding. I felt your hand in the night, and it woke me. So, you see, you did your part. Now rest, there's a good chap."
Mr. Hume made the boy a cooling drink, with a dose of quinine.
"I would have helped, if I could."
"You did help," said the Hunter, earnestly. "If it had not been for you we should have been killed while we slept. You saved our lives, just as you saved the valley by your thought of letting the water out."
Venning was comforted. He rose up on his elbow to have another look at Dick, saw that the colour was coming back into the white face, and leant back on his pillow.
In the morning Muata came into the cave, staggering like a drunken man from loss of blood, and at his heels limped the jackal with his tongue out.