Klaas set the example by starting off on the spoor of the oxen, armed with assegai and kerrie. Miss Anstrade sat down to draw, from memory, a facsimile of the lost map; Hume walked on to a small kopje to plan out the route, for there was no trace of road here; while Webster went down to the river to see whether he could decipher any explanation of the night’s mystery on its broad and shining surface. Long he listened to the murmur and ripple of the shallow river against huge round and jagged boulders strewn across its bed, and gazed into the dark beds of shade cast by the wild palmiet, but nowhere was there any trace of human life—not so much even as a piece of driftwood fashioned by man, or a broken beer-bottle, sign throughout the world of the passage of roaming Englishmen. Overhead passed a flight of cranes, their long legs trailing behind like rudders to steer them in their heavy flight, and from their long bills emitting, at intervals, the harsh cry with Nature’s melancholy note, while flocks of “sprews,” the white-bellied African starlings, flew, with noisy clatter, from side to side, and grey monkeys, their black faces rimmed in white, grimaced from waving branches. As he went down the bank, in and out among the thick bushes and clinging thorns, he started a troop of wild buffalo, which crashed off with many an angry snort, and a minute later was brought to a sudden stand by a moaning sound of no great volume, but conveying an undoubted warning. It proceeded from a cluster of rushes, and he moved his head from side to side in an endeavour to see what caused it, succeeding presently in detecting a slight movement made apparently by a small creature like a rat. Smiling at his doubts, he stepped forward, when once again the moaning was repeated, and he stooped down to peer more narrowly into the thicket. Then he saw that the small object was the tuft of a tail, and following the direction, he made the indistinct outline of a large animal crouching flat, and then, with a start, he met the full, fierce gaze of the yellow eyes. Cautiously he stepped back foot by foot until he reached the shelter of a tree, when the rushes shook, and out sprung a full-grown lion, which, after one look at him, trotted off after the buffalo which he had evidently been stalking.
“Phew!” said Webster, his heart thumping, “I suppose Frank would have shot the beggar, but hang me if I wasn’t pleased to see him cut.”
He waited for some time till his heart beat more regularly, then advanced with greater caution, examining each cluster of rushes and dark patch of bushes very carefully before passing. Half a mile further on the river took a bend and swept against a rampart of huge rocks flanked by a krantz, the home of a pair of white-headed eagles, whose harsh screams wakened weird echoes. Attracted to the wild spot, Webster stepped on one of the rocks, which jutted into the swirling water, to examine the krantz, and, noticing that caverns had been worn into the base by the water, he sprang from rock to rock till his way was barred by a smooth wall of slaty rock, which rose considerably above his head. Slinging his rifle over his back, he made use of his seamanship and quickly scaled the slope, slipped down on the other side, manoeuvred a narrow ledge, and stood in the first of a row of caves. There was nothing in this but a half-eaten fish, left evidently, from the signs, by an otter, but on rounding a slippery corner he entered a roomier cave. To his intense surprise, he saw that it had been occupied, and that recently. The walls and roof were blackened with smoke; on the smooth floor was a pile of ash, with the burnt ends of driftwood around, and on a ledge at the back was a mass of dried grass which had evidently served as a couch. He disturbed this with his gun, and dislodged a skin bag made of the entire skin of a monkey, the neck serving as an opening. Stepping to the mouth of the cave, he emptied its contents. These consisted of a copper cylinder, such as Kaffirs use to keep their “passes” clean, a necklet of crocodile teeth, a bracelet of solid ivory, stained with tobacco, and a lump of quartz, rounded at the edges from much friction. There was nothing in the cylinder, and Webster after a curious inspection of the quartz, which was heavy as lead almost, replaced the articles, and returned the bag to the ledge. He entered two other caves without finding anything fresh, and returned to the waggon, where he reported his discovery.
“You saw nothing to indicate whether the occupant was a European?” asked Hume.
“No; and I took it for granted he must be a black.”
“Natives don’t, as a rule, lead solitary lives, and still less could one of them dwell in loneliness by the side of a river, though the place may be the secret retreat of a witch-doctor.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Miss Anstrade, “the unknown visitor of last night and this hermit may be one and the same.”
“Well,” said Hume, “it is worth looking into; but in the absence of Klaas it would not be wise to leave the waggon.”
“I’ll run down and get the bag,” said Webster; “for there is nothing else in the cave from which you could draw conclusions.”
He started off, and in half an hour returned with the bag.