“I suppose there can be little doubt that this is Lieutenant Gobo, and that he has somehow possessed himself of the secret of the Rock.”
“And he has lost much time in his efforts to put us out of the way. We’ll be before him yet, unless we take this opportunity of escaping.”
“No, no,” cried Laura; “we have already undergone in imagination the terror of violent death, and we must continue. I have watched you to-day, and saw how anxiety has left its mark on your faces. Imagine how it has been with me. I can feel that there are grey hairs on my forehead, that my cheeks have thinned, my mind is stored with the memory of alarms, and if we retired there would be nothing for me but the bitterness of disappointment and of failure. I must reach this Golden Rock, and then the future will once more brighten before me. This mission stands for me in place of everything I have lost, and you know what that loss has been.”
“Do you recall how the Swift leapt at the great sides of the cruiser through a fury of shot?” asked Webster slowly, his mind going back to that one great tragedy of their lives.
“Yes,” said Hume softly, “and I think we said we would do something for the relatives of the gallant fellows who went to their death with Captain Pardoe.”
“Then we advance,” said Laura. “When?”
“Well, we must wait until the Zulus have broken camp, then we must strike across their line of march, and continue south, about six miles, I should say, from my recollection of the map, to bring us opposite that bend in the mountain where the Rock may be seen from. I cannot understand why Gobo, if he is in search of the treasure, should approach the mountain at the spot selected.”
They continued to discuss this absorbing subject for some time before seeking rest. In the morning a sharp outlook was kept on the movements of the Zulus from the top of the krantz, and they were seen to be afoot soon after dawn; and as the clouds lifted later on it was also seen that the people on the mountain had gathered in small bodies. When the last of the Zulus had been swallowed up in the deep gorges which scarred the face of the granite mass, the little party set out on a course parallel with the base of the mountain. This presently took them across the wide track beaten down in the grass by the naked feet of the warriors, and, taking advantage of the shelter, they pushed on until noon, when the mountain dipped round to the south. Before this they had heard the sound of firing reverberating from the deep ravines, but the shoulder of the mountain now concealed them. They paused now for a rest after their sharp burst, and to prepare for the arduous labour of the ascent in search of the Eye in the face of rock.
Above them towered the great mass, bare of trees, and grim with scars and fissures cut by the sharp teeth of the wind and rain. As is the case with many African mountains, the summit was rimmed with a sheer precipice that seemed from far below quite impassable. They traced the contour of the upper rim for sign of profiles, which are often fantastically outlined by the rock, but without success, and, having sufficiently rested, began the ascent.
They had carefully marked off their position by the map, and, in the excitement of nearing their goal, had completely forgotten the neighbourhood of rivals and enemies in the field. They went on from spur to spur, and whenever they topped a ridge the face of the mountain took fresh shape, and they would pause to scan its rugged front.