Chapter Thirty Two.
Defending the Passage.
Unmistakably the sounds of battle. The small Zulu force of marauders must have come into collision with the people of the valley. It had happened as Hume had said, up to a certain point; but that point left them very far short of the possibility of taking advantage of the fight. Whether the Zulus conquered or were defeated, the result could matter little to the prisoners in the ruined chamber.
They heard, without hope as without fear, the roar of the distant fighting, but what affected them keenly was the wailing of the native music, which all along continued to send forth its monotonous cry. They could not understand what was meant by this persistent sound, having in it a wild note of appeal, but they felt it had a closer bearing on their lives than the din of battle.
Presently, however, they became aware that the fight was coming nearer. They heard shrill whistling, the occasional sharp crack of a rifle, the deep shouts of individual warriors, and the loud, continuous roar of conflict.
It was evident that one party must be in retreat, but fighting stubbornly.
“The Zulus are getting the worst of it,” muttered Hume.
“If we were only free!” growled Webster, and he made a violent struggle to release his hands.
“The shouts of victory,” said Sirayo, “are from the Zulus.”
“The fight is coming this way rapidly. The retreating party will surely make a stand in these ruins, and then—”