“Down there;” and he pointed at the hole.
“Did they go before the fight, and leave you alone?”
“I could not see, and they were hurried. They forgot me.”
“Yoh! And do they hide there like jackals? It was not a good thing to leave a blind man.”
“They did it without thought I fear there is something dark thereunder, chief, for a strange man, I think, has gone down. I would have followed, but my head was dizzy from a fall; and then I heard this old woman crying feebly for water, and I went out to the spring. We must go down.”
Sirayo called for men, and when a few came in with wild looks he bid them carry the old woman to the spring and tend to her. The men exclaimed, when they saw Hume, and clapped their hands to their mouths, but Sirayo sternly bid them go.
“They do not like my face,” said Hume, with a bitter smile.
“They are not women, that they should be terrified at a scar received in battle.”
“Then my face would frighten a woman;” and he shuddered. “Will you go first, chief?”
A faint smile flickered for a second about the grim mouth of the warrior; then he lowered himself into the hole. “We shall need a light,” he said, and split the haft of an assegai. They found themselves in a narrow passage curiously arched and ribbed, which coiled round and widened as they advanced, turning always to the left. The walls were polished, as if by constant friction, and where the ribs met overhead was a well-defined ridge, or backbone, regularly articulated. It was very still, the stagnant air heavy with a sickly odour, and twice they paused to struggle against a feeling of dizziness; but a slight current of air, coming with a cooling touch, freshened them, so they were able to struggle on, through a short length where the passage suddenly narrowed, to a large wedge-shaped chamber.