“And where will you wander, Nada? to your death? Must we, then, meet after so many years to part again for ever?”
“Where was it that you said you lived, my brother? Beneath the shade of a Ghost Mountain, that men may know by a shape of stone which is fashioned like an old woman frozen into stone, was it not? Tell me of the road thither.”
So Umslopogaas told her the road, and she listened silently.
“Good,” she said. “I am strong and my feet are swift; perhaps they may serve to bring me so far, and perhaps, if I win the shadow of that mountain, you will find me a hut to hide in, Umslopogaas, my brother.”
“Surely it shall be so, my sister,” answered Umslopogaas, “and yet the way is long and many dangers lie in the path of a maid journeying alone, without food or shelter,” and as he spoke Umslopogaas thought of Zinita his wife, for he guessed that she would not love Nada, although she was only his sister.
“Still, it must be travelled, and the dangers must be braved,” she answered, smiling. “Alas! there is no other way.”
Then Umslopogaas summoned Galazi the Wolf and told him all this story, for Galazi was the only man whom he could trust. The Wolf listened in silence, marvelling the while at the beauty of Nada, as the starlight showed it. When everything was told, he said only that he no longer wondered that the people of the Halakazi had defied Dingaan and brought death upon themselves for the sake of this maid. Still, to be plain, his heart thought ill of the matter, for death was not done with yet: there before them shone the Star of Death, and he pointed to the Lily.
Now Nada trembled at his words of evil omen, and the Slaughterer grew angry, but Galazi would neither add to them nor take away from them. “I have spoken that which my heart hears,” he answered.
Then they rose and went to search among the dead for a girl who would suit their purpose; soon they found one, a tall and fair maiden, and Galazi bore her in his arms to the great cave. Here in the cave were none but the dead, and, tossed hither and thither in their last sleep, they looked awful in the glare of the torches.
“They sleep sound,” said the Lily, gazing on them; “rest is sweet.”