Oxen and guide were both duly forthcoming on the morrow: the journey toward what may be called the capital was resumed, and continued day after day without adventure, the guide supplied on the first day continuing with the party for the whole of that day, and then turning them over to another, who in like manner piloted them a day’s trek, in turn to pass them on to another, and so on, day after day; each guide returning to his starting-point on the following day.
Chapter Eight.
King Lobelalatutu.
The one thing that, after the spreading, well-tilled fields surrounding every village, the great herds of cattle, and the general aspect of prosperity everywhere met with, most impressed the two travellers during their progress through the Makolo country, was the extraordinary courtesy and deference uniformly extended to them by the natives. These people were savages, pure and unadulterated, a fierce and warlike race, who had been obliged to fight for their very existence throughout countless ages, ignorant and superstitious to a degree, with all the virtues and most of the vices of the primeval savage, unspeakably cruel and relentless as enemies, absolutely fearless in battle, and, above all, intensely suspicious of strangers; yet, although white men were practically unknown to them as a people, they never annoyed the travellers by any display of undue curiosity, every man deferentially saluted them, and all were willing, even eager, to do them service.
The character of the country, although it could not by any stretch of the imagination be described as mountainous, maintained its rugged character almost to the end of the journey, consisting of a constant succession of low hills, or ridges, mostly of granite formation, divided from each other by broad, fertile, well-watered valleys, dotted here and there with villages which, as the travellers advanced, gradually drew closer together and increased in importance.
It was as the travellers surmounted a certain ridge, about an hour and a half before the time of their midday halt, that they caught their first glimpse of the sea since losing sight of it on their departure from Lourenço Marques. It stretched away to right and left and in front of them, a narrow, faint, grey streak, softly shimmering under the beams of the noontide sun; and between it and the observers lay a wide-stretching, level, grassy plain, in the midst of which appeared numberless irregularities that, viewed through their powerful glasses, assumed the aspect of architectural ruins of enormous massiveness and strength. But they were some ten miles distant, and through the highly rarefied atmosphere that intervened it was impossible to obtain any very clear conception of their character, except that they were undoubtedly of human origin and of quite unexpected extent. One thing, however, was certain, in the light of Menzies’ story, as recounted to them by his and their friend Mitchell, those enormous ruins could be none other than the remains of the ancient Ophir mentioned in Holy Writ; and the two friends sent up a shout of irrepressible exultation at the thought that they had advanced thus far upon their difficult journey without mishap of any kind. They were now all eagerness and impatience to reach those wonderful ruins; but the oxen were tired and hungry, having already been trekking for more than two hours; moreover, they took no interest in archaeology, and preferred an acre of rich grass to the finest ruins in the world, therefore it became imperative to outspan as soon as the wagon had plunged down into the plain far enough to reach the first watercourse. But Grosvenor and Maitland were not long in arriving at the decision to saddle up and ride forward as soon as they had partaken of a hasty tiffin.
This resolution they duly carried into effect, observing the precaution to slip their loaded revolvers into their belts and to sling their loaded rifles and fully charged bandoliers over their shoulders, to guard against the possibility of accident, although they had thus far seen nothing to justify the slightest suspicion that either the king or his people meditated treachery. As they rode they had ample opportunity to observe—as indeed had been the case ever since they entered the Makolo country—the operation of the curious voice-telegraph system practised by the natives in their communications with each other, the high-pitched messages—doubtless reporting their progress-breaching their ears at frequent intervals.
They advanced at an easy canter, heading straight for the ruins, for there was no semblance of a road, or even of a footpath, and scarcely any people were to be seen, except in and about the villages which they occasionally passed. But when they had arrived within about three miles of the ruins they observed, approaching them round the spur of a low hill, a troop of about fifty horsemen, which their field glasses enabled them to perceive were splendidly mounted, and garbed in the full panoply of war, consisting of shield, war axe, sheaf of broad-bladed spears, plumed head-dress, and—in the case of the leader—leopard-skin mantle, and necklace of leopards’ claws. It was a distinctly formidable cavalcade for two men only to meet, even although the latter were armed with weapons of such deadly precision as the rifle and revolver; and for a minute or two the travellers were just a little uncertain as to how to meet the situation. Finally they reined in and came to a halt, whereupon the leader of the troop threw up his right hand, as though giving an order, upon which his followers, who had been advancing at a gallop, reined their horses back upon their haunches, coming to an abrupt halt, while he,