“Don’t make any mistake, Alf,” rejoined Grenville; “we shall gain nothing by palaver; whoever sees the inside of their territory will never again, with their consent, re-enter the outside world to give them away. This kingdom is an inscrutable mystery, enveloped in something like a hundred miles of inaccessible rock and impassable mountain, and upon the very threshold of it I feel convinced that we have now arrived.”
“Inkoos,” said the great Zulu, “your words are wise, even as the wisdom of my father’s father. For a thousand moons—ay, and for a thousand before that—has this place been haunted, and the traditions of my people ever warn us to beware of sleeping nigh to this falling water. Many have done so, and have never again visited their kraals; I, Myzukulwa, have alone done so and lived. More, Inkoos; as I watched yesternight I heard strange sounds, as though the spooks (ghosts) were mourning over the dead one who lies below us.”
“Hah!” said Grenville, starting suddenly to his feet, “we’ll have another look at that body,” and, followed by his companions, he strode away down the Pass, but, when the party reached the scene of the previous day’s rencontre, the lifeless remains were nowhere to be seen; there was the hole, the rock crusted with coagulated blood, but not the faintest trace of the body they had left behind them a dozen hours before. Clearly no beast of prey had been responsible for its disappearance, for the man’s gun and ammunition had also been removed. A lengthy and careful examination of the surroundings revealed nothing; all was barren rock, without a single sign of its having ever been pressed by the foot of man, and, with most uncomfortable feelings, the trio retraced their steps up the Pass, and reached the cave again, weary and disheartened, as the sun went out with the rapidity peculiar to the latitudes of Equatorial Africa, at once plunging everything into darkness that might be felt.
Grenville’s active mind was, however, at work upon the incidents of the day, and he never rested until his party was safely housed in a cave some hundred yards from the previous location. This night all kept watch; and well was it for them that they were on the alert, for, just before the moon got up, the darkness of the Pass was suddenly cut, as if by magic, with the flash of at least a score of rifles, fired so as to fairly sweep their old resting-place. Grenville and his companions crouched down amongst the rocks, straining eyes and ears for sight or sound of their murderously-inclined foes; but all was as still as death, and at daybreak the Pass was again, to all appearance, utterly deserted, only their old cave was strewn with flattened bullets, which had been fired with murderous precision.
Grenville tried to get Myzukulwa’s views upon the events of the night as they smoked their pipes after breakfast, but the chief was unusually reticent. “Spooks,” he said, “who shot as well as these did were dangerous; nothing but a spook could shoot like that in the dark.” Leigh was for clearing out altogether; he was as plucky a fellow as ever stepped, but this sort of thing was enough to shake any man’s nerves. That day was spent in a rigid search which literally left no stone unturned; but the keenest scrutiny revealed no place of concealment and no way into the mountain—over it none could go, for that towering wall of rock would have defied anything short of an eagle’s wings—and a couple of hours before sunset the party set off again down the Pass.
Chapter Three.
A Leap in the Dark.
As the party sullenly descended the Pass, no one seemed in a conversational mood, but Leigh noticed that his cousin took a very easy pace, and urged them to feed well, just before the sun set.