The men were talking together in Sisutu.  One, whom I took to be their captain, said to the others—­

“That white-headed old jackal, Macumazahn, has given us the slip again.  He doubled on his tracks and drove the horses down the hillside to the lower path in the valley.  I could feel where the wheels went over the edge.”

“It is so, Father,” answered another voice, “but we shall catch him and the others at the bottom if we get there before the moon rises, since they cannot have moved far in this rain and darkness.  Let me go first and guide you who know every tree and stone upon this slope where I used to herd cattle when I was a child.”

“Do so,” said the captain.  “I can see nothing now the lightning has gone, and were it not that I have sworn to dip my spear in the blood of Macumazahn who has fooled us again, I would give up the hunt.”

“I think it would be better to give it up in any case,” said a third voice, “since it is known throughout the land that no luck has ever come to those who tried to trap the Watcher-by-Night.  Oh! he is a leopard who springs and is gone again.  How many are the throats in which his fangs have met.  Leave him alone, I say, lest our fate should be that of the white doctor in the Yellow-wood Swamp, he who set us on this hunt.  We have his wagon and his cattle; let us be satisfied.”

“I will leave him alone when he sleeps for the last time, and not before,” answered the captain, “he who shot my brother in the drift the other day.  What would Sekukuni say if we let him escape to bring the Swazis on us?  Moreover, we want that white maiden for a hostage in case the English should attack us again.  Come, you who know the road, and lead us.”

There was some disturbance as this man passed to the front.  Then I heard the line move forward.  Presently they were going by the wall within a foot or two of me.  Indeed by ill-luck just as we were opposite to each other the captain stumbled and fell against the wall.

“There is an old cattle kraal here,” he said.  “What if those white rats have hidden in it?”

I trembled as I heard the words.  If a horse should neigh or make any noise that could be heard above the hiss of the rain!  I did not dare to move for fear lest I should betray myself.  There I stood so close to the Kaffirs that I could smell them and hear the rain pattering on their bodies.  Only very stealthily I drew my hunting knife with my right hand.  At that moment the lightning, which I thought had quite gone by, flashed again for the last time, revealing the fat face of the Basuto captain within a foot of my own, for he was turned towards the wall on which one of his hands rested.  Moreover, the blue and ghastly light revealed mine to him thrust forward between the two stones, my eyes glaring at him.

“The head of a dead man is set upon the wall!” he cried in terror.  “It is the ghost of—­”