“Behold the Place of Rest, O white men; and ye, O great one, who marked the trees below, and whose glance went ever back to note the way so that you should know it again, know that we have led you to the hiding, whose secret was our refuge.”

“Ay, mother,” said Mr. Hume, quietly, though surprised she had seen his actions; “and remember that we are here to help you keep out the wolf from your refuge.  I marked the trail, as ye saw, for it is well that a man should know his way out as well as in.”

“He is right, O wise one,” said Muata, bearing down his mother’s suspicious look.  “Should Hassan prevail in the fight, there would be no Muata to guide these our friends to safety.”

“He prevail!” cried the woman, sternly; then her finger shot out, and her form seemed to increase in stature.  “Look, O warrior of feeble words; see how it greets the chief;” and her eyes blazed as she followed the flight of a great bird that swept out of the mist.  “A sign—­a sign, my son.”

“A black eagle,” said Venning.  “Maybe it has its nest somewhere about here.”

“As this is the Place of Rest,” said Mr. Hume, “it would do us all good to sit down.  Where is the hut you spoke of, mother?”

“Shall I carry you, little one?” said the woman, with a loud laugh.  “A few steps only.  A little way, and you can eat and sleep.”

She passed to the right under shelter of a cliff, and came very quickly to the door of a wide cave, that ran back some thirty feet.

“Here is your home, and in the morning the sun will look in at the door, and from the threshold, when you awake, you may sit and feast on such a sight as will gladden your eyes, for now the shadows hide it.”

They threw their packages on the floor and sat down on a carpet of clean white sand.

“A little further there is water.  Muata, my son, for the last time do woman’s work and light the fire, while I go below for food.”

“Say nothing to the people of my coming,” said the chief.  “Presently I will go down secretly, and see how the men bear themselves.”

“Wow!  I see now it is the chief, and not a carrier of wood.”

She went off into the gathering gloom, but was back in the hour with a great bunch of yellow bananas, a calabash of goats’-milk, and a young kid, showing no signs of weariness for all her toil.  Those bananas, growing with an upward curve against the stem to relieve the dead weight on the branch as they grew, were just then a finer sight than the most magnificent scenery, and the travellers made a great feast, which done, they stretched themselves out on the clean dry sand up there in the clean, crisp air, and slept till the sun next morning streamed into the open cave.

They woke up to find themselves alone, but not forgotten; for outside there lay a little heap of good things, including fresh eggs, a calabash of milk, sweet potatoes, and a bundle of firewood.