A flame spurted out from the gloom down where the white specks gathered, and the Lee-Metfords were not idle.  The little bullets rang into the place where those white-robed Arabs were waiting with their rifles, and before they could play their part, the beaten van of their assaulting party broke upon them in their flight.  The battle was over!  Muata, returning from the killing of the men he had decoyed into the valley, raised the shout of victory, and the two boys went down into the gorge to join in the throng of exultant and excited warriors.

“Way for the chief’s white men!” cried the Angoni Zulu, staggering from his hurts.

“Bayate! to the white men,” shouted the warriors, rattling their spears.

“We are no chiefs men,” said Compton, proudly.

“Ohe!” said Muata, overhearing the words.  “Lion’s cub, I hear.  Ye shall have the chief’s feather; and the great one, where is he?”

Out of the darkness beyond came the chant of deep voices—­the song of the men who had held the gate, “The great one,” “Lion-throated,” “He whose roar filled the valley,” and so on, until they recognized the form of their chief, when very wisely they directed their praise to his deeds.

Mr. Hume, bare-armed, reeking of battle, hoarse from shouting, stepped up and gripped hands with the boys.

“We go to our house on the hill, chief,” he said.

“There will be feasting to-night, my brothers, and your places will be beside the chief,” said Muata.

“’Sot for us.  Feast well; but watch well also, for Hassan has not had his fill.  Come, lads.”

They left Muata giving directions for guarding the gate, and went back through the gorge into the valley, and down towards the village, where they were met by a band of women carrying torches and singing.  The women formed a ring about them, and in this the chiefs mother danced, stamping her feet, and clapping her hands, while she sang of the battle.

“We go up to the cave,” said Mr. Hume, when the dance was over.  “Send us food, mother.”

“In plenty, O shield of my son!”

“And hark to this, wise woman—­see that the warriors drink sparingly, for the wolf is most dangerous when he comes to the kraal a second time secretly.”

“Wow!  That is my thought also; but men are foolish.  If the horn is filled, they would empty it without thought of the morrow.  Ohe! you will eat well;” and she issued orders to some women, who returned to the village, and other orders to a couple of boys, who were only too glad to lead the popular white men up to the cave, to light the fires and bring water.  And almost as soon as they were at the cave the women arrived with meat, fruit, and milk.

The Hunter stretched himself at once on the blankets.  “I am not so young as I was,” he explained.

“That won’t do,” said Venning, lighting the lamp.  “You must not go to sleep without having had your supper.”  He turned the light on.  “Why, you’re wounded!”