“The boy is sick, mother—­a little water.”

“It is water now.  Outside it was the honey he asked for.  Set him down, Ngonyama—­the child is weakly; set him down, and see to yourself.”

“What words we these, woman?”

“Woman, yes; but master here, Ngonyama; and my words are easy to understand.  Let the child be, and I will bring you out of this.”

“Bring me water,” he said sternly.

“There is plenty beyond.  Carry him to the water if ye will, but the water will have you both.”  She laughed shrilly.

Mr. Hume went on towards the light, and found himself in another cavern reaching far up to a roof, from which hung long stalactites glistening white.  There was light enough reflected from these hanging pillars to see, and he looked anxiously into Venning’s face.  The boy’s eyes were closed.

“Water,” he said.

“Ohe! there is water beyond;” and she pointed ahead.

Again he went on without a thought about the marvels that disclosed themselves in the cave in the shapes of crystals and cones of sulphuric origin; but, as he advanced, he was aware of strange, intermittent sounds resembling explosions.  Pushing on, he saw the white spray of falling water, then the gleam of wet rock, and stopped at the edge of a cataract, milk white from the churned foam.  He soaked a handkerchief in the water and bathed the boy’s face.

The woman was at his side.  “Leave him; he belongs to the water.  Leave him and follow, lest ye also go down.”

“He Is only weak, mother.  In a little time he will be ready to follow.”

He applied himself to the task of bringing the boy round, and when he looked up again the woman had gone.  Then for the first time he glanced around him, and saw that he stood in a small cave opening into a noble vault, lit up from top to bottom by a broad fan of light that streamed through a fissure in the roof.  Opposite to where he stood, and a little above, the river emerged from its subterranean passage in a long green slide, to break into white where it fell upon the rocks before its headlong rush at his feet.  In the rock above the point where the river emerged there were several round holes, and at intervals of a few seconds, columns of water spurted through these with loud reports.  They shot far out, then broke into fine spray, on which the light produced wonderful colour effects.  He could scarcely take his eyes off these blow-holes, so strange, so fascinating was the sight, and it was only the faint sound of a sigh that called his attention to his patient.

CHAPTER XXI

A VOICE FROM THE DEAD