“Ngonyama!”

Mr. Hume stepped out on to the platform.  “Who calls?”

“It is I, the Inkosikase.”

She was standing at the very parapet where he himself had leant when he saw the light borne by Dick on the spot where he now stood.  She stood up boldly on the canon side of the great cavity, about fifty yards away.

“Your life was forfeit, Ngonyama, but I spared you—­I spared you.”

“I hear.”

“You are but a mouse in these earth runs, Indhlovu.”

The Hunter laughed, and the unseen creatures took up the laugh, flinging it back till the hollow places rang with the wild noise.

“Hear, and take heed.  Take heed lest they fall on you.  Wow!  Ye have seen my power and the strength of my medicine in the stilling of the waters.”

“It was Hassan who stilled the waters.  Say on.”

“Yoh!” The woman paused, taken aback.  “See, my medicine tells me you came here to search for the shining canoe.  Maybe I can tell you where it is hid by the wizards.”

“I know, wise woman.  Say on.”

“Wow!  But,” she said triumphantly, “ye do not know the way out, and ye are helpless till I tell you.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you stay here?”

“Enough!  I know the way out.  What is your message to me?”

His confidence staggered her, and it was some moments before she could speak.

“But there is the young chief.  Ye would save him.  I will make a bargain with you for his life.”

“He is here, woman.”

Dick stepped out from the shadows, and she threw up her arms with a wail.

“Say what you have to say,” said Mr. Hume, sternly, “for I see you would have some service of me, and had hoped to buy me with news I have no want for.”

“Ngonyama, great white one, I am but a woman, and ye are too strong for me.”

Mr. Hume nodded.

“I am a woman; only a woman.”

“Was it a woman’s task to set those ravens upon me and the young chief?”

“I am a mother, Indhlovu, and a mother’s heart is strong for her child.  I feared you because of my son.  You were strong, and he trusted you.  He was away, and you were left to do as you wished—­to take his place, to destroy him.  It is the way of men to use power for themselves.”

“It is not my way.”

“O great white one, give me counsel.  The Arab thief has truly stopped the river, and the waters rise in the valley—­rise among the gardens; and when Muata returns he will see water where there was grass.”

“Ay, Muata will ask how this thing happened.  And they will answer, because a woman interfered with his plans.  The son will know that it was his mother who brought this evil on the place because she thought she could do better than Ngonyama.”

“It is true; it is true,” she wailed, beating her breast.  “So tell me, great one, how this evil may be put right, but it must be done quickly, for the Arab has brought canoes up, and his men are in the valley ready to seize the women and children.”