“The last fell on the shores of the dead pool, and the last was Hassan himself.”

The chiefs bloodshot eyes roamed over the cave, until they rested on Venning’s startled face.

“On the brink of the pool he fell, and where he fell there, too, was the Inkosikase.”  It seemed as if he were addressing the remark to Venning.

“I heard her call ‘Ngonyama’ in the night,” whispered the boy.

“Wow!”

“So the young chief told me after you had gone,” said the Hunter.

Venning nodded his head.

The chief accepted the explanation.  “The Inkosikase waited for the wolf by the water’s edge,” he said simply, “and I smote him behind the ear.  So her spirit is at rest.”

“Let me see to your wounds, chief.”

“Wow!  It is well my people should see them;” and the warrior went down with unsteady steps to the village, leaving a trail of blood; and when the people had shouted in triumph at his story of the last fight, the medicine men took him into their charge, when his life was in danger of escaping through one of those gaping cuts made by Arab swords on his body.

For a fortnight Mr. Hume nursed his young friends back to health, and for a week they sat and walked in the sun, slowly regaining strength; and then came the first forerunner of the rains in a day of pelting showers.

“It is the beginning,” said Muata, who was proud of his newly healed scars.  “You must come down into the valley.”

“There was something said about the full moon,” said Mr. Hume, suspiciously.

The chief laughed.  “It was the wish of the Inkosikase; but now she is gone, it is in my heart to take the wives to myself.  But there are others, Ngonyama.”

“No, chief,” said the Hunter, quickly.  “How do you live in the rains, chief?  Is there much discomfort?”

“Wow! it is the red pig’s life—­mud all about; and there is much sickness, for the people crowd together in the huts.”

“I suppose we must stay and make the best of it; but the huts are small.”

“They are the best we can make.”

“I don’t know,” said Venning, thoughtfully, with his eyes on the opposite cliff.  “I see there are trees up there.  Is there a way up?”

“There is a goats’-track.  What is in your mind, young wise one?”

“We will climb up that goats’-path, chief,” said Venning, “with all the men, cut down many of those trees, and roll them over the cliff into the valley.  Then will we build a great house, and the women will gather grass and reeds for the thatching of it.”

“It would be a good plan, if it could be done.”

“We’ll do it,” said the Hunter; “but if we are to stay here, we must bring up the boat, and you must let us have some of your men.”

“All,” said the chief; and that day the Okapi was brought up in sections.