“Towards the setting sun,” said Muata.  “And you will want a man?”

“Two men, we would ask; and one of them, the Angoni warrior, who did so well in the fight, for his country is to the south.”

“Only one man you can have,” said the chief, shortly.

They had said their good-bye to the people in the valley, who had wept at their departure, for the white men had done much for them, and never before had they borne the visitation of the rains with so little discomfort.

Now they said good-bye to the chief, the man who had shared so much of danger with them, whose shield had been their shield, whose spear had been theirs to command.

It was difficult to say good-bye, for he seemed moody, answered them in monosyllables, and at last, after a curt nod, left them long before they were ready to go.  And when at last they were heading down the broad river to the old pleasant music of the clanging levers, the edge of their joy was blunted by the thought of the warrior’s lowering looks.

“I’m sorry,” said Mr. Hume, for the third time.

“I believe he has had something on his mind for days past,” said Venning; “and yesterday I saw him arguing with the headmen.”

“Yet he never opposed our going.  I have never seen him like that before.  Hang it all, I can’t bear to think we have left him looking so down;” and Compton banged the lever over.

They went on in silence for a mile, still thinking over Muata, when the Angoni, who was on watch, cried out—­

“Congela!”

“What do you see?”

The man pointed a black finger at the river, and on it they saw two black spots.  The man’s teeth gleamed in a smile and his black eyes sparkled.

They stood up to look, and then Mr. Hume motioned to the boys.

“Let her have it,” he said; and they made those levers smoke in the slots, for they saw in those black spots the long face of the jackal and the head of Muata!

They were helped dripping on board, the chief with nothing else than his Ghoorka blade.

Mr. Hume waited for an explanation, and the chief gave it in his calm way, without a smile.

“You wanted two men, great one.  I am the second.”

“But we go far, while the moon is many times at the full.”

“You go towards the setting sun, Ngonyama, and there also goes the son of the Inkosikase.”

“But your people?”

“I have said my say with them.  They are in peace, and they can live in peace; but is Muata a goat that he should live in a kraal?  Wow!  I am a Hunter, like this little one;” and he patted the jackal on the head.

“We are only too glad to have you, chief, if your mind is fully made up?”

“See, Ngonyama, I thought to live in ease and grow fat, but the spirit of my mother called out upon me—­ay, it fought within me—­and I go for the hills and the open plains.  Behold, I am no longer chief.”  He took the long blue feather from his head, and let it glance to the water.  “My shield is your shield.”