One day when I was considering the place, Harut entered the garden suddenly and caught me in the act.

“The House of the god is beautiful,” he said, “is it not?”

“Very,” I answered, “and of a strange formation.  But how do those who dwell on it climb that precipice?”

“It cannot be climbed,” he answered, “but there is a road which I am about to travel who go to worship the Child.  Yet I have told you, Macumazana, that any strangers who seek to walk that road find death.  If they do not believe me, let them try,” he added meaningly.

Then, after many inquiries about my health, he informed me that news had reached him to the effect that the Black Kendah were mad at the loss of their crops which the hail had destroyed and because of the near prospect of starvation.

“Then soon they will be wishing to reap yours with spears,” I said.

“That is so.  Therefore, my Lord Macumazana, get well quickly that you may be able to scare away these crows with guns, for in fourteen days the harvest should begin upon our uplands.  Farewell and have no fears, for during my absence my people will feed and watch you and on the third night I shall return again.”

After Harut’s departure a deep depression fell upon all of us.  Even Hans was depressed, while Savage became like a man under sentence of execution at a near but uncertain date.  I tried to cheer him up and asked him what was the matter.

“I don’t know, Mr. Quatermain,” he answered, “but the fact is this is a ’ateful and un’oly ’ole” (in his agitation he quite lost grip of his h’s, which was always weak), “and I am sure that it is the last I shall ever see, except one.”

“Well, Savage,” I said jokingly, “at any rate there don’t seem to be any snakes here.”

“No, Mr. Quatermain.  That is, I haven’t met any, but they crawl about me all night, and whenever I see that prophet man he talks of them to me.  Yes, he talks of them and nothing else with a sort of cold look in his eyes that makes my back creep.  I wish it was over, I do, who shall never see old England again,” and he went away, I think to hide his very painful and evident emotion.

That evening Hans returned from an expedition on which I had sent him with instructions to try to get round the mountain and report what was on its other side.  It had been a complete failure, as after he had gone a few miles men appeared who ordered him back.  They were so threatening in their demeanour that had it not been for the little rifle, Intombi, which he carried under pretence of shooting buck, a weapon that they regarded with great awe, they would, he thought, have killed him.  He added that he had been quite unsuccessful in his efforts to collect any news of value from man, woman or child, all of whom, although very polite, appeared to have orders to tell him nothing, concluding with the remark that he considered the White Kendah bigger devils than the Black Kendah, inasmuch as they were more clever.