distance like a cascade of smoke.  This torrent, which he remembered was called Raaba, fell into a great pool and there divided itself into two rushing branches that enclosed an ellipse of ground, surrounded on all sides by water, for on its westernmost extremity the branches met again and after flowing a while as one river, divided once more and wound away quietly to north and south further than the eye could reach.  On the island thus formed, which may have been three miles long by two in breadth, stood thousands of straw-roofed, square-built huts with verandas, neatly arranged in blocks and lines and having between them streets that were edged with palms.

On the hither side of the pool was what looked like a park, for here grew great, black trees, which from their flat shape Alan took to be some variety of cedar, and standing alone in the midst of this park where no other habitations could be discovered, was a large, low building with dark-coloured walls and gabled roofs that flashed like fire.

“The Gold House!” said Alan to himself with a gasp.  “So it is not a dream or a lie.”

The details at that distance he could not discover, nor did he try to do so, for the general glory of the scene held him in its grip.  At this evening hour, for a little while, the level rays of the setting sun poured straight up the huge, water-hollowed kloof.  They struck upon the face of the fall, staining it and the clouds of mist that hung above, to a hundred glorious hues; indeed the substance of the foaming water seemed to be interlaced with rainbows whereof the arch reached their crest and the feet were lost in the sullen blackness of the pool beneath.  Beautiful too was the valley, glowing in the quiet light of evening, and even the native town thus gilded and glorified, looked like some happy home of peace.

The sun was sinking rapidly, and before the litter reached the foot of the hill and began to cross the rich valley, all the glory had departed and only the cataract showed white and ghost-like through the gloom.  But still the light, which seemed to gather to itself, gleamed upon that golden roof amid the cedar trees; then the moon rose and the gold was turned to silver.  Alan lay back upon his cushions full of wonder, almost of awe.  It was a marvellous thing that he should have lived to reach this secret place hidden in the heart of Africa and defended by swamps, mountains and savages to which, so far as he knew, only one white man had ever penetrated.  And to think of it!  That white man, his own uncle, had never even held it worth while to make public any account of its wonders, which apparently had seemed to him of no importance.  Or perhaps he thought that if he did he would not be believed.  Well, there they were before and about him, and now the question was, what would be his fate in this Gold House where the great fetish dwelt with its priestess?