At length, within two hours of sunset, we passed round the shoulder of the mountain and beheld its eastern slope.

“It is the very place of my vision,” cried Ralph, and certainly there before us were the stone ridges shaped like the thumb and fingers of a man, while between the thumb and first finger gushed the river, upon the banks of which grew flat-topped green-leaved trees.

“Onward, onward!” he cried again, and, taking the long waggon whip, he thrashed the oxen till they bellowed in the yokes.  But I, who was seated beneath the tent of the waggon, turned to look behind me, and in the far distance saw that men were driving herds of cattle towards the mountains.

“We are too late,” I thought in my heart, “for, without doubt, whether it be the Zulus or others, the place has been taken, since yonder go the victors with the cattle.  Now they will fall upon us and kill us.  Well, should God will it, so let it be, for if Suzanne is dead indeed I care little if we die also; and to Ralph at least death will be welcome, for I think that then death alone can save him from madness.”

Now we had reached the banks of the river, and were trekking up them towards the spot where it issued from the side of the mountain.  Everywhere was spoor, but we saw no people, although here and there the vultures were hissing and quarrelling over the bones of a man or a beast.

“There has been war in this place,” whispered Jan, “and now the peace of death has fallen upon it,” but Ralph only flogged the weary oxen, saying nothing.

At length they could drag the waggon no further, for the path grew too steep for them, whereupon Ralph, seizing the first weapon that came to hand, which, as it chanced, was the broad assegai that Gaasha had taken that day from the side of the dead Zulu, ran forward up the trail followed by Jan and myself.  Another two hundred yards and the path took a turn which led to the entrance of the first scherm, the same that the Zulus had captured by forcing the passage of the river.  The gateway was open now, and Ralph entered.

At first he could see no one, but presently he heard a voice saying: 

“Will you not tell, for death is very near you?  Drink, witch, tell and drink.”

“Fool,” answered another voice, a grating, broken voice, “I say that death is near to both of us, and since she is saved I die gladly, taking my secret with me.”

“Then witch, I will try steel,” said the first voice.

Now Ralph looked over the rock from behind which the sound of voices came and saw the body of a little woman tied to a stone by the edge of the water, while over her leant a man, a white man, holding a knife in one hand and in the other a gourd of water, which he now placed close to her lips, and now withdrew from them.  He knew that woman, it was Sihamba.  Just at this moment the man looked up and their eyes met, and Ralph knew him also.