The problem was beyond me and I gave it up with the reflection that either this threatened attack was a mere feint to delay us, or that behind it was something mysterious, such as a determination to prevent us at all hazards from discovering the secrets of that mountain stronghold.

When I put the riddle to Hans, who was lying next to me, he was ready with another solution.

“They are men-eaters, Baas,” he said, “and being hungry, wish to eat us before they get to their own land where doubtless they are not allowed to eat each other.”

“Do you think so,” I answered, “when we are so thin?” and I surveyed Hans’ scraggy form in the moonlight.

“Oh! yes, Baas, we should be quite good boiled—­like old hens, Baas.  Also it is the nature of cannibals to prefer thin man to fat beef.  The devil that is in them gives them that taste, Baas, just as he makes me like gin, or you turn your head to look at pretty women, as those Zulus say you always did in their country, especially at a certain witch who was named Mameena and whom you kissed before everybody——­”

Here I turned my head to look at Hans, proposing to smite him with words, or physically, since to have this Mameena myth, of which I have detailed the origin in the book called Child of Storm, re-arise out of his hideous little mouth was too much.  But before I could get out a syllable he held up his finger and whispered,

“Hush! the dawn breaks and they come.  I hear them.”

I listened intently but could distinguish nothing.  Only straining my eyes, presently I thought that about a hundred yards down the slope beneath us in the dim light I caught sight of ghostlike figures flitting from tree to tree; also that these figures were drawing nearer.

“Look out!” I said to Robertson on my right, “I believe they are coming.”

“Man,” he answered sternly, “I hope so, for whom else have I wanted to meet all these days?”

Now the figures vanished into a little fold of the ground.  A minute or so later they re-appeared upon its hither side where such light as there was from the fading stars and the gathering dawn fell full upon them, for here were no trees.  I looked and a thrill of horror went through me, for with one glance I recognised that these were not the men whom we had been following.  To begin with, there were many more of them, quite a hundred, I should think, also they had painted shields, wore feathers in their hair, and generally so far as I could judge, seemed to be fat and fresh.

“We have been led into an ambush,” I said first in Zulu to Umslopogaas immediately in front, and then in English to Robertson.

“If so, man, we must just do the best we can,” answered the latter, “but God help my poor daughter, for those other devils will have taken her away, leaving their brethren to make an end of us.”

“It is so, Macumazahn,” broke in Umslopogaas.  “Well, whatever the end of it, we shall have a better fight.  Now do you give the word and we will obey.”