In fact, it proved to be a very long way indeed, especially as after we began to breast the mountain, we must travel slowly.  We started about ten o’clock in the morning, for the fight which after all did not take long—­had, it will be remembered, begun shortly after dawn, and it was three in the afternoon before we reached the base of the towering cliff which I have mentioned.

Here, at the foot of a remarkable, isolated column of rock, on which I was destined to see a strange sight in the after days, we halted and ate of the remaining food which we had brought with us, while the Amahagger consumed their own, that seemed to consist largely of curdled milk, such as the Zulus call maas, and lumps of a kind of bread.

I noted that they were a very curious people who fed in silence and on whose handsome, solemn faces one never saw a smile.  Somehow it gave me the creeps to look at them.  Robertson was affected in the same way, for in one of the rare intervals of his abstraction he remarked that they were “no canny.”  Then he added,

“Ask yon old wizard who might be one of the Bible prophets come to life—­what those man-eating devils have done with my daughter.”

I did so, and Billali answered,

“Say that they have taken her away to make a queen of her, since having rebelled against their own queen, they must have another who is white.  Say too that She-who-commands will wage war on them and perhaps win her back, unless they kill her first.”

“Ah!” Robertson repeated when I had translated, “unless they kill her first—­or worse.”  Then he relapsed into his usual silence.

Presently we started on again, heading straight for what looked like a sheer wall of black rock a thousand feet or more in height, up a path so steep that Robertson and I got out and walked, or rather scrambled, in order to ease the bearers.  Billali, I noticed, remained in his litter.  The convenience of the bearers did not trouble him; he only ordered an extra gang to the poles.  I could not imagine how we were to negotiate this precipice.  Nor could Umslopogaas, who looked at it and said,

“If we are to climb that, Macumazahn, I think that the only one who will live to get to the top will be that little yellow monkey of yours,” and he pointed with his axe at Hans.

“If I do,” replied that worthy, much nettled, for he hated to be called a “yellow monkey” by the Zulus, “be sure that I will roll down stones upon any black butcher whom I see sprawling upon the cliff below.”

Umslopogaas smiled grimly, for he had a sense of humour and could appreciate a repartee even when it hit him hard.  Then we stopped talking for the climb took all our breath.

At length we came to the cliff face where, to all appearance, our journey must end.  Suddenly, however, out of the blind black wall in front of us started the apparition of a tall man armed with a great spear and wearing a white robe, who challenged us hoarsely.