tic conditions were not conducive to cheerfulness, for
shortly after sunset it began to rain and poured for most of the night,
which, as we had little shelter, was inconvenient both to us and to all
the hundreds of the homeless Mazitu.

However, the rain ceased in due time, and on the following morning
the welcome sun shone out of a clear sky. When we had dried and warmed
ourselves a little in its rays, someone suggested that we should visit
the burned-out town where, except for some smouldering heaps that
had been huts, the fire was extinguished by the heavy rain. More from
curiosity than for any other reason I consented and accompanied by
Bausi, Babemba and many of the Mazitu, all of us, except Brother John,
who remained behind to attend to the wounded, climbed over the debris
of the south gate and walked through the black ruins of the huts, across
the market-place that was strewn with dead, to what had been our own
quarters.

These were a melancholy sight, a mere heap of sodden and still smoking
ashes. I could have wept when I looked at them, thinking of all the
trade goods and stores that were consumed beneath, necessities for the
most part, the destruction of which must make our return journey one of
great hardship.

Well, there was nothing to be said or done, so after a few minutes of
contemplation we turned to continue our walk through what had been the
royal quarters to the north gate. Hans, who, I noted, had been ferreting
about in his furtive way as though he were looking for something, and I
were the last to leave. Suddenly he laid his hand upon my arm and said:

"Baas, listen! I hear a ghost. I think it is the ghost of Sammy asking
us to bury him."

"Bosh!" I answered, and then listened as hard as I could.

Now I also seemed to hear something coming from I knew not where, words
which were frequently repeated and which seemed to be:

"_O Mr. Quatermain, I beg you to be so good as to open the door of this
oven._"

For a while I thought I must be cracked. However, I called back the
others and we all listened. Of a sudden Hans made a pounce, like a
terrier does at the run of a mole that he hears working underground, and
began to drag, or rather to shovel, at a heap of ashes in front of us,
using a bit of wood as they were still too hot for his hands. Then we
listened again and this time heard the voice quite clearly coming from
the ground.

"Baas," said Hans, "it is Sammy in the corn-pit!"

Now I re