m how
to storm the place. Now I was sure that you were there, for I saw you
standing on that point, though they thought you were the Spirit of
Bambatse. So I wasn't anxious to help them, for then--you know what
happens when the Matabele are the stormers! But--as you still lived--I
wasn't anxious to die either. So I set them to work to dig a hole with
their assegais and sharp axes, through granite. They have completed
exactly twenty feet of it, and I reckon that there are one hundred and
forty to go. Last night they got tired of that tunnel and talked of
killing me again, unless I could show them a better plan. Now all the
fat is in the fire, and I don't know what is to happen. Hullo! here they
come. Hide in the waggon, quick!"

Benita obeyed, and from under cover of the tent where the Matabele could
not see her, watched and listened. The party that approached consisted
of a chief and about twenty men, who marched behind him as a guard.
Benita knew that chief. He was the captain Maduna, he of the royal blood
whose life she had saved. By his side was a Natal Zulu, Robert Seymour's
driver, who could speak English and acted as interpreter.

"White man," said Maduna, "a message has reached us from our king.
Lobengula makes a great war and has need of us. He summons us back from
this petty fray, this fight against cowards who hide behind walls, whom
otherwise we would have killed, everyone, yes, if we sat here till we
grew old. So for this time we leave them alone."

Robert answered politely that he was glad to hear it, and wished them a
good journey.

"Wish yourself a good journey, white man," was the stern reply.

"Why? Do you desire that I should accompany you to Lobengula?"

"No, you go before us to the kraal of the Black One who is even greater
than the child of Moselikatse, to that king who is called Death."

Robert crossed his arms and said: "Say on."

"White man, I promised you life if you would show us how to pierce or
climb those walls. But you have made fools of us--you have set us to cut
through rock with spears and axes. Yes, to hoe at rock as though it were
soil--you who with the wisdom of your people could have taught us some
better way. Therefore we must go back to our king disgraced, having
failed in his service, and therefore you who have mocked us shall die.
Come down now, that we may kill you quietly, and learn whether or no you
are a brave man."

Then it was, while her lover's hand was moving to