way."

The valley was only a few hundred yards away, but it seemed to him
that he must have left it ages ago. Every second had been charged
with a new sensation since he left the brightness outside, and each
slow, wary, suspicious movement he made had in it a whole sequence
of fears. Would he slip? "Would his foot fall on firm rock? Would
something--he knew not what--grab him from out that awful pit? Would
some one or something--he was sure there was something creeping
behind--would it spring on him? Would that woman's hand suddenly
shoot out from some crevice and hurl the both of them headlong? Was
it never coming to an end? And the rock was shaking worse than ever!
It would be easier to crawl! Of course it would. He went down on his
hands and knees and laughed, because it was so easy. There was
something on his back, something that jogged about and hit him on
the side of the head, that gripped him round the chest! What was it?
He felt gingerly, and laughed again. His carbine! What was the use
of a carbine there? No good, of course. What a joke to throw it down
and hear the splash, or, better, to fire it off and hear the echoes!

"Venning!"

The boy chuckled as he sat on the ledge tugging at the buckle.

"Why, lad!"

The great hands closed on the boy, lifted him up, and bore him
lightly as the man felt his way with his feet. He counted his steps,
assuring himself that before he came to seventy-five they would be
at the end.

"Ngonyama!" cried a voice, quite close.

"We are coming, mother."

"Ngonyama! Ngonyama! Ngonyama!" and the voice grew fainter.

"Wait--wait, O mother of chiefs, for the way is dark, and we move
slow."

"Slower fast, slower fast, Ngonyama, it matters not."

"It is far, mother! Are we near the end?"

"Near the end--very near! Is it the dead ye carry, Ngonyama?"

"Nay, mother; the boy is but sick. But where are you, that ye see
and are not seen, that your voice is near and yet far?"

The woman laughed. "So ye grow afraid, O great one? Said I not,
Indhlovu, that this was not your path? Death is around."

Mr. Hume went forward steadily, counting his paces to keep his mind
from wandering, and to his great joy he came suddenly on an opening
in the wall which led towards welcome light, away from the horrors
of that unfathomable pit. The woman waited for him there, looking
very tall against the light.

"The boy is sick, mother--a little water."

"It is water now. Outside it was the h