ble his brain."

"We are wolves; we would tear him down in his strength, while his
blood is red."

"Terrible is the trunk of Indhlovu, and terrible is the arm of
Ngonyama. In his hand is a broad knife, and with one stroke will he
split a head. Let the darkness hold him."

"We hunger, and he will go. The wizard will claim him for his own;
the dark waters will drag him down. Give him to us."

"He watches over his cub, and who so fierce as the lion who protects
his young? The cub will sicken. The sound of the waters will trouble
his brain; his spirit will fly before the terror of the darkness.
Wait, my sisters, till his cub be dead."

"Demons!" cried the Hunter, his patience gone in a storm of fury.
"Away!" He sprang forward with a roar, and his knife, whistling
through the air, fell upon the gleaming cone, and struck from it
sparks of fire.

With cries of fear the women--if women they were--fled, their lights
showing again from the second exit, where was the beaten footway,
and then out of the dark tunnel came a peal of fiendish laughter.
Then silence, or, rather, a relief from the mocking voices; but
there was a reminder of their presence in one of those pale greenish
lights. He strode towards it, saw it had been dropped, picked it up,
and found that it came from some substance held in a bag of open
network. With a short laugh he saw it was fungus, a discovery that
took all the mystery out of the recent performance, and since it
appeared that the only thing formidable about his persecutors was
their trickery in making the most of the terrors of the dark, he
remade the fire, for there was no mistaking the chillness of the
air. As he thought over the fantastic doings of the visitors, he
laughed again, and presently feeling the warmth of the fire, he
yawned and closed his eyes.

"Only a parcel of women," he muttered, and was asleep.

And as he slept, believing there was no danger, the shadows closed
in as the fire dwindled--closed in, taking queer shapes. Across the
smooth, gleaming surface of the cone these shadows came, like
stooping forms, with long lean arms. There were whisperings, too,
"clicks" made by the tongue, and Venning, opening his eyes, suddenly
heard these sounds at once, notwithstanding the walls of the cavern
trembled to the hollow thunder of the waters. His eyes fell upon
something beyond-the fire. He did not move, or cry out, or wonder
where he was; his mind was focussed like his wide-opened ey