the listeners were those sombre words, over
whose meaning he had so anxiously pondered. This, then, was the fearful
vengeance promised by the Gcaleka warrior. And for many months his
wretched victim had lain here a raving maniac--had lain here in a
darkness as of the very pit of hell--had lain among noisome serpents--
among crawling horrors untold--small wonder his reason had given way
after a single night of such, as his tormentor had just declared. Small
wonder that he had indeed lost his mind!

A fiendish yell burst from the maniac. Suddenly a great serpent was
thrown upward from the pit. Petrified with horror, the watchers saw its
thick, writhing form fly through the air and light on the
witch-doctress's shoulder. With a shrill laugh the hag merely seized
the wriggling, squirming reptile, which, with crest waving, was hissing
like a fury, and hurled it back into the pit again. What sort of
devil's influence was protecting these people, that they could handle
the most deadly reptiles with absolute impunity? Were they, indeed,
under some demoniac spell? To one, however, among the white spectators,
the real solution of the mystery may have suggested itself.

"Here are thy bones, dog," resumed the great barbarian, throwing what
looked like a half-filled sack into the hole. "Here is thy drink," and
he lowered a large calabash at the end of a string. "Eat, drink, and
keep up thy strength. Perhaps one day I may turn thee loose again. Who
knows! Then when thy people see thee coming they will cry: `Here comes
Hlangani's Revenge.' And they will fly from thee in terror, as from the
approach of a fell disease."

The watchers looked at each other. These last words, coupled with the
act of throwing down the food, seemed to point to the speedy conclusion
of the visit. They could hear the miserable victim mumbling and
crunching what sounded like literally bones, and growling like a dog.
But Hlangani went on.

"Wouldst thou not rather have gone to feed the black ants, or have died
the death of the red-hot stones, Umlilwane? Thou wouldst be at rest
now. And now thou hast only just begun to live--alone in the darkness--
alone with the serpents--a man whose mind is gone. Thou wilt never see
the light of day again. _Whau_! The sun is shining like gold outside.
And thy wife, Umlilwane--thy beautiful wife--tall and graceful, like the
stem of the budding _umbona_ [Maize]--dost thou never think of her? Ha!
There