lders disappeared under
the voluminous folds of old Josane's red blanket. Quick as lightning
Eustace had sprung to his side and whipped the running noose round him.

"_Trek_!" he cried, with an energy sufficient to start a dozen spans of
oxen.

The body of Tom Carhayes swung into the air. Kicking, struggling,
howling, he disappeared over the brink above. Eustace, alone at the
bottom of the pit, could hear the sounds of a furious scuffle--sounds,
too, which seemed to be receding as though into distance. What did it
all mean? They seemed a long time securing the maniac.

Then, as he looked around this horrible dungeon, at the crawling shapes
of the serpents gliding hither and thither, hissing with rage over their
late disturbance, as he breathed the unspeakably noisome atmosphere, he
realised his own utter helplessness. What if anything untoward should
occur to prevent his comrades from rescuing him? Life was full of
surprises. They might be attacked by a party of Kafirs, brought back
there by the missing Hlangani, for instance. What if he had merely
exchanged places with his unfortunate kinsman and were to be left there
in the darkness and horror? How long would he be able to keep his
reason? Hardly longer than the other, he feared. And the perspiration
streamed from every pore, as he began to realise what the miserable
maniac had undergone.

A silence had succeeded to the tumult above. What did it mean? Every
second seemed an hour. Then, with a start of unspeakable relief, he
heard Hoste's voice above.

"Ready to come up, old chap?"

"Very much so. Why have you taken so long?" he asked anxiously.

"We had to tie up poor Tom twice, you know; first with the big _reim_,
then with others. Then we had to undo the big _reim_ again. Here it
is," chucking it over.

Eustace slipped the noose under his armpits, and, having given the word
to haul away, a very few moments saw him among them all again. The mad
man was securely bound and even gagged, only his feet being loosened
sufficiently to enable him to take short steps.

So they started on their return track, longing with a greater longing
than words can tell, to breathe the open air, to behold the light of day
again.

To their astonishment the poor lunatic became quite tractable. As long
as Eustace talked to him, he was quiet enough and walked among the rest
as directed. One more repellent ordeal had to be gone through--the
serpents' den, to w