rowd, but
in the exaltation of the hour no thought is given to these. They may
drop out and die; none can afford to waste time over them.

For nearly an hour the advance continues, the black mass pouring, like
ants, over every obstacle--over stones, rocks, uprooted tree-trunks--
winding through a tortuous valley bottom, the granite crags, towering
aloft in their immensity, looking down as though in cold scornful
indifference upon this pigmy outburst of mere human excitement, and then
the way opens, becoming comparatively clear. The "Abantwana 'Mlimo"
slacken their pace, and then the whole body is brought to a halt.

The spot is a comparatively open one save for the long dry grass. In
front is a belt of acacias; but behind, and towering above this, there
rises an immense mass of solid granite, its apex about two hundred feet
above the bottom of the hollow--a remarkable pile, smoother and more
compact than the surrounding crags, and right in the centre of its face
is a black spot about twelve feet square.

The blackness, however, is the effect of gloom. This spot is the mouth
of a hole or cave.

In dead silence now the multitude crouches, all eyes fixed expectantly
upon the black yawning mouth. Yet, what can appear there within, for
the rock face is inaccessible to any save winged creatures? A cleft,
passing the hole, traverses obliquely the entire pile, but as
unavailable for purposes of ascent as the granite face itself. No
living being can climb up thence. Another vertical crack descends from
above. That, too, is equally unavailable. Yet, with awe-stricken
countenances, the whole assembly, crouching in semicircular formation,
are straining their eyeballs upon the gaping aperture.

In front are the hierarchs of the grim Abstraction. If here indeed is
the home of the latter it is well chosen, for a scene of more utter
wildness and desolation than this weird, granite-surrounded fastness is
hardly imaginable. The great round moon, floating on high, seems to the
impressionable multitude to lower and spread--almost to burn.

And now the "Abantwana 'Mlimo" rise from their squatting posture, and,
forming into a double line, their faces lifted towards the black, gaping
hole, begin to sing. Their chant rolls forth in a regular rhythm, but
the usual accompaniment of the stamping of feet is at first absent. But
the song, the wild savage harmony of voices fitting well into their
parts, is more tuneful, more melo