tlet. A fine mountain stream
came in at the north end, and at the south end, sure enough, a
considerable river debauched. My exploring zeal redoubled, and I
followed its course in a delirium of expectation. It was a noble
stream, clear as crystal, and very unlike the muddy tropical Labongo at
Umvelos'. Suddenly, about a quarter of a mile from the lake, the land
seemed to grow over it, and with a swirl and a hollow roar, it
disappeared into a mighty pot-hole. I walked a few steps on, and from
below my feet came the most uncanny rumbling and groaning. Then I knew
what old Coetzee's devil was that howled in the Rooirand.

Had I continued my walk to the edge of the cliff, I might have learned
a secret which would have stood me in good stead later. But the
descent began to make me anxious, and I retraced my steps to the top of
the chimney whence I had come. I was resolved that nothing would make
me descend by that awesome crack, so I kept on eastward along the top
to look for a better way. I found one about a mile farther on, which,
though far from easy, had no special risks save from the appalling
looseness of the debris. When I got down at length, I found that it
was near sunset. I went to the place I had bidden my native look for
me at, but, as I had feared, there was no sign of him. So, making the
best of a bad job, I had supper and a pipe, and spent a very chilly
night in a hole among the boulders.

I got up at dawn stiff and cold, and ate a few raisins for breakfast.
There was no sign of horses, so I resolved to fill up the time in
looking for the fold of the cliff which, as I had seen from the
horrible crack of yesterday, contained a gully. It was a difficult
job, for to get the sidelong view of the cliff I had to scramble
through the undergrowth of the slopes again, and even a certain way up
the kranzes. At length I got my bearings, and fixed the place by some
tall trees in the bush. Then I descended and walked westwards.

Suddenly, as I neared the place, I heard the strangest sound coming
from the rocks. It was a deep muffled groaning, so eerie and unearthly
that for the moment I stood and shivered. Then I remembered my river of
yesterday. It must be above this place that it descended into the
earth, and in the hush of dawn the sound was naturally louder. No
wonder old Coetzee had been afraid of devils. It reminded me of the
lines in Marmion--

'Diving as if condemned to lave
Some de