e
heart of a mountain in some primeval age, lay one of the most gloomy
places that ever I had beheld. It was a vast cleft in which granite
boulders were piled up fantastically, perched one upon another in great
columns, and upon its sides grew dark trees set sparsely among the
rocks. It faced towards the west, but the light of the sinking sun that
flowed up it served only to accentuate its vast loneliness, for it was a
big cleft, the best part of a mile wide at its mouth.

Up this dreary gorge we marched, mocked at by chattering baboons and
following a little path not a foot wide that led us at length to a large
hut and several smaller ones set within a reed fence and overhung by a
gigantic mass of rock that looked as though it might fall at any moment.
At the gate of the fence two natives of I know not what tribe, men of
fierce and forbidding appearance, suddenly sprang out and thrust their
spears towards my breast.

"Whom bring you here, Saduko?" asked one of them sternly.

"A white man that I vouch for," he answered. "Tell Zikali that we wait
on him."

"What need to tell Zikali that which he knows already?" said the sentry.
"Your food and that of your companion is already cooked in yonder hut.
Enter, Saduko, with him for whom you vouch."

So we went into the hut and ate, also I washed myself, for it was a
beautifully clean hut, and the stools, wooden bowls, etc., were finely
carved out of red ivory wood, this work, Saduko informed me, being done
by Zikali's own hand. Just as we were finishing our meal a messenger
came to tell us that Zikali waited our presence. We followed him across
an open space to a kind of door in the tall reed fence, passing which I
set eyes for the first time upon the famous old witch-doctor of whom so
many tales were told.

Certainly he was a curious sight in those strange surroundings, for they
were very strange, and I think their complete simplicity added to the
effect. In front of us was a kind of courtyard with a black floor made
of polished ant-heap earth and cow-dung, two-thirds of which at least
was practically roofed in by the huge over-hanging mass of rock whereof
I have spoken, its arch bending above at a height of not less than
sixty or seventy feet from the ground. Into this great, precipice-backed
cavity poured the fierce light of the setting sun, turning it and all
within it, even the large straw hut in the background, to the deep hue
of blood. Seeing the wonderful effect