e resided anywhere between the
further side of the valley and the North Pole.

Elvesdon did not press the point, knowing perfectly well that he could
find out all he wanted from other sources. Then, too, the deft way in
which the Zulu fenced all his questions appealed strongly to his sense
of the ridiculous. There was, moreover, nothing to be gained in
particular by continuing his catechism; and One of the secrets of his
success in the handling of natives was that he knew when to humour them
and when to draw a tight rein.

"Do you know who I am?" he said.

"_Inkose_ is the magistrate--the new magistrate--at Kwabulazi."

"That is so. But new only as regards Kwabulazi," returned Elvesdon
meaningly. "So knowing who I am it is not surprising if I ask: `What
has a Zulu from beyond the border to do in Babatyana's location on this
side?'"

"_Inkose_--I have always heard that under the King's rule all men are
free, whether white or black, as long as they do no harm. And I am
doing no harm."

"As long as they do no harm," repeated Elvesdon, with a touch of
significance. "That is well, Manamandhla--that is well." And he turned
away.

"Where are these crevices, Miss Thornhill? It's curious how they occur
in some of these mountain ranges. I got into one myself once, but
fortunately it wasn't particularly deep, or I should be there still."

"Where was that?"

"In the Cape Colony. I was there on leave, and put in a time with an
old official pal of mine. We went reebok-shooting in the mountains, and
I got into such a hole as one of these, stepped backwards into it.
Fortunately my pal was near enough to hear me sing out, or I might not
have been able to pull myself up."

"This is a deep one," said Edala. "Come and look. If you drop a stone
over, you hear it clanging against the sides ever so far down. Listen,
now."

She dropped a stone over, and both stood listening.

"By Jove, but it is deep," said Elvesdon. "And beastly dangerous too,
almost hidden in the grass."

Thornhill had not joined them. He was seated on the flat rock, puffing
away at his pipe. The ghastliness of the situation was known to him and
to one other there present--and here was this unthinking girl dropping
stones into this particular cleft, of all others on that mountain top--
of all others in the world.

"That is one of the `mouths' that gives not back its prey," said the
deep voice of Manamandhla. "_Whau_! It retains that whic