slopogaas, who looked at it and said,

"If we are to climb that, Macumazahn, I think that the only one who will
live to get to the top will be that little yellow monkey of yours," and
he pointed with his axe at Hans.

"If I do," replied that worthy, much nettled, for he hated to be called
a "yellow monkey" by the Zulus, "be sure that I will roll down stones
upon any black butcher whom I see sprawling upon the cliff below."

Umslopogaas smiled grimly, for he had a sense of humour and could
appreciate a repartee even when it hit him hard. Then we stopped talking
for the climb took all our breath.

At length we came to the cliff face where, to all appearance, our
journey must end. Suddenly, however, out of the blind black wall in
front of us started the apparition of a tall man armed with a great
spear and wearing a white robe, who challenged us hoarsely.

Suddenly he stood before us, as a ghost might do, though whence he came
we could not see. Presently the mystery was explained. Here in the cliff
face there was a cleft, though one invisible even from a few paces away,
since its outer edge projected over the inner wall of rock. Moreover,
this opening was not above four feet in width, a mere split in the huge
mountain mass caused by some titanic convulsion in past ages. For it was
a definite split since, once entered, far, far above could be traced
a faint line of light coming from the sky, although the gloom of the
passage was such that torches, which were stored at hand, must be used
by those who threaded it. One man could have held the place against a
hundred--until he was killed. Still, it was guarded, not only at the
mouth where the warrior had appeared, but further along at every turn in
the jagged chasm, and these were many.

Into this grim place we went. The Zulus did not like it at all, for
they are a light-loving people and I noted that even Umslopogaas
seemed scared and hung back a little. Nor did Hans, who with his usual
suspicion, feared some trap; nor, for the matter of that, did I, though
I thought it well to appear much interested. Only Robertson seemed quite
indifferent and trudged along stolidly after a man carrying a torch.

Old Billali put his head out of the litter and shouted back to me
to fear nothing, since there were no pitfalls in the path, his voice
echoing strangely between those narrow walls of measureless height.

For half an hour or more we pursued this dreary, winding path round the