and shivered, but never a tear did she weep.

"'See now,' she went on, 'the white man, the prisoner at Wambe's kraal,
he was kind to me. He loved the child that is dead, yes, he wept
when its father slew it, and at the risk of his life told Wambe, my
husband--ah, yes, my husband!--that which he is! He too it was who made
a plan. He said to me, "Go, Maiwa, after the custom of thy people, go
purify thyself in the bush alone, having touched a dead one. Say to
Wambe thou goest to purify thyself alone for fifteen days, according to
the custom of thy people. Then fly to thy father, Nala, and stir him up
to war against Wambe for the sake of the child that is dead." This then
he said, and his words seemed good to me, and that same night ere I left
to purify myself came news that a white man hunted in the country, and
Wambe, being mad with drink, grew very wrath, and gave orders that an
impi should be gathered to slay the white man and his people and seize
his goods. Then did the "Smiter of Iron" (Every) write the message on
the green leaves, and bid me seek thee out, and show forth the matter,
that thou mightest save thyself by flight; and behold, this thing have I
done, Macumazahn, the hunter, the Slayer of Elephants.'

"'Ah,' I said, 'I thank you. And how many men be there in the impi of
Wambe?'

"'A hundred of men and half a hundred.'

"'And where is the impi?'

"'There to the north. It follows on thy spoor. I saw it pass yesterday,
but myself I guessed that thou wouldst be nigher to the mountain, and
came this way, and found thee. To-morrow at the daybreak the slayers
will be here.'

"'Very possibly,' I thought to myself; 'but they won't find Macumazahn.
I have half a mind to put some strychnine into the carcases of those
elephants for their especial benefit though.' I knew that they would
stop to eat the elephants, as indeed they did, to our great gain, but
I abandoned the idea of poisoning them, because I was rather short of
strychnine."

"Or because you did not like to play the trick, Quatermain?" I suggested
with a laugh.

"I said because I had not enough strychnine. It would take a great deal
of strychnine to poison three elephants effectually," answered the old
gentleman testily.

I said nothing further, but I smiled, knowing that old Allan could never
have resorted to such an artifice, however severe his strait. But that
was his way; he always made himself out to be a most unmerciful person.

"Well,"