g her I continued to stare at the leaf. It had been
scratched or rather written upon with a sharp tool, such as a nail, and
wherever this instrument had touched it, the acid juice oozing through
the outer skin had turned a rusty blood colour. Presently I found the
beginning of the scrawl, and read this in English, and covering the
surface of the leaf and of two others that were in the basket.

"'I hear that a white man is hunting in the Matuku country. This is
to warn him to fly over the mountain to Nala. Wambe sends an impi at
daybreak to eat him up, because he has hunted before bringing hongo. For
God's sake, whoever you are, try to help me. I have been the slave of
this devil Wambe for nearly seven years, and am beaten and tortured
continually. He murdered all the rest of us, but kept me because I could
work iron. Maiwa, his wife, takes this; she is flying to Nala her father
because Wambe killed her child. Try to get Nala to attack Wambe; Maiwa
can guide them over the mountain. You won't come for nothing, for the
stockade of Wambe's private kraal is made of elephants' tusks. For
God's sake, don't desert me, or I shall kill myself. I can bear this no
longer.

"'John Every.'

"'Great heavens!' I gasped. 'Every!--why, it must be my old friend.' The
girl, or rather the woman Maiwa, pointed to the other side of the leaf,
where there was more writing. It ran thus--'I have just heard that the
white man is called Macumazahn. If so, it must be my friend Quatermain.
Pray Heaven it is, for I know he won't desert an old chum in such a fix
as I am. It isn't that I'm afraid of dying, I don't care if I die, but I
want to get a chance at Wambe first.'

"'No, old boy,' thought I to myself, 'it isn't likely that I am going
to leave you there while there is a chance of getting you out. I have
played fox before now--there's still a double or two left in me. I must
make a plan, that's all. And then there's that stockade of tusks. I am
not going to leave that either.' Then I spoke to the woman.

"'You are called Maiwa?'

"'It is so.'

"'You are the daughter of Nala and the wife of Wambe?'

"'It is so.'

"'You fly from Wambe to Nala?'

"'I do.'

"'Why do you fly? Stay, I would give an order,'--and calling to Gobo, I
ordered him to get the men ready for instant departure. The woman, who,
as I have said, was quite young and very handsome, put her hand into
a little pouch made of antelope hide which she wore fastened round the