Part 3 (1/2)

”Yes, yes,” she answered in a pleased voice, ”it is a good word. I will wait till you are dead and then I will take the ring, and none can say that I have stolen it, for Nahoon there will bear me witness that you gave me permission to do so.”

For the first time Hadden started, since there was something about the Bee's tone that jarred upon him. Had she addressed him in her professional manner, he would have thought nothing of it; but in her cupidity she had become natural, and it was evident that she spoke from conviction, believing her own words.

She saw him start, and instantly changed her note.

”Let the white lord forgive the jest of a poor old witch-doctoress,” she said in a whining voice. ”I have so much to do with Death that his name leaps to my lips,” and she glanced first at the circle of skulls about her, then towards the waterfall that fed the gloomy pool upon whose banks her hut was placed.

”Look,” she said simply.

Following the line of her outstretched hand Hadden's eyes fell upon two withered mimosa trees which grew over the fall almost at right angles to its rocky edge. These trees were joined together by a rude platform made of logs of wood lashed down with _riems_ of hide. Upon this platform stood three figures; notwithstanding the distance and the spray of the fall, he could see that they were those of two men and a girl, for their shapes stood out distinctly against the fiery red of the sunset sky.

One instant there were three, the next there were two--for the girl had gone, and something dark rus.h.i.+ng down the face of the fall, struck the surface of the pool with a heavy thud, while a faint and piteous cry broke upon his ear.

”What is the meaning of that?” he asked, horrified and amazed.

”Nothing,” answered the Bee with a laugh. ”Do you not know, then, that this is the place where faithless women, or girls who have loved without the leave of the king, are brought to meet their death, and with them their accomplices. Oh! they die here thus each day, and I watch them die and keep the count of the number of them,” and drawing a tally-stick from the thatch of the hut, she took a knife and added a notch to the many that appeared upon it, looking at Nahoon the while with a half-questioning, half-warning gaze.

”Yes, yes, it is a place of death,” she muttered. ”Up yonder the quick die day by day and down there”--and she pointed along the course of the river beyond the pool to where the forest began some two hundred yards from her hut--”the ghosts of them have their home. Listen!”

As she spoke, a sound reached their ears that seemed to swell from the dim skirts of the forests, a peculiar and unholy sound which it is impossible to define more accurately than by saying that it seemed beastlike, and almost inarticulate.

”Listen,” repeated the Bee, ”they are merry yonder.”

”Who?” asked Hadden; ”the baboons?”

”No, _Inkoos_, the _Amatongo_--the ghosts that welcome her who has just become of their number.”

”Ghosts,” said Hadden roughly, for he was angry at his own tremors, ”I should like to see those ghosts. Do you think that I have never heard a troop of monkeys in the bush before, mother? Come, Nahoon, let us be going while there is light to climb the cliff. Farewell.”

”Farewell _Inkoos_, and doubt not that your wish will be fulfilled. Go in peace _Inkoos_--to sleep in peace.”

CHAPTER III

THE END OF THE HUNT

The prayer of the Bee notwithstanding, Philip Hadden slept ill that night. He felt in the best of health, and his conscience was not troubling him more than usual, but rest he could not. Whenever he closed his eyes, his mind conjured up a picture of the grim witch-doctoress, so strangely named the Bee, and the sound of her evil-omened words as he had heard them that afternoon. He was neither a superst.i.tious nor a timid man, and any supernatural beliefs that might linger in his mind were, to say the least of it, dormant. But do what he might, he could not shake off a certain eerie sensation of fear, lest there should be some grains of truth in the prophesyings of this hag. What if it were a fact that he was near his death, and that the heart which beat so strongly in his breast must soon be still for ever--no, he would not think of it. This gloomy place, and the dreadful sight which he saw that day, had upset his nerves. The domestic customs of these Zulus were not pleasant, and for his part he was determined to be clear of them so soon as he was able to escape the country.

In fact, if he could in any way manage it, it was his intention to make a dash for the border on the following night. To do this with a good prospect of success, however, it was necessary that he should kill a buffalo, or some other head of game. Then, as he knew well, the hunters with him would feast upon meat until they could scarcely stir, and that would be his opportunity. Nahoon, however, might not succ.u.mb to this temptation; therefore he must trust to luck to be rid of him. If it came to the worst, he could put a bullet through him, which he considered he would be justified in doing, seeing that in reality the man was his jailor. Should this necessity arise, he felt indeed that he could face it without undue compunction, for in truth he disliked Nahoon; at times he even hated him. Their natures were antagonistic, and he knew that the great Zulu distrusted and looked down upon him, and to be looked down upon by a savage ”n.i.g.g.e.r” was more than his pride could stomach.

At the first break of dawn Hadden rose and roused his escort, who were still stretched in sleep around the dying fire, each man wrapped in his kaross or blanket. Nahoon stood up and shook himself, looking gigantic in the shadows of the morning.

”What is your will, _Umlungu_ (white man), that you are up before the sun?”

”My will, _Muntumpofu_ (yellow man), is to hunt buffalo,” answered Hadden coolly. It irritated him that this savage should give him no t.i.tle of any sort.

”Your pardon,” said the Zulu reading his thoughts, ”but I cannot call you _Inkoos_ because you are not my chief, or any man's; still if the t.i.tle 'white man' offends you, we will give you a name.”

”As you wish,” answered Hadden briefly.

Accordingly they gave him a name, _Inhlizin-mgama_, by which he was known among them thereafter, but Hadden was not best pleased when he found that the meaning of those soft-sounding syllables was ”Black Heart.” That was how the _inyanga_ had addressed him--only she used different words.