"Shall I carry you, little one?" said the woman, with a loud laugh.

"A few steps only. A little way, and you can eat and sleep."

She pa.s.sed to the right under shelter of a cliff, and came very quickly to the door of a wide cave, that ran back some thirty feet.

"Here is your home, and in the morning the sun will look in at the door, and from the threshold, when you awake, you may sit and feast on such a sight as will gladden your eyes, for now the shadows hide it."

They threw their packages on the floor and sat down on a carpet of clean white sand.

"A little further there is water. Muata, my son, for the last time do woman's work and light the fire, while I go below for food."

"Say nothing to the people of my coming," said the chief. "Presently I will go down secretly, and see how the men bear themselves."

"Wow! I see now it is the chief, and not a carrier of wood."

She went off into the gathering gloom, but was back in the hour with a great bunch of yellow bananas, a calabash of goats'-milk, and a young kid, showing no signs of weariness for all her toil. Those bananas, growing with an upward curve against the stem to relieve the dead weight on the branch as they grew, were just then a finer sight than the most magnificent scenery, and the travellers made a great feast, which done, they stretched themselves out on the clean dry sand up there in the clean, crisp air, and slept till the sun next morning streamed into the open cave.

They woke up to find themselves alone, but not forgotten; for outside there lay a little heap of good things, including fresh eggs, a calabash of milk, sweet potatoes, and a bundle of firewood.

"By Jove!" cried Compton; "look at the view. Isn't it splendid?"

"Well, it won't vanish," said Mr. Hume, "so we'll have breakfast first."

Further on along the ledge there was a little cascade, falling into a bath-like opening evidently, from the signs, of human construction, and here, in ice-cold water, they refreshed themselves. After breakfast they were like new men. The keen air put to flight the beginnings of malaria contracted in the noisome atmosphere of the dark water-course they had last travelled, and brought the sparkle into their eyes, and a smile to the lips.

"Now for the view--for a good long look at the Garden of Rest."

"Not yet. We'll first overhaul our rifles and stock of ammunition.

This is no picnic, you know. We may be fighting for our lives to- morrow; so to work!"

Orders had to be obeyed, and the ammunition was sorted out-- providing 150 rounds for the Express, 250 rounds each for the three carbines, and 175 rounds for the shot-gun.

"That is a short supply, boys. We must be careful not to throw away a single shot; for, remember, we've got to go a long way before we reach safety, even after this business of Ha.s.san's is done. We must try and do with fifty rounds apiece in this little affair."

"Little affair!" muttered Venning, remembering the flotilla of canoes and the mob of fierce-looking cannibals.

"Big or little, we can't afford to indulge in reckless firing. One bullet, one man, is my motto."

"But we cannot all shoot like you," grumbled Venning.

"A matter of habit," said the hunter, quietly. "All you have to do is to get the advantage of position, and then it is no merit to shoot straight. Drop three men out of a hundred, and you will stop the remainder; drop thirty out of a thousand, and the same thing happens. If there are only a hundred, and you have the upper ground, let them come within two hundred yards; if the enemy is in great numbers, open at five hundred yards; and anywhere down to fifty yards according to his dwindling strength. Shoot straight every time, and the plan answers like clockwork."

"Have you tried it?"

"Many times, but only in self-defence. Now we'll just examine our position, for it is always good to have open a line of retreat."

They walked along the ledge to the mouth of the gorge up which they had ascended, saw that the ledge ended there, then retraced their steps past the cave and the bath to a spot where a break in the ledge opened up a way down into the valley.

"Just take note of that path," said the hunter, "and follow it down."

"What a beautiful spot!" said Compton.

"It does the eyes good to look on it," said Venning, enthusiastically. "See how the sun shines on the broad leaves-- banana-leaves, I think--bordering the silver stream."

"Never mind the silver stream," broke in Mr. Hume, testily. "Fix your attention on this path. Get it into your mind. See how it drops down to that solitary palm."

"Now remember that if you are down there, and have to run, you are to make for that palm, ascend here, and cut along to the gorge. Have you got that fixed? Good. Now we will go back."

At last, with their feet dangling over the edge of the ledge before the cave, they were at liberty to satisfy their longing to take their fill of the beauty outspread before them. Perhaps it was by contrast with the monotony of the forest that the scene below them seemed to them all to be the most beautiful that had ever gladdened the eyes of men. Imagine a valley about five miles in length, narrowing at each end, and opening out about the centre to a width of two miles, the sides of gra.s.s sloping up to a b.u.t.tress of rock, and rippling along the whole length into folds, with little valleys in between--narrow at the summit, where they joined the rock-wall, and wide at the base, where they opened out on the parent valley, through which flowed a broad stream, fringed its whole length with a border of pale green banana-leaves with stems of gold. In the little valleys were gardens, showing up like a chessboard pattern in neat patches of green, red, and brown, according to whether there was ripening millet, young maize, or new-turned mould. Halfway down the valley was a village of beehive-shaped huts, with an open s.p.a.ce in the centre, adorned with one fine tree, under whose spreading branches they could see distinctly the forms of men. In the strong white light every object could be easily picked out--goats browsing among the rocks at the base of the cliffs; flocks of birds circling above the gardens; fowls walking among the huts; tiny little black forms toddling in the sun, and their mothers squatting with their faces turned to the council tree.

"No women in the gardens," said Mr. Hume, "and that always means war."

Venning readjusted his gla.s.ses. "There is something I can't quite make out at the back of the village. Looks like men lying down."

Mr. Hume took the gla.s.ses and turned them on the spot. "Humph!" he muttered, while his brow clouded. "They are dead men."

"Five," said Compton.

"Yes, five. Muata has been at work!"

"Muata? He was sitting here quietly eating last night."

"Maybe it was either he or they, and he happened to be first to strike."

"It is awful!" muttered Venning.

The discovery destroyed their pleasure in the gentle beauty of the scene below, and they fell to discussing Ha.s.san's probable plan of attack, arriving at the conclusion that the chances of success were with him, when they contrasted his force with the small band of men down below.

"While they are talking," said Compton, "Ha.s.san will be seizing the best positions. Why on earth don't they do something?"

"Perhaps they are at work already," said Mr. Hume. "There is a small party coming down the valley from the left. Muata said something about Ha.s.san's determination to drown the people of the valley. He could only flood the valley by damming the stream at its outlet, which would lie to the left, and I guess those men have been seeing to the defence."

"The leading man has plumes in his head. A chief, I suppose."

"It is the chief himself, d.i.c.k."

"So it is. I can make out his Ghoorka knife. Let's give him a shout;" and the two sent a loud "coo-ee" ringing down the slope. The sound reached the ears of the little band of warriors, for they stood to look up; it also reached the people in the village with a startling effect. The men jumped up from the ground, women s.n.a.t.c.hed up children and scuttled hither and thither like ants disturbed.

From the depths below a cry came up clear and crisp--the marvellous voice of the native, trained through long centuries to speed a message of war or peace, of victory or disaster, from hill to hill.

"Ohe! Ohe! my brothers, the chief awaits you."

"Does he?" said Mr. Hume, dryly. "Then he may wait until he sends up a proper escort. Oh, here they come, I suppose," as half of Muata's body-guard detached themselves and advanced towards the palm-tree.

"Shall we go down?" said Compton, rising.

"Sit still, my lad. No chief ever hurries; and, you understand, we are all chiefs."

"Are we, though?"