"I would have helped, if I could."

"You did help," said the Hunter, earnestly. "If it had not been for you we should have been killed while we slept. You saved our lives, just as you saved the valley by your thought of letting the water out."

Venning was comforted. He rose up on his elbow to have another look at d.i.c.k, saw that the colour was coming back into the white face, and leant back on his pillow.

In the morning Muata came into the cave, staggering like a drunken man from loss of blood, and at his heels limped the jackal with his tongue out.

"Well?" said the Hunter.

"The last fell on the sh.o.r.es of the dead pool, and the last was Ha.s.san himself."

The chiefs bloodshot eyes roamed over the cave, until they rested on Venning's startled face.

"On the brink of the pool he fell, and where he fell there, too, was the Inkosikase." It seemed as if he were addressing the remark to Venning.

"I heard her call 'Ngonyama' in the night," whispered the boy.

"Wow!"

"So the young chief told me after you had gone," said the Hunter.

Venning nodded his head.

The chief accepted the explanation. "The Inkosikase waited for the wolf by the water's edge," he said simply, "and I smote him behind the ear. So her spirit is at rest."

"Let me see to your wounds, chief."

"Wow! It is well my people should see them;" and the warrior went down with unsteady steps to the village, leaving a trail of blood; and when the people had shouted in triumph at his story of the last fight, the medicine men took him into their charge, when his life was in danger of escaping through one of those gaping cuts made by Arab swords on his body.

For a fortnight Mr. Hume nursed his young friends back to health, and for a week they sat and walked in the sun, slowly regaining strength; and then came the first forerunner of the rains in a day of pelting showers.

"It is the beginning," said Muata, who was proud of his newly healed scars. "You must come down into the valley."

"There was something said about the full moon," said Mr. Hume, suspiciously.

The chief laughed. "It was the wish of the Inkosikase; but now she is gone, it is in my heart to take the wives to myself. But there are others, Ngonyama."

"No, chief," said the Hunter, quickly. "How do you live in the rains, chief? Is there much discomfort?"

"Wow! it is the red pig's life--mud all about; and there is much sickness, for the people crowd together in the huts."

"I suppose we must stay and make the best of it; but the huts are small."

"They are the best we can make."

"I don't know," said Venning, thoughtfully, with his eyes on the opposite cliff. "I see there are trees up there. Is there a way up?"

"There is a goats'-track. What is in your mind, young wise one?"

"We will climb up that goats'-path, chief," said Venning, "with all the men, cut down many of those trees, and roll them over the cliff into the valley. Then will we build a great house, and the women will gather gra.s.s and reeds for the thatching of it."

"It would be a good plan, if it could be done."

"We'll do it," said the Hunter; "but if we are to stay here, we must bring up the boat, and you must let us have some of your men."

"All," said the chief; and that day the Okapi was brought up in sections.

Then Venning's scheme was taken in hand, the cliff scaled, a hundred trees felled, and rolled over as they fell, with all the branches on. Then they returned to the valley, drew the fallen trees out, lopped off the branches, shaped the poles, dug holes, and got the uprights into position. Then followed the ridge-poles and the sideposts, and the roof took shape, to the wonder of the women, a n.o.ble span covering some thousands of square feet, with a length of one hundred and fifty feet, and a height of fifty feet. As the supporting rafters were laid, the women climbed up and set to work at the thatching, using long bands of bark for the binding. And while the women worked at the roof, the men built up stone walls, under directions of the architects. The great house built, a smaller one was made for the women, to serve as a general kitchen, with great stacks of wood piled up all round for the fires. The entire population was kept hard at it for a week, and when the work was done, there was a grand ceremony over the wedding of Muata; and then one morning they awoke to find a low grey canopy drawn over the valley, from which fell a steady drizzle of rain. The next day was like the first, and so on for nearly three months there was a perpetual mist in the valley, a long dismal succession of leaden skies hanging low. One of these days the three white friends, in company with Muata, paid a visit to the underground world to obtain a supply of sulphur to serve as a disinfectant and purifier--another idea of Venning's. They found the dark pa.s.sages thundering to the fall of the water, but they found no signs whatever of living creatures. With their loads of sulphur they very soon left the forbidding place, and for some days after the unhappy people of the village had to submit to the terrors of fumigation. As the "medicine" was undoubtedly strong, and as it certainly stopped the progress of sickness that had broken out, the "Spider" rose in the estimation of the people as a great wizard.

At last the curtains were drawn, the blue of the sky appeared, and the valley glittered in the brilliant sunlight.

Then the women went singing to their gardens, the men prepared for the hunt, and the white chiefs got out their shining canoe from its wrappings, rubbed it with fat, and polished it with wood-ashes till it shone like a looking-gla.s.s.

"Ton will go, then?" said Muata.

"If your men will carry the pieces down to the larger river below the gates, we will thank you."

The men went off singing, six men to each section, and in the afternoon the Okapi was once more in her proper element.

"And which way will you go, Ngonyama?"

"We have thought it over during the rains, chief. We will go back through the open water, back past the place where we landed in the forest, back into the great river, and then south, even to the farthest reaches of the Congo, when we shall be among people I know.

There we will get carriers to take the boat to the waters of another great river, the Zambesi."

"Towards the setting sun," said Muata. "And you will want a man?"

"Two men, we would ask; and one of them, the Angoni warrior, who did so well in the fight, for his country is to the south."

"Only one man you can have," said the chief, shortly.

They had said their good-bye to the people in the valley, who had wept at their departure, for the white men had done much for them, and never before had they borne the visitation of the rains with so little discomfort.

Now they said good-bye to the chief, the man who had shared so much of danger with them, whose shield had been their shield, whose spear had been theirs to command.

It was difficult to say good-bye, for he seemed moody, answered them in monosyllables, and at last, after a curt nod, left them long before they were ready to go. And when at last they were heading down the broad river to the old pleasant music of the clanging levers, the edge of their joy was blunted by the thought of the warrior's lowering looks.

"I'm sorry," said Mr. Hume, for the third time.

"I believe he has had something on his mind for days past," said Venning; "and yesterday I saw him arguing with the headmen."

"Yet he never opposed our going. I have never seen him like that before. Hang it all, I can't bear to think we have left him looking so down;" and Compton banged the lever over.

They went on in silence for a mile, still thinking over Muata, when the Angoni, who was on watch, cried out--

"Congela!"

"What do you see?"