Whilst I mused thus over glories passed away and wondered when they had passed, Hans dug me in the ribs and, in his horrible Boer Dutch, ejaculated a single word, “_Kek!_” which, as perhaps you know, means “Look!” at the same time nodding towards the lake. I did look, and saw our canoe paddling for all it was worth, going “hell for leather,” as my old father used to say, towards the Walloo shore. “Now why is it doing that?” I asked. “I expect because something is behind it, Baas,” he replied with resignation, then sat down on a rock, pulled out his pipe, filled it, and lit a match. As usual, Hans was right, for presently from round the curve of the island there appeared two other canoes, very large canoes, rowing after ours with great energy and determination, and, as I guessed, with malignant intent. “I think those priests have seen our boat and mean to catch it, if they can,” remarked Hans, spitting reflectively, “though as Issicore has got a long start, perhaps they won’t. And now, Baas, what are we to do? We can’t live here with dead men, and stone goat is not good to eat.” I considered the situation, and my heart sank into my boots, for the position seemed desperate. A moment before I had been filled with enthusiasm over this ruined city and its fossilized remains. Now I hated the very thought of them, and wished that they were at the bottom of the lake. Thus do circumstances alter cases and our poor variable human moods. Then an idea came to me, and I said boldly, “Do! Why, there is only one thing to do. We must go to call on Heu-Heu, or his priests.” “Yes, Baas. But the Baas remembers the picture in the cave on the Berg. If it is a true picture, Heu-Heu knows how to twist off men’s heads!” “I don’t believe there is a Heu-Heu,” I said stoutly. “You will have noticed, Hans, that we have heard all sorts of stories about Heu-Heu, but that no one seems to have seen him clearly enough to give us an accurate description of what he is like or what he does—not even Zikali. He showed us a picture of the beast on his fire, but after all it was only what we had seen on the wall of the cave, and I think that he got it out of our own minds. At any rate, it is just as well to die quickly without a head, as slowly with an empty stomach, since I am sure those Walloos will never come back to look for us.” “Yes, Baas, I think so, too. Issicore used to have courage, but he seems to have changed, as though something had happened to him since he got back into his own country. And now, if the Baas is ready, I think we had better be trekking, unless, indeed, he would like to look at a few more stone men first. It is beginning to rain, Baas, and we have been much longer here than the Baas thinks, since it is a slow business crawling about these old houses. Therefore, if we are to get to the other side of the island before nightfall, it is time to go.”