"Look over there, Nidia. That might be the cave of the Umlimo himself," said John Ames, pointing to a great granite cone which rose up from the valley bottom some little distance off. It was apparently about two hundred feet in height, and in the centre of its face yawned a great square hole, black and darksome. "I wonder is it?" she said, gazing with interest at what was in fact a sufficiently remarkable object, "If it isn't, it ought to be." "Look," he went on. "Imagine it a bright moonlight night, and that valley bottom crowded with about half the Matabele fighting-men, all ranged in crescent formation, looking up at the cave there. Then imagine the oracle booming forth its answers from the blackness of yonder hole. Wouldn't that make a scene--eh?" "Yes, indeed it would. But--how could anybody get up there? It looks quite inaccessible." "So it probably is. But there would be no necessity for anybody to get up there. Messrs. Shiminya and Co. would take care of that part of the entertainment, as I was telling you the other day. Well, we won't camp near it on the off chance that it may be the real place." The spot they did select for a camp-ground was some little way further on, and a wild and secluded one it was, right in among rocks and trees, and well up on the hillside. This elevated position was of further advantage in that a reedy swamp wound through the valley bottom; two water-holes of oval formation, gleaming like a pair of great eyes from its midst. "I'm afraid `skoff' is running low, Nidia," remarked John Ames, surveying gravely a pair of turtle-doves and a _swempi_, the latter a small variety of partridge, which he had knocked over with stones during their journeying. "A brace of record pedestrians can't afford to let themselves run down in condition. The English of which is that I must go out and kill something--or try to." "Mayn't I go with you?" she asked, rather wistfully. He looked doubtful. "I wish you could," he answered slowly. "But--you have walked enough the last couple of days; and apart from the discomfort to you, it is essential you should not overtire yourself. In fact, it might become a matter of life or death. No. Be good now, and remain perfectly quiet here, and rest. I'll be back before dark. Good-bye." What impulse moved her to put out both her bands to him? He took them. "Good-bye," he said again. One second more of their eyes thus meeting and his resolution would be shattered. With a farewell pressure he dropped her hands and was gone.