It was an impressive scene within the compound. The way to the royal kraal was lined by three hundred men and women, all decked in gay plumes and brightly colored garments woven of dyed grasses, and the lights of the torches glittered on spear-points and greasy skins with weird effect, which was enhanced by the guttural thud-thud of the tom-toms and the eery, demoniac blast of cowhide horns. When they entered the kraal of Moshesh, however, the uproar ceased abruptly, and in the midst of intense stillness they walked across the rush-covered floor to where the chief was seated upon a throne of buffalo-robes. He was an elderly, white-haired man, with a circlet of ivory upon his brow, as a symbol of his authority. He seemed even more civilized than the tribe, and as Paul and Jack bowed before him he addressed them in fluent English. "Welcome, white men! May you live forever, and remember always the kraal of Moshesh with happiness! Be you seated." The two hunters obeyed in silence, knowing that it would not be etiquette to speak until food had been placed before them. Moshesh, descending from his throne, squatted before them in a very unkinglike manner, and they were soon partaking of roast monkey, pressed betel-nuts, and similar dishes, to which they had become inured by custom. The repast concluded, Moshesh, who had eaten enough for four ordinary men, rolled over so that he could lean his fat back against the wall, and in a few melancholy sentences conveyed to his guests the story that had already been told in part by Gontze. The substance of his recital was that, a month previously, the headman of the village had mysteriously disappeared, and as--the chief said gravely--he was very useful, a search-party had been organized by the bereaved relatives. During the hunt they had come upon the lair of a monster lion, and one of the party had paid the penalty with his life. The lion, in a few days, had proved not only to be a man-eater, but a man-hunter. If a Seleke ventured alone beyond the stockade, he was seldom seen again, and two men had been snatched literally from the very gates. Hunting was at an end; they could only go for their water in a strong body and at a great risk, and were, in fact, living in a state of siege, while the man-hunter slowly but surely diminished their numbers, with a cunning and ferocity that proved him to be the dwelling-place of a very evil spirit indeed. If they organized a hunt, he disappeared entirely, and, said Moshesh, they were at their wit's end when they heard that the mighty white hunters, with their lightning-rods, had honored the country of the Seleke with their distinguished presence. Paul, who was the spokesman, allowed the chief to bring his rambling recital to an end before he spoke.