"We have been on the march all day and are weary," he said then. "But in the morning we will rid you of this scourge." He spoke as though he had only to raise his hand and the thing would be done. "But, O Moshesh, if it find favor in your sight, we would crave a reward for the loss of our time." "Two golden tusks shall be yours," the chief rejoined, with an air of indifference. "It is well. May my guests sleep long and happily, free from the spirit of evil dreams, and awake with the strength of fourscore lions. I have spoken." He made a signal, and three men came forward to conduct the white hunters to the hut that had been allotted to them. In spite of the strangeness of their quarters, they were soon wrapped in deep slumber, secure in the fact that their mission would protect them from the rapacity of the Selekes. At ten o'clock the next morning the hunt set forth. Conquering his fears, Moshesh had made the occasion a species of celebration, and the Selekes had turned out almost en masse to witness the destruction of the beast that had terrorized them for so long. Gontze, who appeared to possess as much bravery as all the rest of the tribe put together, had constituted himself guide, as he was aware of the exact situation of the animal's lair. For half an hour they walked on through the jungle, which grew more and more impenetrable as they progressed, until they were forced to have a party of men with knives to carve a way through the undergrowth. "We near the spot, Strongarm," Gontze murmured presently, pointing to a cross hacked in the wood of a date-palm. "I placed that mark there myself when I was here before, knowing that the creepers spread themselves faster than one can cut them down. The lion's lair is through there." He paused as he spoke, pointing with outstretched arm to a dim, mysterious glade that lay directly ahead. It was a wild, bushy kloof, covered by a maze of Kafir bean, acacia, spekboem, geranium, plumbago, euphorbia, and a score of other growths to which no man can put a name. Shielded from the hot rays of the copper-colored sun, it looked cool and delightful to the eye, but the party of Selekes shrank back at Gontze's words, surveying the place with a horror that was half-superstitious. "So that is where my lord lives, is it?" Paul muttered, as he stooped to peer along the dim aisles of jungle, starred with flowers like candles in some vast cathedral. "I see no sign of a spoor." "Said I not that the weeds grow almost visibly, O Strongarm?" Gontze, to whom the remark was addressed, returned. "The lion gorged himself two suns ago, and still lies sleeping. The grass has covered his spoor." Paul Armstrong nodded, and stepped aside to confer with his chum.