The village soon was left behind, and the little band went slowly over the ridge and down the long slope, into a narrow valley, and at dusk reached the broken veld that stretches up to the frowning height of Hlobane. It was very silent. The burghers smoked, but talked not; and very plain, and seeming very near, came the dismal baying of a Zulu dog from a lofty kraal on Zunguin Nek, where a fire gleamed red through the dark. "There are men there," said the Commandant in a guttural whisper. "We must ride hard in the morning when we return." "Ja!" said Oom Jan; "else they will cut us off. I hope they will eat and drink much this night, so that they sleep fast." The other burghers glanced up at the red fire and round into the darkness, as if calculating which way they would ride in case they were cut off. Young Piet Uys breathed hard. He had often looked at the steep height of Zunguin's Kop from afar--and now the dark mass that seemed to shut out half the sky oppressed him with the sense of hidden danger. Moreover, he was hungry and cold. They had been four hours in the saddle, and it was surely time they stopped? Why didn't they tell his father that the horses would grow tired, and that men couldn't go on all night without feeding and warming themselves? "There is water here," he ventured, "and good grass." "Ja!" growled Oom Jan. "Perhaps we will stop soon," said the boy timidly. A burgher on his left grunted, and young Piet felt that he had said something stupid. There was deeper silence now, for they were riding in a hollow, and he heard the sound of eating. Why were they eating? Perhaps they would not stop! "If we stop," said Oom Jan, as if answering his thoughts, "we shall not get there before sun-up." Young Piet sighed heavily and thought of his rheim bed at home, and then of the little mother. He felt now why it was she cried when he left. This was weary work--this blundering on over rocks and through cold streams, with none of the rush and excitement he had pictured. "And if we do not get there before sun-up," continued Oom Jan, in his slow way, "we lose the cattle and all." "Hold still!" came a muttered command from the leader. The men drew up, and the horses shook their heads, then pricked their ears, as out of the darkness ahead came the murmur of a chant, swelling up to a deep boom, and sinking again till almost inaudible. "They dance and make merry," said the leader. "Ride!" Once more the horses moved on, picking their way, while each man unslung his rifle and held it with the butt on his thigh. And louder rose that monotonous chant, mounting to the shrill notes of the women's voices, and sinking to the menacing bass of the warrior's deep chest notes; and presently there suddenly started out of the gloom a score of gleaming fires in a circle at the base of a vast bulk that stood for Hlobane.