“If you think that I am going with you alone, you are much mistaken, Harût and Marût,” I exclaimed. “Here with me is my servant without whom I do not stir,” and I pointed to Hans, whom they contemplated gravely. “Also there is the Lord Ragnall, who in this land is named Igeza, and his servant who here is named Bena, the man out of whom you drew snakes in the room in England. They also must accompany us.” At this news the impassive countenances of Harût and Marût showed, I thought, some signs of disturbance. They muttered together in an unknown tongue. Then Harût said: “Our secret land is open to you alone, O Macumazana, for one purpose only—to kill the elephant Jana, for which deed we promise you a great reward. We do not wish to see the others there.” “Then you can kill your own elephant, Harût and Marût, for not one step do I go with you. Why should I when there is as much ivory here as I want, to be had for the shooting?” “How if we take you, O Macumazana?” “How if I kill you both, O Harût and Marût? Fools, here are many brave men at my command, and if you or any with you want fighting it shall be given you in plenty. Hans, bid the Mazitu stand to their arms and summon Igeza and Bena.” “Stay, Lord,” said Harût, “and put down that weapon,” for once more I had produced the pistol. “We would not begin our fellowship by shedding blood, though we are safer from you than you think. Your companions shall accompany you to the land of the Kendah, but let them know that they do so at their own risk. Learn that it is revealed to us that if they go in there some of them will pass out again as spirits but not as men.” “Do you mean that you will murder them?” “No. We mean that yonder are some stronger than us or any men, who will take their lives in sacrifice. Not yours, Macumazana, for that, it is decreed, is safe, but those of two of the others, which two we do not know.” “Indeed, Harût and Marût, and how am I to be sure that any of us are safe, or that you do not but trick us to your country, there to kill us with treachery and steal our goods?” “Because we swear it by the oath that may not be broken; we swear it by the Heavenly Child,” both of them exclaimed solemnly, speaking with one voice and bowing till their foreheads almost touched the ground. I shrugged my shoulders and laughed a little. “You do not believe us,” went on Harût, “who have not heard what happens to those who break this oath. Come now and see something. Within five paces of your hut is a tall ant-heap upon which doubtless you have been accustomed to stand and overlook the desert.” (This was true, but how did they guess it, I wondered.) “Go climb that ant-heap once more.” Perhaps it was rash, but my curiosity led me to accept this invitation. Out I went, followed by Hans with a loaded double-barrelled rifle, and scrambled up the ant-heap which, as it was twenty feet high and there were no trees just here, commanded a very fine view of the desert beyond.