“Behold the land of the Kendah,” said Harût. “On this side of the River Tava live the Black Kendah, on the farther side, the White Kendah.” “And what is that hill?” “That is the Holy Mount, the Home of the Heavenly Child, where no man may set foot”—here he looked at us meaningly—“save the priests of the Child.” “What happens to him if he does?” I asked. “He dies, my Lord Macumazana.” “Then it is guarded, Harût?” “It is guarded, not with mortal weapons, Macumazana, but by the spirits that watch over the Child.” As he would say no more on this interesting matter, I asked him as to the numbers of the Kendah people, to which he replied that the Black Kendah might number twenty thousand men of arm-bearing age, but the White Kendah not more than two thousand. “Then no wonder you want spirits to guard your Heavenly Child,” I remarked, “since the Black Kendah are your foes and with you warriors are few.” At this moment our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a picket on a camel, who reported something to Harût which appeared to disturb him. I asked him what was the matter. “That is the matter,” he said, pointing to a man mounted on a rough pony who just then appeared from behind some bushes about half a mile away, galloping down the slope towards the plain. “He is one of the scouts of Simba, King of the Black Kendah, and he goes to Simba’s town in yonder forest to make report of our arrival. Return to camp, Macumazana, and eat, for we must march with the rising of the moon.” As soon as the moon rose we marched accordingly, although the camels, many of which were much worn with the long journey, scarcely had been given time to fill themselves and none to rest. All night we marched down the long slope, only halting for half an hour before daylight to eat something and rearrange the loads on the baggage beasts, which now, I noticed, were guarded with extra care. When we were starting again Marût came to us and remarked with his usual smile, on behalf of his brother Harût, who was otherwise engaged, that it might be well if we had our guns ready, since we were entering the land of the elephant Jana and “who knew but that we might meet him?” “Or his worshippers on two legs,” I suggested, to which his only reply was a nod.