Soon the last resting-place of Umzilikazi, the Great King, was hidden from sight behind. A few miles more and a strange phenomenon as of a mighty cloud of dust and smoke, crowning a distant eminence, broke upon the view in front, and through it a vast cluster of round grass roofs, from the silent throne of the dead the pair had turned to front the throne of the living, pulsating with humanity and its primitive impulses--Bulawayo, the great kraal of Lo Bengula, son of that Umzilikazi whose bones lay within the sombre heart of that great rock pile behind. Not on this, however, were their steps bent. Down in the valley a camp was set, and the white tents of three waggons rose among the scant bush on the banks of the Matya'mhlope, at the foot of the abrupt ridge of shining stones which gives to that insignificant river its name. And as our two wayfarers gained it the sun dropped, and in this latitude without twilight the night began to fall. Two other white men were seated in camp as these two arrived. Like Christian Sybrandt, Young and Pemberton were traders and hunters, and looked it; whereas the presence of Hilary Blachland with the outfit was inconsequent. But that word more than rather summed up Hilary Blachland. He was all keenness, however, on anything new and strange, and now the impression had grown and grown upon him that Umzilikazi's grave came under both these qualifying adjectives. Wherefore later, when the fire was roaring up brightly with red and cheery glow, and the sable antelope steaks, hot and fizzing, had been transferred from the frying-pan to the metal enamelled camp plates, he must needs drag in the subject again. Pemberton, the elder of the other two traders, whistled and shook his heavy beard. "It's a thing that won't bear meddling with," was his laconic dictum. "Well, I should like to meddle with it to the extent of having a look at it anyway," persisted Blachland. "Any one here ever seen it close, by the way?" "No, nor likely to," answered Young. "I saw it once, about a mile off; near enough to get a good look at it through a glass. It's a tall cleft, running right up the face of the boulder, and overhung by another boulder like a porch. There's a tree in front too. I'd just time to see so much when a lot of _majara_, spotting my binoculars, started for me, yelling like blazes. I judged it wise to take a bee-line for Bulawayo, and get under old Lo Ben's wing; but they ran me hard all the way--got there nearly as soon as I did, and clamoured to be allowed to kill me. Lo Ben wouldn't have that, but he hinted to me quietly that the country wouldn't be healthy for a year or so, and I took the hint. No, take my advice and leave it alone. Apart from the risk, there's no luck meddling with such places--no, none."