The reddening glare intensified, the fierce, wild cadence shrilled forth, now in dirge-like wail, now in swelling notes of demon-like and merciless exultation. There was a faint, muffled roar as of distant thunder--a clamour as of fiends holding high revel--and still the wild chorus gathered in volume, hideous in its blood-chilling menace, as it cleft the dark stillness of the night. "Oh, let us turn back!" cried Eanswyth. "There is something horrible going on to-night. I really am quite frightened now. That hideous noise! It terrifies me!" Well it might. The deep-toned thunder note within the burning heart of the volcano is of terrible import, for it portends fire and ruin and widespread death. There were those who were then sitting on the verge of a volcano--a mere handful in the midst of a vast, teeming population of fierce and truculent savages. Well might that weird chorus strike dismay into the hearts of its hearers, for it was the preliminary rumble of the coming storm--the battle-song of the warlike and now hostile Gaika clans. CHAPTER FIVE. THE WAR-DANCE AT NTEYA'S KRAAL. The sun has just touched the western horizon, bathing in a parting flood of red and gold the round spurs of the rolling hills and the straggling clusters of dome-shaped huts which lie dotted about the valley in irregular order for a couple of miles. There is a continuous hum of voices in the air, mingling with the low of cattle, and the whole place seems to be teeming with human life. Indeed, such is the case; for this kraal--or rather collection of kraals--is the head centre of Nteya's location and the residence of that chief himself.