The identity of the two figures was distinct in the light. The hideous sorceress, though reft of most of the horrid accessories and adornments of her order, yet looked cruel and repulsive as a very fiend--fitting figure to harmonise with the Styx-like gloom of the scene. The huge form of the warrior loomed truly gigantic in the sickly lantern light. "Ho, Umlilwane, thou dog of dogs!" went on the latter. "Art thou growing tired of thy cool retreat? Are not the serpents good companions? _Haul_ Thou wert a fool to part so readily with thy mind. After so many moons of converse with the serpents, thou shouldst have been a mighty soothsayer--a mighty diviner--by now. How long did it take thee to lose thy mind? But a single day? But a day and a night? That was quick! Ho, ho!" And the great taunting laugh was echoed by the shriller cackle of the female fiend. "Thou wert a mighty man with thy fists, a mighty man with thy gun, O Umlilwane!" went on the savage, his mocking tones now sinking to those of devilish hatred. "But now thou art no longer a man--no longer a man. _Au_! What were my words to thee? `Thou hadst better have cut off thy right hand before shedding the blood of Hlangani _for it is better to lose a hand than one's mind_.' What thinkest thou now of Hlangani's revenge? Hi!" How plain now to one of the listeners were those sombre words, over whose meaning he had so anxiously pondered. This, then, was the fearful vengeance promised by the Gcaleka warrior. And for many months his wretched victim had lain here a raving maniac--had lain here in a darkness as of the very pit of hell--had lain among noisome serpents-- among crawling horrors untold--small wonder his reason had given way after a single night of such, as his tormentor had just declared. Small wonder that he had indeed lost his mind! A fiendish yell burst from the maniac. Suddenly a great serpent was thrown upward from the pit. Petrified with horror, the watchers saw its thick, writhing form fly through the air and light on the witch-doctress's shoulder. With a shrill laugh the hag merely seized the wriggling, squirming reptile, which, with crest waving, was hissing like a fury, and hurled it back into the pit again. What sort of devil's influence was protecting these people, that they could handle the most deadly reptiles with absolute impunity? Were they, indeed, under some demoniac spell? To one, however, among the white spectators, the real solution of the mystery may have suggested itself. "Here are thy bones, dog," resumed the great barbarian, throwing what looked like a half-filled sack into the hole. "Here is thy drink," and he lowered a large calabash at the end of a string. "Eat, drink, and keep up thy strength. Perhaps one day I may turn thee loose again. Who knows! Then when thy people see thee coming they will cry: `Here comes Hlangani's Revenge.' And they will fly from thee in terror, as from the approach of a fell disease."