er; then Muata, with sixty pounds' weight on his
head, then Compton, and, last of all, Mr. Hume, with an ample load.
A fairly open path, over a lattice-work of roots, mounted up through
the trees, and the hunter "blazed" the path by chipping a slice of
bark off every fifth tree. Up and up the woman swung with free
strides, her short leather skirts, trimmed with beads, rattling as
she went; and after many a breather, for the sake of the whites, she
strode out, one thousand feet above the lake, on to a rock-strewn
slope, free of trees. A glance back showed the evening mist rolling
like a huge curtain over the sombre forest, so that they seemed to
be looking down upon a silent sea.

"A little more, my children--a little more, and you will sleep under
a roof."

She swung off, balancing the load easily, and the others followed in
and out among great rocks that had an unfamiliar look, bending their
bodies to the steep and labouring for breath; and as they went Mr.
Hume drew marks on the ground, as a guide, with the point of his
knife, for he trusted no man in the wilderness, except himself.
After another thousand feet of climbing, they entered into a gorge,
that narrowed at the summit to a mere cleft, and from that cleft
they stepped out on to a broad platform, which dominated a wide
valley rimmed with cliffs.

"Behold the Place of Rest, O white men; and ye, O great one, who
marked the trees below, and whose glance went ever back to note the
way so that you should know it again, know that we have led you to
the hiding, whose secret was our refuge."

"Ay, mother," said Mr. Hume, quietly, though surprised she had seen
his actions; "and remember that we are here to help you keep out the
wolf from your refuge. I marked the trail, as ye saw, for it is well
that a man should know his way out as well as in."

"He is right, O wise one," said Muata, bearing down his mother's
suspicious look. "Should Hassan prevail in the fight, there would be
no Muata to guide these our friends to safety."

"He prevail!" cried the woman, sternly; then her finger shot out,
and her form seemed to increase in stature. "Look, O warrior of
feeble words; see how it greets the chief;" and her eyes blazed as
she followed the flight of a great bird that swept out of the mist.
"A sign--a sign, my son."

"A black eagle," said Venning. "Maybe it has its nest somewhere
about here."

"As this is the Place of Rest," said Mr. Hume, "it would do us all
goo