came
about that, not for the first time in his life, Philip Hadden discarded
the somewhat spasmodic prickings of conscience and listened to that evil
whispering at his ear.

About half-past five o'clock in the afternoon the four refugees passed
the stream that a mile or so down fell over the little precipice into
the Doom Pool; and, entering a patch of thorn trees on the further side,
walked straight into the midst of two-and-twenty soldiers, who were
beguiling the tedium of expectancy by the taking of snuff and the
smoking of _dakka_ or native hemp. With these soldiers, seated on his
pony, for he was too fat to walk, waited the Chief Maputa.

Observing that their expected guests had arrived, the men knocked out
the _dakka_ pipe, replaced the snuff boxes in the slits made in the
lobes of their ears, and secured the four of them.

"What is the meaning of this, O King's soldiers?" asked Umgona in a
quavering voice. "We journey to the kraal of U'Cetywayo; why do you
molest us?"

"Indeed. Wherefore then are your faces set towards the south. Does the
Black One live in the south? Well, you will journey to another kraal
presently," answered the jovial-looking captain of the party with a
callous laugh.

"I do not understand," stammered Umgona.

"Then I will explain while you rest," said the captain. "The Chief
Maputa yonder sent word to the Black One at Ulundi that he had learned
of your intended flight to Natal from the lips of this white man, who
had warned him of it. The Black One was angry, and despatched us to
catch you and make an end of you. That is all. Come on now, quietly, and
let us finish the matter. As the Doom Pool is near, your deaths will be
easy."

Nahoon heard the words, and sprang straight at the throat of Hadden; but
he did not reach it, for the soldiers pulled him down. Nanea heard them
also, and turning, looked the traitor in the eyes; she said nothing, she
only looked, but he could never forget that look. The white man for his
part was filled with a fiery indignation against Maputa.

"You wicked villain," he gasped, whereat the chief smiled in a sickly
fashion, and turned away.

Then they were marched along the banks of the stream till they reached
the waterfall that fell into the Pool of Doom.

Hadden was a brave man after his fashion, but his heart quailed as he
gazed into that abyss.

"Are you going to throw me in there?" he asked of the Zulu captain in a
thick voice.

"You, White Man