expectant, whilst Amaxosa coolly stalked forth from his lair, and,
advancing to where they stood, gravely saluted them.

"Greeting, Inkoosis, greeting," said the great Zulu; "it does my heart
good to see ye free again, and gun in hand. And now, my brothers, lead
me, I pray ye, to the ancient man of this people of many women and three
kings, for I have news to tell him--news which will not wait; and ye
must be my mouth to him, O chiefs!"

"My brother," answered Grenville, laying a hand kindly on the shoulder
of his stalwart friend, "knowest thou that, because of thy departure, he
has sentenced thee to death; ay, thee, and Barad the Hailstorm with
thee."

"Nay, my father," replied the Zulu, "I knew it not, nor do I care
whether I live or die; yet do I think the ancient one will gladly hear
my words."

Quickly returning to the public hall, Kenyon sent in word to the old
Prophet that the Zulu chief had returned of his own accord, and had news
of much importance for his private ear.

A few minutes elapsed, and then all were ushered into the united
presence of the Holy Three, where, utterly disregarding the frowning
looks cast upon him, the great Zulu thus commenced his stirring tale:--

"Hear my words, O ye ancient ones, and let the message of the child of
the Zulu sink down into your ears; for his words are heavy words to
hear, yet come they from a straight and friendly tongue."

Then addressing himself to Grenville, "Yesternight, my father," he
began, speaking rapidly and forcibly in Zulu--"yesternight I had it in
my mind that Zero, the Black One, would escape and break his bonds, and
in the same mind was also the Chieftain of the Stick; he knew no speech
of mine, nor knew I aught of his, my father, yet eye looked into eye,
and each knew well the secret thought of each.

"We soon slipped past the sleepy guards and out into the night, but
naught had we in our hands, my father, and so we left behind the ruined
kraals, and hid us in the bushes by the well.

"Long did we wait, but yet we had no doubt, and, so when half the night
was gone, there came to us the ghost of him, the ancient one, who dwells
in yon lonely grave upon the northern hills--alas! my father, that I let
him pass me by, but empty hands are evil things wherewith to face a
well-armed spook, and in his grasp he swung a mighty axe, dripping with
human blood.

"And so we waited, and when the Father of the Spooks had left us
half-an-hour, then my thou