loured radiance
each glorious spear of light cast by the rising sun.

Kenyon and Leigh were about to give the word to their men (all of whom
were busily gazing at the inviting prospect before them) to get under
weigh, when both were fairly electrified by hearing a voice raised in
the cavern just behind them.

"Greeting!" it said; "greeting to ye strangers." Then as our friends
turned quickly round, and their white personality became evident to the
speaker, "Greeting, white strangers, who come from the northern lands
beyond the distant seas. What seek ye here in this foul place, where
all things that are good live but to die, and where only evil prospers,
and the arch-fiend himself bears rule? What seek ye here with Muzi
Zimba the old? and ye black ones, are ye tired of life, and of that
freedom which alone makes life worth living, that ye venture your heads
inside the lion's mouth? Go I go, all of ye, white and black. Go! in
God's name, while the life is yet whole in ye. Why tarry ye here?
Escape for your lives, my sons, and peace go with ye."

Our friends had been closely watching the individual who delivered this
strange yet forcible appeal, and looks of commiseration passed from one
to the other. The man was as white-skinned as themselves, and judging
from the purity of his English must have been at one time a British
subject. He was, however, extremely old, probably eighty-five or
ninety, and his face, which was benign and gentle, was shrouded by his
long, silvery locks, and muffled, as it were, in an immense snow-white
beard, which reached down to his very waist, and gave him an altogether
venerable and striking appearance; his voice was strong and resonant,
his manner quiet and peaceful, _but the man was obviously mad_. He had
evidently become so accustomed to the native metaphor that he had
unconsciously adopted it as his own language, and his diction at best
halted somewhat, as if he were unused, indeed, to exercising his tongue
in framing speech of any kind.

Whilst Kenyon hesitated what to do, Leigh went frankly forward and held
but his hand to the old fellow, who shook it heartily; then, humouring
him, Leigh spoke, and as the full, rich voice struck upon his ear, the
old man bent his head and seemed as if the familiar accents had brought
back to him some signs or memories of the long-forgotten past.

"Greeting, my father, greeting," answered Leigh. "Thy sons have
wandered hither on a long and v