deep-toned speculation as to the probability of a copious
and welcome rain to relieve the parched-up and drooping crops in the
lands. But the two white men, as they rode in through the still open
gateway, thought to detect an unwonted sullenness instead of the
cheerful greeting of welcome which should have been theirs. A ringed
man came forward.

"Greeting, Gudhlusa," called out Lamont, to whom the man was known. "We
would shelter, and have a talk at the same time with Zwabeka the chief.
Is he in his house?"

"I see you, Lamonti. _Au_! Zwabeka? He is asleep."

"No matter. It will do when he wakes. Meanwhile we will go into a hut,
for the rain will be great."

"'M--'m!" assented the bystanders in a guttural hum. "The rain will be
great. Ah! ah! The rain will be great!"

There was a significance in the repetition hardly observed at the time
by the new arrivals. One of them, at any rate, was to appreciate it
later. To one of them, also, the utter absence of geniality on the part
of the people supplied food for thought, combined too as it was with the
use of his native name--in this instance a corruption of his own--
instead of the more respectful `_Nkose_.' But then Zwabeka's people
were mostly Abezantsi--or those of the old, pure-blooded Zulu stock, and
therefore proud.

"Come this way, _Amakosi_," said the man he had addressed as Gudhlusa,
pointing to a small enclosure. "We will put your horses there, and give
them grain. Yonder is a new hut with the thatch but just on. There
will ye rest."

"That is good, Gudhlusa," said Lamont, giving him some tobacco. "Later,
when the chief is awake we will talk with him."

The new hut proved to be a very new one, which was a huge advantage in
that it ensured immunity from the swarming cockroaches inseparable from
old ones, and even worse. On the other hand, the thatch `just put on,'
was not as complete as it might be, for a glint of sky visible through a
hole or two in the roof did not give encouraging promise of a
water-tight protection from the average thunder-shower. The saddlery
and luggage was accordingly disposed in what looked likely to prove the
driest side of the hut.

"Well, Father, I'm inclined to think we can see our quarters for
to-night," said Lamont cheerfully, as he filled his pipe and passed on
his pouch to his companion.

"Thanks. I think so too. Well, we might do worse."

"Oh yes. A dry camp is better than a wet one. Do you ta