and the purification, I had it in my mind to go at all costs to the
cave. I am a peaceable man at most times, but I think I would rather
have had the Portugoose's throat in my hands than the collar of Prester
John.

But behind my thoughts was one master-feeling, that Providence had
given me my chance and I must make the most of it. Perhaps the
Calvinism of my father's preaching had unconsciously taken grip of my
soul. At any rate I was a fatalist in creed, believing that what was
willed would happen, and that man was but a puppet in the hands of his
Maker. I looked on the last months as a clear course which had been
mapped out for me. Not for nothing had I been given a clue to the
strange events which were coming. It was foreordained that I should go
alone to Umvelos', and in the promptings of my own fallible heart I
believed I saw the workings of Omnipotence. Such is our moral
arrogance, and yet without such a belief I think that mankind would
have ever been content to bide sluggishly at home.

I passed the spot where on my former journey I had met the horses, and
knew that I had covered more than half the road. My ear had been alert
for the sound of pursuit, but the bush was quiet as the grave. The man
who rode my pony would find him a slow traveller, and I pitied the poor
beast bucketed along by an angry rider. Gradually a hazy wall of
purple began to shimmer before me, apparently very far off. I knew the
ramparts of the Rooirand, and let my Schimmel feel my knees in his
ribs. Within an hour I should be at the cliff's foot.

I had trusted for safety to the password, but as it turned out I owed
my life mainly to my horse. For, a mile or so from the cliffs, I came
to the fringes of a great army. The bush was teeming with men, and I
saw horses picketed in bunches, and a multitude of Cape-carts and light
wagons. It was like a colossal gathering for naachtmaal[1] at a Dutch
dorp, but every man was black. I saw through a corner of my eye that
they were armed with guns, though many carried in addition their spears
and shields. Their first impulse was to stop me. I saw guns fly to
shoulders, and a rush towards the path. The boldest game was the
safest, so I dug my heels into the schimmel and shouted for a passage.
'Make way!' I cried in Kaffir. 'I bear a message from the Inkulu.[2]
Clear out, you dogs!'

They recognized the horse, and fell back with a salute. Had I but
known it, the beast was famed fr