! he deserved all that befell him.

"Now," I cried, when I had set aside those whom I judged should be taken
alive to the King, "as for these, they shall have a choice of deaths.
Yonder the cliff is high, and the way thereto is smooth and level.
Hold! give them a fair chance. Go now, ye that remain of the nation of
Bakoni! _Hambani gahle_!"

The warriors roared aloud at this jest. Those of the vanquished who
were left alive started to run, doubtless hoping to find a way of
escape. But there was none such, for the cliff went down in a smooth
wall to a vast depth. Then I gave the word, and the young men leaped
forward in pursuit, and in a moment that sunny cliff brow was red with
death. Every one of the Bakoni had been forced to spring from the
height or was speared.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE MYSTERY QUEEN.

While the young men were thus amusing themselves, _Nkose_, I ran my gaze
over the faces of the prisoners whom we had spared, and as I did so it
fell upon a countenance which made me start and grip my assegai. The
man who owned this face met my glance, and shook with fear. And well he
might; for, in spite of a plentiful besmearing of red ochre, I knew that
face and he saw that I did--knew it for the face of the deserter, the
slave Maroane.

"Spare me, father," he murmured quickly in the Sechuana tongue. "Spare
me, and I will tell you something that will be worth knowing--something
which the King would give me my life ten times over to know."

"Speak, dog!" I said. "Speak or die!"

But he would not. He talked swiftly and low in the Sechuana tongue,
which none of our people understood, urging me to go apart with him for
a space.

Just then the mountain-top was covered with our warriors, for Kalipe's
_impi_ had now joined mine. All were in a state of the highest
excitement and delight. Some were resting, some were dancing, some
singing, some jeering the prisoners, others caring for wounds they had
received, but the hubbub of voices was enough to make a man deaf. In
the commotion I managed to get Maroane apart unobserved.

"Now, slave, thy last hour has come," I said. "What are thy tidings?"

"Spare my life, father, and they shall be yours," he said. "Only
promise me my life."

"Hearken, dog," I growled, fingering the point of my spear. "If what
thou showest me is worth thy miserable life, then I will not take it.
But speak, or I slay thee here. That is my `word.'"

He knew it was. He knew