s place was of solid stone. It was a marvellous
hiding-place, for from beneath the face of the cliff showed no sort or
sign of a break. Why had not the craven Tayane sought refuge here? But
perhaps even from him was the secret hidden.

This strange rock-nest was occupied by one human being--a woman. As I
sprang into her view a low sharp scream of terror escaped her, and,
covering her head, she sank down at the further end of the place; not,
however, before I was able to see that she was of most beautiful and
shapely build. She expected instant death. Yet she begged for mercy,
and the voice that came from beneath the beaded robe which covered her
was marvellously enthralling. She begged that her life might be spared,
or taken as quickly and painlessly as possible. That she was terrified
could hardly be wondered at, for my appearance must have been terrifying
in the extreme. I had borne far from the smallest share in the
slaughter of the Bakoni, and now, weapons, shield, and person were
covered with blood. As I leaped into view she at once took me for the
first of the slayers. But the words with which she appealed to me were
spoken well and fluently in our own tongue.

"What is this?" I said. "The tongue of the Zulu in the mouth of a
stranger?"

"I know you, son of Ntelani," she said, without looking up from her
crouching attitude. "I have seen you more than once, messenger of the
King."

"But I have not seen you, stranger, who speakest with the voice of the
west wind. Uncover now, that I may do so, before we return to the
King."

"To the King? To Umzilikazi?" she uttered, in a tone as of fear. "That
may not be. Look now, son of Ntelani, and say whether I am to fall a
spoil to the King."

Throwing off the beaded robe, she stood upright, and now I saw that my
first glimpse had told me no lie. She was tall--tall as Nangeza--but
never did I see more perfect proportions and rounder, firmer limbs.
She, like Nangeza, was light of colour; but, unlike Nangeza, there was a
softness, a sweetness in her face, and in her clear eyes, which was
enough to befool any man, being young, who looked. She wore the short
beaded petticoat and gold ornaments of the Bakoni, but her hair was
gathered up in the _impiti_, or reddened cone, such as is worn by Zulu
women.

Now, for all my bragging to the King that I cared not about women, I
was, in those days, just as great a fool as others of my age, and
although in a ge