ahead of me. Then my pride came to the rescue and I
spurted, if one can spurt upon one's stomach, and drew level with him.
After this we went at a pace so slow that any able-bodied snail would
have left us standing still. Inch by inch we crept forward, lying
motionless a while after each convulsive movement, once for quite a
long time, since the left-hand cannibal seemed about to wake up, for he
opened his mouth and yawned. If so, he changed his mind and rolling from
a sitting posture on to his side, went to sleep much more soundly than
before.

A minute or so later the right-hand ruffian, my man, also stirred, so
sharply that I thought he had heard something. Apparently, however, he
was only haunted by dreams resulting from an evil life, or perhaps
by the prescience of its end, for after waving his arm and muttering
something in a frightened voice, he too, wearied out, poor devil, sank
back into sleep.

At last we were on them, but paused because we could not see exactly
where to strike and knew, each of us, that our first blow must be the
last and fatal. A cloud had come up and dimmed what light there was, and
we must wait for it to pass. It was a long wait, or so it seemed.

At length that cloud did pass and in faint outline I saw the classical
head of my Amahagger bowed in deep sleep. With a heart beating as it
does only in the fierce extremities of love or war, I hissed like a
snake, which was our agreed signal. Then rising to my knees, I lifted
the Zulu axe and struck with all my strength.

The blow was straight and true; Umslopogaas himself could not have
dealt a better. The victim in front of me uttered no sound and made
no movement; only sank gently on to his side, and there lay as dead as
though he had never been born.

It appeared that Hans had done equally well, since the other man kicked
out his long legs, which struck me on the knees. Then he also became
strangely still. In short, both of them were stone dead and would tell
no stories this side of Judgment Day.

Recovering my axe, which had been wrenched from my hand, I crept forward
and opened the curtain-like rugs or blankets, I do not know which they
were, that covered Inez. I heard her stir at once. The movement had
wakened her, since captives sleep lightly.

"Make no noise, Inez," I whispered. "It is I, Allan Quatermain, come to
rescue you. Slip out and follow me; do you understand?"

"Yes, quite," she whispered back and began to rise.

At