was going on a short journey, and that he must guard all things until my
return; and while I did so, took a nip of raw rum and made ready a bag
of biltong, that is sun-dried flesh, and biscuits.

Then, taking with me a single-barrelled gun, that same little Purdey
rifle with which I shot the vultures on the Hill of Slaughter at
Dingaan's Kraal,* we started on foot, for I would not risk my only horse
on such a journey.

[*--For the story of this shooting of the vultures by Allan Quatermain,
see the book called "Marie."--EDITOR.]

A rough journey it proved to be indeed, over a series of bush-clad hills
that at their crests were covered with rugged stones among which no
horse could have travelled. Up and down these hills we went, and across
the valleys that divided them, following some path which I could not
see, for all that live-long day. I have always been held a good walker,
being by nature very light and active; but I am bound to say that my
companion taxed my powers to the utmost, for on he marched for hour
after hour, striding ahead of me at such a rate that at times I was
forced to break into a run to keep up with him. Although my pride would
not suffer me to complain, since as a matter of principle I would never
admit to a Kafir that he was my master at anything, glad enough was I
when, towards evening, Saduko sat himself down on a stone at the top of
a hill and said:

"Behold the Black Kloof, Macumazahn," which were almost the first words
he had uttered since we started.

Truly the spot was well named, for there, cut out by water from the