"He is not dead," said Hume, as he earnestly studied the white face.
"Oh, thank Heaven! Quick! bring him in here out of the sun;" and,
sitting down in the shadow of the opening, she took the wounded head
upon her lap, and, with a firm, yet soft touch, parted the matted hairs.
"Now get water and brandy."
Hume went swiftly back to the place they had just left, and on his
return with water he found she had cut away the hair with her scissors,
which she always carried.
"It is only a surface wound. I think we have some maize meal left; give
me some."
Hume unbound a small bundle, and produced a packet of meal, of which she
grasped a handful and laid it on the wound, pressing it with her hand
till the oozing blood caked it into an impervious plaster.
"That will stop the bleeding. Now a drop of brandy," and, taking a
pannikin handed to her, she poured a few drops into his mouth, bathing
his forehead with the rest. "Make a couch there with the blankets."
This was done, and the insensible form laid softly down.
Then she sat by his side, bathing his forehead at intervals, and
watching with an absorbed look, while Hume stood near pale and silent,
and the two natives crouched in the cave.
"Don't stand there," she said, without removing her gaze; "it irritates
me. Find out how it happened."
Hume stepped out on to a broad ledge and stood in a maze, looking
without seeing anything, until the rush of an eagle before his face made
him recoil and restored his faculties. Then he keenly noted the
surroundings. The ledge terminated at the cave, and from its lip a
frightful precipice sank down and down into the rock-strewn depths. On
his right the ledge swept up the face of the krantz to where the Face
stood out from the rock, about two hundred feet above. He noted that
the outline was not so clear, the smoothness observable from a distance
being broken up by cracks and inequalities, while the neck was detached,
and in the eye was a jagged opening without design. Slowly he mounted
towards the profile, scanning the ledge for a sign of human presence,
but finding nothing but a certain polish on the rock, which might have
been caused by the passage of human feet. Without difficulty, and
without emotion, he stepped into the socket of the eye; but no sooner
was he there, with one hand holding to the rock to support him, than he
thrilled to the thought that at last the mysterious Golden Rock was in
the range of his vision. He drew a deep breath, and, forgetting
everything, stood looking at the scene spread in noble beauty at his
feet. There it lay, calm, beautiful and peaceful, the valley of the
shining rock; the place where no white man had entered; whose secret had
been jealously protected for centuries, to find its way at last through
those gloomy ravines to the solitary hunter, and from him to the three
who had been so strangely thrown together, and who were risking all to
win it. Far and wide stretched the valley, flanked on the east and
south by the frowning battlement of rocky mountains; on the north and
west by deep forests, whose dark and sombre mantle stretched without a
break, a valley of gentle grassy undulations, with clusters of trees
scattered about, and with a broad and shining river running through its
centre. On the further side large herds of cattle grazed, the slopes
leading to the river showed green in patches, where the mealies grew,
while dozens of native kraals were visible, and diminutive figures moved
about in the fields, about the huts, or along the winding paths. On the
nearer side there were no cattle, neither people nor villages, nor the
criss-cross of trodden paths, but only an irregular structure overgrown
with bush, which marked, no doubt, the site of the ruins referred to in
the map. Long he stood drinking in the scene, and making many guesses
as to the place where the rock should be, until he remembered that there
was no one with him to share this pleasure. Then he examined the rock
about him, and saw that a ledge ran from his feet along the front of the
mountain facing the valley, to disappear round a projecting shoulder
about one hundred yards away. Returning to the cave, he found Laura
still sitting by the still figure. She looked up with a smile as he
entered.
"He is breathing regularly now, and the bleeding has stopped."
"You have saved his life, then," he said warmly; and added softly, "his
life is yours."
A deep flush suffused her face, and her lips trembled.
"Did you find anything?" she asked absently.
"No," he answered, with a sigh; "but I have seen the casket that holds
our treasure. I have looked on the valley from the eye. We are very
near it at last. Will you come and see?"
"I will wait till he can join us. It is at sunrise only--is it not?--we
can see the Golden Rock. And to-morrow, then, let us stand together and
watch for the ray that is to guide us."
Hume looked at Webster, and he remembered the silent mysterious foe who
had dogged their footsteps. "If to-morrow's sun shines for us," he
murmured.
At last, in the afternoon, Webster suddenly sat up, and with a wild
glare in his eyes, stared around him.
"We are here, Jim," she whispered softly.
The bloodshot eyes sought her pale face. "And Frank?" he asked. She
drew aside, showing Hume standing there.
"Look out!" he cried hoarsely, "there is danger here. I was struck down
just now by some unseen hand. Give me my rifle."
"There is no fear at present," she said gently. "Several hours have
gone since we found you here."
"And Laura has nursed you all that time;" and Hume placed her hand in
that of the wounded man.
Then he stepped out again to keep guard, while Klaas, who had been very
subdued, took infinite pains to make the kettle boil out of such scanty
fuel as he could find. When night closed down Webster was able to sit
up, but was still too dizzy to stand, and could not, much to his
concern, take his turn at guard. Klaas was stationed at the back of the
cave, Sirayo at its mouth, while Hume went forward to seat himself in
the eye itself.
There was a profound silence up in that lofty eyrie, and the
long-continued strain they had been subjected to made them more liable
to the sad influence of the surroundings. In the dim light Laura could
see the blanketed figure of the Zulu chief, seated like a stone image on
the ledge overhanging the deep ravine, and as she watched the blurred
outline minute after minute without seeing any movement, she began at
first to speculate on his reflections; but this train of thought rapidly
melted into a vague uneasiness, giving way again to a feeling of
superstition. Her breath came quicker, and to still her fears she moved
softly out on to the ledge and laid a timid hand on the bowed shoulder
of the immovable savage.
He turned his head quickly at the touch, his eyes gleaming.
"I was afraid," she whispered, shuddering, and sat down near him, while
he, after a steady look around, gravely took snuff.
"Much dark," he growled in broken English. "Inkosikasi not like. Sit
here; sleep--no!" and leaning over, he gently touched the lip of the
precipice with his assegai.
"It is very deep," she whispered. "What did you see down there in the
dark that you looked so steadily."