They stood there, turned to stone. They stood there, strong men as they
were, their flesh creeping with horror. The awful sound was succeeded
by a moment of silence, then it burst forth again and again, the grim
subterraneous walls echoing back its horrible import in ear-splitting
reverberation. It sounded hardly human in its mingled intonation of
frenzied ferocity and blind despair. It might have been the shriek of a
lost soul, struggling in the grasp of fiends on the brink of the
nethermost pit.
"Advance now, cautiously, _amakosi_," said Josane. "Look where you are
stepping or you may fall far. Keep your candles ready to light. The
Home of the Serpents is a horrible place. There is no end to its
terrors. Be prepared to tread carefully."
His warning was by no means superfluous. The ground ended abruptly
across their path. Suddenly, shooting up, as it were, beneath their
very feet, pealed forth again that frightful, blood-curdling yell.
It was awful. Starting backward a pace or two, the perspiration pouring
from their foreheads, they stood and listened. On the Kafir no such
impression had the incident effected. He understood the position in all
its grim significance.
"Look down," he said, meaningly. "Look down, _amakosi_."
They did so. Before them yawned an irregular circular hole or pit,
about thirty feet deep by the same in diameter. The sides were smooth
and perpendicular; indeed, slightly overhanging from the side on which
they stood. Opposite, the glistening surface of the rock rose into a
dome. But with this hole the cavern abruptly ended, the main part of
it, that is, for a narrow cleft or "gallery" branched off abruptly at
right angles. From this pit arose such a horrible effluvium that the
explorers recoiled in disgust.
"Look down. Look down," repeated Josane.
The luminous disk from the lantern swept round the pit. Upon its nearly
level floor crawled the loathsome, wriggling shapes of several great
serpents. Human skulls strewn about, grinned hideously upwards, and the
whole floor of this ghastly hell-pit seemed literally carpeted with a
crackling layer of pulverised bones. But the most awful sight of all
was yet to come.
Gathered in a heap, like a huge squatting toad, crouched a human figure.
Human? Could it be? Ah! it had been once. Nearly naked, save for a
few squalid rags black with filth, this fearful object, framed within
the brilliantly defined circle of the bull's-eye, looked anything but
human. The head and face were one mass of hair, and the long, bushy,
tangled beard screening almost the whole body in its crouching attitude
imparted to the creature the appearance of a head alone, supported on
two hairy, ape-like arms, half man, half tarantula. The eyes were
glaring and blinking in the light with mingled frenzy and terror, and
the mouth was never still for a moment. What a sight the grizzly
denizen of that appalling hell-pit--crouching there, mopping and mowing
among the gliding, noisome reptiles, among the indescribable filth and
the grinning human skulls! No wonder that the spectators stood
spell-bound, powerless, with a nerveless, unconquerable repulsion.
Suddenly the creature opened its mouth wide and emitted that fearful
demoniacal howl which had frozen their blood but a few moments back.
Then leaping to its feet, it made a series of desperate springs in its
efforts to get at them. Indeed it was surprising the height to which
these springs carried it, each failure being signalled by that
blood-curdling yell. Once it fell back upon a serpent. The reptile,
with a shrill hiss, struck the offending leg. But upon the demoniac
those deadly fangs seemed to produce no impression whatever. Realising
the futility of attempting to reach them, the creature sank back into a
corner, gathering itself together, and working its features in wild
convulsions. Then followed a silence--a silence in its way almost as
horrible as the frightful shrieks which had previously broken it.
The spectators looked at each other with ashy faces. Heavens! could
this fearful thing ever have been a man--a man with intellect and a
soul--a man stamped with the image of his maker?
"He is the last, _Amakosi_," said the grave voice of Josane. "He is the
last, but not the first. There have been others before him,"
designating the skulls which lay scattered about. "Soon he will be even
as they--as I should have been had I not escaped by a quick stroke of
luck."
"Great Heaven, Josane! Who is he?" burst from the horror-stricken lips
of Shelton and Hoste simultaneously. Eustace said nothing, for at that
moment as he gazed down upon the mouldering skulls, there came back to
him vividly the witch-doctress's words, "They who look upon `The Home of
the Serpents' are seen no more in life." Well did he understand them
now.
"The man whom you seek," was the grave reply. "He whom the people call
Umlilwane."
An ejaculation of horror again greeted the Kafir's words. This awful
travesty, this wreck of humanity, that this should be Tom Carhayes! It
was scarcely credible. What a fate! Better had he met his death, even
amid torture, at the time they had supposed, than be spared for such an
end as this.
Then amid the deep silence and consternation of pity which this
lugubrious and lamentable discovery evoked, there followed an intense, a
burning desire for vengeance upon the perpetrators of this outrage; and
this feeling found its first vent in words. Josane shook his head.
"It might be done," he muttered. "It might be done. Are you prepared
to spend several days in here, _Amakosi_?"
This was introducing a new feature into the affair--the fact being that
each of the three white men was labouring under a consuming desire to
find himself outside the horrible hole once more--again beneath the
broad light of day. It was in very dubious tones, therefore, that
Shelton solicited an explanation.
"Even a maniac must eat and drink," answered Josane. "Those who keep
Umlilwane here do not wish him to die--"
"You mean that some one comes here periodically to bring him food?"
"_Ewa_."
"But it may not be the persons who put him here; only some one sent by
them," they objected.
"This place is not known to all the Gcaleka nation," said Josane.
"There are but two persons known to me who would dare to come within a
distance of it. Those are Ngcenika, the witch-doctress, and Hlangani,
who is half a witch-doctor himself."
"By lying in wait for them we might capture or shoot one or both of them
when they come to bring the poor devil his food, eh, Josane?" said
Shelton. "When are they likely to come?"
"It may not be for days. But there is another side to that plan. What
if they should have discovered that we are in here and decide to lie in
wait for us?"
"Oh, by Jove! That certainly is a reverse side to the medal," cried
Hoste, with a long whistle of dismay. And indeed the idea of two such
formidable enemies as the redoubted Gcaleka warrior and the ferocious
witch-doctress lurking in such wise as to hold them entirely at their
mercy was not a pleasant one. There was hardly a yard of the way where
one determined adversary, cunningly ambushed, would not hold their lives
in his hand. No. Any scheme for exacting reprisals had better keep
until they were once more in the light of day. The sooner they rescued
their unfortunate friend and got quit of the place the better.
And even here they had their work fully cut out for them. How were they
to get at the wretched maniac? The idea of descending into that
horrible pit was not an alluring one; and, apart from this, what sort of
reception would they meet with from its occupant? That the latter
regarded them in anything but a friendly light was manifest. How, then,
were they ever to convey to the unfortunate creature that their object
was the reverse of hostile? Tom Carhayes was well-known to be a man of
great physical power. Tom Carr hayes--a gibbering, mouthing lunatic--a
furious demoniac--no wonder they shrank from approaching him.
"Silence! Darken the light!"
The words, quick, low, peremptory--proceeded from Josane. In an instant
Eustace obeyed. The slide of the lantern was turned.
"I listen--I hear," went on the Kafir in the same quick whisper. "There
are steps approaching."
Every ear was strained to the uttermost. Standing in the pitchy
blackness and on the brink of that awful pit, no one dared move so much
as a foot.
And now a faint and far-away sound came floating through the darkness; a
strange sound, as of the soft bass of voices from the distant
spirit-world wailing weirdly along the ghostly walls of the tunnel. It
seemed, too, that ever so faint a light was melting the gloom in the
distance. The effect was indescribable in its awesomeness. The
listeners held their very breath.
"Up here," whispered Josane, referring to the shaft already mentioned.
"No! show no light--not a glimmer. Hold on to each other's shoulder--
you, Ixeshane, hold on to mine--Quick--_Hamba-ke_." [Go on.]
This precaution, dictated by the double motive of keeping together in
the darkness, and also to avoid any one of the party accidentally
falling into the pit--being observed, the Kafir led the way some little
distance within the shaft.
"Heavens!" whispered Hoste. "What about the snakes? Supposing we tread
on one?"
In the excitement of the moment this consideration had been quite
overlooked. Now it struck dismay into the minds of the three white men.
To walk along in pitch darkness in a narrow tunnel which you know to be
infested with deadly serpents, with more than an even chance of treading
upon one of the noisome reptiles at every step, is a position which
assuredly needs a powerful deal of excitement to carry it through.
"_Au_! Flash one beam of light in front, Ixeshane," whispered the
guide. "Not behind--for your life, not behind!"
Eustace complied, carefully shading the sides of the light with the
flaps of his coat. It revealed that the cave here widened slightly, but
made a curve. It further revealed no sign of the most dreaded enemy of
the human race.
Here, then, it was decided to lie in wait. The lights carried by those
approaching would hardly reach them here, and they could lurk almost
concealed, sheltered by the formation of the tunnel.
The flash from Eustace's lantern had been but momentary. And now, as
they crouched in the inky gloom, the sense of expectation became painful
in its intensity. Nearer and nearer floated the wailing chant, and soon
the lurking listeners were able to recognise it as identical with the
wild, heathenish _rune_ intoned by their guide--the weird, mysterious
invocation of the Serpent.
"Harm us not,
O Snake of snakes!
Do us no hurt
_O Inyeka 'Nkulu_!"
The sonorous, open vowels rolled forth in long-drawn cadence, chanted by
two voices--both blending in wonderful harmony. Then a cloud of
nebulous light filled up the entrance to their present hiding place,
hovering above the fearful hell-pit where the maniac was imprisoned,
throwing the brink into distinct relief.
The watchers held their very breath. The song had ceased. Suddenly
there was a flash of light in their eyes, as from a lantern.
Two dark figures were standing on the brink of the hole. Each carried a
lantern, one of those strong, tin-rimmed concerns used by
transport-riders for hanging in their waggon-tents. There was no lack
of light now.
"Ho, Umlilwane!" cried a deep, bass voice, which rumbled in hoarse
echoes beneath the domed roof, while the speaker held his lantern out
over the pit. "Ho, Umlilwane! It is the dog's feeding time again. We
have brought the dog his bones. Ho, ho!"
The wretched maniac who, until now, had kept silence, here broke forth
again into his diabolical howls. By the sound the watchers could tell
that he was exhausting himself in a series of bull-dog springs similar
to those prompted by his frenzy on first discovering themselves. At
each of these futile outbursts the two mocking fiends shouted and roared
with laughter. But they little knew how near they were laughing for the
last time. Three rifles were covering them at a distance of fifty
yards--three rifles in the hands of men who were dead shots, and whose
hearts were bursting with silent fury. Josane, seeing this, took
occasion to whisper under cover of the lunatic's frenzied howls:
"The time is not yet. The witch-doctress is for me--for me. I will
lure her in here, and when I give the word--but not before--shoot
Hlangani. The witch-doctress is for me."
The identity of the two figures was distinct in the light. The hideous
sorceress, though reft of most of the horrid accessories and adornments
of her order, yet looked cruel and repulsive as a very fiend--fitting
figure to harmonise with the Styx-like gloom of the scene. The huge
form of the warrior loomed truly gigantic in the sickly lantern light.
"Ho, Umlilwane, thou dog of dogs!" went on the latter. "Art thou
growing tired of thy cool retreat? Are not the serpents good
companions? _Haul_ Thou wert a fool to part so readily with thy mind.
After so many moons of converse with the serpents, thou shouldst have
been a mighty soothsayer--a mighty diviner--by now. How long did it
take thee to lose thy mind? But a single day? But a day and a night?
That was quick! Ho, ho!" And the great taunting laugh was echoed by
the shriller cackle of the female fiend.
"Thou wert a mighty man with thy fists, a mighty man with thy gun, O
Umlilwane!" went on the savage, his mocking tones now sinking to those
of devilish hatred. "But now thou art no longer a man--no longer a man.
_Au_! What were my words to thee? `Thou hadst better have cut off thy
right hand before shedding the blood of Hlangani _for it is better to
lose a hand than one's mind_.' What thinkest thou now of Hlangani's
revenge? Hi!"
How plain now to one of the listeners were those sombre words, over
whose meaning he had so anxiously pondered. This, then, was the fearful
vengeance promised by the Gcaleka warrior. And for many months his
wretched victim had lain here a raving maniac--had lain here in a
darkness as of the very pit of hell--had lain among noisome serpents--
among crawling horrors untold--small wonder his reason had given way
after a single night of such, as his tormentor had just declared. Small
wonder that he had indeed lost his mind!
A fiendish yell burst from the maniac. Suddenly a great serpent was
thrown upward from the pit. Petrified with horror, the watchers saw its
thick, writhing form fly through the air and light on the
witch-doctress's shoulder. With a shrill laugh the hag merely seized
the wriggling, squirming reptile, which, with crest waving, was hissing
like a fury, and hurled it back into the pit again. What sort of
devil's influence was protecting these people, that they could handle
the most deadly reptiles with absolute impunity? Were they, indeed,
under some demoniac spell? To one, however, among the white spectators,
the real solution of the mystery may have suggested itself.
"Here are thy bones, dog," resumed the great barbarian, throwing what
looked like a half-filled sack into the hole. "Here is thy drink," and
he lowered a large calabash at the end of a string. "Eat, drink, and
keep up thy strength. Perhaps one day I may turn thee loose again. Who
knows! Then when thy people see thee coming they will cry: `Here comes
Hlangani's Revenge.' And they will fly from thee in terror, as from the
approach of a fell disease."
The watchers looked at each other. These last words, coupled with the
act of throwing down the food, seemed to point to the speedy conclusion
of the visit. They could hear the miserable victim mumbling and
crunching what sounded like literally bones, and growling like a dog.
But Hlangani went on.
"Wouldst thou not rather have gone to feed the black ants, or have died
the death of the red-hot stones, Umlilwane? Thou wouldst be at rest
now. And now thou hast only just begun to live--alone in the darkness--
alone with the serpents--a man whose mind is gone. Thou wilt never see
the light of day again. _Whau_! The sun is shining like gold outside.
And thy wife, Umlilwane--thy beautiful wife--tall and graceful, like the
stem of the budding _umbona_ [Maize]--dost thou never think of her? Ha!
There is another who does--another who does. I have seen him--I have
seen them both--him and thy beautiful wife--"
Eustace had nudged Josane in such wise as to make that individual
understand that the curtain must be rung down on this scene--and that at
once. Simultaneously the "yap" of a puppy dog burst forth almost
beneath his feet. Its effect upon the pair at the pit's brink was
electric.
"_Yau_!" cried Ngcenika, turning toward the sound. "The little dog has
followed me in after all. Ah, the little brute. I will make him taste
the stick!"
"Or throw him down to Umlilwane," laughed her companion. "He will do
for him to play with, two dogs together. _Mawo_!"
Again the "yap" was heard, now several times in rapid succession. So
perfect was the imitation that the watchers themselves were for a moment
taken in.
"_Iza, inja! Injane, izapa_!" ["Come, dog! Little dog--come here!"]
cried the witch-doctress coaxingly, advancing into the lateral gallery,
holding her lantern in front of her. Josane, with his mouth to the
ground was emitting a perfect chorus of yaps.
"Now," he whispered, under cover of the echoes produced, as the width of
the gallery left a clear chance at Hlangani, without endangering the
witch-doctress. "Remember--the female beast, Ngcenika, is for me.
Shoot Hlangani--_Now_!"
Scarce had the word left his mouth than the shots crashed forth
simultaneously.