Outside the cavern we halted, feeling rather foolish.

"I am going back," said Sir Henry.

"Why?" asked Good.

"Because it has struck me that--what we saw--may be my brother."

This was a new idea, and we re-entered the place to put it to the
proof. After the bright light outside, our eyes, weak as they were with
staring at the snow, could not pierce the gloom of the cave for a
while. Presently, however, they grew accustomed to the semi-darkness,
and we advanced towards the dead man.

Sir Henry knelt down and peered into his face.

"Thank God," he said, with a sigh of relief, "it is _not_ my brother."

Then I drew near and looked. The body was that of a tall man in middle
life with aquiline features, grizzled hair, and a long black moustache.
The skin was perfectly yellow, and stretched tightly over the bones.
Its clothing, with the exception of what seemed to be the remains of a
woollen pair of hose, had been removed, leaving the skeleton-like frame
naked. Round the neck of the corpse, which was frozen perfectly stiff,
hung a yellow ivory crucifix.

"Who on earth can it be?" said I.

"Can't you guess?" asked Good.

I shook my head.

"Why, the old Dom, Jose da Silvestra, of course--who else?"

"Impossible," I gasped; "he died three hundred years ago."

"And what is there to prevent him from lasting for three thousand years
in this atmosphere, I should like to know?" asked Good. "If only the
temperature is sufficiently low, flesh and blood will keep fresh as New
Zealand mutton for ever, and Heaven knows it is cold enough here. The
sun never gets in here; no animal comes here to tear or destroy. No
doubt his slave, of whom he speaks on the writing, took off his clothes
and left him. He could not have buried him alone. Look!" he went on,
stooping down to pick up a queerly-shaped bone scraped at the end into
a sharp point, "here is the 'cleft bone' that Silvestra used to draw
the map with."

We gazed for a moment astonished, forgetting our own miseries in this
extraordinary and, as it seemed to us, semi-miraculous sight.

"Ay," said Sir Henry, "and this is where he got his ink from," and he
pointed to a small wound on the Dom's left arm. "Did ever man see such
a thing before?"

There was no longer any doubt about the matter, which for my own part I
confess perfectly appalled me. There he sat, the dead man, whose
directions, written some ten generations ago, had led us to this spot.
Here in my own hand was the rude pen with which he had written them,
and about his neck hung the crucifix that his dying lips had kissed.
Gazing at him, my imagination could reconstruct the last scene of the
drama, the traveller dying of cold and starvation, yet striving to
convey to the world the great secret which he had discovered:--the
awful loneliness of his death, of which the evidence sat before us. It
even seemed to me that I could trace in his strongly-marked features a
likeness to those of my poor friend Silvestre his descendant, who had
died twenty years before in my arms, but perhaps that was fancy. At any
rate, there he sat, a sad memento of the fate that so often overtakes
those who would penetrate into the unknown; and there doubtless he will
still sit, crowned with the dread majesty of death, for centuries yet
unborn, to startle the eyes of wanderers like ourselves, if ever any
such should come again to invade his loneliness. The thing overpowered
us, already almost perished as we were with cold and hunger.

"Let us go," said Sir Henry in a low voice; "stay, we will give him a
companion," and lifting up the dead body of the Hottentot Ventvoegel, he
placed it near to that of the old Dom. Then he stooped, and with a jerk
broke the rotten string of the crucifix which hung round da Silvestra's
neck, for his fingers were too cold to attempt to unfasten it. I
believe that he has it still. I took the bone pen, and it is before me
as I write--sometimes I use it to sign my name.

Then leaving these two, the proud white man of a past age, and the poor
Hottentot, to keep their eternal vigil in the midst of the eternal
snows, we crept out of the cave into the welcome sunshine and resumed
our path, wondering in our hearts how many hours it would be before we
were even as they are.

When we had walked about half a mile we came to the edge of the
plateau, for the nipple of the mountain does not rise out of its exact
centre, though from the desert side it had seemed to do so. What lay
below us we could not see, for the landscape was wreathed in billows of
morning fog. Presently, however, the higher layers of mist cleared a
little, and revealed, at the end of a long slope of snow, a patch of
green grass, some five hundred yards beneath us, through which a stream
was running. Nor was this all. By the stream, basking in the bright
sun, stood and lay a group of from ten to fifteen _large antelopes_--at
that distance we could not see of what species.

The sight filled us with an unreasoning joy. If only we could get it,
there was food in plenty. But the question was how to do so. The beasts
were fully six hundred yards off, a very long shot, and one not to be
depended on when our lives hung on the results.

Rapidly we discussed the advisability of trying to stalk the game, but
in the end dismissed it reluctantly. To begin with, the wind was not
favourable, and further, we must certainly be perceived, however
careful we were, against the blinding background of snow, which we
should be obliged to traverse.

"Well, we must have a try from where we are," said Sir Henry. "Which
shall it be, Quatermain, the repeating rifles or the expresses?"

Here again was a question. The Winchester repeaters--of which we had
two, Umbopa carrying poor Ventvoegel's as well as his own--were sighted
up to a thousand yards, whereas the expresses were only sighted to
three hundred and fifty, beyond which distance shooting with them was
more or less guess-work. On the other hand, if they did hit, the
express bullets, being "expanding," were much more likely to bring the
game down. It was a knotty point, but I made up my mind that we must
risk it and use the expresses.

"Let each of us take the buck opposite to him. Aim well at the point of
the shoulder and high up," said I; "and Umbopa, do you give the word,
so that we may all fire together."

Then came a pause, each of us aiming his level best, as indeed a man is
likely to do when he knows that life itself depends upon the shot.

"Fire," said Umbopa in Zulu, and at almost the same instant the three
rifles rang out loudly; three clouds of smoke hung for a moment before
us, and a hundred echoes went flying over the silent snow. Presently
the smoke cleared, and revealed--oh, joy!--a great buck lying on its
back and kicking furiously in its death agony. We gave a yell of
triumph--we were saved--we should not starve. Weak as we were, we
rushed down the intervening slope of snow, and in ten minutes from the
time of shooting, that animal's heart and liver were lying before us.
But now a new difficulty arose, we had no fuel, and therefore could
make no fire to cook them. We gazed at each other in dismay.

"Starving men should not be fanciful," said Good; "we must eat raw
meat."

There was no other way out of the dilemma, and our gnawing hunger made
the proposition less distasteful than it would otherwise have been. So
we took the heart and liver and buried them for a few minutes in a
patch of snow to cool them. Then we washed them in the ice-cold water
of the stream, and lastly ate them greedily. It sounds horrible enough,
but honestly, I never tasted anything so good as that raw meat. In a
quarter of an hour we were changed men. Our life and vigour came back
to us, our feeble pulses grew strong again, and the blood went coursing
through our veins. But mindful of the results of over-feeding on
starved stomachs, we were careful not to eat too much, stopping whilst
we were still hungry.

"Thank Heaven!" said Sir Henry; "that brute has saved our lives. What
is it, Quatermain?"

I rose and went to look at the antelope, for I was not certain. It was
about the size of a donkey, with large curved horns. I had never seen
one like it before; the species was new to me. It was brown in colour,
with faint red stripes, and grew a thick coat. I afterwards discovered
that the natives of that wonderful country call these bucks "_inco_."
They are very rare, and only found at a great altitude where no other
game will live. This animal was fairly hit high up in the shoulder,
though whose bullet brought it down we could not, of course, discover.
I believe that Good, mindful of his marvellous shot at the giraffe,
secretly set it down to his own prowess, and we did not contradict him.

We had been so busy satisfying our hunger that hitherto we had not
found time to look about us. But now, having set Umbopa to cut off as
much of the best meat as we were likely to be able to carry, we began
to inspect our surroundings. The mist had cleared away, for it was
eight o'clock, and the sun had sucked it up, so we were able to take in
all the country before us at a glance. I know not how to describe the
glorious panorama which unfolded itself to our gaze. I have never seen
anything like it before, nor shall, I suppose, again.

Behind and over us towered Sheba's snowy Breasts, and below, some five
thousand feet beneath where we stood, lay league on league of the most
lovely champaign country. Here were dense patches of lofty forest,
there a great river wound its silvery way. To the left stretched a vast
expanse of rich, undulating veld or grass land, whereon we could just
make out countless herds of game or cattle, at that distance we could
not tell which. This expanse appeared to be ringed in by a wall of
distant mountains. To the right the country was more or less
mountainous; that is, solitary hills stood up from its level, with
stretches of cultivated land between, amongst which we could see groups
of dome-shaped huts. The landscape lay before us as a map, wherein
rivers flashed like silver snakes, and Alp-like peaks crowned with
wildly twisted snow wreaths rose in grandeur, whilst over all was the
glad sunlight and the breath of Nature's happy life.

Two curious things struck us as we gazed. First, that the country
before us must lie at least three thousand feet higher than the desert
we had crossed, and secondly, that all the rivers flowed from south to
north. As we had painful reason to know, there was no water upon the
southern side of the vast range on which we stood, but on the northern
face were many streams, most of which appeared to unite with the great
river we could see winding away farther than our eyes could follow.

We sat down for a while and gazed in silence at this wonderful view.
Presently Sir Henry spoke.

"Isn't there something on the map about Solomon's Great Road?" he said.

I nodded, for I was still gazing out over the far country.

"Well, look; there it is!" and he pointed a little to our right.

Good and I looked accordingly, and there, winding away towards the
plain, was what appeared to be a wide turnpike road. We had not seen it
at first because, on reaching the plain, it turned behind some broken
country. We did not say anything, at least, not much; we were beginning
to lose the sense of wonder. Somehow it did not seem particularly
unnatural that we should find a sort of Roman road in this strange
land. We accepted the fact, that was all.

"Well," said Good, "it must be quite near us if we cut off to the
right. Hadn't we better be making a start?"

This was sound advice, and so soon as we had washed our faces and hands
in the stream we acted on it. For a mile or more we made our way over
boulders and across patches of snow, till suddenly, on reaching the top
of the little rise, we found the road at our feet. It was a splendid
road cut out of the solid rock, at least fifty feet wide, and
apparently well kept; though the odd thing was that it seemed to begin
there. We walked down and stood on it, but one single hundred paces
behind us, in the direction of Sheba's Breasts, it vanished, the entire
surface of the mountain being strewn with boulders interspersed with
patches of snow.

"What do you make of this, Quatermain?" asked Sir Henry.

I shook my head, I could make nothing of the thing.

"I have it!" said Good; "the road no doubt ran right over the range and
across the desert on the other side, but the sand there has covered it
up, and above us it has been obliterated by some volcanic eruption of
molten lava."

This seemed a good suggestion; at any rate, we accepted it, and
proceeded down the mountain. It proved a very different business
travelling along down hill on that magnificent pathway with full
stomachs from what it was travelling uphill over the snow quite starved
and almost frozen. Indeed, had it not been for melancholy recollections
of poor Ventvoegel's sad fate, and of that grim cave where he kept
company with the old Dom, we should have felt positively cheerful,
notwithstanding the sense of unknown dangers before us. Every mile we
walked the atmosphere grew softer and balmier, and the country before
us shone with a yet more luminous beauty. As for the road itself, I
never saw such an engineering work, though Sir Henry said that the
great road over the St. Gothard in Switzerland is very similar. No
difficulty had been too great for the Old World engineer who laid it
out. At one place we came to a ravine three hundred feet broad and at
least a hundred feet deep. This vast gulf was actually filled in with
huge blocks of dressed stone, having arches pierced through them at the
bottom for a waterway, over which the road went on sublimely. At
another place it was cut in zigzags out of the side of a precipice five
hundred feet deep, and in a third it tunnelled through the base of an
intervening ridge, a space of thirty yards or more.

Here we noticed that the sides of the tunnel were covered with quaint
sculptures, mostly of mailed figures driving in chariots. One, which
was exceedingly beautiful, represented a whole battle scene with a
convoy of captives being marched off in the distance.

"Well," said Sir Henry, after inspecting this ancient work of art, "it
is very well to call this Solomon's Road, but my humble opinion is that
the Egyptians had been here before Solomon's people ever set a foot on
it. If this isn't Egyptian or Phoenician handiwork, I must say that it
is very like it."

By midday we had advanced sufficiently down the mountain to search the
region where wood was to be met with. First we came to scattered bushes
which grew more and more frequent, till at last we found the road
winding through a vast grove of silver trees similar to those which are
to be seen on the slopes of Table Mountain at Cape Town. I had never
before met with them in all my wanderings, except at the Cape, and
their appearance here astonished me greatly.

"Ah!" said Good, surveying these shining-leaved trees with evident
enthusiasm, "here is lots of wood, let us stop and cook some dinner; I
have about digested that raw heart."

Nobody objected to this, so leaving the road we made our way to a
stream which was babbling away not far off, and soon had a goodly fire
of dry boughs blazing. Cutting off some substantial hunks from the
flesh of the _inco_ which we had brought with us, we proceeded to toast
them on the end of sharp sticks, as one sees the Kafirs do, and ate
them with relish. After filling ourselves, we lit our pipes and gave
ourselves up to enjoyment that, compared with the hardships we had
recently undergone, seemed almost heavenly.

The brook, of which the banks were clothed with dense masses of a
gigantic species of maidenhair fern interspersed with feathery tufts of
wild asparagus, sung merrily at our side, the soft air murmured through
the leaves of the silver trees, doves cooed around, and bright-winged
birds flashed like living gems from bough to bough. It was a Paradise.

The magic of the place combined with an overwhelming sense of dangers
left behind, and of the promised land reached at last, seemed to charm
us into silence. Sir Henry and Umbopa sat conversing in a mixture of
broken English and Kitchen Zulu in a low voice, but earnestly enough,
and I lay, with my eyes half shut, upon that fragrant bed of fern and
watched them.

Presently I missed Good, and I looked to see what had become of him.
Soon I observed him sitting by the bank of the stream, in which he had
been bathing. He had nothing on but his flannel shirt, and his natural
habits of extreme neatness having reasserted themselves, he was
actively employed in making a most elaborate toilet. He had washed his
gutta-percha collar, had thoroughly shaken out his trousers, coat and
waistcoat, and was now folding them up neatly till he was ready to put
them on, shaking his head sadly as he scanned the numerous rents and
tears in them, which naturally had resulted from our frightful journey.
Then he took his boots, scrubbed them with a handful of fern, and
finally rubbed them over with a piece of fat, which he had carefully
saved from the _inco_ meat, till they looked, comparatively speaking,
respectable. Having inspected them judiciously through his eye-glass,
he put the boots on and began a fresh operation. From a little bag that
he carried he produced a pocket-comb in which was fixed a tiny
looking-glass, and in this he surveyed himself. Apparently he was not
satisfied, for he proceeded to do his hair with great care. Then came a
pause whilst he again contemplated the effect; still it was not
satisfactory. He felt his chin, on which the accumulated scrub of a ten
days' beard was flourishing.

"Surely," thought I, "he is not going to try to shave." But so it was.
Taking the piece of fat with which he had greased his boots, Good
washed it thoroughly in the stream. Then diving again into the bag he
brought out a little pocket razor with a guard to it, such as are
bought by people who are afraid of cutting themselves, or by those
about to undertake a sea voyage. Then he rubbed his face and chin
vigorously with the fat and began. Evidently it proved a painful
process, for he groaned very much over it, and I was convulsed with
inward laughter as I watched him struggling with that stubbly beard. It
seemed so very odd that a man should take the trouble to shave himself
with a piece of fat in such a place and in our circumstances. At last
he succeeded in getting the hair off the right side of his face and
chin, when suddenly I, who was watching, became conscious of a flash of
light that passed just by his head.

Good sprang up with a profane exclamation (if it had not been a safety
razor he would certainly have cut his throat), and so did I, without
the exclamation, and this was what I saw. Standing not more than twenty
paces from where I was, and ten from Good, were a group of men. They
were very tall and copper-coloured, and some of them wore great plumes
of black feathers and short cloaks of leopard skins; this was all I
noticed at the moment. In front of them stood a youth of about
seventeen, his hand still raised and his body bent forward in the
attitude of a Grecian statue of a spear-thrower. Evidently the flash of
light had been caused by a weapon which he had hurled.

As I looked an old soldier-like man stepped forward out of the group,
and catching the youth by the arm said something to him. Then they
advanced upon us.

Sir Henry, Good, and Umbopa by this time had seized their rifles and
lifted them threateningly. The party of natives still came on. It
struck me that they could not know what rifles were, or they would not
have treated them with such contempt.

"Put down your guns!" I halloed to the others, seeing that our only
chance of safety lay in conciliation. They obeyed, and walking to the
front I addressed the elderly man who had checked the youth.

"Greeting," I said in Zulu, not knowing what language to use. To my
surprise I was understood.

"Greeting," answered the old man, not, indeed, in the same tongue, but
in a dialect so closely allied to it that neither Umbopa nor myself had
any difficulty in understanding him. Indeed, as we afterwards found
out, the language spoken by this people is an old-fashioned form of the
Zulu tongue, bearing about the same relationship to it that the English
of Chaucer does to the English of the nineteenth century.

"Whence come you?" he went on, "who are you? and why are the faces of
three of you white, and the face of the fourth as the face of our
mother's sons?" and he pointed to Umbopa. I looked at Umbopa as he said
it, and it flashed across me that he was right. The face of Umbopa was
like the faces of the men before me, and so was his great form like
their forms. But I had not time to reflect on this coincidence.

"We are strangers, and come in peace," I answered, speaking very
slowly, so that he might understand me, "and this man is our servant."

"You lie," he answered; "no strangers can cross the mountains where all
things perish. But what do your lies matter?--if ye are strangers then
ye must die, for no strangers may live in the land of the Kukuanas. It
is the king's law. Prepare then to die, O strangers!"

I was slightly staggered at this, more especially as I saw the hands of
some of the men steal down to their sides, where hung on each what
looked to me like a large and heavy knife.

"What does that beggar say?" asked Good.

"He says we are going to be killed," I answered grimly.

"Oh, Lord!" groaned Good; and, as was his way when perplexed, he put
his hand to his false teeth, dragging the top set down and allowing
them to fly back to his jaw with a snap. It was a most fortunate move,
for next second the dignified crowd of Kukuanas uttered a simultaneous
yell of horror, and bolted back some yards.

"What's up?" said I.

"It's his teeth," whispered Sir Henry excitedly. "He moved them. Take
them out, Good, take them out!"

He obeyed, slipping the set into the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

In another second curiosity had overcome fear, and the men advanced
slowly. Apparently they had now forgotten their amiable intention of
killing us.

"How is it, O strangers," asked the old man solemnly, "that this fat
man (pointing to Good, who was clad in nothing but boots and a flannel
shirt, and had only half finished his shaving), whose body is clothed,
and whose legs are bare, who grows hair on one side of his sickly face
and not on the other, and who wears one shining and transparent
eye--how is it, I ask, that he has teeth which move of themselves,
coming away from the jaws and returning of their own will?"

"Open your mouth," I said to Good, who promptly curled up his lips and
grinned at the old gentleman like an angry dog, revealing to his
astonished gaze two thin red lines of gum as utterly innocent of
ivories as a new-born elephant. The audience gasped.

"Where are his teeth?" they shouted; "with our eyes we saw them."

Turning his head slowly and with a gesture of ineffable contempt, Good
swept his hand across his mouth. Then he grinned again, and lo, there
were two rows of lovely teeth.

Now the young man who had flung the knife threw himself down on the
grass and gave vent to a prolonged howl of terror; and as for the old
gentleman, his knees knocked together with fear.

"I see that ye are spirits," he said falteringly; "did ever man born of
woman have hair on one side of his face and not on the other, or a
round and transparent eye, or teeth which moved and melted away and
grew again? Pardon us, O my lords."

Here was luck indeed, and, needless to say, I jumped at the chance.

"It is granted," I said with an imperial smile. "Nay, ye shall know the
truth. We come from another world, though we are men such as ye; we
come," I went on, "from the biggest star that shines at night."

"Oh! oh!" groaned the chorus of astonished aborigines.

"Yes," I went on, "we do, indeed"; and again I smiled benignly, as I
uttered that amazing lie. "We come to stay with you a little while, and
to bless you by our sojourn. Ye will see, O friends, that I have
prepared myself for this visit by the learning of your language."

"It is so, it is so," said the chorus.

"Only, my lord," put in the old gentleman, "thou hast learnt it very
badly."

I cast an indignant glance at him, and he quailed.

"Now friends," I continued, "ye might think that after so long a
journey we should find it in our hearts to avenge such a reception,
mayhap to strike cold in death the imperious hand that--that, in
short--threw a knife at the head of him whose teeth come and go."

"Spare him, my lords," said the old man in supplication; "he is the
king's son, and I am his uncle. If anything befalls him his blood will
be required at my hands."

"Yes, that is certainly so," put in the young man with great emphasis.

"Ye may perhaps doubt our power to avenge," I went on, heedless of this
by-play. "Stay, I will show you. Here, thou dog and slave (addressing
Umbopa in a savage tone), give me the magic tube that speaks"; and I
tipped a wink towards my express rifle.

Umbopa rose to the occasion, and with something as nearly resembling a
grin as I have ever seen on his dignified face he handed me the gun.

"It is here, O Lord of Lords," he said with a deep obeisance.

Now just before I had asked for the rifle I had perceived a little
_klipspringer_ antelope standing on a mass of rock about seventy yards
away, and determined to risk the shot.

"Ye see that buck," I said, pointing the animal out to the party before
me. "Tell me, is it possible for man born of woman to kill it from here
with a noise?"

"It is not possible, my lord," answered the old man.

"Yet shall I kill it," I said quietly.

The old man smiled. "That my lord cannot do," he answered.

I raised the rifle and covered the buck. It was a small animal, and one
which a man might well be excused for missing, but I knew that it would
not do to miss.

I drew a deep breath, and slowly pressed on the trigger. The buck stood
still as a stone.

"Bang! thud!" The antelope sprang into the air and fell on the rock
dead as a door nail.

A groan of simultaneous terror burst from the group before us.

"If you want meat," I remarked coolly, "go fetch that buck."

The old man made a sign, and one of his followers departed, and
presently returned bearing the _klipspringer_. I noticed with
satisfaction that I had hit it fairly behind the shoulder. They
gathered round the poor creature's body, gazing at the bullet-hole in
consternation.

"Ye see," I said, "I do not speak empty words."

There was no answer.

"If ye yet doubt our power," I went on, "let one of you go stand upon
that rock that I may make him as this buck."

None of them seemed at all inclined to take the hint, till at last the
king's son spoke.

"It is well said. Do thou, my uncle, go stand upon the rock. It is but
a buck that the magic has killed. Surely it cannot kill a man."

The old gentleman did not take the suggestion in good part. Indeed, he
seemed hurt.

"No! no!" he ejaculated hastily, "my old eyes have seen enough. These
are wizards, indeed. Let us bring them to the king. Yet if any should
wish a further proof, let _him_ stand upon the rock, that the magic
tube may speak with him."

There was a most general and hasty expression of dissent.

"Let not good magic be wasted on our poor bodies," said one; "we are
satisfied. All the witchcraft of our people cannot show the like of
this."

"It is so," remarked the old gentleman, in a tone of intense relief;
"without any doubt it is so. Listen, children of the Stars, children of
the shining Eye and the movable Teeth, who roar out in thunder, and
slay from afar. I am Infadoos, son of Kafa, once king of the Kukuana
people. This youth is Scragga."

"He nearly scragged me," murmured Good.

"Scragga, son of Twala, the great king--Twala, husband of a thousand
wives, chief and lord paramount of the Kukuanas, keeper of the great
Road, terror of his enemies, student of the Black Arts, leader of a
hundred thousand warriors, Twala the One-eyed, the Black, the Terrible."

"So," said I superciliously, "lead us then to Twala. We do not talk
with low people and underlings."

"It is well, my lords, we will lead you; but the way is long. We are
hunting three days' journey from the place of the king. But let my
lords have patience, and we will lead them."

"So be it," I said carelessly; "all time is before us, for we do not
die. We are ready, lead on. But Infadoos, and thou Scragga, beware!
Play us no monkey tricks, set for us no foxes' snares, for before your
brains of mud have thought of them we shall know and avenge. The light
of the transparent eye of him with the bare legs and the half-haired
face shall destroy you, and go through your land; his vanishing teeth
shall affix themselves fast in you and eat you up, you and your wives
and children; the magic tubes shall argue with you loudly, and make you
as sieves. Beware!"

This magnificent address did not fail of its effect; indeed, it might
almost have been spared, so deeply were our friends already impressed
with our powers.

The old man made a deep obeisance, and murmured the words, "_Koom
Koom_," which I afterwards discovered was their royal salute,
corresponding to the _Bayete_ of the Zulus, and turning, addressed his
followers. These at once proceeded to lay hold of all our goods and
chattels, in order to bear them for us, excepting only the guns, which
they would on no account touch. They even seized Good's clothes, that,
as the reader may remember, were neatly folded up beside him.

He saw and made a dive for them, and a loud altercation ensued.

"Let not my lord of the transparent Eye and the melting Teeth touch
them," said the old man. "Surely his slave shall carry the things."

"But I want to put 'em on!" roared Good, in nervous English.

Umbopa translated.

"Nay, my lord," answered Infadoos, "would my lord cover up his
beautiful white legs (although he is so dark Good has a singularly
white skin) from the eyes of his servants? Have we offended my lord
that he should do such a thing?"

Here I nearly exploded with laughing; and meanwhile one of the men
started on with the garments.

"Damn it!" roared Good, "that black villain has got my trousers."

"Look here, Good," said Sir Henry; "you have appeared in this country
in a certain character, and you must live up to it. It will never do
for you to put on trousers again. Henceforth you must exist in a
flannel shirt, a pair of boots, and an eye-glass."

"Yes," I said, "and with whiskers on one side of your face and not on
the other. If you change any of these things the people will think that
we are impostors. I am very sorry for you, but, seriously, you must. If
once they begin to suspect us our lives will not be worth a brass
farthing."

"Do you really think so?" said Good gloomily.

"I do, indeed. Your 'beautiful white legs' and your eye-glass are now
_the_ features of our party, and as Sir Henry says, you must live up to
them. Be thankful that you have got your boots on, and that the air is
warm."

Good sighed, and said no more, but it took him a fortnight to become
accustomed to his new and scant attire.

All that afternoon we travelled along the magnificent roadway, which
trended steadily in a north-westerly direction. Infadoos and Scragga
walked with us, but their followers marched about one hundred paces
ahead.

"Infadoos," I said at length, "who made this road?"

"It was made, my lord, of old time, none know how or when, not even the
wise woman Gagool, who has lived for generations. We are not old enough
to remember its making. None can fashion such roads now, but the king
suffers no grass to grow upon it."

"And whose are the writings on the wall of the caves through which we
have passed on the road?" I asked, referring to the Egyptian-like
sculptures that we had seen.

"My lord, the hands that made the road wrote the wonderful writings. We
know not who wrote them."

"When did the Kukuana people come into this country?"

"My lord, the race came down here like the breath of a storm ten
thousand thousand moons ago, from the great lands which lie there
beyond," and he pointed to the north. "They could travel no further
because of the high mountains which ring in the land, so say the old
voices of our fathers that have descended to us the children, and so
says Gagool, the wise woman, the smeller out of witches," and again he
pointed to the snow-clad peaks. "The country, too, was good, so they
settled here and grew strong and powerful, and now our numbers are like
the sea sand, and when Twala the king calls up his regiments their
plumes cover the plain so far as the eye of man can reach."

"And if the land is walled in with mountains, who is there for the
regiments to fight with?"

"Nay, my lord, the country is open there towards the north, and now and
again warriors sweep down upon us in clouds from a land we know not,
and we slay them. It is the third part of the life of a man since there
was a war. Many thousands died in it, but we destroyed those who came
to eat us up. So since then there has been no war."

"Your warriors must grow weary of resting on their spears, Infadoos."

"My lord, there was one war, just after we destroyed the people that
came down upon us, but it was a civil war; dog ate dog."

"How was that?"

"My lord the king, my half-brother, had a brother born at the same
birth, and of the same woman. It is not our custom, my lord, to suffer
twins to live; the weaker must always die. But the mother of the king
hid away the feebler child, which was born the last, for her heart
yearned over it, and that child is Twala the king. I am his younger
brother, born of another wife."

"Well?"

"My lord, Kafa, our father, died when we came to manhood, and my
brother Imotu was made king in his place, and for a space reigned and
had a son by his favourite wife. When the babe was three years old,
just after the great war, during which no man could sow or reap, a
famine came upon the land, and the people murmured because of the
famine, and looked round like a starved lion for something to rend.
Then it was that Gagool, the wise and terrible woman, who does not die,
made a proclamation to the people, saying, 'The king Imotu is no king.'
And at the time Imotu was sick with a wound, and lay in his kraal not
able to move.

"Then Gagool went into a hut and led out Twala, my half-brother, and
twin brother to the king, whom she had hidden among the caves and rocks
since he was born, and stripping the '_moocha_' (waist-cloth) off his
loins, showed the people of the Kukuanas the mark of the sacred snake
coiled round his middle, wherewith the eldest son of the king is marked
at birth, and cried out loud, 'Behold your king whom I have saved for
you even to this day!'

"Now the people being mad with hunger, and altogether bereft of reason
and the knowledge of truth, cried out--'_The king! The king!_' but I
knew that it was not so, for Imotu my brother was the elder of the
twins, and our lawful king. Then just as the tumult was at its height
Imotu the king, though he was very sick, crawled from his hut holding
his wife by the hand, and followed by his little son Ignosi--that is,
by interpretation, the Lightning.

"'What is this noise?' he asked. 'Why cry ye _The king! The king!_'

"Then Twala, his twin brother, born of the same woman, and in the same
hour, ran to him, and taking him by the hair, stabbed him through the
heart with his knife. And the people being fickle, and ever ready to
worship the rising sun, clapped their hands and cried, '_Twala is
king!_ Now we know that Twala is king!'"

"And what became of Imotu's wife and her son Ignosi? Did Twala kill
them too?"

"Nay, my lord. When she saw that her lord was dead the queen seized the
child with a cry and ran away. Two days afterward she came to a kraal
very hungry, and none would give her milk or food, now that her lord
the king was dead, for all men hate the unfortunate. But at nightfall a
little child, a girl, crept out and brought her corn to eat, and she
blessed the child, and went on towards the mountains with her boy
before the sun rose again, and there she must have perished, for none
have seen her since, nor the child Ignosi."

"Then if this child Ignosi had lived he would be the true king of the
Kukuana people?"

"That is so, my lord; the sacred snake is round his middle. If he lives
he is king; but, alas! he is long dead."

"See, my lord," and Infadoos pointed to a vast collection of huts
surrounded by a fence, which was in its turn encircled by a great
ditch, that lay on the plain beneath us. "That is the kraal where the
wife of Imotu was last seen with the child Ignosi. It is there that we
shall sleep to-night, if, indeed," he added doubtfully, "my lords sleep
at all upon this earth."

"When we are among the Kukuanas, my good friend Infadoos, we do as the
Kukuanas do," I said majestically, and turned round quickly to address
Good, who was tramping along sullenly behind, his mind fully occupied
with unsatisfactory attempts to prevent his flannel shirt from flapping
in the evening breeze. To my astonishment I butted into Umbopa, who was
walking along immediately behind me, and very evidently had been
listening with the greatest interest to my conversation with Infadoos.
The expression on his face was most curious, and gave me the idea of a
man who was struggling with partial success to bring something long ago
forgotten back into his mind.

All this while we had been pressing on at a good rate towards the
undulating plain beneath us. The mountains we had crossed now loomed
high above our heads, and Sheba's Breasts were veiled modestly in
diaphanous wreaths of mist. As we went the country grew more and more
lovely. The vegetation was luxuriant, without being tropical; the sun
was bright and warm, but not burning; and a gracious breeze blew softly
along the odorous slopes of the mountains. Indeed, this new land was
little less than an earthly paradise; in beauty, in natural wealth, and
in climate I have never seen its like. The Transvaal is a fine country,
but it is nothing to Kukuanaland.

So soon as we started Infadoos had despatched a runner to warn the
people of the kraal, which, by the way, was in his military command, of
our arrival. This man had departed at an extraordinary speed, which
Infadoos informed me he would keep up all the way, as running was an
exercise much practised among his people.

The result of this message now became apparent. When we arrived within
two miles of the kraal we could see that company after company of men
were issuing from its gates and marching towards us.

Sir Henry laid his hand upon my arm, and remarked that it looked as
though we were going to meet with a warm reception. Something in his
tone attracted Infadoos' attention.

"Let not my lords be afraid," he said hastily, "for in my breast there
dwells no guile. This regiment is one under my command, and comes out
by my orders to greet you."

I nodded easily, though I was not quite easy in my mind.

About half a mile from the gates of this kraal is a long stretch of
rising ground sloping gently upwards from the road, and here the
companies formed. It was a splendid sight to see them, each company
about three hundred strong, charging swiftly up the rise, with flashing
spears and waving plumes, to take their appointed place. By the time we
reached the slope twelve such companies, or in all three thousand six
hundred men, had passed out and taken up their positions along the road.

Presently we came to the first company, and were able to gaze in
astonishment on the most magnificent set of warriors that I have ever
seen. They were all men of mature age, mostly veterans of about forty,
and not one of them was under six feet in height, whilst many stood six
feet three or four. They wore upon their heads heavy black plumes of
Sakaboola feathers, like those which adorned our guides. About their
waists and beneath the right knees were bound circlets of white ox
tails, while in their left hands they carried round shields measuring
about twenty inches across. These shields are very curious. The
framework is made of an iron plate beaten out thin, over which is
stretched milk-white ox-hide.

The weapons that each man bore were simple, but most effective,
consisting of a short and very heavy two-edged spear with a wooden
shaft, the blade being about six inches across at the widest part.
These spears are not used for throwing but like the Zulu "_bangwan_,"
or stabbing assegai, are for close quarters only, when the wound
inflicted by them is terrible. In addition to his _bangwan_ every man
carried three large and heavy knives, each knife weighing about two
pounds. One knife was fixed in the ox-tail girdle, and the other two at
the back of the round shield. These knives, which are called "_tollas_"
by the Kukuanas, take the place of the throwing assegai of the Zulus.
The Kukuana warriors can cast them with great accuracy to a distance of
fifty yards, and it is their custom on charging to hurl a volley of
them at the enemy as they come to close quarters.

Each company remained still as a collection of bronze statues till we
were opposite to it, when at a signal given by its commanding officer,
who, distinguished by a leopard skin cloak, stood some paces in front,
every spear was raised into the air, and from three hundred throats
sprang forth with a sudden roar the royal salute of "_Koom_." Then, so
soon as we had passed, the company formed up behind us and followed us
towards the kraal, till at last the whole regiment of the "Greys"--so
called from their white shields--the crack corps of the Kukuana people,
was marching in our rear with a tread that shook the ground.

At length, branching off from Solomon's Great Road, we came to the wide
fosse surrounding the kraal, which is at least a mile round, and fenced
with a strong palisade of piles formed of the trunks of trees. At the
gateway this fosse is spanned by a primitive drawbridge, which was let
down by the guard to allow us to pass in. The kraal is exceedingly well
laid out. Through the centre runs a wide pathway intersected at right
angles by other pathways so arranged as to cut the huts into square
blocks, each block being the quarters of a company. The huts are
dome-shaped, and built, like those of the Zulus, of a framework of
wattle, beautifully thatched with grass; but, unlike the Zulu huts,
they have doorways through which men could walk. Also they are much
larger, and surrounded by a verandah about six feet wide, beautifully
paved with powdered lime trodden hard.

All along each side of this wide pathway that pierces the kraal were
ranged hundreds of women, brought out by curiosity to look at us. These
women, for a native race, are exceedingly handsome. They are tall and
graceful, and their figures are wonderfully fine. The hair, though
short, is rather curly than woolly, the features are frequently
aquiline, and the lips are not unpleasantly thick, as is the case among
most African races. But what struck us most was their exceedingly quiet
and dignified air. They were as well-bred in their way as the
_habituees_ of a fashionable drawing-room, and in this respect they
differ from Zulu women and their cousins the Masai who inhabit the
district beyond Zanzibar. Their curiosity had brought them out to see
us, but they allowed no rude expressions of astonishment or savage
criticism to pass their lips as we trudged wearily in front of them.
Not even when old Infadoos with a surreptitious motion of the hand
pointed out the crowning wonder of poor Good's "beautiful white legs,"
did they suffer the feeling of intense admiration which evidently
mastered their minds to find expression. They fixed their dark eyes
upon this new and snowy loveliness, for, as I think I have said, Good's
skin is exceedingly white, and that was all. But it was quite enough
for Good, who is modest by nature.

When we reached the centre of the kraal, Infadoos halted at the door of
a large hut, which was surrounded at a distance by a circle of smaller
ones.

"Enter, Sons of the Stars," he said, in a magniloquent voice, "and
deign to rest awhile in our humble habitations. A little food shall be
brought to you, so that ye may have no need to draw your belts tight
from hunger; some honey and some milk, and an ox or two, and a few
sheep; not much, my lords, but still a little food."

"It is good," said I. "Infadoos; we are weary with travelling through
realms of air; now let us rest."

Accordingly we entered the hut, which we found amply prepared for our
comfort. Couches of tanned skins were spread for us to lie on, and
water was placed for us to wash in.

Presently we heard a shouting outside, and stepping to the door, saw a
line of damsels bearing milk and roasted mealies, and honey in a pot.
Behind these were some youths driving a fat young ox. We received the
gifts, and then one of the young men drew the knife from his girdle and
dexterously cut the ox's throat. In ten minutes it was dead, skinned,
and jointed. The best of the meat was then cut off for us, and the
rest, in the name of our party, I presented to the warriors round us,
who took it and distributed the "white lords' gift."

Umbopa set to work, with the assistance of an extremely prepossessing
young woman, to boil our portion in a large earthenware pot over a fire
which was built outside the hut, and when it was nearly ready we sent a
message to Infadoos, and asked him and Scragga, the king's son, to join
us.

Presently they came, and sitting down upon little stools, of which
there were several about the hut, for the Kukuanas do not in general
squat upon their haunches like the Zulus, they helped us to get through
our dinner. The old gentleman was most affable and polite, but it
struck me that the young one regarded us with doubt. Together with the
rest of the party, he had been overawed by our white appearance and by
our magic properties; but it seemed to me that, on discovering that we
ate, drank, and slept like other mortals, his awe was beginning to wear
off, and to be replaced by a sullen suspicion--which made me feel
rather uncomfortable.

In the course of our meal Sir Henry suggested to me that it might be
well to try to discover if our hosts knew anything of his brother's
fate, or if they had ever seen or heard of him; but, on the whole, I
thought that it would be wiser to say nothing of the matter at this
time. It was difficult to explain a relative lost from "the Stars."

After supper we produced our pipes and lit them; a proceeding which
filled Infadoos and Scragga with astonishment. The Kukuanas were
evidently unacquainted with the divine delights of tobacco-smoke. The
herb is grown among them extensively; but, like the Zulus, they use it
for snuff only, and quite failed to identify it in its new form.

Presently I asked Infadoos when we were to proceed on our journey, and
was delighted to learn that preparations had been made for us to leave
on the following morning, messengers having already departed to inform
Twala the king of our coming.

It appeared that Twala was at his principal place, known as Loo, making
ready for the great annual feast which was to be held in the first week
of June. At this gathering all the regiments, with the exception of
certain detachments left behind for garrison purposes, are brought up
and paraded before the king; and the great annual witch-hunt, of which
more by-and-by, is held.

We were to start at dawn; and Infadoos, who was to accompany us,
expected that we should reach Loo on the night of the second day,
unless we were detained by accident or by swollen rivers.

When they had given us this information our visitors bade us
good-night; and, having arranged to watch turn and turn about, three of
us flung ourselves down and slept the sweet sleep of the weary, whilst
the fourth sat up on the look-out for possible treachery.

The men come to their senses outside the cave of death. Sir Henry states his intention to go back inside to determine if they have just been frightened by the remains of his lost brother. The others accompany him. They discover that the corpse is not George's, but instead that of the old Dom, Jose da Silvestra, who journeyed here three hundred years ago. They are amazed by the cave's preservation of his body, but ascribe it to the extreme cold and lack of sunlight so far back in the cavern. They find the bone he used to draw the ancient map, as well as the "ink" he used: blood drawn from a self-inflicted wound in his left arm. Before they leave, Sir Henry places the frozen body of Ventvogel next to Jose da Silvestra and takes the dead Dom's crucifix from his frozen hands. The men travel about half a mile and come to the edge of a plateau. When the morning mists clear, they are able to see a herd of what are apparently antelopes grazing in the distance. Forced to choose between guns which are either more accurate or more deadly, Quatermain chooses the deadlier weapons, counting on the three men firing to take down at least one of the animals. The men fire and see one of the animals in its death throes while the others flee. They are unable to determine which shot killed the creature, but Quatermain believes Captain Good secretly gave himself credit for it as a follow-up to his amazing feat of shooting the giraffe earlier in their expedition. The men butcher the dead animals, but have no means of starting a fire so they must eat the meat raw. Despite the primitive preparations, they find the meal satisfying and restorative. Upon closer inspection, Quatermain determines that the animal is some donkey-sized species of antelope which he has never seen before. Their hunger satisfied, the men take in the scene around them. Where they previously traveled in desert wastes or snowy bleakness, they now find themselves surrounded by a flowing stream on one side, grassy veldt on another, and forests in the third direction. Consulting the map, they see an indicator for "Solomon's Road," and so follow the direction to see if they can find it. Soon they find the remains of the man-made road, dressed stones and all, but are bewildered by the fact that it appears to begin at their location. Captain Good postulates that the road at one time extended much further through the mountains, but that the sands of the desert have covered it over time. The men follow the road and find stones upon which are engraved scenes of chariot-borne men in combat or leading slaves into captivity. While they recognize their route as the "Solomon's Road" of the map, Sir Henry declares that the images are of Egyptians who were there long before Solomon. Once they reach the lower part of the mountain, the men come to a wood of silvery-leafed trees. They use the wood to build a fire and cook the meat they have stored. The nearby stream lulls the men into restfulness. Even Quatermain takes time to close his eyes for a while. When he rouses himself, Quatermain looks about for Captain Good. He finds the man wearing only his flannel shirt and boots, attempting to shave himself with a safety razor and animal fat. When he is halfway through shaving his face, something bright flashes near him. Now alert, the men see a group of men remarkably similar in skin color to Umbopa approaching with spears at the ready. The men ready their firearms, but the strangers advance. From this, Quatermain deduces that the men are unfamiliar with guns and so orders the rest of the party to lower their weapons. The strangers draw near and ask who the party is and where they come from, since the three white men are a strange sight to them. They proceed to tell the hunters that their lives are forfeit for having trespassed upon the land of the Kukuanas. Captain Good chooses this moment to continue his nervous habit of removing his false teeth with his tongue. The Kukuanas see this and are amazed at the sight. Good subtly removes them entirely from his mouth, giving the aggressors a toothless smile to prove that they are gone. He then puts them back in and smiles, convincing them that he can withdraw and grow his teeth at will. The Kukuanas are frightened by this strange man who grows hair on only one side of his face , has a shining eye , walks about only in a shirt to show off his white legs, and can remove and regrow his teeth. Quatermain seizes upon this bewilderment to claim that the three white men are indeed spirits from a distant star, and that Umbopa is their servant. The Kukuanas leader decides that the men are spirits and must be feared and obeyed, but he still has reservations. The Kakuanas speak a dialect of Zulu much older than the one currently employed by Quatermain and Umbopa, so he senses a problem in their knowledge. Quatermain changes the stakes by getting his "talking stick" and killing an antelope from far away. Claiming that he can kill with only a sound, he challenges any of the Kakuanas to try their skepticism against his firepower. They of course decline. The old man introduces himself as Infadoos and the young man who threw his knife at Good as Scragga. Scragga is the king's son, and Infadoos is his uncle. Their king is "Twala the One-eyed, the Black, the Terrible." Quatermain demands that they be taken to Twala. The party begins to set out, but Infadoos and the other Kakuanas are mystified by Captain Good's attempt to put his trousers on. They cannot conceive of his covering his "beautiful white legs" and the rest of the party agrees: Captain Good must play the part of strange spirit by keeping his pants off and his face half-shaven for the remainder of their trip. Good is frustrated by this, but Quatermain is barely able to withhold his laughter. They two groups set off together. As the party travels along the road, Quatermain asks Infadoos about its origins. Infadoos admits that neither he nor his people know who built this roadway originally; all he knows is that the king keeps it from becoming overgrown with weeds. When asked who carved the sculptures in the walls the men saw previously, Infadoos must again plead ignorance. When Quatermain asks Infadoos about the arrival of the Kukuanas to this land, Infadoos is more well-informed. He claims his people came to this area "ten thousand moons ago" but could travel no further because of the great ring of mountains. Here they prepare for combat until such time as war erupts. When asked who they could fight, being isolated as they are, Infadoos explains that there is an open area to the north from which another people sometimes descend upon the Kukuanas, although the Kukuanas have always been successful in defending themselves. But the last war against the outer tribe was fought long ago, so Quatermain wonders if the warriors do not become weary of training without actually finding combat. Infadoos explains that there was a recent conflict--a civil war. Infadoos' father, Kafa, had twin sons by another wife. These twins were Twala and his slightly elder brother, Imotu. Despite the Kukuanas custom of killing the weaker twin, the wise woman Gagool hid Twala from the rest of the tribe until he was fully grown. Imotu was made king upon Kafa's death, but when Imotu became ill Gagool and Twala made their move: Gagool presented Twala to the tribe as their "hidden" king, indicating a serpentine birthmark around his waist that indicates his royal heritage. Imotu hears the people crying out for their new king and exits his tent to investigate, only to be treacherously stabbed by his brother Twala. Imotu's wife and child flee and are never heard from again. Quatermain asks about this child, whose name is Ignosi , and if he would be the rightful king Infadoos believes he would be, were he to possess that special mark of kingship, the snake image around his waist. Quatermain then discovers that Umbopa has been taking a keen interest in this story, but does not delve into why this should be. The men reach an outlying Kukuana kraal and take in the sights. The land is more lush and verdant than the Transvaal, and the people are amazing to behold. The men all seem to be at least forty years old and tall--the shortest is about six feet tall, and many are several inches taller. The women are dark-skinned like the men, but possess more European features than their counterparts among the Zulus. An ox is killed and a feast begun in honor of these supernatural guests. While the food is good, Quatermain fears that the Kukuanas are losing their sense of awe over the white travelers from the stars as they see the men walk, talk, eat, and sleep like normal human beings. While maintaining outward serenity, the men hold in check an inner fear of betrayal at the hands of the Kukuanas. At night, the four men agree to keep at least one man on watch, while the others sleep.

It is in this chapter that the "Lost World" motif of Haggard's tale is introduced.  It comes subtly, first hinted at by the unknown species of antelope the men are able to hunt for food.  That an experienced hunter such as Quatermain can confess, "I had never seen one like it before, the species was new to me"  introduces a detail of the unknown for the reader to assimilate prior to the more otherworldly elements about to be presented. First among the more alien details is the discovery of Solomon's Road.  Moving from the uninhabited desert to the only slightly populated mountains, the men find themselves suddenly traveling along a path of dressed stones, "with arches pierced at the bottom for a water-way, over which the road went sublimely on" .  The find "quaint sculptures mostly of mailed figures driving in chariots," which leads Sir Henry to declare the lost roadworks to predate even King Solomon:  "the Egyiptioans have been here before Solomon's people ever set a foot on it" .  The mystery of their destination is thus further deepened by the antiquity of this now-departed civilization. Finally, Haggard plunges his readers firmly into the "Lost World" with the arrival of the Kukuanas, hunters who have no experience with white men or their ways.  Thus, Good's false teeth, monocle, and white legs lead them to conclude the men are spirits.  Again the spirit of the age shows itself in the exploitative stance Quatermain takes with the Kukuanas:  "We come from another world, though we are men such as ye; we come...from the biggest star that shines at night" .  The assumed ignorance and gullibility of the Africans is contrasted with European ingenuity in this encounter, and nowhere is it cast in more stark relief than when Quatermain uses a European rifle to kill an antelope buck from afar.  The Kukuanas burst into a "groan of terror" and are thoroughly convinced of the white men's "magic."  Only Scragga, son of the king, is not frightened by the display, although he refuses to place himself in the same spot as the buck to test his position.  The reluctance of Scragga to accept Qutermain's alleged divinity foreshadows his father's own refusal to be cowed by them later. Another foreshadowing occurs earlier, when Quatermain notes the similarities between Umbopa's appearance and that of the newly-arrived Kukuanas.  Clearly the reader is meant to make the connection:  Umbopa's confidence in the travelers' success stems from his own belief that there must be a way to reach Kukuanaland, for his presence in the "outer world" proves that such a route exists.  What role he has to play in this Lost Civilization is yet to be detailed, but later readers can easily see the "Lost Throne" motif being set up through the frequent indications of Umbopa's dignity and princely bearing.  When Haggard first published his novel, however, the very genre of adventure novels was in its infancy; many critics argue that this motif was first utilized in the nineteenth century by Haggard himself. The Lost Throne motif becomes clearer with Umbopa's interest in Infadoos' account of recent Kukuana history.  The "inferior" twin hidden by the aged crone, the usurpation of the throne by the lesser brother's murder of the rightful king and the rightful heir's subsequent flight to safety all echo the legends of old .  Infadoos even provides the sign by which the rightful king can be recognized: the serpent mark around his waist.  Clearly, we are meant to see Umbopa's interest as indicative of his connection to the legend of this lost prince. In this chapter Haggard also offers another sample of the contradictory European attitude toward Africans.  Although the Kukuanas are a fictional people, Haggard based their activities and appearance somewhat on the Zulu people.  Quatermain's earlier frustration with non-whites claiming equality with their European betters here gives way to awe as he describes the Kukuana men:  "not a one of them was under six feet in height, whilst many were six feet three or four...A Kukuana warrior can throw  with great accuracy at a distance of fifty yards, and it is their custom on charging to hurl a volley of them at the enemy as they come to close quarters" .  Clearly there is one area--that of physical prowess--where Quatermain's European mores will allow him to see the positive attributes of the African man. Quatermain continues his admiration of the people, noting that their village is well-constructed and aesthetically pleasing, while the Kukuana women are "for a native race, exceedingly handsome.  They are tall and graceful, and their figures are wonderfully fine" .  Even here Haggard cannot keep the patronizing "for a native race" words out of Quatermain's description, and in fact he goes on to have Quatermain say the women were "as well-bred in their way as the habituees of a fashionable drawing-room, and in this respect differ from Zulu women, and their cousins the Masai" .  These terms of qualified admiration hint at the greater European attitude of the nineteenth century toward the African peoples as little more than children, who surprise their "betters" when they seem more civilized than most others of their kind.