A few minutes later her father entered, looking very weak and shaken, and supporting himself upon a stick.  Happy was the greeting of these two who, with their arms about each other’s neck, gave thanks for their escape from great peril.

“You see, Benita, we can’t get away from this place,” Mr. Clifford said presently.  “We must find that gold.”

“Bother the gold,” she answered with energy; “I hate its very name.  Who can think of gold with three thousand Matabele waiting to kill us?”

“Somehow I don’t feel afraid of them any more,” said her father; “they have had their chance and lost it, and the Makalanga swear that now they have guns to command the gates, the fortress cannot be stormed.  Still, I am afraid of someone.”

“Who?”

“Jacob Mayer.  I have seen him several times, and I think that he is going mad.”

“The Molimo said that too, but why?”

“From the look of him.  He sits about muttering and glowing with those dark eyes of his, and sometimes groans, and sometimes bursts into shouts of laughter.  That is when the fit is on him, for generally he seems right enough.  But get up if you think you can, and you shall judge for yourself.”

“I don’t want to,” said Benita feebly.  “Father, I am more afraid of him now than ever.  Oh! why did you not let me stop down below, among the Makalanga, instead of carrying me up here again, where we must live alone with that terrible Jew?”

“I wished to, dear, but the Molimo said we should be safer above, and ordered his people to carry you up.  Also, Jacob swore that unless you were brought back he would kill me.  Now you understand why I believe that he is mad.”

“Why, why?” gasped Benita again.

“God knows,” he answered with a groan; “but I think that he is sure that we shall never find the gold without you, since the Molimo has told him that it is for you and you alone, and he says the old man has second sight, or something of the sort.  Well, he would have murdered me—­I saw it in his eye—­so I thought it better to give in rather than that you should be left here sick and alone.  Of course there was one way——­” and he paused.

She looked at him and asked: 

“What way?”

“To shoot him before he shot me,” he answered in a whisper, “for your sake, dear—­but I could not bring myself to do it.”

“No,” she said with a shudder, “not that—­not that.  Better that we should die than that his blood should be upon our hands.  Now I will get up and try to show no fear.  I am sure that is best, and perhaps we shall be able to escape somehow.  Meanwhile, let us humour him, and pretend to go on looking for this horrible treasure.”

So Benita rose to discover that, save for her stiffness, she was but little the worse, and finding all things placed in readiness, set to work with her father’s help to cook the evening meal as usual.  Of Meyer, who doubtless had placed things in readiness, she saw nothing.