"
Mr. Clifford, thinking of his stiff limbs and aching back, shook his
head and answered:
"I don't know; Meyer has never let me near enough to see."
"Well, why do you not go to look? You know he sleeps till late now,
because he is up all night. Take the glasses and examine the top of the
wall from inside that old house near by. He will not see or hear you,
but if I came near, he would know and wake up."
"If you like, love, I can try, but what are you going to do while I am
away?"
"I shall climb the pillar."
"You don't mean----" and he stopped.
"No, no, nothing of that sort. I shall not follow the example of Benita
da Ferreira unless I am driven to it; I want to look, that is all. One
can see far from that place, if there is anything to see. Perhaps the
Matabele are gone now, we have heard nothing of them lately."
So they dressed themselves, and as soon as the light was sufficiently
strong, came out of the hut and parted, Mr. Clifford, rifle in hand,
limping off towards the wall, and Benita going towards the great
cone. She climbed it easily enough, and stood in the little cup-like
depression on its dizzy peak, waiting for the sun to rise and disperse
the mists which hung over the river and its banks.
Now whatever may have been the exact ceremonial use to which the
ancients put this pinnacle, without doubt it had something to do with
sun-worship.
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