Beyond, in
lonely grandeur, rose the mountain of Isandhlwana, while in front was an
amphitheatre of the most gloomy forest, ringed round in the distance by
sheer-sided hills. Into this forest there ran a river which drained the
swamp, placidly enough upon the level. But it was not always level, for
within three hundred yards of them it dashed suddenly over a precipice,
of no great height but very steep, falling into a boiling rock-bound
pool that the light of the sun never seemed to reach.
"What is the name of that forest, Nahoon?" asked Hadden.
"It is named _Emagudu_, The Home of the Dead," the Zulu replied
absently, for he was looking towards the kraal of Nanea, which was
situated at an hour's walk away over the ridge to the right.
"The Home of the Dead! Why?"
"Because the dead live there, those whom we name the _Esemkofu_, the
Speechless Ones, and with them other Spirits, the _Amahlosi_, from whom
the breath of life has passed away, and who yet live on."
"Indeed," said Hadden, "and have you ever seen these ghosts?"
"Am I mad that I should go to look for them, White Man? Only the dead
enter that forest, and it is on the borders of it that our people make
offerings to the dead.
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