By three o'clock we were near enough to this cliff, which ran east and west as far as the eye could reach, to see a hole in it, apparently where the road terminated, that appeared to be the mouth of a cave.
The Kalubi came up to us, and in a shy kind of way tried to make conversation.

I think that the sight of this mountain, drawing ever nearer, vividly recalled his terrors and caused him to desire to efface the bad impression he knew he had made on us, to whom he looked for safety.

Among other things he told us that the hole we saw was the door of the House of the Motombo.
I nodded my head, but did not answer, for the presence of this murderous king made me feel sick.

So he went away again, looking at us in a humble and deprecatory manner.
Nothing further happened until we reached the remarkable wall of rock that I have mentioned, which I suppose is composed of some very hard stone that remained when the softer rock in which it lay was disintegrated by millions of years of weather or washings by the water of the lake.

Or perhaps its substance was thrown out of the bowels of the volcano when this was active.