Child of Storm

That day, owing to the roughness of the road--if road it could be

called--and an accident to one of the wagons, we only covered about

fifteen miles, and as night fell were obliged to outspan at the first

spot where we could find water. When the oxen had been unyoked I

looked about me, and saw that we were in a place that, although I had

approached it from a somewhat different direction, I recognised at once

as the mouth of the Black Kloof, in which, over a year before, I had

interviewed Zikali the Little and Wise. There was no mistaking the

spot; that blasted valley, with the piled-up columns of boulders and the

overhanging cliff at the end of it, have, so far as I am aware, no exact

counterparts in Africa.

I sat upon the box of the first wagon, eating my food, which consisted

of some biltong and biscuit, for I had not bothered to shoot any game

that day, which was very hot, and wondering whether Zikali were still

alive, also whether I should take the trouble to walk up the kloof and

find out. On the whole I thought that I would not, as the place repelled

me, and I did not particularly wish to hear any more of his prophecies

and fierce, ill-omened talk. So I just sat there studying the wonderful

effect of the red evening light pouring up between those walls of

fantastic rocks.

Presently I perceived, far away, a single human figure--whether it were

man or woman I could not tell--walking towards me along the path which

ran at the bottom of the cleft. In those gigantic surroundings it

looked extraordinarily small and lonely, although perhaps because of the

intense red light in which it was bathed, or perhaps just because it

was human, a living thing in the midst of all that still, inanimate

grandeur, it caught and focused my attention. I grew greatly interested

in it; I wondered if it were that of man or woman, and what it was doing

here in this haunted valley.

The figure drew nearer, and now I saw it was slender and tall, like that

of a lad or of a well-grown woman, but to which sex it belonged I could

not see, because it was draped in a cloak of beautiful grey fur. Just

then Scowl came to the other side of the wagon to speak to me about

something, which took off my attention for the next two minutes. When I

looked round again it was to see the figure standing within three yards

of me, its face hidden by a kind of hood which was attached to the fur

cloak.

"Who are you, and what is your business?" I asked, whereon a gentle

voice answered: "Do you not know me, O Macumazana?"