"Macumazahn, your spirit has written on this stone that you should
beware of Mameena, since she is more dangerous than any buffalo. If you
are wise you will not go out hunting with Umbezi, although it is true
that hunt will not cost you your life. There, away, Stone, and take
your writings with you!" and as he spoke he jerked his arm and I heard
something whiz past my face.
Next he spat out the black stone and examined it in similar fashion.
"Your expedition will be successful, Son of Matiwane," he said.
"Together with Macumazahn you will win many cattle at the cost of sundry
lives. But for the rest--well, you did not ask me of it, did you? Also,
I have told you something of that story before to-day. Away, Stone!" and
the black pebble followed the white out into the surrounding gloom.
We sat quite still until the dwarf broke the deep silence with one of
his great laughs.
"My witchcraft is done," he said. "A poor tale, was it not? Well, hunt
for those stones to-morrow and read the rest of it if you can. Why did
you not ask me to tell you everything while I was about it, White Man?
It would have interested you more, but now it has all gone from me back
into your spirit with the stones. Saduko, get you to sleep. Macumazahn,
you who are a Watcher-by-Night, come and sit with me awhile in my hut,
and we will talk of other things. All this business of the stones is
nothing more than a Kafir trick, is it, Macumazahn? When you meet the
buffalo with the split horn in the pool of a dried river, remember it is
but a cheating trick, and now come into my hut and drink a kamba [bowl]
of beer and let us talk of other things more interesting."
So he took me into the hut, which was a fine one, very well lighted by
a fire in its centre, and gave me Kafir beer to drink, that I swallowed
gratefully, for my throat was dry and still felt as though it had been
scraped.
"Who are you, Father?" I asked point-blank when I had taken my seat upon
a low stool, with my back resting against the wall of the hut, and lit
my pipe.
He lifted his big head from the pile of karosses on which he was lying
and peered at me across the fire.
"My name is Zikali, which means 'Weapons,' White Man. You know as much
as that, don't you?" he answered. "My father 'went down' so long ago
that his does not matter. I am a dwarf, very ugly, with some learning,
as we of the Black House understand it, and very old. Is there anything
else you would like to learn?"