“‘What do you see, my father?’ I asked.

“’I see two roads, Saduko:  the Road of Medicine, that is the spirit road, and the Road of Spears, that is the blood road.  I see you travelling on the Road of Medicine, that is my own road, Saduko, and growing wise and great, till at last, far, far away, you vanish over the precipice to which it leads, full of years and honour and wealth, feared yet beloved by all men, white and black.  Only that road you must travel alone, since such wisdom may have no friends, and, above all, no woman to share its secrets.  Then I look at the Road of Spears and see you, Saduko, travelling on that road, and your feet are red with blood, and women wind their arms about your neck, and one by one your enemies go down before you.  You love much, and sin much for the sake of the love, and she for whom you sin comes and goes and comes again.  And the road is short, Saduko, and near the end of it are many spirits; and though you shut your eyes you see them, and though you fill your ears with clay you hear them, for they are the ghosts of your slain.  But the end of your journeying I see not.  Now choose which road you will, Son of Matiwane, and choose swiftly, for I speak no more of this matter.’

“Then, Macumazahn, I thought a while of the safe and lonely path of wisdom, also of the blood-red path of spears where I should find love and war, and my youth rose up in me and—­I chose the path of spears and the love and the sin and the unknown death.”

“A foolish choice, Saduko, supposing that there is any truth in this tale of roads, which there is not.”

“Nay, a wise one, Macumazahn, for since then I have seen Mameena and know why I chose that path.”

“Ah!” I said.  “Mameena—­I forgot her.  Well, after all, perhaps there is some truth in your tale of roads.  When I have seen Mameena I will tell you what I think.”

“When you have seen Mameena, Macumazahn, you will say that the choice was very wise.  Well, Zikali, Opener of Doors, laughed loudly when he heard it.  ’The ox seeks the fat pasture, but the young bull the rough mountainside where the heifers graze,’ he said; ’and after all, a bull is better than an ox.  Now begin to travel your own road, Son of Matiwane, and from time to time return to the Black Kloof and tell me how it fares with you.  I will promise you not to die before I know the end of it.’

“Now, Macumazahn, I have told you things that hitherto have lived in my own heart only.  And, Macumazahn, Bangu is in ill favour with Panda, whom he defies in his mountain, and I have a promise—­never mind how—­that he who kills him will be called to no account and may keep his cattle.  Will you come with me and share those cattle, O Watcher-by-Night?”

“Get thee behind me, Satan,” I said in English, then added in Zulu:  “I don’t know.  If your story is true I should have no objection to helping to kill Bangu; but I must learn lots more about this business first.  Meanwhile I am going on a shooting trip to-morrow with Umbezi the Fat, and I like you, O Chooser of the Road of Spears and Blood.  Will you be my companion and earn the gun with two mouths in payment?”