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?”

“How can I know one who is tied up like a gourd in a mat?  Yet is it not—­is it not—­”

“Yes, it is Mameena, and I am very pleased that you should remember my voice, Macumazahn, after we have been separated for such a long, long time,” and, with a sudden movement, she threw back the kaross, hood and all, revealing herself in all her strange beauty.

I jumped down off the wagon-box and took her hand.

“O Macumazana,” she said, while I still held it—­or, to be accurate, while she still held mine—­“indeed my heart is glad to see a friend again,” and she looked at me with her appealing eyes, which, in the red light, I could see appeared to float in tears.

“A friend, Mameena!” I exclaimed.  “Why, now you are so rich, and the wife of a big chief, you must have plenty of friends.”

“Alas!  Macumazahn, I am rich in nothing except trouble, for my husband saves, like the ants for winter.  Why, he even grudged me this poor kaross; and as for friends, he is so jealous that he will not allow me any.”

“He cannot be jealous of women, Mameena!”

“Oh, women!  Piff!  I do not care for women; they are very unkind to me, because—­because—­well, perhaps you can guess why, Macumazahn,” she answered, glancing at her own reflection in a little travelling looking-glass that hung from the woodwork of the wagon, for I had been using it to brush my hair, and smiled very sweetly.