For a while he took no notice of me; then suddenly looked up, shaking back his braided grey locks, and broke into one of his great laughs.

“So it is you, Macumazahn,” he said.  “Well, I knew you were passing my way and that Mameena would send you here.  But why do you come to see the ‘Thing-that-should-not-have-been-born’?  To tell me how you fared with the buffalo with the split horn, eh?”

“No, Zikali, for why should I tell you what you know already?  Mameena said you wished to talk with me, that was all.”

“Then Mameena lied,” he answered, “as is her nature, in whose throat live four false words for every one of truth.  Still, sit down, Macumazahn.  There is beer made ready for you by that stool; and give me the knife and a pinch of the white man’s snuff that you have brought for me as a present.”

I produced these articles, though how he knew that I had them with me I cannot tell, nor did I think it worth while to inquire.  The snuff, I remember, pleased him very much, but of the knife he said that it was a pretty toy, but he would not know how to use it.  Then we fell to talking.

“What was Mameena doing here?” I asked boldly.

“What was she doing at your wagons?” he asked.  “Oh, do not stop to tell me; I know, I know.  That is a very good Snake of yours, Macumazahn, which always just lets you slip through her fingers, when, if she chose to close her hand—­ Well, well, I do not betray the secrets of my clients; but I say this to you—­go on to the kraal of the son of Senzangakona, and you will see things happen that will make you laugh, for Mameena will be there, and the mongrel Masapo, her husband.  Truly she hates him well, and, after all, I would rather be loved than hated by Mameena, though both are dangerous.  Poor Mongrel!  Soon the jackals will be chewing his bones.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Only because Mameena tells me that he is a great wizard, and the jackals eat many wizards in Zululand.  Also he is an enemy of Panda’s House, is he not?”

“You have been giving her some bad counsel, Zikali,” I said, blurting out the thought in my mind.

“Perhaps, perhaps, Macumazahn; only I may call it good counsel.  I have my own road to walk, and if I can find some to clear away the thorns that would prick my feet, what of it?  Also she will get her pay, who finds life dull up there among the Amasomi, with one she hates for a hut-fellow.  Go you and watch, and afterwards, when you have an hour to spare, come and tell me what happens—­that is, if I do not chance to be there to see for myself.”

“Is Saduko well?” I asked to change the subject, for I did not wish to become privy to the plots that filled the air.

“I am told that his tree grows great, that it overshadows all the royal kraal.  I think that Mameena wishes to sleep in the shade of it.  And now you are weary, and so am I. Go back to your wagons, Macumazahn, for I have nothing more to say to you to-night.  But be sure to return and tell me what chances at Panda’s kraal.  Or, as I have said, perhaps I shall meet you there.  Who knows, who knows?”