“Who can betray me when none know whither I am going?” asked Cetewayo.  “Send the Spirit, send it at once, that this one-armed witch may make ready.”

“What is the hurry, King, seeing that the forest is far away?  Yet be it as you will.  Keep silence now, lest evil should befall you.”

Then of a sudden Zikali seemed to go off into one of his trances.  His form grew rigid, his eyes closed, his face became fixed as though in death, and foam appeared upon his lips.  He was a dreadful sight to look on, there in the gloomy hut.

Cetewayo watched him and shivered.  Then he opened his blanket and I perceived that fastened about him by a loop of hide in such a fashion that it could be drawn out in a moment, was the blade of a broad assegai, the shaft of which was shortened to about six inches.  His hand grasped this shaft, and I understood that he was contemplating the murder of Zikali.  Then it seemed to me that he changed his mind and that his lips shaped the words—­“Not yet,” though whether he really spoke them I do not know.  At least he withdrew his hand and closed the blanket.

Slowly Zikali opened his eyes, staring at the roof of the hut, whence came a curious sound as of squeaking bats.  He looked like a dead man coming to life again.  For a few moments he turned up his ear as though he listened to the squealing, then said—­

“It is well.  The Spirit that I summoned has visited her of our company who is named One-hand and returned with the answer.  Did you not hear it speaking in the thatch, O King?”

“I heard something, Wizard,” answered Cetewayo in an awed voice.  “I thought it was a bat.”

“A bat it is, O King, one with wide wings and swift.  This bat says that my sister, One-hand, will meet you on the third day from now at this hour on the further side of the ford of the Ibululwana, where three milk-trees grow together on a knoll.  She will be sitting under the centre milk-tree and will wait for two hours, no more, to show you the secret entrance to the kloof.”

“The road is rough and long, I shall have to hurry when worn out with travelling,” said Cetewayo.

“That is so, O King.  Therefore my counsel is that you begin the journey as soon as possible, especially as I seem to hear the baying of the white dogs not far away.”

“By Chaka’s head!  I will not,” growled Cetewayo, “who thought to sleep here in peace this night.”

“As the King wills.  All that I have is the King’s.  Only then One-hand will not be waiting and some other place of hiding must be found, since this is known to me only and to her; also that Spirit which I sent will make no second journey, nor can I travel to show it to the King.”

“Yes, Wizard, it is known to you and to myself.  Methinks it would be better were it known to me alone.  I have a spoonful of snuff to share (i.e., a bone to pick) with you, Wizard.  It would seem that you set my feet and those of the Zulu people upon a false road, yonder in the Vale of Bones, causing me to declare war upon the white men and thereby bringing us all to ruin.”