When it cleared away again Cetewayo was gone!

“Saw you ever the like of that?” said Zikali, addressing the kaross under which I was sweltering.  “Tell me, Macumazahn.”

“Yes,” I answered, thrusting out my head as a tortoise does, “when in this very hut you seemed to produce the shape, also out of smoke, I think, of one whom I used to know.  Say, how do you do it, Zikali?”

“Do it.  Who knows?  Perchance I do nothing.  Perchance I think and you fools see, no more.  Or perchance the spirits of the dead who are so near to us, come at my call and take themselves bodies out of the charmed smoke of my fire.  You white men are wise, answer your own question, Macumazahn.  At least that smoke or that ghost saved me from a spear thrust in the heart, wherewith Cetewayo was minded to pay me for showing him a hiding-place which he desired should be secret to himself alone.  Well, well, I can pay as well as Cetewayo and my count is longer.  Now lie you still, Macumazahn, for I go out to watch.  He will not bide long in this place which he deems haunted and ill-omened.  He will be gone ere sunset, that is within an hour, and sleep elsewhere.”

Then he crept from the hut and presently, though I could see nothing, for now the gate of the fence was shut, I heard voices debating and finally that of Cetewayo say angrily—­

“Have done!  It is my will.  You can eat your food outside of this place which is bewitched; the girl will show us where are the huts of which the wizard speaks.”

A few minutes later Zikali crept back into the hut, laughing to himself.

“All is safe,” he said, “and you can come out of your hole, old jackal.  He who calls himself a king is gone, taking with him those whom he thinks faithful, most of whom are but waiting a chance to betray him.  What did I say, a king?  Nay, in all Africa there is no slave so humble or so wretched as this broken man.  Oh! feather by feather I have plucked my fowl and by and by I shall cut his throat.  You will be there, Macumazahn, you will be there.”

“I trust not,” I answered as I mopped my brow.  “We have been near enough to throat-cutting this afternoon to last me a long while.  Where has the king gone?”

“Not far, Macumazahn.  I have sent Nombe to guide him to the huts in the little dip five spear throws to the right of the mouth of the kloof where live the old herdsman and his people who guard my cattle.  He and all the rest are away with the cattle that are hidden in the Ceza Forest out of reach of the white men, so the huts are empty.  Oh! now I read what you are thinking.  I do not mean that he should be taken there.  It is too near my house and the king still has friends.”

“Why did you send Nombe?” I asked.

“Because he would have no other guide, who does not trust my men.  He means to keep her with him for some days and then let her go, and thus she will be out of mischief.  Meanwhile you and your friends can depart untroubled by her fancies, and join the white men who are near.  Tomorrow you shall start.”