So thither we came at last.  It was drawing towards sunset, a tremendous and stormy sunset, as we approached the place, and lo! it looked exactly as it had done when first I saw it more than a score of years before, forbidding as the mouth of hell, vast and lonesome.  There stood the columns of boulders fantastically piled one upon another; there grew the sparse trees upon its steep sides, mingled with aloes that looked like the shapes of men; there was the granite bottom swept almost clean by floods in some dim age, and the little stream that flowed along it.  There, too, was the spot where once I had outspanned my wagons on the night when my servants swore that they saw the Imikovu, or wizard-raised spectres, floating past them on the air in the shapes of the Princes and others who were soon to fall at the battle of the Tugela.  Up it we went, I riding and Nombe, who had descended from the cart that followed, walking by my side and watching me.

“You seem sad, Macumazahn,” she said at length.

“Yes, Nombe, I am sad.  This place makes me so.”

“Is it the place, Macumazahn, or is it the thought of one whom once you met in the place, one who is dead?”

I looked at her, pretending not to understand, and she went on—­

“I have the gift of vision, Macumazahn, which comes at times to those of my trade, and now and again, amongst others, I have seemed to see the spirit of a certain woman haunting this kloof as though she were waiting for some one.”

“Indeed, and what may that woman be like?” I inquired carelessly.

“As it chances I can see her now gliding backwards in front of you just there, and therefore am able to answer your question, Macumazahn.  She is tall and slender, beautifully made, and light-coloured for one of us black people.  She has large eyes like a buck, and those eyes are full of fire that does not come from the sun but from within.  Her face is tender yet proud, oh! so proud that she makes me afraid.  She wears a cloak of grey fur, and about her neck there is a circlet of big blue beads with which her fingers play.  A thought comes from her to me.  These are the words of the thought:  ’I have waited long in this dark place, watching by day and night till you, the Watcher-by-Night, return to meet me here.  At length you have come, and in this enchanted place my hungry spirit can feed upon your spirit for a while.  I thank you for coming, who now am no more lonely.  Fear nothing, Macumazahn, for by a certain kiss I swear to you that till the appointed hour when you become as I am, I will be a shield upon your arm and a spear in your hand.’  Such are the words of her thought, Macumazahn, but she has gone away and I hear no more.  It was as though your horse rode over her and she passed through you.”