“Let us go and see,” said the old chief, rising and shaking the water from his hair.  “The fire-fight is ended, let us go and see who has conquered.”

I rose and followed him, dripping as though I had swum a hundred yards with my clothes on, and after me came all the people of the kraal.

We reached the spot; even in that light I could see where the iron-stone had been split and fused by the thunderbolts.  While I was staring about me, I suddenly heard the chief, who was on my right, give a low moan, and saw the people cluster round him.  I went up and looked.  There, on the ground, lay the body of his son.  It was a dreadful sight.  The hair was burnt off his head, the copper rings upon his arms were fused, the assegai handle which lay near was literally shivered into threads, and, when I took hold of his arm, it seemed to me that every bone of it was broken.

The men with the chief stood gazing silently, while the women wailed.

“Great is the magic of Indaba-zimbi!” said a man, at length.  The chief turned and struck him a heavy blow with the kerrie in his hand.

“Great or not, thou dog, he shall die,” he cried, “and so shalt thou if thou singest his praises so loudly.”

I said nothing, but thinking it probable that Indaba-zimbi had shared the fate of his enemy, I went to look.  But I could see nothing of him, and at length, being thoroughly chilled with the wet, started back to my waggon to change my clothes.  On reaching it, I was rather surprised to see a strange Kaffir seated on the driving-box wrapped up in a blanket.

“Hullo! come out of that,” I said.

The figure on the box slowly unrolled the blanket, and with great deliberation took a pinch of snuff.

“It was a good fire-fight, white man, was it not?” said Indaba-zimbi, in his high, cracked voice.  “But he never had a chance against me, poor boy.  He knew nothing about it.  See, white man, what becomes of presumption in the young.  It is sad, very sad, but I made the flashes fly, didn’t I?”

“You old humbug,” I said, “unless you are careful you will soon learn what comes of presumption in the old, for your chief is after you with an assegai, and it will take all your magic to dodge that.”

“Now you don’t say so,” said Indaba-zimbi, clambering off the waggon with rapidity; “and all because of this wretched upstart.  There’s gratitude for you, white man.  I expose him, and they want to kill me.  Well, thank you for the hint.  We shall meet again before long,” and he was gone like a shot, and not too soon, for just then some of the chief’s men came up to the waggon.

On the following morning I started homewards.  The first face I saw on arriving at the station was that of Indaba-zimbi.

“How do you do, Macumazahn?” he said, holding his head on one side and nodding his white lock.  “I hear you are Christians here, and I want to try a new religion.  Mine must be a bad one seeing that my people wanted to kill me for exposing an impostor.”