and there will again be as they have been.  We are the drops of rain, Macumazahn.  When we fall that is our life.  When we sink into the ground that is death, and when we are drawn up again to the sky, what is that, Macumazahn?  No! no! when we find we lose, and when we seem to lose, then we shall really find.  I am not a Christian, Macumazahn, but I am old, and have watched and seen things that perhaps Christians do not see.  There, I have spoken.  Be happy with your star, and if it sets, wait, Macumazahn, wait till it rises again.  It will not be long; one day you will go to sleep, then your eyes will open on another sky, and there your star will be shining, Macumazahn.”

I made no answer at the time.  I could not bear to talk of such a thing.  But often and often in the after years I have thought of Indaba-zimbi and his beautiful simile and gathered comfort from it.  He was a strange man, this old rain-making savage, and there was more wisdom in him than in many learned atheists—­those spiritual destroyers who, in the name of progress and humanity, would divorce hope from life, and leave us wandering in a lonesome, self-consecrated hell.

“Indaba-zimbi,” I said, changing the subject, “I have something to say,” and I told him of the threats of Hendrika.

He listened with an unmoved face, nodding his white lock at intervals as the narrative went on.  But I saw that he was disturbed by it.

“Macumazahn,” he said at length, “I have told you that this is an evil woman.  She was nourished on baboon milk, and the baboon nature is in her veins.  Such creatures should be killed, not kept.  She will make you mischief if she can.  But I will watch her, Macumazahn.  Look, the Star is waiting for you; go, or she will hate me as Hendrika hates you.”

So I went, nothing loth, for attractive as was the wisdom of Indaba-zimbi, I found a deeper meaning in Stella’s simplest word.  All the rest of that day I passed in her company, and the greater part of the two following days.  At last came Saturday night, the eve of our marriage.  It rained that night, so we did not go out, but spent the evening in the hut.  We sat hand in hand, saying little, but Mr. Carson talked a good deal, telling us tales of his youth, and of countries that he had visited.  Then he read aloud from the Bible, and bade us goodnight.  I also kissed Stella and went to bed.  I reached my hut by the covered way, and before I undressed opened the door to see what the night was like.  It was very dark, and rain was still falling, but as the light streamed out into the gloom I fancied that I caught sight of a dusky form gliding away.  The thought of Hendrika flashed into my mind; could she be skulking about outside there?  Now I had said nothing of Hendrika and her threats either to Mr. Carson or Stella, because I did not wish to alarm them.  Also I knew that Stella was attached to this strange person, and I did not wish to shake her confidence in her unless it was absolutely necessary.