might not throw straight at seventy yards.  I took six Kaffirs with me, and three good horses, which were supposed to be salted—­that is, proof against the sickness.  Among the Kaffirs was an old fellow named Indaba-zimbi, which, being translated, means “tongue of iron.”  I suppose he got this name from his strident voice and exhaustless eloquence.  This man was a great character in his way.  He had been a noted witch-doctor among a neighbouring tribe, and came to the station under the following circumstances, which, as he plays a considerable part in this history, are perhaps worth recording.

Two years before my father’s death I had occasion to search the country round for some lost oxen.  After a long and useless quest it occurred to me that I had better go to the place where the oxen were bred by a Kaffir chief, whose name I forget, but whose kraal was about fifty miles from our station.  There I journeyed, and found the oxen safe at home.  The chief entertained me handsomely, and on the following morning I went to pay my respects to him before leaving, and was somewhat surprised to find a collection of some hundreds of men and women sitting round him anxiously watching the sky in which the thunder-clouds were banking up in a very ominous way.

“You had better wait, white man,” said the chief, “and see the rain-doctors fight the lightning.”

I inquired what he meant, and learned that this man, Indaba-zimbi, had for some years occupied the position of wizard-in-chief to the tribe, although he was not a member of it, having been born in the country now known as Zululand.  But a son of the chief’s, a man of about thirty, had lately set up as a rival in supernatural powers.  This irritated Indaba-zimbi beyond measure, and a quarrel ensued between the two witch-doctors that resulted in a challenge to trial by lightning being given and accepted.  These were the conditions.  The rivals must await the coming of a serious thunderstorm, no ordinary tempest would serve their turn.  Then, carrying assegais in their hands, they must take their stand within fifty paces of each other upon a certain patch of ground where the big thunderbolts were observed to strike continually, and by the exercise of their occult powers and invocations to the lightning, must strive to avert death from themselves and bring it on their rival.  The terms of this singular match had been arranged a month previously, but no storm worthy of the occasion had arisen.  Now the local weather-prophets believed it to be brewing.

I inquired what would happen if neither of the men were struck, and was told that they must then wait for another storm.  If they escaped the second time, however, they would be held to be equal in power, and be jointly consulted by the tribe upon occasions of importance.