am glad to see that you are made much more robust
than was the last Teacher, and therefore will live longer in this place
than he did. Though as for the lady-teacher----" and he glanced at the
delicate-looking Dorcas.

Thomas stared at this man, to whom already he had taken a strong
dislike. Then moved thereto either by a very natural outburst of temper,
or perchance by a flash of inspiration, he replied:

"Yes, I shall live longer than did my brother, who died here and has
gone to Heaven, and longer I think than you will."

This personal remark seemed to take Menzi aback; indeed for a moment he
looked frightened. Recovering himself, however, he said:

"I perceive, Teacher Tombool, that like myself you are a witch-doctor
and a prophet. At present I do not know which of us will live the
longer, but I will consult my Spirits and tell you afterwards."

"Pray do not trouble to do so on my account, for I do not believe in
your Spirits."

"Of course you do not, Teacher. No doctor believes in another doctor's
Spirits, since each has his own, and there are more Spirits than there
are doctors. Teacher Tombool, I greet you and tell you at once that we
are at war over this matter of Spirits. This tribe, Teacher, is a cleft
log, yes, it is split into two. The Chief there, Kosa, sits on one half
of the log with his Christians; I sit on the other half with the rest,
who are as our fathers were. So if you wish to fight I shall fight with
such weapons as I have. No, do not look at the spears--not with spears.
But, if you leave me and my following alone, we shall leave you alone.
If you are wise I think that you will do well to walk your own road and
suffer us to walk ours."

"On the contrary," answered Thomas, "I intend that all the Sisa people
shall walk one road, the road that leads to Heaven."

"Is it so, Teacher?" Menzi replied with a mysterious smile.

Then he turned his head and looked at the darkling river that just here,
where it ran beneath an overhanging ledge of the koppie, was very deep
and still. Thomas felt that there was a world of meaning in his look,
though what it might be he did not know. Suddenly he remembered that
this river was named Death.

After Menzi had looked quite a long while, once more he saluted as
though in farewell, searching the faces of the three white people,
especially Tabitha's, with his dreamy eyes and, letting them fall,
searching the ground also. Near to where he stood grew a number