nking of?" [A native idiom. It means "Where are you going to?"]

"Hear him," cried the visitor. "He does not know me. He does not know
Kalaza, the only Fingo his father Zangalele ever made a friend of. He
does not know the man who used to cut sticks for him when he was a
little boy."

"Sit down, Kalaza," replied Maliwe, "I meant no offence. I do not
remember you, but if you were my father's friend, you are mine."

So they went into the hut, and they refreshed the fire, and they
talked, and they put some dry mealies to roast with fat in the
three-legged pot, and they talked of Maliwe's relations, of old Dalisile,
and of his daughter Nalai whom Maliwe was going to marry.

Kalaza said that he lived in Kwala's location beyond the Keiskamma,
that he was a very rich man with a large herd of cattle, and that he
was now seeking two cows lately received as lobola for one of his
daughters from a man in the Albany district, and which were supposed to
have strayed homewards. He also said, that although a Fingo, he always
preferred the society of Kafirs, and that for this reason he had come
to spend the night with Maliwe instead of with the Fingoes in the
village location.

By and by the mealies began to "pop" in the pot, so guest and host
began to chew them. "It is sad to be old and have such bad teeth," said
Kalaza, as he paused in his chewing. "Have you not got a little meat?"

Maliwe stood up, and reaching to the roof of the hut, handed down the
emaciated ribs of the goat. Kalaza took the meat, turned it over
critically, and handed it back.

"That is the meat of an old, tough goat," he said, "I could no more
chew that than the mealies."

"I am very sorry," replied Maliwe, "but I have none other."

At this Kalaza sighed, said he was an old man, and he supposed times
had changed since he was young, but in his day no old man would be so
treated by the son of his best friend. Maliwe remained silent for some
time, and then said politely that he was a servant, and had to be
content with what food his master gave him. Breaking up some tobacco in
his hand, he reached it over to Kalaza, asking if he cared, to smoke.
Kalaza refused the offer, saying that since becoming old he had been
unable to enjoy tobacco on an empty stomach. He then sighed heavily,
and sat looking at the fire until the silence became oppressive.

By and by Maliwe asked if he would not go to sleep, and then Kalaza
began to wax indignant.

"You call you