ot long ago that I would
undertake no enterprise, save that you know of, until I had spoken with
him."

"How far off does Zikali live?" I asked Saduko.

"One day's journeying. Starting at sunrise I can be there by sunset."

"Good! Then I will put off the shooting for three days and come with you
if you think that this wonderful old dwarf will receive me."

"I believe that he will, Macumazahn, for this reason--he told me that
I should meet you and love you, and that you would be mixed up in my
fortunes."

"Then he poured moonshine into your gourd instead of beer," I answered.
"Would you keep me here till midnight listening to such foolishness when
we must start at dawn? Begone now and let me sleep."

"I go," he answered with a little smile. "But if this is so, O
Macumazana, why do you also wish to drink of the moonshine of Zikali?"
and he went.

Yet I did not sleep very well that night, for Saduko and his strange and
terrible story had taken a hold of my imagination. Also, for reasons of
my own, I greatly wished to see this Zikali, of whom I had heard a great
deal in past years. I wished further to find out if he was a common
humbug, like so many witch-doctors, this dwarf who announced that my
fortunes were mixed up with those of his foster-son, and who at least
could tell me something true or false about the history and position
of Bangu, a person for whom I had conceived a strong dislike, possibly
quite unjustified by the facts. But more than all did I wish to see
Mameena, whose beauty or talents produced so much impression upon the
native mind. Perhaps if I went to see Zikali she would be back at her
father's kraal before we started on our shooting trip.

Thus it was then that fate wove me and my doings into the web of some
very strange events; terrible, tragic and complete indeed as those of a
Greek play, as it has often done both before and since those days.

CHAPTER II. THE MOONSHINE OF ZIKALI

On the following morning I awoke, as a good hunter always should do,
just at that time when, on looking out of the wagon, nothing can be seen
but a little grey glint of light which he knows is reflected from the
horns of the cattle tied to the trek-tow. Presently, however, I saw
another glint of light which I guessed came from the spear of Saduko,
who was seated by the ashes of the cooking fire wrapped in his kaross
of wildcat skins. Slipping from the voorkisse, or driving-box, I came
behind him softly an