okolo, and whereabout their country is situated."

"Their country lies yonder," answered Mapela, pointing a little to the
west of north; "and it is a long way off. Thou wilt have to cross the
Great River (Zambezi), and then travel through the wilderness for the
space of a moon and a half, or, maybe, two moons, before thou wilt reach
it. For myself, I have never been beyond the Great River; but many
moons ago there came into Mashonaland a stranger who said that he had
been one of a band accompanying a white man from afar, who, after much
weary wandering, had arrived in the Bandokolo country, and had there
died--how I know not. And when the white man died the Bandokolo took
his followers and made slaves of them, treating them so cruelly that at
last the man who told me these things resolved to escape. And after
waiting many moons for an opportunity it came, and he succeeded. But
when he arrived in Mashonaland he was so weak and ill with fever and
starvation that, after lingering for a short time, he died.

"But before he died he told me many wonderful things about the
Bandokolo. He said that they were little people, about so tall
(indicating with his hand a stature of about four feet eight or nine
inches). Also, that instead of being black, as I am, they are almost
white; that they live in great houses dug out of the rocks of the
hillside; that the men wear clothes made of small plates of gold, and
carry spears, shields, and great knives made of gold; that they adorn
themselves with shining stones which they dig out of the ground; and
that they are all 'mkulu 'mtagati (great wizards)."

"That is a very extraordinary story, Mapela," said I. "Did you believe
it; or do you think that the man who told you had a sick brain and
imagined things that were not?"

"Nay, who can say?" returned Mapela. "As I have told you, the man was
very sick when he reached Mashonaland; but I think his sickness was of
the body, not of the mind: and he told me these things many times before
he died, therefore I believed him."

I spent the best part of the afternoon in cross-questioning Mapela upon
the exceedingly interesting and remarkable story which he had told me;
but the old fellow stuck to his text so perfectly that at length I was
forced to the conclusion that what he had told me was substantially what
he had himself been told, and that if there was any falsehood or
exaggeration in the yarn it was not he who was responsible for i