“That I cannot say. But I should think it probable. And now you are seeking midnight múti so as to obtain such reward. Take care,” I went on, chaffing him. “To wander at midnight would not be safe la pa,” pointing in the direction of the Zulu country. “But here we are under the Queen.”
“The Queen! Au! Even the Queen cannot do everything.”
“She just about can though,” I answered decisively.
“Can she find Nyamaki?” he said, putting his head on one side.
This was a facer. I didn’t know what the deuce to answer. While I was hesitating he went on:
“Au! Well, Iqalaqala, turn back and make your bed with him yonder, for you will not go home to-night Hamba gahle.”
“Hlala gahle, father of mystery,” I answered lightly touching my horse with the spur.
You will think it strange I should make so light of his warning, yet as I resumed my way up the valley, no thought of material danger came into my mind as I pondered over it. I would show him that wise as he was, and great his reputation, yet he did not know everything. I would have the crow of him next time we met, when—
My horse had suddenly cocked his ears, then uttering a loud snort he stopped dead—so suddenly indeed that I as nearly as possible pitched over his head. Yet, there was nothing in sight.
The path, here rather steep, narrowed between high thick bush, just over which on either hand, rose two straight but entirely insignificant krantzes.