“‘I dare all things, father,’ I replied.
“Again he bent upon me that strange look, and, going over to the other side of the hut, began to uncover something, which looked like an earthen bowl. Over this he sat for some time, keeping up the while that strange humming incantation with which he had accompanied the witch-finding. In the utmost tension of excitement, my eyes well-nigh starting from my head, I sat and watched him.
“‘Draw near, son of Ntelani,’ he said at last.
“I approached, and peered cautiously over his shoulder, for he had been seated with his back towards me. The thing before him was a bowl, even as I had thought—a large bowl made of baked clay such as we use for beer. In it was a strange, liquid which shone and shimmered in the half-darkness of the hut. As I looked into this something moved, and then I cried out in amazement, for it was as if a man were looking through the circle of his hands into a strange world beyond. There were towering cliffs and rugged, stone-strewn slopes, and up these slopes surged a dense swarm of dark beings like ants. Ha! they were men! Then it seemed that rolling clouds of dust went up, that the mountain seemed to crack and split, and all fell into space. My tongue was tied with wonder and awe. I could utter no word.
“‘Look again, son of Ntelani,’ said old Masuka. ‘What dost thou see?’
“‘Ha! I see rocks, the black mouth of a pit! Ha! I can see into it; my sight pierces its depths. It is peopled with living creatures, shadowy, shapeless, hideous; far, far down I see them. Ha! they mouth, they gnash their teeth; yet I cannot see their shapes. They seem to draw me down to them. I am going, sinking, falling. Au! I will look no more! Umtagati, release me, or I kill thee!’
“I found I had gripped the old man by the shoulder, and was nearly crushing the bones in my powerful grasp. My eyes were protruding from my head, and I was streaming with perspiration over the horror of the sight. And well indeed may such wizardry turn men’s minds. The whole spell of the old man’s magic was upon me, and it seemed as if I were bound hand and foot.
“‘Have you beheld enough, warrior of the Amazulu who knows not fear, who dares all things?’ he said, dropping out the words slowly and as the cuts of assegais. ‘Yet behold one thing more.’
“His tone stung me, brought me back to myself. Again I looked. A man stood among men, and an assegai was descending to his chest. There was a crowd of faces in the background, but who held the assegai I knew not. Then I looked at the man.