“Not in such spells do I deal, old man of a stranger race,” he answered. “The Great Great One whom I serve loves not such. Yet thou—the múti thou usest is not generally for ill, and thy divinations are in favour of right and justice and for the well-being and safety of thy King and adopted nation. While this is so may it go well with thee.”
“Ha!” we cried, amazed that this stranger should thus describe Masuka’s múti with such wonderful exactness. And the King was greatly pleased at that saying, and the white man made a friend of the old Mosutu, who saw at once—as what did he not see?—that here was no rival claiming to be greater than himself and to steal away the favour of the King from him. In truth, also, Nkose, the words of the stranger were well said, for since Masuka had been made the father of the King’s magic, few indeed of our people had been smelt out, and then only when they had been guilty of evil-doing, as in the case of the conspirators of Ncwelo’s pool, whereas, formerly, our own izanusi were ever clamouring for “witch-findings,” ever hungry as vultures for the flesh of men; wherefore, our nation loved the old Mosutu, and we who heard were glad because there was not to be another set up in his place.
“I see that the heart of the King is good towards me, and I rejoice,” said the white man before he withdrew. “For I would fain sow the seed of the Word of Life among this people before I travel South. Then there are those who shall return, and water and tend it, before a long time has gone by.”
We saw a look steal over Umzilikazi’s face at these words, and it was a look we knew.
“So it is thy purpose to travel to the South, my father?” said the King, speaking softly and low.
“Such is my purpose, Black Elephant,” was the answer.
“Ha! the journey to the southward is long, and not over-safe,” went on the King. “There are bad peoples and tribes who will do thee hurt, my father.”
“That I must brave, Great Great One; for the soldiers of Him whom I serve often meet with hurt, and even death, in His service.”
“Something was said but now about sowing the seed of the Word of Life among this people, my father,” went on the King, still speaking softly, and with a strange look upon his face, as he gazed fixedly at the other. “Now, why should it not be sown among this people as well as among the peoples of the South?”
The face of the white isanusi lighted up for joy at these words. He replied: