"Master, I go to the village which is by the river, this being the path," she flurried.
"What have you there?"
"Manioc, for bread," she whispered thickly.
"You are a root-eater," said Imgani, nodding his head.
"Master, let me go," she said, staring at him.
Imgani jerked his head.
"I see you are afraid of me—yet I want nothing from you," he said. "I am Imgani, which means the Lonely One; and I have no desire for wives or women, being too high a man for such folly. You are safe, root-eater, for if I wished I would fill this forest with the daughters of chiefs, all very beautiful, all moaning for me."
The girl's fear had disappeared, and she looked at him curiously. Moreover, she recognised that there was truth in his claim of austerity. Possibly she was a little piqued, for she said tartly enough, employing an Isisi proverb:
"Only the goat bleats at the mouth of the leopard's cave—the Isisi grow fat on strangers."
He looked at her, his head cocked on one side.