“She nodded, and I was about to tell one of the men to go and fetch some from one of the packs, when she checked me.
“‘A gift from the giver’s own hand is twice a gift,’ she said, and I thought that she spoke meaningly.
“‘You mean that you want me to give them to you myself?’
“‘Surely.’
“I rose to go with her. ‘How is it that, being of the Matuku, you speak in the Zulu tongue?’ I asked suspiciously.
“‘I am not of the Matuku,’ she answered as soon as we were out of hearing of the men. ‘I am of the people of Nala, whose tribe is the Butiana tribe, and who lives there,’ and she pointed over the mountain. ‘Also I am one of the wives of Wambe,’ and her eyes flashed as she said the name.
“‘And how did you come here?’
“‘On my feet,’ she answered laconically.
“We reached the packs, and undoing one of them, I extracted a handful of beads. ‘Now,’ I said, ‘a gift for a gift. Hand over the mealies.’
“She took the beads without even looking at them, which struck me as curious, and setting the basket of mealies on the ground, emptied it.