“Then look once more, for I will think of something. I will think of that church falling. Look once more.”
They looked, and behold the shadowy fabric began to totter, then it seemed to collapse, and last of all down went the spire and vanished in the smoke.
“Have you seen anything, O people?” said Menzi, “for standing behind this smoke I can see nothing. Mark that it is thick, since through it I am invisible to you.”
This was true, since they could only perceive the tips of his outstretched fingers appearing upon each side of the smoke-fan.
“Yes,” they answered, “we have seen a church fall down and vanish.”
“That was my thought,” said Menzi; “have I not told you that was the thought my Spirit gave me?”
“This is black magic, and you are a fiend!” shouted Thomas, and was silent.
“Not so, Tombool, though it is true that I have gifts which you clever White people do not understand,” answered Menzi.
By degrees the smoke melted away, and there on the ground were the ten or twelve crooked pieces of ebony that they had seen consumed, now to all appearance quite untouched by the flame. There too on their farther side lay Menzi, shining with perspiration, and in a swoon or sleeping.
“Come away,” said Thomas shortly, and they turned to go, but at this moment something happened.