“Such, for instance, as—” I suggested.
“One of the magic fire tubes with which you caused a flying pigeon to fall dead at the king’s feet to-day,” answered my visitor.
“Nay,” said I, “that may not be. It would be no kindness on my part to give Machenga a fire tube, for he would not know how to use it—”
“But you could teach him,” hastily interposed the stranger.
“Nay,” answered I, “not so, for it is a thing of magic; and the magic of the white man is unlike that of the black man, nor can the black man learn it. Were Machenga to take one of my fire tubes in his hand, one of two things would happen. Either the tube would refuse to slay at all, or it would turn upon Machenga and kill him.”
“Au! white man, that is not true, and when you speak lies you talk as a fool,” exclaimed my visitor, displaying much righteous indignation. “I know, for I have seen the magic fire tubes before. Many moons ago—ay, before you were born, and before Lomalindela was king—two white men came into Mashonaland, and only one of them went out again. They, too, possessed fire tubes, and one of them, an Amaboona (Boer)—the man who did not go out—once put his fire tube into my hands and showed me how to use it. The magic lies not in the tube itself, but in the few grains of black powder that are poured into it and the round lump of metal that is thrust down on the top of the powder. Au! I know. Though so many moons have passed I remember quite well. Ay, and I remember many other things also, things that happened here long before the Mashona arrived in the land, things that happened when the Monomotapa dwelt here and great cities of stone and brick covered the face of the country, when men dug gold out of the rocks and made it into ornaments for the arms, necks, and ankles of their women—”
“What foolishness is this that thou art talking?” I interrupted angrily, for it was growing late and I was beginning to feel tired, while there seemed to be no sign of an intention on the part of my unwelcome visitor to leave. “Return now to Machenga,” I continued, “describe to him the gifts which I have set aside for him, and say that if he will send thee for them to-morrow at sunrise they shall be his. But if he wants them not, it is well: I have no others for him.”
“Then thou wilt not give him one of thy fire tubes, with a supply of the magic powder and enough of the round lumps of metal to kill one hundred—pigeons?” demanded my visitor.
“I will not,” I replied shortly, “and that is my last word.”
“Au!” retorted the man. “Very well, white man, I hear thee and I go. But it may be that to-morrow thou wilt be sorry that thou didst refuse.” And, so saying, he wrapped his kaross still more closely about him and strode away into the moonlight with the light, springy step of a young man.