In response to the usual inquiries, conducted amid a chorus of yapping
dogs, I was informed that Tshoza did not live there, but somewhere else;
that he was too old to see anyone; that he had gone to sleep and could
not be disturbed; that he was dead and had been buried last week, and so
forth.
"Look here, my friend," I said at last to the fellow who was telling me
all these lies, "you go to Tshoza in his grave and say to him that if he
does not come out alive instantly, Macumazahn will deal with his cattle
as once he dealt with those of Bangu."
Impressed with the strangeness of this message, the man departed, and
presently, in the dim light of the rain-washed moon, I perceived a
little old man running towards me; for Tshoza, who was pretty ancient
at the beginning of this history, had not been made younger by a severe
wound at the battle of the Tugela and many other troubles.
"Macumazahn," he said, "is that really you? Why, I heard that you
were dead long ago; yes, and sacrificed an ox for the welfare of your
Spirit."
"And ate it afterwards, I'll be bound," I answered.
"Oh! it must be you," he went on, "who cannot be deceived, for it is
true we ate that ox, combining the sacrifice to your Spirit with a
feast; for why should anything be wasted when one is poor? Yes, yes,
it must be you, for who else would come creeping about a man's kraal at
night, except the Watcher-by-Night? Enter, Macumazahn, and be welcome."
So I entered and ate a good meal while we talked over old times.
"And now, where is Saduko?" I asked suddenly as I lit my pipe.
"Saduko?" he answered, his face changing as he spoke. "Oh! of course he
is here. You know I came away with him from Zululand. Why? Well, to
tell the truth, because after the part we had played--against my will,
Macumazahn--at the battle of Endondakusuka, I thought it safer to be
away from a country where those who have worn their karosses inside out
find many enemies and few friends."
"Quite so," I said. "But about Saduko?"
"Oh, I told you, did I not? He is in the next hut, and dying!"
"Dying! What of, Tshoza?"
"I don't know," he answered mysteriously; "but I think he must be
bewitched. For a long while, a year or more, he has eaten little and
cannot bear to be alone in the dark; indeed, ever since he left Zululand
he has been very strange and moody."
Now I remembered what old Zikali had said to me years before to the
effect that Saduko was living with a ghost which would kill him.