ce with
an ant-heap floor where they did their cooking. Here, facing us, sat
Mavovo, while in a ring around him were all the hunters who were to
accompany us; also Jack, the lame Griqua, and the two house-boys. In
front of Mavovo burned a number of little wood fires. I counted them and
found that there were fourteen, which, I reflected, was the exact
number of our hunters, plus ourselves. One of the hunters was engaged
in feeding these fires with little bits of stick and handfuls of
dried grass so as to keep them burning brightly. The others sat round
perfectly silent and watched with rapt attention. Mavovo himself looked
like a man who is asleep. He was crouched on his haunches with his big
head resting almost upon his knees. About his middle was a snake-skin,
and round his neck an ornament that appeared to be made of human teeth.
On his right side lay a pile of feathers from the wings of vultures, and
on his left a little heap of silver money--I suppose the fees paid by
the hunters for whom he was divining.

After we had watched him for some while from our shelter behind the wall
he appeared to wake out of his sleep. First he muttered; then he looked
up to the moon and seemed to say a prayer of which I could not catch
the words. Next he shuddered three times convulsively and exclaimed in a
clear voice:

"My Snake has come. It is within me. Now I can hear, now I can see."

Three of the little fires, those immediately in front of him, were
larger than the others. He took up his bundle of vultures' feathers,
selected one with care, held it towards the sky, then passed it through
the flame of the centre one of the three fires, uttering as he did so,
my native name, Macumazana. Withdrawing it from the flame he examined
the charred edges of the feather very carefully, a proceeding that
caused a cold shiver to go down my back, for I knew well that he was
inquiring of his "Spirit" what would be my fate upon this expedition.
How it answered, I cannot tell, for he laid the feather down and
took another, with which he went through the same process. This time,
however, the name he called out was Mwamwazela, which in its shortened
form of Wazela, was the Kaffir appellation that the natives had given
to Stephen Somers. It means a Smile, and no doubt was selected for him
because of his pleasant, smiling countenance.

Having passed it through the right-hand fire of the three, he examined
it and laid it down.

So it went on. One