n it. But as it happened this top-knot was built up round
something of a highly inflammable nature, reed or camphor-wood, I
expect. At any rate, about thirty seconds later the top-knot was burning
like a beautiful torch.

"_Ow!_" said the Kaffirs who were watching. "My Aunt!" exclaimed
Stephen. "Look, look!" shouted Babemba in tones of delight. "Now will
you believe, O blown-out bladder of a man, that there are greater
magicians than yourself in the world?"

"What is the matter, son of a dog, that you make a mock of me?"
screeched the unfuriated Imbozwi, who alone was unaware of anything
unusual.

As he spoke some suspicion rose in his mind which caused him to put his
hand to his top-knot, and withdraw it with a howl. Then he sprang up and
began to dance about, which of course only fanned the fire that had now
got hold of the grease and gum. The Zulus applauded; Babemba clapped his
hands; Stephen burst into one of his idiotic fits of laughter. For my
part I grew frightened. Near at hand stood a large wooden pot such as
the Kaffirs make, from which the coffee kettle had been filled, that
fortunately was still half-full of water. I seized it and ran to him.

"Save me, white lord!" he howled. "You are the greatest of magicians and
I am your slave."

Here I cut him short by clapping the pot bottom upwards on his burning
head, into which it vanished as a candle does into an extinguisher.
Smoke and a bad smell issued from beneath the pot, the water from which
ran all over Imbozwi, who stood quite still. When I was sure the fire
was out, I lifted the pot and revealed the discomfited wizard, but
without his elaborate head-dress. Beyond a little scorching he was not
in the least hurt, for I had acted in time; only he was bald, for when
touched the charred hair fell off at the roots.

"It is gone," he said in an amazed voice after feeling at his scalp.

"Yes," I answered, "quite. The magic shield worked very well, did it
not?"

"Can you put it back again, white lord?" he asked.

"That will depend upon how you behave," I replied.

Then without another word he turned and walked back to the soldiers,
who received him with shouts of laughter. Evidently Imbozwi was not a
popular character, and his discomfiture delighted them.

Babemba also was delighted. Indeed, he could not praise our magic
enough, and at once began to make arrangements to escort us to the king
at his head town, which was called Beza, vowing that we need