I held up my hand, not wishing to hear details. Mavovo rose, and with a
little smile, went about his business.

"What does he mean about his Snake?" inquired Brother John curiously.

I told him as briefly as I could, and asked him if he could explain the
matter. He shook his head.

"The strangest example of native vision that I have ever heard of," he
answered, "and the most useful. Explain! There is no explanation, except
the old one that there are more things in heaven and earth, etc., and
that God gives different gifts to different men."

Then we ate our supper; I think one of the most joyful meals of which I
have ever partaken. It is wonderful how good food tastes when one never
expected to swallow another mouthful. After it was finished the others
went to bed but, with the still unconscious Hans for my only companion,
I sat for a while smoking by the fire, for on this high tableland the
air was chilly. I felt that as yet I could not sleep; if for no other
reason because of the noise that the Mazitu were making in the town, I
suppose in celebration of the execution of the terrible witch-doctors
and the return of Dogeetah.

Suddenly Hans awoke, and sitting up, stared at me through the bright
flame which I had recently fed with dry wood.

"Baas," he said in a hollow voice, "there you are, here I am, and there
is the fire which never goes out, a very good fire. But, Baas, why are
we not inside of it as your father the Predikant promised, instead of
outside here in the cold?"

"Because you are still in the world, you old fool, and not where you
deserve to be," I answered. "Because Mavovo's Snake was a snake with a
true tongue after all, and Dogeetah came as it foretold. Because we are
all alive and well, and it is Imbozwi with his spawn who are dead upon
the posts. That is why, Hans, as you would have seen for yourself if you
had kept awake, instead of swallowing filthy medicine like a frightened
woman, just because you were afraid of death, which at your age you
ought to have welcomed."

"Oh! Baas," broke in Hans, "don't tell me that things are so and that
we are really alive in what your honoured father used to call this gourd
full of tears. Don't tell me, Baas, that I made a coward of myself and
swallowed that beastliness--if you knew what it was made of you would
understand, Baas--for nothing but a bad headache. Don't tell me that
Dogeetah came when my eyes were not open to see him, and worst of all,
that