Imbozwi and his children were tied to those poles when I was not
able to help them out of the bottle of tears into the fire that burns
for ever and ever. Oh! it is too much, and I swear, Baas, that however
often I have to die, henceforward it shall always be with my eyes open,"
and holding his aching head between his hands he rocked himself to and
fro in bitter grief.

Well might Hans be sad, seeing that he never heard the last of the
incident. The hunters invented a new and gigantic name for him, which
meant "The little-yellow-mouse-who-feeds-on-sleep-while-the-black-rats
eat-up-their-enemies." Even Sammy made a mock of him, showing him the
spoils which he declared he had wrenched unaided from the mighty master
of magic, Imbozwi. As indeed he had--after the said Imbozwi was stone
dead at the stake.

It was very amusing until things grew so bad that I feared Hans would
kill Sammy, and had to put a stop to the joke.

CHAPTER XII

BROTHER JOHN'S STORY

Although I went to bed late I was up before sunrise. Chiefly because I
wished to have some private conversation with Brother John, whom I knew
to be a very early riser. Indeed, he slept less than any man I ever met.

As I expected, I found him astir in his hut; he was engaged in pressing
flowers by candlelight.

"John," I said, "I have brought you some property which I think you
have lost," and I handed him the morocco-bound _Christian Year_ and the
water-colour drawing which we had found in the sacked mission house at
Kilwa.

He looked first at the picture and then at the book; at least, I suppose
he did, for I went outside the hut for a while--to observe the sunrise.
In a few minutes he called me, and when the door was shut, said in an
unsteady voice:

"How did you come by these relics, Allan?"

I told him the story from beginning to end. He listened without a word,
and when I had finished said:

"I may as well tell what perhaps you have guessed, that the picture is
that of my wife, and the book is her book."

"Is!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, Allan. I say _is_ because I do not believe that she is dead. I
cannot explain why, any more than I could explain last night how that
great Zulu savage was able to prophesy my coming. But sometimes we can
wring secrets from the Unknown, and I believe that I have won this truth
in answer to my prayers, that my wife still lives."

"After twenty years, John?"

"Yes, after twenty years. Why do