h she believed nothing of them, they brought
a kind of comfort to her, he looked once more at her father and Jacob
Meyer, and, as it were with an effort, was silent.

"Have you no pleasant prophecy for me, old friend," said Jacob, "who
have come so far to hear it?"

At once the aged face grew inscrutable, all expression vanished behind a
hundred wrinkles, and he answered:

"None, white man--none that I am charged to deliver. Search the skies
for yourself, you who are so wise, and read them if you can. Lords," he
went on in another voice, "I greet you in the name and presence of my
children. Son Tamas, I greet you also; you have done your mission well.
Listen, now--you are weary and would rest and eat; still, bear with me,
for I have a word to say. Look around you. You see all my tribe, not
twenty times ten above the age of boys, we who once were countless as
the leaves on yonder trees in spring. Why are we dead? Because of the
Amandabele, those fierce dogs whom, two generations ago, Moselikatse,
the general of Chaka, brought up to the south of us, who ravish us and
kill us year by year.

"We are not warlike, we who have outlived war and the lust of slaying.
We are men of peace, who desire to cultivate the land, and to follow our
arts which have descended to us from our ancestors, and to worship
the Heavens above us, whither we depart to join the spirits of our
forefathers. But they are fierce and strong and savage, and they come
up and murder our children and old people, and take away the young women
and the maidens to be slaves, and with them all our cattle. Where are
our cattle? Lobengula, chief of the Amandabele, has them; scarce a cow
is left to give milk to the sick or to the motherless babe. And yet he
sends for cattle. Tribute, say his messengers, deliver tribute, or my
impi will come and take it with your lives. But we have no cattle--all
are gone. We have nothing left to us but this ancient mountain and the
works built thereon, and a little corn on which we live. Yes, I say
it--I, the Molimo--I whose ancestors were great kings--I who have still
more wisdom in me than all the hosts of the Amandabele," and as he spoke
the old man's grey head sank upon his breast and the tears ran down his
withered cheeks, while his people answered:

"Mambo, it is true."

"Now listen again," he went on. "Lobengula threatens us, therefore I
sent to these white men who were here before, saying that if they would
bring me a hu