say because he wishes to destroy Cetewayo. But what do
I know of such matters who only desire to live in peace under
whatever chief the English Queen sends to us, as she has a right
to do having conquered us in war? When you meet the Opener of
Roads at the kraal Jazi, ask him, Macumazahn."

"Where the devil is the kraal Jazi?" I inquired with irritation.
"I never heard of such a place."

"Nor did I, therefore I cannot tell you, Macumazahn. For aught I
can say it may be down beneath where dead men go. But wherever
it is there certainly you will meet the Opener of Roads. Now
farewell, Macumazahn. If it should chance that we never look
into each other's eyes again, I am sure you will think of me
sometimes, as I shall of you, and of all that we have seen
together, especially on that night in the Vale of Bones when the
ghost of the witch Mameena prophesied to us and kissed you before
us all. She must have been very beautiful, Macumazahn, as indeed
I have heard from those who remember her, and I don't wonder that
you loved her so much. Still for my part I had rather be kissed
by a living woman than by one who is dead, though doubtless it is
best to be kissed by none at all. Again, farewell, and be sure
to tell the Opener of Roads that I gave you his message, lest he
should lay some evil charm upon me, who have seen enough evil of
late."

Thus talking Goza departed. I never saw him again, and do not
know if he is dead or alive. Well, he was a kindly old fellow,
if no hero.

I had almost forgotten the incident of this meeting when a while
later I found myself in the neighbourhood of the beautiful but
semi-tropical place called Eshowe, which since those days has
become the official home of the British Resident in Zululand.
Indeed, although the house was not then finished, if it had been
begun, Sir Melmoth Osborn already had an office there. I wished
to see him in order to give him some rather important
information, but when I reached a kraal of about fifty huts some
five hundred yards from the site of the present Residency, my
wagon stuck fast in the boggy ground. While I was trying to get
it out a quiet-faced Zulu, whose name, I remember, was Umnikwa,
informed me that Malimati, that is Sir Melmoth Osborn's native
name, was somewhere at a little distance from Eshowe, too far
away for me to get to him that night. I answered, Very well, I
would sleep where I was, and asked the name of the kraal.

He replie