g a book. Behind the white man he could see,
as it were, the vision of a town, a river, a precipice--in short,
what he now saw to have been Mtakatifuni. The figure had beckoned him
solemnly, and he had sat up in his bed in fear. It had beckoned again,
and had then pointed north and east, and at that the vision had died
away before the startled sleeper's eyes. But Mwezi understood. In his
mind there had been no question as to what he must do. In the dawn he
had risen, said good-bye to his wife and family, and set out. For two
years he had journeyed, wandering from place to place, scarcely knowing
whither he went save that it was always north and east. The very wild
beasts had respected him, and men, seeing the vision in his eyes,
had withheld their hands from him. At length, then, he had reached
Mtakatifuni. There, as always, he had inquired for his white man, and,
hearing that no white man had ever been there but convinced that it was
the place of his dream, he sat down to wait. He had grown old waiting;
had married, and had begotten sons and daughters. Now he was too old to
move; all but too old to live; but still he waited. Still he believed he
would see his white man again before he died; indeed, he could not
die until he had seen. My coming had seemed to the whole place the
fulfilment of his vision, but I was not the man. Mwezi was sure of that
and no one doubted him. And maybe, now, added the councillor, he would
never see him. That was all.

"Now I had been long enough in Africa to set little store by native
dreams as a rule. The affair, then, seemed to me pathetic rather than
interesting.

"My eyes kept straying to the old fellow while the story was being
told me, and I marvelled to think of the simplicity of his faith, the
weariness of his journey into the unknown, and the tenacity with which
he had clung to his obsession. That this man should have given his whole
life to such a quest, and should now be so bitterly disappointed when
a remote chance had brought it nearer realisation than had been in the
least degree likely, was indeed certainly cruel. I therefore turned to
him to make what amends I could.

"'But, old Mwezi,' I said as kindly as possible, 'doubtless you are
mistaken. It was but once that you saw the figure in your dream, and
that years ago. You dreamt of a white man dressed as I. Well, I belong
to a regiment of white men who dress alike, and for many lives it has
been the custom of that regimen