parition. Brave men all--
fearless fighters when pitted against equal forces--now they quailed,
sat there in their armed might, thoroughly cowed before this female
fiend. She would require blood--would demand a life, perhaps several--
that was certain. Whose would it be?

The wild, beast-like bounds of the witch-doctress subsided into a kind
of half-gliding, half-dancing step--her demoniacal words into a weird
nasal sort of chant--as she approached the chief and his councillors.

"Seek not for Ngcenika, O son of Hintza, father of the children of
Xosa!" she cried in a loud voice, fixing her eyes upon Kreli. "Seek not
for Ngcenika, O _amapakati_, wise men of the House of Gcaleka, when your
wisdom is defeated by the witchcraft of your enemies. Seek not
Ngcenika, O ye fighting men, children of the Great Chief, your father,
when your blood is spilled in battle, and your bullets fly harmless from
the bodies of the whites because of the evil wiles of the enemy within
your ranks. Seek her not, for she is here--here to protect you--here to
`smell out' the evil wizard in your midst. She needs no seeking; she
needs no calling. She is here!"

"Ha! ha!" ejaculated the warriors in a kind of gasping roar, for those
ominous words told but too truly what would presently happen. Not a man
but dreaded that he might be the victim, and in proportion as each man
stood well in rank or possessions, so much the greater was his
apprehension.

"I hear the voices of the shadowy dead!" went on the sorceress, striking
an attitude of intense listening, and gazing upwards over the heads of
her audience. "I hear their voices like the whispering murmur of many
waters. I hear them in the air? No. I hear them in the roar of the
salt waves of yonder blue sea? No. I hear them in the whispering
leaves of the forest--in the echoing voices of the rocks? No. In the
sunshine? No. I am in the dark--in the dark!" she repeated, raising
her tone to a high, quavering shriek, while her features began to work,
her eyes to roll wildly. "I am in the gloom of the far depths, and the
world itself is rolling above me. The air is thick. I choke. I
suffocate. I am in the tomb. The rock walls close me in. There are
faces around me--eyes--myriads of eyes--serpent eyes--hissing tongues.
They come about me in the black gloom. They scorch--they burn. Ah-ah!"

An awful change had come over the speaker. Her features were working
convulsively--she fo