dious, than most barbaric outbursts of
the kind. Its burden may be rendered somewhat in this wise--

"Voice from the air, Lighten our way! Word of the Wise, Say! shall we
slay? Voice of the Great, Speaking from gloom; Say! shall we wait
Darkness of doom?"

The echoes ring out upon the still night air, rolling in eddies of sound
among the granite crags. The company of sorcerers, every nerve and
muscle at its highest tension, softly move their feet to the time, as
again and again they repeat their awesome invocation, and with each
repetition the sound gathers volume, until it reaches a mighty roar.
The multitude, stricken motionless with the awe of a great expectation,
gaze upward with protruding eyeballs, awaiting a reply. It comes.

The singing of the Abantwana 'Mlimo has ceased. There is a silence that
may be felt, only broken by a strained breathing from hundreds of
throats. Then, from the black cave, high above, sounds forth a voice--a
single voice, but of amazing volume and power, the voice of the Great
Abstraction--of the Umlimo himself. And the answer is delivered in the
same rhythm as the invocation--

"Dire is the scourge, Sweeping from far: Bed is the spear, Warming for
war. Burned is the earth, Gloom in the skies; Nation's new birth--
Manhood arise!"

Strong and firm the Voice rolls forth, booming from that black portal as
with a thunder note--clear to a marvel in its articulation, cold,
remorseless in the decision of its darkly prophesying utterance.
Indescribably awe-inspiring as it pours forth its trumpet notes upon the
dead silence, small wonder that to the subdued eager listeners it is the
voice of a god. Thrice is the rhythm repeated, until every word has
burned deep into their minds as melted lead into a beam of soft-grained
wood.

And now in the silence which ensues there steps forth from the ranks of
the Abantwana 'Mlimo one man. Standing alone a little in front of the
rest, he faces upward to the great cave overhead. In the absence of
weird adornment, and with the moon upon his bird-like countenance,
stands revealed Shiminya.

"Great Great One! Voice of the Wise!" he cries. "Thy children hear
thee. They are brought even unto death. The scourge which Makiwa has
brought upon them strikes hard. It is striking their cattle down by
scores already. There will be no more left."

There is a pause. With outstretched arms in the moonlight, the mediator
stands motionless, awaiting t