self useful in that line. I recollect at
Zwabeka's that memorable time, I boomed you sky high as a tremendous
_isanusi_, but they wouldn't more than half believe it then."

Father Mathias laughed, then, going outside to where he had left his
horse, he detached the saddlebag, and returned.

"I have not so much luggage as the last time we met--but I have a useful
medicine chest here. I shall give you something to reduce that fever,
then I shall attend to the leg. You have let it fall into a very sore
state. The wonder is, it is not one great veldt sore."

While being thus tended with deft surgical skill, Lamont proceeded to
narrate all that had befallen within his own experience of the rising.
He kept the plum of his news until the last.

"Why, then, I congratulate you heartily, Mr Lamont," said the priest.
"You are indeed fortunate."

"I quite agree, and now I am wondering when old Zwabeka is going to keep
his word, and turn us loose out of this. You can imagine how I am
chafing over it."

Father Mathias smiled to himself, as he contrasted the tense feverish
earnestness of his friend now, with the cool, impassive, utterly
indifferent demeanour that had characterised him on the last occasion of
their meeting. Suddenly a dismal, long-drawn, nasal sound beneath,
interrupted them. A number of dark figures were crossing the hollow in
a kind of dance, wailing forth their abominable chant.

"It's those infernal Abantwana Mlimo," said Lamont angrily. "The brutes
have been agitating to get me into their hands to cut my throat, or
worse, all the time. Stirring up the crowd too. If we don't get away
from here soon, they may carry things their own way."

There was worse to come. Following upon the heels of the contorting
sorcerers, came a number of warriors--from the interest with which those
already on the ground jumped up to stare at them, obviously new
arrivals. On they came, pouring forward in an open column, their number
seemed to be unending; and now these too, clashing their sticks upon
their shields, began to take up the song of the Abantwana Mlimo. Lamont
listened eagerly as it swelled higher and louder, then turned to his
companion, his face dark with bitterness.

"Just as I said, too late now. They are clamouring for our lives, egged
on of course by those infernal sorcerers; and they'll get what they
want, too, for Zwabeka is nothing like strong enough to defy a number
like that."

The situation