my face their ran two tears
of blood. But yet I held my hand in the fire and made no sign, while the
king and his councillors watched me curiously. Still, for a moment Chaka
said nothing, and that moment seemed to me as all the years of my life.

"Ah!" he said at length, "I see that thou growest warm, Mopo! Withdraw
thy hand from the flame. I am answered; thou hast passed the trial; thy
heart is clean; for had there been lies in it the fire had given them
tongue, and thou hadst cried aloud, making thy last music, Mopo!"

Now I took my hand from the flame, and for awhile the torment left me.

"It is well, O king," I said calmly. "Fire has no power of hurt on those
whose heart is pure."

But as I spoke I looked at my left hand. It was black, my father--black
as a charred stick, and the nails were gone from the twisted fingers.
Look at it now, my father; you can see, though my eyes are blind. The
hand is white, like yours--it is white and dead and shrivelled. These
are the marks of the fire in Chaka's hut--the fire that kissed me many,
many years ago; I have had but little use of that hand since this night
of torment. But my right arm yet remained to me, my father, and, ah! I
used it.

"It seems that Nobela, the doctress, who is dead, lied when she
prophesied evil on me from thee, Mopo," said Chaka again. "It seems
that thou art innocent of this offence, and that Baleka, thy sister, is
innocent, and that the song which the Mother of the Heavens sang through
the singing flames was no true song. It is well for thee, Mopo, for in
such a matter my oath had not helped thee. But my mother is dead--dead
in the flames with thy wives and children, Mopo, and in this there is
witchcraft. We will have a mourning, Mopo, thou and I, such a mourning
as has not been seen in Zululand, for all the people on the earth shall
weep at it. And there shall be a 'smelling out' at this mourning, Mopo.
But we will summon no witch-doctors, thou and I will be witch-doctors,
and ourselves shall smell out those who have brought these woes upon us.
What! shall my mother die unavenged, she who bore me and has perished by
witchcraft, and shall thy wives and children die unavenged--thou being
innocent? Go forth, Mopo, my faithful servant, whom I have honoured with
the warmth of my fire, go forth!" And once again he stared at me through
the reek of the flame, and pointed with his assegai to the door of the
hut.

CHAPTER XI. THE COUNSEL OF BALEKA