k safely, Macumazahn," he said. "Well, I told you
you would, did I not? As for what happened to you upon the journey, let
it be, for now that I am old long stories tire me and I daresay that
there is nothing wonderful about this one. Where is the charm I lent
you? Give it back now that it has served its turn."

"I have not got it, Zikali. I passed it on to Umslopogaas of the Axe to
save his life from the King's men."

"Oh! yes, so you did. I had forgotten. Here it is," and opening his robe
of fur, he showed me the hideous little talisman hanging about his
neck, then added, "Would you like a copy of it, Macumazahn, to keep as a
memory? If so, I will carve one for you."

"No," I answered, "I should not. Has Umslopogaas been here?"

"Yes, he has been and gone again, which is one of the reasons why I do
not wish to hear your tale a second time."

"Where to? The Town of the People of the Axe?"

"No, Macumazahn, he came thence, or so I understood, but thither he will
return no more."

"Why not, Zikali?"

"Because after his fashion he made trouble there and left some dead
behind him; one Lousta, I believe, whom he had appointed to sit on his
stool as chief while he was away, and a woman called Monazi, who was his
wife, or Lousta's wife, or the wife of both of them, I forget which. It
is said that having heard stories of her--and the ears of jealousy are
long, Macumazahn--he cut off this woman's head with a sweep of the axe
and made Lousta fight him till he fell, which the fool did almost before
he had lifted his shield. It served him right who should have made sure
that Umslopogaas was dead before he wrapped himself in his blanket and
took the woman to cook his porridge."

"Where has the Axe-bearer gone?" I asked without surprise, for this news
did not astonish me.

"I neither know nor care, Macumazahn. To become a wanderer, I suppose.
He will tell you the tale when you meet again in the after-days, as I
understand he thinks that you will do.[*] Hearken! I have done with this
lion's whelp, who is Chaka over again, but without Chaka's wit. Yes, he
is just a fighting man with a long reach, a sure eye and the trick of
handling an axe, and such are of little use to me who know too many of
them. Thrice have I tried to make him till my garden, but each time
he has broken the hoe, although the wage I promised him was a royal
_kaross_ and nothing less. So enough of Umslopogaas, the Woodpecker.
Almost I wish that you had no