I pointed out to her that all flowers had roots which grew in soil.  Looking at an orchid-like plant that crept along the bough of a tree, she answered that this was not true as some grew upon air.  But however this might be, the soil, or the moisture in the air, was distilled from thousands of other flower lives that had flourished in their day and been forgotten.  It did not matter when they died or how many other flowers they choked that they might live.  Yet each flower had its own spirit which always had been and always would be.

I asked her of the end and the object of that spirit.  She answered darkly that she did not know and if she did, would not say, but that these were very dreadful.

Such were some of her vague and figurative assertions which I only record to indicate their uncomfortable and indeed but half human nature.  I forgot to add that she declared that every flower or life had a twin flower or life, which in each successive growth it was bound to find and bloom beside, or wither to the root and spring again and that ultimately these two would become one, and as one flourish eternally.  Of all of which I understood and understand little, except that she had grasped the elements of some truth which she could not express in clear and definite language.

One day I was seated in Zikali’s hut whither by permission I had come to ask the latest news, when suddenly Nombe appeared and crouched down before him.

“Who gave you leave to enter here, and what is your business?” he asked angrily.

“Home of Spirits,” she replied in a humble voice, “be not angry with your servant.  Necessity gave me leave, and my business is to tell you that strangers approach.”

“Who are they that dare to enter the Black Kloof unannounced?”

“Cetewayo the King is one of them, the others I do not know, but they are many, armed all of them.  They approach your gate; before a man can count two hundred they will be here.”

“Where are the white chief and the lady Heddana?” asked Zikali.

“By good fortune they have gone by the secret path to the tableland and will not be back till sunset.  They wished to be alone, so I did not accompany them, and Macumazahn here said that he was too weary to do so.” (This was true.  Also like Nombe I thought that they wished to be alone.)

“Good.  Go, tell the king that I knew of his coming and am awaiting him.  Bid my servants kill the ox which is in the kraal, the fat ox that they thought is sick and therefore fit food for a sick king,” he added bitterly.

She glided away like a startled snake.  Then Zikali turned to me and said swiftly—­