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"White men," he said, "Imbozwi, the head of the witch-finders here, whose hair you burnt off by your evil magic, says that it would be better to kill you at once as your hearts are bad and you are planning mischief against my people. So I think also.
"Now will you believe, O blown-out bladder of a man, that there are greater magicians than yourself in the world?" "What is the matter, son of a dog, that you make a mock of me?" screeched the unfuriated Imbozwi, who alone was unaware of anything unusual. As he spoke some suspicion rose in his mind which caused him to put his hand to his top-knot, and withdraw it with a howl.
Nature seemed to be adapting herself to the mood of sacrifice and making ready for us a mighty pall. At length I heard the sound of arrows being drawn from their quivers, and then the squeaky voice of Imbozwi, saying: "Wait a little, the cloud will lift. There is light behind it, and it will be nicer if they can see the arrows coming."
So our bonds were undone and we walked to where the king and Brother John stood, the miserable Imbozwi and his attendant doctors huddled in a heap before them. "Who is this?" said Bausi to him, pointing at Brother John. "Is it not he whom you vowed was dead?"
Imbozwi, however, interpreted my movement differently, since among savages the turning of the back always means that a petition is refused. Then, in his rage and despair, the venom of his wicked heart boiled over. He leapt to his feet, and drawing a big, carved knife from among his witch-doctor's trappings, sprang at me like a wild cat, shouting: "At least you shall come too, white dog!"
Bausi explained that his evil proceedings were entirely due to the wickedness of the deceased Imbozwi and his disciples, under whose tyranny the land had groaned for long, since the people believed them to speak "with the voice of 'Heaven Above."
I confess that I hesitated before giving an answer, not being entirely enamoured of the Mazitu and of our prospects among them, especially as I had discovered through Jerry that the discomfited Imbozwi had departed from the soldiers on some business of his own.
Indeed, he could not praise our magic enough, and at once began to make arrangements to escort us to the king at his head town, which was called Beza, vowing that we need fear no harm at his hands or those of his soldiers. In fact, the only person who did not appreciate our black arts was Imbozwi himself.
Brother John ordered him to be wrapped up in a blanket and laid by the fire, and this was done. Presently Mavovo approached and squatted down in front of us. "Macumazana, my father," he said quietly, "what words have you for me?" "Words of thanks, Mavovo. If you had not been so quick, Imbozwi would have finished me.
"Yes, yes," screeched Imbozwi. "If Dogeetah comes, as that false wizard prophesies," and he pointed to Mavovo, "then I shall be ready to die in your place, white slave-dealers. Yes, yes, then you may shoot me with arrows." "King, take note of those words, and people, take note of those words, that they may be fulfilled if Dogeetah comes," said Mavovo in a great, deep voice.
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