The interview ended immediately after we informed Sebuza that we had presents for him in our wagons. He said that he wanted to see our outfit and would go with us, and a few moments later we all left for the camp. Several indunas accompanied us, and the stately head witch-doctor, L'Tunga, also went with us. I regarded this as rather impertinent, but was very glad of his presence shortly. Crespinell and Rossman were much interested in Sebuza and were only too willing to gratify his curiosity concerning the "little black magic boxes on thin legs." They took a number of pictures of him, some of which filled him with awe when they were given to him next day. I produced a box of the "jewelry" and presented it to him with a great flourish. He was fairly overcome by its gorgeousness. Soon he had bedecked himself much after the fashion of a Christmas tree and strutted about like a peacock. Tuys told me to "go slow with the gin," so I only gave him a few bottles. Strange as it may appear, Sebuza was not enthusiastic about the liquor, and later I found that L'Tunga had taught him that it was a kind of "white man's poison." CHAPTER XVII L'Tunga's "muti" cures the sick white man--Sebuza chooses his wives--I receive a message from His Majesty's High Commissioner for Swaziland--A flying trip to Mbabane--The Government refuses sanction to Sebuza's coronation--How witch-doctors smoke dagga weed. Sugden was wide awake when we reached the camp and despite his condition was overcome with curiosity. He could see nothing, being shut in by the tent-walls, and was too weak to get up and look out. Suddenly, while we were watching Sebuza enjoy his ornaments, I saw the side of the tent being feebly punched from within. I raised the flap, and there was Sugden regarding us with his fever-bright eyes. He hated to be left out of the party and had signaled for me to count him in. I went to him, but my heart sank. He was the sickest man I have ever seen. Except for his blazing eyes, he had all the look of a dead man. Every one looked at us, and a second later L'Tunga leaned over me and asked what was the matter with the "sick white man." I held Sugden's poor head in my arms as I told him. The witch-doctor nodded and then straightened up. "Nkoos, I will cure him!" he said. "I will make a magic that will make him well. I go, but I will come back soon and bring the muti." He left, and I laid Sugden down and pulled the tent flap. He was exhausted by his effort to join the party and was nodding with the sleep that was nigh unto death. Now I was very curious about the "muti" of the witch-doctor. I knew that their rites and rituals were all humbug dressed up in feathers, but every now and then they did something that was quite amazing. It was certain that they knew things about the herbs of their country that we white men did not, and I never felt sure that they were the fakirs we thought them to be.