“You are right, Zikali, when you say that all men are fools, seeing that you are the first and biggest fool among them.” “I have often thought it, Macumazahn, for reasons that I keep to myself. But why do you say so? Let me hear, who would learn whether yours are the same as my own.” “First, because you talk as though there were such a creature as Heu-Heu, which, as you know well, does not live and never did; and secondly, because you speak as though Hans and I would meet it face to face, which we shall never do. So cease from such nonsense and show us how to make pictures in the fire—an art, you tell us, any child can learn.” “If they are taught, Macumazahn, _if_ they are taught how. But were I to do this, I should indeed be the first of fools. Do you think that I wish to establish two rival cheats—you see, between ourselves, I give myself my right name—in the land to trade against me? No, no, let each keep the knowledge he has earned for himself, for if it becomes common to all, who will pay for it? But why do you believe that you will never stand face to face with Heu-Heu except in pictures on rock or fire?” “Because he doesn’t exist,” I answered with irritation; “and if he does, I suppose his home is a long way off and I cannot trek without fresh oxen.” “Ah!” said Zikali, “that reminds me again that those who told me of how you refuged in the cave from the storm and the rest said that you wanted more oxen. So, knowing that you would be in as great a hurry to get to Heu-Heu as a young man is to find his first wife, I made ready. The story you heard was quite true. A white trader did leave a very fine team of footsore oxen in this neighbourhood, salted, every one of them, which after three moons’ rest, are now fat and sound. I will have them driven up to-morrow morning and take care of yours while you are away.” “I have no money to pay for more oxen,” I said. “Is not the promise of Macumazahn better than any money, even the red English gold? Does not the whole land know it? Moreover,” he added slowly, “when you return from visiting Heu-Heu you ought to have plenty of money—or, rather, of diamonds, which is the same thing—and perhaps of ivory, though of that I am not so sure. No, I am not sure whether you will be able to carry the ivory. If I do not speak truth I will pay for the oxen myself.” Now at the word “diamonds” I pricked up my ears, for just then all Africa was beginning to talk about these stones; even Hans rose from the ground and began once more to take interest in earthly things. “That’s a fair offer,” I said, “but stop blowing dust” (_i. e._, talking nonsense) “and tell me straight out what you mean before it grows dark. I hate this kloof in the dark. Who is Heu-Heu? And if he or it lives, or lived, where is Heu-Heu, dead or alive? Also, supposing that there was or is a Heu-Heu, why do you, Zikali, wish me to find him, as I perceive you do, who always have a reason for what you wish?”