The entrance of this repulsive personage into the circle was received by a shout of welcome--a compulsory one it must have been, for none could have cared to have seen him. _I_ did not, even from my place of concealment, and often thought that his horrible eyes, made startlingly apparent by the white earth, glared through the bushes and detected me. With a slow pace the wizard made his circuit, quickening his speed as he went till it grew into a wild dance; while all the time he uttered some native chant, which increased in loudness as his movements did in rapidity. That any man could have been able to move his limbs with such swiftness, or leap so high, I never would have believed. It was rather the wild dance--the wild song of insanity. Song, did I say? The little melody it had at first possessed speedily vanished, and was replaced by frantic shrieks and cries as of a maniac; while tears actually streamed down his face, doing sad havoc with the white earth. First he sprang to this side, then to that--all cowering as he approached,--while he snuffed up the air, as if discovering the criminal by that means. I watched each movement with suspended breath, for I had been told that his wand would fall upon the victim, or the guilty person, according to these benighted people's idea. Once he paused, and I saw those near him shiver perceptibly; then he fled off with a bound in another direction. How long the scene lasted I cannot tell; but I know the excitement was beginning to tell upon me, when, with a sudden swoop, he struck the shoulder of one of the Kaffirs, then darted away. In an instant, like a swarm of locusts, the guard of knob-kerries were upon the unfortunate victim, preventing any attempt to escape; while I was afterwards told that the witch-doctor, dashing off, entered each hut he came across, sniffing violently to discover the spot where the charm was buried, and followed by a wondering awe-inspired crowd. Abruptly halting at one spot, he cast down an assagai, and ordered the people to dig--an operation which produced, as it generally did, a tuft of fur and some beads. This, in the Kaffirs' opinion, proved the truth of the witch-doctor's accusation; but, in mine, I fully believe that the articles had been placed there by himself previously. All praise, say I, to those self-sacrificing men, the missionaries, who go among these people to improve them. Surely any one who can turn them a hair's-breadth from their benighted ignorance is to be applauded. I am aware that some men, being utterly unsuited to the task, do more harm than good; but such men as Dr Livingstone--that truly noble missionary--we ought to honour with all our heart, as we should any man who will try to make civilisation take the place of such horrible barbarity as I have to record in the next chapter. CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE FATE OF THE WIZARD--SKIN DRESSING--THE NEW WIFE.