Casting a glance of contempt at Kosa, of whom he took no further notice, Menzi saluted the new-comers by lifting his hand above his head. Then with the utmost politeness he drew a snuff-box fashioned from the tip of a buffalo-horn out of a slit in the lobe of his left ear, extracted the wooden stopper and offered Thomas some snuff. “Thank you, but I do not take that nastiness,” said Thomas. Menzi sighed as though in disappointment, and having helped himself to a little, re-stoppered the horn and thrust it back into the lobe of his ear. Next he said, speaking in a gentle and refined voice: “Greeting, Teacher, who, the messengers tell us, are called Tombool in your own language and in ours _Inkunzi_. A good name, for in truth you look like a bull. I am glad to see that you are made much more robust than was the last Teacher, and therefore will live longer in this place than he did. Though as for the lady-teacher——” and he glanced at the delicate-looking Dorcas. Thomas stared at this man, to whom already he had taken a strong dislike. Then moved thereto either by a very natural outburst of temper, or perchance by a flash of inspiration, he replied: “Yes, I shall live longer than did my brother, who died here and has gone to Heaven, and longer I think than you will.” This personal remark seemed to take Menzi aback; indeed for a moment he looked frightened. Recovering himself, however, he said: “I perceive, Teacher Tombool, that like myself you are a witch-doctor and a prophet. At present I do not know which of us will live the longer, but I will consult my Spirits and tell you afterwards.” “Pray do not trouble to do so on my account, for I do not believe in your Spirits.” “Of course you do not, Teacher. No doctor believes in another doctor’s Spirits, since each has his own, and there are more Spirits than there are doctors. Teacher Tombool, I greet you and tell you at once that we are at war over this matter of Spirits. This tribe, Teacher, is a cleft log, yes, it is split into two. The Chief there, Kosa, sits on one half of the log with his Christians; I sit on the other half with the rest, who are as our fathers were. So if you wish to fight I shall fight with such weapons as I have. No, do not look at the spears—not with spears. But, if you leave me and my following alone, we shall leave you alone. If you are wise I think that you will do well to walk your own road and suffer us to walk ours.” “On the contrary,” answered Thomas, “I intend that all the Sisa people shall walk one road, the road that leads to Heaven.” “Is it so, Teacher?” Menzi replied with a mysterious smile. Then he turned his head and looked at the darkling river that just here, where it ran beneath an overhanging ledge of the koppie, was very deep and still. Thomas felt that there was a world of meaning in his look, though what it might be he did not know. Suddenly he remembered that this river was named Death.