“He is named Koraanu,” he answered, “if he still lives, but a man I met some months ago told me that he has been dead these two years, and that she who used to rule us when I was a little child had come back from the lands whither she had wandered, and is now _Inkoosikaas_ of the Umpondwana.” “What is the name of this chieftainess?” I asked in the midst of a great silence. Gaasha answered at once; that is, after he had taken a pinch of snuff, but to us it seemed a year before the words crossed his lips. “Her name, lady,” and he sneezed, “is”—and he sneezed again, rocking himself to and fro. Then slowly wiping away the tears which the snuff had brought to his eyes with the back of his hand he said, “Ow! this is the best of snuff, and I thank the Baas for giving it to me.” “Answer,” roared Jan, speaking for the first time, and in such a fierce voice that Gaasha sprang to his feet and began to run away. “Come back, Gaasha, come back,” I called, and he came doubtfully, for Gaasha was not very brave, and ever since he had wished to shoot him he trembled even at the sight of Jan. “Be silent, you fool,” I whispered to the latter as the lad drew near, then said aloud, “Now, Gaasha.” “Lady,” he answered, “it is indeed as I have told you; the Baas gave me the snuff a long time ago; he took it out of the ear-boxes of the dead men at Vetchkop. He gave it to me. I did not steal it. He will say so himself.” “Never mind the snuff, Gaasha,” I said in a voice half-choked with doubt and anxiety, for the sight of Ralph’s piteous face and the strangeness of it all were fast overwhelming me, “but tell us what is the name of this chieftainess whom you have heard is now the ruler of your tribe?” “Her name, lady,” he answered, much relieved, “why it is well known, for though she is small, it is said that she is the best of doctoresses and rain-makers.” Now Jan could no longer be restrained, for stretching out his great hand he gripped Gaasha by the throat, saying: “Accursed _swartzel_, if you do not tell us the name at once I will kill you.” “Madman,” I exclaimed, “how can the lad speak while you are choking him?” Then Jan shifted his grip and Gaasha began to cry for pity. “The name, the name,” said Jan. “Why should I hide it? Have I not told it? Baas, it is _Sihamba Ngenyanga_.” As the words passed his lips Jan let go of him so suddenly that Gaasha fell to the ground and sat there staring at us, for without doubt he thought that we had all gone mad. Jan looked up to the skies and said, “Almighty, I thank Thee, Who canst make dreams to fly to the heart of a man as a night-bird to its nest through the darkness, and Who, because of what I saw in the eyes of Sihamba, didst turn aside my gun when it was pointed at the breast of this Kaffir.” Then he looked at Ralph, and was quiet, for Ralph had swooned away. CHAPTER XXVII. SWART PIET SETS A SNARE