"The chief Umhleswa knows the use and the value of the English rifle; he sees the great power it would give him and his tribe. By our death he would have gained nothing, save two or three rifles. No white traders would have come near him, and his end and aim would have been frustrated." "Mozelkatse's vengeance would have found him out," interpolated the Matabele. "True; but Sgalam took another view of the matter, and threatened the anger of the chief of Manica. Hence the midnight meeting in our hut, and the death of Sgalam, hence the decision of the sorcerer Koomalayoo and Luji's persecution. Some one killed Sgalam, and some one must answer for it." "So the white chief thinks Umhleswa cast the spell?" "No, Matabele, no," answered the missionary, "it was a potent poison which did the work; and Umhleswa had everything to gain by the death, Luji had nothing." Masheesh turned away incredulous, not even taking the trouble to reply. "It will be impossible, I fear, to save the poor fellow; but we must make the effort, Hughes. You see even this man, belonging to a tribe far superior in education to these Amatongas, perfectly believes that Luji by sorcery caused the chief's death." "Let us try, at least," replied Hughes, as both took their way to the entrance of the hut. All had been comparatively quiet, since the Amatonga chief had left the place, a council having been held outside to determine on the best mode of punishing the Hottentot sorcerer. The sun was shining brightly, and a light breeze waving the branches of a group of mashunga trees, under which the men of the tribe had assembled. Umhleswa had been speaking rapidly, and doubtless eloquently, to the circle of braves around him. Near by, stood the unfortunate Hottentot, closely guarded, and if it had not been a pitiful, it would have been a laughable sight, for, tied in his usual position, on the prisoner's shoulders, sat the baboon. Naturally ugly, the brute was rendered still more so from the effects of the gunpowder explosion, which had scorched its skin, and there it sat, peeping from side to side of Luji's head, moaning, grimacing, stroking the Hottentot's face, and showing his teeth to all who came near. The large tears were streaming down the captive's cheeks, mixing with the blood and dirt with which they were begrimed. The chief concluded his speech just as the two white men emerged into the open air, pointing as he did so to the crouching captive, and the whole band started up, shouting and yelling, to dash past Luji into the bush. One loud scream of anguish burst from the man's chest, for he had heard his fate, and knew that it was death by fire.