I made
sacrifices, I fasted in the veldt alone, I did all those things of
which you have heard, and I learned much; for there is wisdom in our
magic as well as lies--and you know it, my father, else you had not
come here to ask me about your lost oxen.
So things went on till I was twenty years of age--a man full grown. By
now I had mastered all I could learn by myself, so I joined myself on
to the chief medicine-man of our tribe, who was named Noma. He was
old, had one eye only, and was very clever. Of him I learned some
tricks and more wisdom, but at last he grew jealous of me and set a
trap to catch me. As it chanced, a rich man of a neighbouring tribe
had lost some cattle, and came with gifts to Noma praying him to smell
them out. Noma tried and could not find them; his vision failed him.
Then the headman grew angry and demanded back his gifts; but Noma
would not give up that which he once had held, and hot words passed.
The headman said that he would kill Noma; Noma said that he would
bewitch the headman.
"Peace," I said, for I feared that blood would be shed. "Peace, and
let me see if my snake will tell me where the cattle are."
"You are nothing but a boy," answered the headman. "Can a boy have
wisdom?"
"That shall soon be known," I said, taking the bones in my hand.[1]
[1] The Kafir witch-doctors use the knuckle-bones of animals in their
magic rites, throwing them something as we throw dice.
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