As I reflected the horse advanced round the little bend in the
ever-narrowing cliffs, and there in front of me, under the
gigantic mass of overhanging rock, appeared the kraal of Zikali
surrounded by its reed fence. The gate of the fence was open, and
beyond it, on his stool in front of the large hut, sat Zikali.
Even at that distance it was impossible to mistake his figure,
which was like no other that I had known in the world. A
broad-shouldered dwarf with a huge head, deep, sunken eyes and
snowy hair that hung upon his shoulders; the whole frame and face
pervaded with an air of great antiquity, and yet owing to the
plumpness of the flesh and that freshness of skin which is
sometimes seen in the aged, comparatively young-looking.
Such was the great wizard Zikali, known throughout the land for
longer than any living man could remember as "Opener of Roads," a
title that referred to his powers of spiritual vision, also as
the "Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born," a name given to him
by Chaka, the first and greatest of the Zulu kings, because of
his deformity.
There he sat silent, impassive, staring open-eyed at the red ball
of the setting sun, looking more like some unshapely statue than
a man. His silent, fierce-faced servants appeared. To me they
looked like the same men whom I had seen here three and twenty
years before, only grown older. Indeed, I think they were, for
they greeted me by name and saluted by raising their broad
spears.
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