"Still, as the kraal cannot be colder than this wagon, we will go and ask Zweete.

Bring a bottle of squareface and some snuff with you for presents." An hour later he stood in the hut of Zweete.

Before him was a very ancient man, a mere bag of bones, with sightless eyes, and one hand--his left--white and shrivelled.
"What do you seek of Zweete, my white father ?" asked the old man in a thin voice.

"You do not believe in me and my wisdom; why should I help you?
Yet I will do it, though it is against your law, and you do wrong to ask me,--yes, to show you that there is truth in us Zulu doctors, I will help you.

My father, I know what you seek.