.

THE BUFFALO WITH THE CLEFT HORN.
I slept very well that night, I suppose because I was so dog-tired I could not help it; but next day, on our long walk back to Umbezi's kraal, I thought a great deal.
Without doubt I had seen and heard very strange things, both of the past and the present--things that I could not in the least understand.
Moreover, they were mixed up with all sorts of questions of high Zulu policy, and threw a new light upon events that happened to me and others in my youth.
Now, in the clear sunlight, was the time to analyse these things, and this I did in the most logical fashion I could command, although without the slightest assistance from Saduko, who, when I asked him questions, merely shrugged his shoulders.
These questions, he said, did not interest him; I had wished to see the magic of Zikali, and Zikali had been pleased to show me some very good magic, quite of his best indeed.

Also he had conversed alone with me afterwards, doubtless on high matters--so high that he, Saduko, was not admitted to share the conversation--which was an honour he accorded to very few.

I could form my own conclusions in the light of the White Man's wisdom, which everyone knew was great.
I replied shortly that I could, for Saduko's tone irritated me.

Of course, the truth was that he felt aggrieved at being sent off to bed like a little boy while his foster-father, the old dwarf, made confidences to me.