Well, the end of it was I took a moonlight walk up that dreadful gorge, into which not even Scowl would accompany me, because he declared that the place was well known to be haunted by imikovu, or spectres who have been raised from the dead by wizards.
It was a long and disagreeable walk, and somehow I felt very depressed and insignificant as I trudged on between those gigantic cliffs, passing now through patches of bright moonlight and now through deep pools of shadow, threading my way among clumps of bush or round the bases of tall pillars of piled-up stones, till at length I came to the overhanging cliffs at the end, which frowned down on me like the brows of some titanic demon.
Well, I got to the end at last, and at the gate of the kraal fence was met by one of those fierce and huge men who served the dwarf as guards.
Suddenly he emerged from behind a stone, and having scanned me for a moment in silence, beckoned to me to follow him, as though I were expected.

A minute later I found myself face to face with Zikali, who was seated in the clear moonlight just outside the shadow of his hut, and engaged, apparently, in his favourite occupation of carving wood with a rough native knife of curious shape.
For a while he took no notice of me; then suddenly looked up, shaking back his braided grey locks, and broke into one of his great laughs.
"So it is you, Macumazahn," he said.

"Well, I knew you were passing my way and that Mameena would send you here.

But why do you come to see the 'Thing-that-should-not-have-been-born'?
To tell me how you fared with the buffalo with the split horn, eh ?" "No, Zikali, for why should I tell you what you know already?
Mameena said you wished to talk with me, that was all." "Then Mameena lied," he answered, "as is her nature, in whose throat live four false words for every one of truth.

Still, sit down, Macumazahn.