TALES OF ADVENTURE

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 116, 17 May 1924, Page 24

TALES OF ADVENTURE

A very weird story, reminiscent of Rider Haggard's famous "She." "It Is an experience of my own," writes Mr. Ferguson, "while serving In the old South African Constabulary on the edge of the Great Bushveld. Names have been altered, but otherwise the story is true. What actually caused McEwan's death the reader must decide for himself." "So I tell you, if I get any more reports of your interfering with native girls, I shall place you under arrest and send you back to headquarters." "Och, aye. Talk o' bein' a white man comes well from you that's called 'Kafßr Carnac* right through the district. They don't think much o' ye, I'm tellin' "That'll do. You'll get ready at once; go back again, and inspect those taxreceipts in Mazwienkosis territory. And," concluded his superior, meaningly, "just see you 'do' go there this time—understand? Not to Van de Walt's stores drinking gin for over a week, like you did before." Corporal Stuart Carnac's uncanny {knowledge of what went on in his huge area had disconcerted many cleverer, people than Trooper Angus McEwan, who, at this hint, was visibly taken aback, "Aye," he grumbled as he turned to obey orders, "you're a flue specimen o' a 'white man,' Corporal, settin' Kafßr spies on your comrades." And he went off, muttering to himself, to prepare for his three weeks' patrol. In Overseas Mounted Police forces there are always certain types especially dreaded by the commanders of small outstations; and chief among them are the hard drinkers, the shirkers, and the quarrelers; and in Trooper Angus McEwan *we were unfortunate enough to have acquired a combination of all three qualities. At a large - headquarter depot such •Characters cause trouble to nobody in particular except themselves and the sergeant of the guard; and the means used to deal with them are short and sharp. In our own corps, as a last resource, a "hard case" was sometimes banished to one of the distant Bushveld stations, there to work out his time—o7, if such •was the will of Providence, to die of malaria or any other of the great mischances incidental to life in the great Bushland. It was under these conditions that Trooper McEwan came to make a third at Mangweni—the "Edge of the World," as the natives call it—and during the three months he had been with us he had fully justified his headquarters' reputation. 'Now, however, hia behaviour threatened to seriously disturb our relations with the natives—wherein lay dan. gcr, for the while man in the lonely places holds his life on a precarious tenure at the best of times. Corporal Stuart Carnac was variously described as a "decent enough sort" and "a bit funny." He certainly possessed an extraordinary knowledge of the customs and' dialects of obscure- native tribes, which made him invaluable in the position he had now held for three years. Carnac, having seen the sullen McEwan safely out of camp, joined mc, and, lighting our pipes, we strolled together outeide the camp fence to the "Edge of the World," that wonderful escarpment which rises sheer and starts 2000 ft above the Bushveld. There we stood" for some time looking down on the wonderful panorama of the Bushland -rolling away in the distance till it vanished in the dancing heat-haze. Then we'./went: back to our quarters. For men with the nearest outpost of civilisation 100 miles to the south of them, we had managed to make ourselves fairly comfortable at Mangweni. We lived in large wattle-and : daub huts, with furniture mostly home-made but solid; and the skins of animals did duty for floor-rugs, chair-bottoms, and bed-quilts. I settled into a big chair, and Carnac, taking a manuscript book from one of the shelves, sat. down in the office chair facing mc. • "This," he said, tapping the book," is a private record I keep of suspicious disappearances and deaths in this area — quite apart from the official deathregister. If they knew at headquarters what was in this book they's have a series of fits! Just see if there's anything that strikes you about the last few cases." He passed the volume across, and I settled back to study, it. A shadow fell across the sunlight in the doorway. ""Nkosi!" It was old Madonela, the sergeant of native police, his hand raised in salute. Behind him were two other natives—a young man and a girl. "I hear you, Madonela," said Carnac, in the usual fashion. Thereupon the two natives were shown in and squatted on the floor of the hut. '"Nkosi," Madonela continued, "this is Taupanea and his sister Nondweza, whom we have brought in as the *Nkosi ordered." "How is this, Tauane I" questioned Carnac, in rapid and fluent Tshangana. "Have I not been a friencL to you and yours, at my own risk condoning your many offences—such, for instance, as killing a hippopotamus last year, and cutting wood on Government land?" "Chief! Guardian of the fatherless! Great tree in whose branches the dove may shelter from the eagle!" chanted Tauane. "See now," Carnac went on, quietly, "since you disregarded my summons ,1 sent my police—and you are now under arrest for much evil-doing, O Tauane." "Father of the world," murmured the "dove." "First," resumed Carnac, "you shall tell mc where is the husband of this girl, your sister Nondweza, whom I also called; secondly, why you disobeyed my call, sent you • when the last moon turned his back on the world." The two looked at each other and glanced round, apprehensively; then, j with much prompting and many reassurances from Carnac, Tauane told his tale. It was a weird atory of a young husband's temporary disappearance, his return as a physical wreck, and his sudden death. Mixed up with it was much talk of the "Red Witch of Modjaji," the "Veiled One," and eyes that shone in the darkness. "And so I dared to disobey the call of the Lord of the Mountain, who is the mouthpiece of the King's law," concluded the man, "for that law- is merciful" His yoicß sank to a whisper; *nd he

THE RED WITCH OF MODJAJI.

j y RONALD MUIR FERGUSON.

glanced fearfully around him. "But Mvakazana, the Veiled One, knows no mercy," he added, "and to see the Watching Eyes is death!" There was a long silence. Then, at last Carnac spoke. "You and your sister will stay in camp for the present, Tauane," he said. "As to the affair of the slaughtered game—that may sleep for awhile. The matter is ended!" lie concluded, terminating the interview in the form customary among natives. When we were once more alone together, he turned to mc with raised eyebrows. "There it is again, you see," he remarked quietly. The man Tauane had told his story with the power of vivid narration in which natives excel; but making every allowance for exaggeration and dread of the supernatural, the tale had impressed mc. There was, moreover, something pathetic in the terror of the brother and sister. It was like the hopeless dread of a child in tho dark— the dread of something intangible, deadly, and une*-capable. And now, as I sat examining Carnac's private record of mysterious disappearances and deaths, certain cases in it seemed to start out and group themselves together The same dark thread ran through them all —an elusive similarity with a hint of something sinister in the background. "I see you've got poor Wright down here," I said. "I was at Headquarters when Wright died—of fever. It took two men day and night to hold him down in bed. Cerebral malaria, the doctors called it." Carnac shook his head. "Won't do," he said; "doesn't cover the facts. You've forgotten the one symptom common to every case—that obsession that Tauane mentioned." "The Watching Eyes?" "Exactly! It's no question of disease at all, in my opinion; we've got to try in another direction altogether. It's a very interesting thing," he continued, with apparent irrelevance, "that many of the native religious ceremonies and practically all the magical rituals of the witch-doctors have a parallel in those of the ancient Egyptian priesthood. It's not wonderful when you come to consider that all native tribes came down from the North." . "Do you mean to suggest, then," I asked, "that you think there actually is something in all this talk about the 'Red Witch of Modjaji' ?"• Carnac shrugged his shoulders. "At any rate," he said, "we know there is— well, something capable of controlling by fear some thousands of superstitioua natives, and not only that, but apparently capable of punishing disobedience pretty effectively. You've seen for yourself to-day that it is held in greater respect that the white man's law." "In that case," I put in, "our position here is liable to get interesting at any moment. Pleasant prospect!" "Very," agreed Carnac, dryly. "That's why I'm so anxious about that fool McEwan. But whatever this thing is, we can't afford to ignore.: it." Slung from one of the rafters of the hut was a piece of iron piping which did duty for a gong. Carnac struck it once, and old Madonela entered and saluted. v / "Sit, Madonela; I wish to talk," said Carnac. "Now," he went on, when the ceremony of snuff-taking was over, "many men have died lately, Madonela, and the way of their death was evil. There have been four within a few moons—and now Sibinjana, husband of the girl Nondweza. Well?" The old man smiled. "O 'Nkosi," he parried, "what is there that I can teach Cakijana,, the Little Weasel, who, in his knowledge of the people, is even as one of them?" "Madonela," replied Carnac, "Cakijana is not a child to be put off by empty talk, nor did I send for you to listen to bonga (praise). Now we will talk of bridal veils, and of Eyes that Watch and never sleep—and of those who are dead " Madonela looked troubled. "O Cakijana," he said, "there are matters which it is better to let alone; the wise man does not disturb the sleeping maraba. But' listen! At the beginning of time, perhaps when Momkubulwana brought the first crops, a woman came down from the far north, and by her power became a queen in the country which is now called Modjaji. She desired a husband. 'Nkosi, and she chose a young man of the people, but in a little wlfcle after the marriage he died. "The woman married again, and the second husband died, 'Nkosi. The people whispered concerning the manner of the two men's deaths, for sleek bodies shining in the sun became shrunken and Withered in a few short weeks —and in their eyes was fear as they told of eyes that watched in the dark; and there were those who said that the woman took other shapes at night. She chose many .husbands, 'Nkosi, and all died. How she met her own death I know not. Some say she was cast forth and became a wanderer; others talk of a slay ingparty who ripped her to pieces with spears and threw her to the jackals. But she had two children—girls, 'Nkosi, and it is said that her evil spirit still lives. And to this day, as the 'Nkosi knows, when it is said of a man that 'he is chosen of the Veiled One,' it means that he is as one already dead." ■—• "But, Madonela," I asked, "whence comes the name Mvakazana—she of the Bridal Veil?" Old Madonela smiled faintly. "Perhaps, O Silonyana," he said, "because she is always a bride—who knows?" On tbe night of- the third day after this conversation I was awakened by Carnac, who was shining an electric torch on my face. "Quick," be said, "a week's work, perhaps more!" I wasted no time. From outside came the sound of busy preparation, the scraping of donkey's feet, and the adjustment of pack-saddles. As I got ready Carnac briefly explained matters. "Joseph, the Englishspeaking native constable, has just got back with a, deuce of a yarn," he said. "Hurry up; you can hear all about it on the way." "Where's McEwan, then!" / "Heaven knows! That's what we've got to find out." Having dispatched the pack-animals by another route, our party—consisting, besides our two selves, ot old' Madonela and Joseph—took the geat-patlr down the huge cliff. It was not an easy climb, even by day, and there it untliing more

treacherous than moonlight to travel by. It was not until the cast began to 1 brighten that, resting at the foot of the Berg, Josephs story was retold for my benefit. There are secret rites among the Bushveld tribes, held yearly in the hidden places of the mountain; and by law more immutable than any which is written. It has been decreed that men and women shall see these rites only once in their lives, and a stranger never. They are "schools," for want of a better name, for boys and girls, who become men and women after under- . going various initiation ceremonies. , It was quite in the accepted order of things that McEwan, having got very drunk on native beer and maroela spirit, .should thereafter meddle in forbidden , things—and utterly disappear. ! "What could I do, 'Nkosi?" said 1 •Joseph. "He would not be warned, so I stood watching him as he went up the mountain till the forest hid him. The drumming and singing ceased, and after a while he appeared again, 'Nkosi, and with him came a woman whose face was covered, but not in the way of a girl at the Ngoma (secret school). The woman ' left him and went back, and we went on to the kraal of Ngonyama, where we stayed the night, lit the morning the white man's hut wits empty, and 1, was afraid, and came to report. That j is all, 'Nkosi." "The girls at the Ngoma—of whose tribe were they?" asked Carnac, at last. "■Mazwienkosi's tribe, 'Nkosi." I "That's a bit of luck," commented Carnac. "We just may be able to do something with him—but it's doubtful. We'd better get on." I The kraal of Chief Mazwienkosi lay about ten miles to the north of our camp; and as we drew nearer, the sound of drums told us that a celebration of some sort was in progress at the Chief's kraal. The sound increased in volume till we could distinguish the . singing and the rhythmical stamping cf the dance. "Be just as usual, mind," warned Car- j nac. "Heaven knows what kind of reception we're in for!" [ We made our way through the ranks of the dancers in the big courtyard to ! where Mazwienkosi sat with his counsellors. We were graciously received;; one of the Chief's women was summoned. to do the honours according to native 1 etiquette, and we were left to our ob-, servations. j "Do you see what it is?" said Carnac I eagerly. 'They're celebrating the return ! of the girls to the tribe as { McEwan must have burst in on their 1 'breaking-up' dance." I

It would have been entirely contrary to native custom to come to the point immediately, and it was only after two hours' conversation on general matters that Carnac got the opening for which we were both waiting. "And now, Cakijana," said the Chief at last, "surely the matter is a weighty one for which men descend the Great Cliff at midnight—for not otherwise could you have arrived here before the shadows lay east?" It was the critical moment, for the: news of our arrival and business with the Chief had gone round the huge assembly, and many had ceased dancing and were standing in a half-circle at a respectful distance, eager to see and hear. "A great matter indeed, my father," replied Carnac, "since a fool "can work more evil than many wise men can undo; and it is a fool of whom I come in search." "So you came here, Cakijana? Yet, if reports be true, there is one nearer Mankweni than the kraal of Mazwienkosi," retorted the shrewd old chief. "M—mmm," came a chorus of lowvoiced approval. "It is a true, word, my father," said Carnac. Then, assuming the Chief's full knowledge of the matter in question, he made his proposal. "I will give an ox in compensation," he said, "and this fool shall be sent away and punished. But first I desire the Chief's help to find him." There was a tense silence. "Listen, Cakijana," said Mazwienkosi at last. "You have always been my friend, and the Government is my father. But if a fool enter the cave of the hillleopard can I save him? The hot ash will always burn him who holds it. Touching him of whom you speak, you know our customs, Cakijana. Moreover, there are those who govern these matters; they are -not in my hands. I will cause inquiry to be made among my people— but I know nothing. Stay you here and watch the dancing, 0 Cakijana!" And the Chief and his indunas retired. Carnac turned-tome and shrugged his shoulders. "He's right enough from his point of view," he said. "It's quite on the cards he knows no more than we do, but you can see he'll give nothing away." - : * , " "What can you suggest as our next move?" I asked.-

"Do what he says—what, else can we do for the present? Stay where" we axe and keep our ears open. That* atL"

Further speculation on the subject* was cut short suddenly and dramatically. Out. of the low doorway of a small hut at the side of the great kraal crept a figure in shabby khaki, hatless and dishevelled. / It was Trooper McEwan! Unshaven, unwashed, and haggard, he stood blinking in the sunlight; and his appearance waa that of a man recovering from a powerful 'drug. His helmet and revolver were missing, but he bore no marks of ill-usage. As he came towards us, slowly and hesitatingly, like a man picking his ■ way; we saw • that | his eyes had a peculiar,- fixed, glassy ! look; and we noticed that he continually passed his hand across them and shook his head. ■ "Well," said Carnac, sharply, "what ; account do you give of yourself?" The change in McEwan from his old aggressive manner was rather appalling. "Ferguson, too!" he stammered. "How are ye, Corporal? I —l'd like to speak to ye a moment, please. Good heavens!" he continued, half to himself, "I don't know what's got mc." I strolled away, leaving him speaking in a broken whisper to Carnac; but very shortly, hearing a step behind mc, I turned round and over Carnac's shoulder saw McEwan sitting on the ground, his I head in his hands. Carnac shook his head, anticipating my questions. "It's a bad business," he | said gravely. "He remembers nothing practically from the time' he started. No 'idea how he came here, even. Says he heard a woman's voice calling his name in the night; saw eyes in the bush— tlait's all. He doesn't seem feverish, ' ami I'm hanged if I can make out what's happened to him." The Chief's kraal was how almost deserted, the bulk of the great assembly being gathered in and about the cattlekraal, where preparations were going forward for the night's feast, which would last until the early hours of the . morning. Nobody was paying the least i attention to us. j "What about slipping.off quietly?" I ! suggested. "We've got to make a move j some time and it's getting late." "I don't want it to look like running away," replied Carnac. "Not that they'll interfere; in fact, the whole thing ia too easy altogether. I don't like- tbat a . little bit." And- he nodded towards I McEwan, who sat on the ground, mutterI ing to himself. ''O Makhua!" (white men). We turned sharply. BeVore us, having ! apparently emerged from one of the { huts, stood a young nativt woman. She j was not tall, but finely built; and in I spite of the red ochre with which "her

body was stained, we could see that she was of a colour many shades lighter than the ordinary native.. In her hand she carried a small hunting spear, and from her forehead to her breast hung a series of strands made up of short lengths of thin reed strung on twine, with a red bead between each. It was the veil worn by native girls on the occasion of their wedding; and though it effectually hid her face, one could still catch a glimpse of a pair of very bright eyes, as she stood there confronting. *». "(> white men," she continued, "much ha*»f 1 heard of Cakijana the -Weasel, the Little Wise One. Now I, see him and am content." 11. was a sufficiently ordinary form of native, compliment, but there was no suggestion of humility in her bearing; in fact, as she said the words, I could have sworn that she was laughing. Carnac was used to respect from natives; and the tone of his next remark showed that he suspected he was not getting it. "Of what chief and tribe are you, Nkosazana" (Princess or chief's daughter), he inquired gently. "I see that you are not one with these people." "I acknowledge no chief, Cakijana, for I am of a royal house," came the voice from behind the veil; "and as for my people"—here she raised'- her spear and pointed northwards—"one so wise as Cakijana does not need to be told that a tree may have many branches but only one root." The suggestion of mockery in the woman's manner waa unmistakable; and when Carnac spoke again it was more gently than ever. "I have asked you a question, Nkosazana," he said. "Would you rather answer it in Court? And shall I ask the Chief how it happens that -he ia breaking the law by harbouring strange women ?" The woman drew herself up, and the eyes behind the veil flashed ominously. "0 Cakijana," she answered, "there are other laws besides those of the -white King—laws which stood before the white man's, - and shall stand after they are gone; laws which do not spare even white fools. Therefore be warned, O Cakijana, the Wise One." What form Carnac's reply to this contemptuous defiance would have taken I cannot say. He began to speak, but broke off suddenly, for the woman was paying no attention to us. She stood facing the direction in which McEwan sat, and seemed to be gazing at him intenttjw Ia a few aeconda he mm

jerkily to his feet, and, approaching us < in the same groping sort of way that we i had noticed before, halted a few yards i from the woman in the veil, standing with his glassy eyes fixed upon-her. « "Listen now, men of the King's law," * said the woman, pointing with ber spear ' at McEwan. "Listen to the word of that other law. Though there be no wound, in blood shall he die. He has j violated the Sacred Rites; and for him ' the moon shall rise in red to-night. Go ■ in peace, Cakijana, the Wise One, and i think of my word when the shadows ' lie across the path." With these' words , she darted among the huts and disap-1. peared. I' By a common impulse we turned to |- look at McEwan, who was still standing motionless. Carnac stepped close up to him and stared searchiugly into his eyes. '< As he did so, I heard a sharp intake of j' his breath and a muttered exclamation. Then be called Madonela, and sent him with a peremptory message to the Chief.', After a. few moments' earnest con- i: versation with the Chief, who professed entire ignorance of the woman's iden- ; tity, a search of the great kraal was , begun. It wis a tedious business, and dusk had set in before we confronted ; the Chief again. The woman had not been found. j! The old man shook his head and ; smiled. "Be content, Cakijana," he said. .< '"Have you not found him for whom | you came? As for the woman of whom | : you speak, it is evident that you have j been deceived, for there is no such :, woman here, else all must have seen jher." | Carnac had suffered the novel experi- !, ence of being thoroughly worsted by !■ natives and was bitterly "mortified, but, to pursue the matter further was obviously a waste of time. So, with McEwan between us, we started on the homeward journey. A short distance from the kraal gaite I:felt a tug at my sleeve. McEwan had. stopped and was facing back towards the Great Place. In the shadow of the kraal fence, in the gath- \ ering darkness, we saw the native woman again. She had drawn her veil I aside; and though her features were ' indistinguishable we beheld a horrible thing. It may have been a light effect, ' possibly from the red glow of the many j great fires round which the feasting was ■ in progress, but as we stood there the dark eyes that watched us, as if suddenly lit up from within, glared yellow and pupil-less down the path. "I don't profess to explain it; it just happened. One short glimpse and the woman was gone, leaving us looking at each other aghast. There was no need to epeak. Not long before, Carnac and I had been called by the headman of a distant kraal to shoot a lioness that was killing his cattle at night—and we remembered its eyes, as it crouched to spring over the fence of the cattlekraal. Carnac looked anxiously at the natives. "Don't talk," he said. "Let's get out of this—quick. We're in for trouble before long, and I hope we can get through the mopani forest firs*." j For some time we marched in silence ; —» grim party, guided by the bright starlight, but soon the moon rose, flooding the Lonely Places with treacherous silver light. *Ma conscience! Yon's a queercoloured moon!" McEwan had suddenly found his voice, and the effect waa startling-—ae if a dead man had spoken. Carnac and I glanced at each other without speaking, while McEwan sniffed the air, and spoke again: "None eae queer, perhaps, wi' yon awfu' smell," he muttered. Then—'Ulan! " he exclaimed, suddenly stopping and staring at us with glaesy eyes. "Can ye no' smell it?" "Come on, Mac; there's nothing the matter," eaid Carnac reassuringly. "You've got a touch of fever, that's all, and we'll goon be home." McEwan paid no attention, but stood and sniffed again. "Blood! " he muttered. "All hot and eteamin'. Ye can nearly taste it! " We took an arm each and hurried him forward to where the line of the mopani forest showed black under the moonlight. He submitted passively, muttering continually of the red moon and the blood-smell; and we could feel the shudders which passed through his body, strong and convulsive like the rigours of malaria. The words of the veiled woman came back to mc; and it occurred to mc that we were on the brink of a horror. A heavy dew had began to fall; and as we approached the big mopani trees that stood out like sentries guarding the entrance to the forest, we came once more to a halt, as McEwan stood gazing in terror from his boots and trousers, wet with dew, to the shadows of the tree-trunks which fell stark across the path. "Streams of it," he eaid, in a hoarse whisper. "And I'm soaked with it already!- Man, I'll no' go on! It's no' canny, I tell ye." With a wrench, he broke loose and made off back up .the path. "Stop him! " shouted Carnac to the natives, and the fugitive was instantly seized by Madonela and Joseph. As we half dragged, half carried him through the steaming mopani forest, his ravings were awful to listen to. The shadows of the great stems, he declared, were crimson streams of warm blood—the big drops that fell from the leaves were the blood of those she had killed, who now hung in the branches. "Look! Look! " he shrieked. "There's another o' tbem! And all the time them awfu' yellow eyes! " At the bottom of the cliff we sat down to rest, in preparation for the climb up. McEwan's violence had gradually subsided, giving place to a kind of coma, with-an occasional strong shudder. For some time past he had been leaning heavily on us, and was evidently utterly exhausted. "What do you make of this, Madonela?" asked Carnac. The old sergeant shook his head. "Evil has come, as I feared, 'Nkosi," he said. "He speaks of the Watching Eyes, and see—death is even now in his face! " It was' true. McEwan's face, as he lay on the ground, was ghastly. The eyes, open and glaring, were those of a corpse. Carnac hastily produced a flask, and bent over him. "Here you are, Mac," he said. "Take a drink of this; it will do you good." And he helped him to a sitting position. McEwan took the* flask in trembling hands, and put it to his Kps, but instantly dashed it aside with loathing. "Blood!—blood again! " he gasped. "You cur, to do a trick like that on a man!" And he fell back again full length on the ground. We got him home and to bed in the small hours, taking turns to watch him. Carrying him up the Mangweni cliff had not been easy, and after a time I'suppose I must have dozed off in my chair. •I; woke with a start and a feeling of something being wrong. It was— McEwaa'a bed vu empty! I hurried

i over to Carnac's hut, and, turning out i the native constables, we began the i search. ; We had not far to go. Outside the camp fence we found him, walking • slowly, but as if with some definite . objective. He was heading straight : for the Mangweni precipice, and there . was no time to lose. As silently aa possible, we .hurried after him, Madonela and the native constables bringing up the rear in an awe-striken group. ( j "Ha—v! Ha—a! " I The long-drawn sigh of native consternation came from behind us; an<l Carnac turned, enjoining silence with "| a furious gesture. "Hau, 'Nkosi. See! The Eyes again 1 j—the Watching Eyes! " came the whisr ; pered explanation from Madonela; ); while through the group of native . constables ran the ominous murmur of . i "takati! " (witchcraft). ■ I McEwan advanced slowly, with head 1 thrown back, straight in ;'je direction • : of Madonela's pointing finger —to where, from the shadovr of the thick bush on . j the rising ground at the edge of the great cliff, two yellow, pupil-less eyes ; glared out steadily. We had seen those yellow eyes once before that . night. . | Suddenly, as we hurried forward, j McEwan fell full length on the ground, . and v<hen we reached him he was stone,dead. The eyes ahead had vanished. • I The district surgeon, for obvious ■ -reasons, was unable to arrive in time '$o hold an inquest in that tropical ■ : climate; but nevertheless he was en- • itirely satisfied. "An unusually bad case of malaria — ■ I cerebral, of course," was his official ! announcement. But Doctor Lucas was no stranger to those parts, being an enthusiastic |if_,me--1 shot, and we were all three old friends; for which reasons the conversation that night after dinner lasted till long past midnight. > "Tbe eyes may have been those of a lion or of a leopard, of course," agreed Carnac, "though it would be the first j I ever heard of above the Berg. Then, i again, there was no spoor." i I "Ground too dry," the doctor re- ; minded him. "Anyway, I think we'd : better leave it at malaria for the , present. Magic and were-wolves —or - I were-lions—and even powerful hypnotic i I suggestion are so very unofficial, aren't . they?" We agreed with him. ■ "The "Ked Witch of Modjaji" Is well . known by repute to all those who live near the Bushveld.- She is a. kind of queen, and 1 the office is, I suppose, hereditary. There ■ has always been a witch-queen of Modjaji, and probably always will be. That she has v super-normal powers is quite probable; the .Bushveld is steeped in "magic** and witch--1 craft. The natives regard her with the I utmost awe and dread, and no white man i could hope to shake their belief In her.— , The Author.