of the compass.

"You had better get on, Indaba-zimbi," I said, "the big storm is coming
along fast, and will soon eat up that baby of yours," and I pointed to
the west.

"Babies sometimes grow to giants, white man," said Indaba-zimbi,
beckoning away vigorously. "Look now at my cloud-child."

I looked; the eastern storm was spreading itself from earth to sky, and
in shape resembled an enormous man. There was its head, its shoulders,
and its legs; yes, it was like a huge giant travelling across the
heavens. The light of the setting sun escaping from beneath the lower
edge of the western storm shot across the intervening space in a sheet
of splendour, and, lighting upon the advancing figure of cloud, wrapped
its middle in hues of glory too wonderful to be described; but beneath
and above this glowing belt his feet and head were black as jet.
Presently, as I watched, an awful flash of light shot from the head of
the cloud, circled it about as though with a crown of living fire, and
vanished.

"Aha," chuckled old Indaba-zimbi, "my little boy is putting on his man's
ring," and he tapped the gum ring on his own head, which natives assume
when they reach a certain age and dignity. "Now, white man, unless you
are a bigger wizard than either of us you had better clear off, for the
fire-fight is about to begin."

I thought this sound advice.

"Good luck go with you, my black uncle," I said. "I hope you don't feel