hocus-pocus of my old friend, the Opener-of-Roads.

While engaged in this matutinal operation I struck my hand against
something and looking, observed that it was the hideous little ivory
image of Zikali, which he had set about my neck. The sight of the
thing and the memory of his ridiculous talk about it, especially of its
assertion that it had come down to him through the ages, which it could
not have done, seeing that it was a likeness of himself, irritated me so
much that I proceeded to take it off with the full intention of throwing
it into the spring.

As I was in the act of doing this, from a clump of reeds mixed with
bushes, quite close to me, there came a sound of hissing, and suddenly
above them appeared the head of a great black _immamba_, perhaps the
deadliest of all our African snakes, and the only one I know which will
attack man without provocation.

Leaving go of the image, I sprang back in a great hurry towards where my
gun lay. Then the snake vanished and making sure that it had departed to
its hole, which was probably at a distance, I returned to the pool, and
once more began to take off the talisman in order to consign it to the
bottom of the pool.

After all, I reflected, it was a hideous and probably a blood-stained
thing which I did not in the least wish to wear about my neck like a
lady's love-token.

Just as it was coming over my head, suddenly from the other side of
the bush that infernal snake popped up again, this time, it was
clear, really intent on business. It began to move towards me in the