I sent one of the Mazitu to fetch Brother John, who arrived presently
with his wife and daughter. He examined Mavovo and told him straight
out that nothing could help him except prayer.
"Make no prayers for me, Dogeetah," said the old heathen; "I have
followed my star," (i.e. lived according to my lights) "and am ready
to eat the fruit that I have planted. Or if the tree prove barren,
then to drink of its sap and sleep."
Waving Brother John aside he beckoned to Stephen.
"O Wazela!" he said, "you fought very well in that fight; if you go on
as you have begun in time you will make a warrior of whom the Daughter
of the Flower and her children will sing songs after you have come to
join me, your friend. Meanwhile, farewell! Take this assegai of mine
and clean it not, that the red rust thereon may put you in mind of
Mavovo, the old Zulu doctor and captain with whom you stood side by
side in the Battle of the Gate, when, as though they were winter
grass, the fire burnt up the white-robed thieves of men who could not
pass our spears.
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