loss upon loss, till life itself be lost? But in death we may find all
the things that we have lost. So your father taught, Macumazahn, and
there was wisdom in his gentleness. Ou! I do not believe in death; it
is change, that is all, Macumazahn. Look now, the rain falls, the
drops of rain that were one water in the clouds fall side by side.
They sink into the ground; presently the sun will come out, the earth
will be dry, the drops will be gone. A fool looks and says the drops
are dead, they will never be one again, they will never again fall
side by side. But I am a rain-maker, and I know the ways of rain. It
is not true. The drops will drain by many paths into the river, and
will be one water there. They will go up to the clouds again in the
mists of morning, and there will again be as they have been. We are
the drops of rain, Macumazahn. When we fall that is our life. When we
sink into the ground that is death, and when we are drawn up again to
the sky, what is that, Macumazahn? No! no! when we find we lose, and
when we seem to lose, then we shall really find. I am not a Christian,
Macumazahn, but I am old, and have watched and seen things that
perhaps Christians do not see. There, I have spoken. Be happy with
your star, and if it sets, wait, Macumazahn, wait till it rises again.
It will not be long; one day you will go to sleep, then your eyes will
open on another sky, and there your star will be shining, Macumazahn."
I made no answer at the time. I could not bear to talk of such a
thing. But often and often in the after years I have thought of
Indaba-zimbi and his beautiful simile and gathered comfort from it. He
was a strange man, this old rain-making savage, and there was more
wisdom in him than in many learned atheists--those spiritual
destroyers who, in the name of progress and humanity, would divorce
hope from life, and leave us wandering in a lonesome, self-consecrated
hell.
"Indaba-zimbi," I said, changing the subject, "I have something to
say," and I told him of the threats of Hendrika.
He listened with an unmoved face, nodding his white lock at intervals
as the narrative went on. But I saw that he was disturbed by it.
"Macumazahn," he said at length, "I have told you that this is an evil
woman. She was nourished on baboon milk, and the baboon nature is in
her veins. Such creatures should be killed, not kept. She will make
you mischief if she can. But I will watch her, Macumazahn. Look, the
Star is waiting for you; go, or she will hate me as Hendrika hates
you."
So I went, nothing loth, for attractive as was the wisdom of Indaba-
zimbi, I found a deeper meaning in Stella's simplest word. All the
rest of that day I passed in her company, and the greater part of the
two following days. At last came Saturday night, the eve of our
marriage. It rained that night, so we did not go out, but spent the
evening in the hut. We sat hand in hand, saying little, but Mr. Carson
talked a good deal, telling us tales of his youth, and of countries
that he had visited. Then he read aloud from the Bible, and bade us
goodnight. I also kissed Stella and went to bed. I reached my hut by
the covered way, and before I undressed opened the door to see what
the night was like. It was very dark, and rain was still falling, but
as the light streamed out into the gloom I fancied that I caught sight
of a dusky form gliding away. The thought of Hendrika flashed into my
mind; could she be skulking about outside there? Now I had said