The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1892-07-08

Is set out here.
Such search as could be made revealed
nothing The oxen had gone, and their
spoor was obliterated by the fresh fallen
snow. The white man called council
of his Kafir servants. what was to
be done?" he asked.
Then Zulu spoke, who was the driver
of the first wagon.
"My father" he said to the white
man, ''this is my word: The oxen are
lost in the snow. No man knows width
er they have gone, or whether they live
or are now but hides and bones. Yet at
the kraal yonder," and he pointed to
some huts about two miles away on the
hillside, elves O witch doctor named
Zweete. He is old-very old-but he
has wisdom, and he can tell you where
the oxen are if any man may, my IA
Their"
"Stuffp' said the white man. Still,
as the kraal cannot be colder than this
wagon, we will go and ask Zweete.
An hour later he stood in the hut of
Zweete. Before him was very ancient
man, mere bag of bones, with sight
less eyes, and with one hand-his left
white and shriveled.
What do you seek of Zweete, my
white father" asked the old man in
thin voice. "You do not believe in me
and my wisdom; why should l help you?
Yet 1 will do it, though it is against your
law, and you do wrong to ask me. Yes,
to show you there is truth in us Zulu
doctors, will help you. My father, !
know what you seek. You seek to know
where your oxen have run for shelter
from the coldl Is it not so?"
1T is so, doctor" answered the white
man. ''You have long ears"
Eyes, my white father, have long
ears, and yet they say l grow deaf. /
have keen eyes also, yet / cannot see
your face. Let me hearken. Let me
look"
For awhile he sat silent, rocking to
and fro; then he spoke: "You have
farm, white man, down near Pine Town,
is it not? Ahl thought so. And an
hours ride from your farm lives Boer
with four fingers only on his right hand.
There is a klOof on the Beers farm
where grow mimosa trees. There, in
the kloof, you shall find your oxen-yes,
five days journey from here you shall
find them ALL l say all, my father, ex-
cept three only-the big black Afrl-
cander OK, the little red Zulu OK with
one horn and the speckled OK. These
YOU shall not find, for they have died in
The snow. Send and you shall find the
others. No, mol 1 ask no fee. 1 do not
work wonders for reward. Why should
II | am rich"
And now the white man scoffed. But
in the end, so great is the power of
superstition, he sent. AND here it may
be stated that on the eleventh day of his
soiourn at the kraal of Zweete those
whom he sent returned with the oxen,
except the three only. After that he
scoffed no more. Those eleven days he
spent in a hut of the old mans kraal,
and every afternoon he came and talked
with him, sitting far into the night.
On the third day he asked Zweete how
it was that his left hand was white and
,hriveled, and who were Umslopogaas.
aud NADIA, of whom he had let fall some
words. Then the old man told him the
tale that is set out here. Or, in truth,
he acted rather than told his story. Was
the death of a warrior in question, he
stabbed with his stick, showing how the
blow fell and where; did the story grow
sorrowful, he groaned, or even wept.
Moreover, he had many voices, one for
each of the actors in his tale. This man,
ancient and withered, seemed to live
tgain in the far past. 1t was the past
that spoke to his listener, telling OF
deeds long forgotten, of deeds that are
1io more known.