When I was sure the fire was out, I lifted the pot and revealed the discomfited wizard, but without his elaborate head-dress.

Beyond a little scorching he was not in the least hurt, for I had acted in time; only he was bald, for when touched the charred hair fell off at the roots.
"It is gone," he said in an amazed voice after feeling at his scalp.
"Yes," I answered, "quite.

The magic shield worked very well, did it not ?" "Can you put it back again, white lord ?" he asked.
"That will depend upon how you behave," I replied.
Then without another word he turned and walked back to the soldiers, who received him with shouts of laughter.

Evidently Imbozwi was not a popular character, and his discomfiture delighted them.
Babemba also was delighted.

Indeed, he could not praise our magic enough, and at once began to make arrangements to escort us to the king at his head town, which was called Beza, vowing that we need fear no harm at his hands or those of his soldiers.