At each end of this iron-stone area were placed the combatants, Indaba-zimbi facing the east, and his rival the west, and before each there burned a little fire made of some scented root.

Moreover they were dressed in all the paraphernalia of their craft, snakeskins, fish-bladders, and I know not what beside, while round their necks hung circlets of baboons' teeth and bones from human hands.

First I went to the western end where the chief's son stood.

He was pointing with his assegai towards the advancing storm, and invoking it in a voice of great excitement.
"Come, fire, and lick up Indaba-zimbi! "Hear me, Storm Devil, and lick Indaba-zimbi with your red tongue! "Spit on him with your rain! "Whirl him away in your breath! "Make him as nothing--melt the marrow in his bones! "Run into his heart and burn away the lies! "Show all the people who is the true Witch Finder! "Let me not be put to shame in the eyes of this white man!" Thus he spoke, or rather chanted, and all the while rubbed his broad chest--for he was a very fine man--with some filthy compound of medicine or _mouti_.
After a while, getting tired of his song, I walked across the iron-stone, to where Indaba-zimbi sat by his fire.

He was not chanting at all, but his performance was much more impressive.