"Hoe a garden and put pumpkin seed in it," said the crocodile, and departed.
They hoed a garden in a green spot among the rocks and sowed pumpkin seed. His younger brother sent men to steal the pumpkins, which were so large that two men could not carry one except with difficulty. On their return they put the largest pumpkin in the chiefs hut. When all were asleep a leopard came out of the pumpkin and devoured those who slept there. The elder brother having heard of this returned to his people and became a great chief. He never killed a crocodile, and his descendants do "as their father taught them", hold the animal sacred.
Persecuted chiefs were not always so fortunate, and the reverse of this legend, told in a dozen different forms, with a lion, tiger, or baboon substituted for the crocodile, does frequent duty by the hut-fire when the hours hang heavy, and the darkness helps to make belief in the supernatural stronger than it can be, even in Africa, during daylight. A chief is driven away by a successful revolt and wanders in the mountains scheming how he is to regain his former position. Outlaws and ruffians gather round him, and when on the eve of success he goes out, "when the moon is bright", to "confer with the spirits of his fathers". He sees a "Hili" or an "Incanti", and next morning his companions find his body lying on the bare earth, face downwards, and "quite shrivelled up". They disperse in terror, and never revisit that spot again. As for the chief, his spirit wanders for ever "calling for his people".
Stories illustrative of the wisdom of former chiefs are common. One, which is surrounded with quite a halo of romance, bears a curiously close resemblance to the Bible narrative of King Solomon's decision in the case of the mothers who disputed about the possession of the living child. In its principal incidents the Kaffir legend is almost identical with the Israelitish, only that it is embellished by the history and future exploits of the infant whose life was
