Chapter Fifteen.

Chapter Fifteen.“Lost!”Now, as time went by, this whiteisanusistill continued to dwell in our midst in great contentment, for the King ordered that his treatment should be of the best; and, indeed, it was so. From time to time he and the Gaza would offer sacrifice together, as we had first beheld it. Howbeit, he did not importune us with this new teaching, but busied himself in going in and out among the people, talking to them, and acting as a friend to all—even among the very lowest of the Amaholi and enslaved captives. To these he taught that there would come a time when they should be free—but the way to such freedom lay through the gates of death; and this caused the slaves to shake their heads and jeer. Their lives were hard, and they wanted to be free; but if the land of freedom was only to be reached through the gates of death, why, then they preferred to remain in the land of the Amandebeli. Yet among all was this whiteisanusiloved, because his words were ever soft and kind; and soon the name by which he became known among the people was that of “Father.” There was one thing, too, which he never failed to bring into his teaching—and this was that, although the King was equally subject to the Great Great One who dwelt above the skies, yet the people were none the less bound to obey the “word” of the King and the orders of hisindunasand captains. And, this being so, he retained the favour of Umzilikazi, who had set spies to watch him secretly, and report what his teachings really were.It happened that a few days after his arrival among us the white stranger was with the King, for often would the Great Great One invite him to anindaba, that he might listen to wonderful tales of far countries beyond the sea. Yet when theisanusiwould tell once more that marvellous tale which he had first told, and begin to set forth its teachings, Umzilikazi would laugh softly to himself, and bring round the talk to other matters. It happened,Nkose, that on the day I named, an idea seemed to strike the King.“See, now, father of the strangemúti,” he said. “Do all the white people believe that great tale?”We who were watching the stranger’s face saw a troubled look come over it, as he answered that nearly all did.“Do the Amabuna believe it?” went on the King.“They believe it, Great Great One—but not the whole of it.”“Ha! Not the whole of it! They are a lying and treacherous race, deadly as a swarm of locusts! Say, my father, if they believed the whole of it, they would lie, and steal land, and make slaves no more?”“That is so, Black Elephant.”The King smiled grimly to himself as he took snuff. We, too, smiled. Here were teachings which would never do for us—for although we of the Zulu race did not lie, yet we took land and slaves, even as the Amabuna did, and made war. Now these were customs we could not by any possibility give up. Then the Great Great One leaned over, and whispered a word to me.Now the little white child we had taken from among the Amabuna was fast becoming one of ourselves. Yet not; for those with whom she played she would somehow cause tokonzato her, even in their games, as though she were born to rule. If they played at building kraals, she it was whose hut was always the largest. If the boys were playing soldiers, it was always before her they came, singing the mimic war-song, and forcing the defeated side tokonza. She reigned among them as a little queen. Even my two younger wives, who had the care of her, she seemed to rule. They would not, however, allow her to run wild with our children, but, as her clothing wore out, they made her garments of the softest of dressed fawn-skins, ornamented largely with the most valued of beads. And now, as in obedience to the word of the King, I led the little one forth into his presence, and the stranger looked for the first time upon the fair skin and flower-like little face—the heaven-blue eyes, and hair like a stream of sunlight falling down the beaded robe of the child—he made as though he would have leaped from his seat.“See now, my father,” said the King, as the little one put up her hand and cried theBayéte, “here is one of thine own colour, though but a tiny child. See now if thy story of the God of Peace is known in any way to her.”Now the whiteisanusihardly waited for the word of the King, and the change which came upon him was strange indeed. He sprang to his feet, and advanced to the little one, who stared at him with her great blue eyes, yet did not shrink from him as in fear of a stranger. Then he put his hand over her head, and, looking upward and then down at her, his lips moved.“Au! he is placing a spell upon her,” growled one who sat near me.“It is not a spell that will harm,” murmured another in reply. But no more was said, for now the stranger was talking quick and fast in his own language, and the little one might have been his own child, long, long lost; for tears stood in his eyes as he talked, and soon rolled down upon his great beard.HaulIt was a strange sight. He wept, this white man who knew not fear: yes, here, in the presence of the King, and of weizindunaand war-captains, he wept, and that at the sight of a little blue-eyed child!But here was another strange thing. The little one’s face wore a blank look. Clearly she did not understand a word of what he was saying. Truly a strange thing! These two white people—the old man and the tiny girl—meeting thus by chance in the midst of our nation, understood not each other’s tongue!“Speak to her with the tongue of the Amabuna, my father,” said the King.But of this language the whiteisanusihad but scant knowledge, and in the end the only tongue with which these two whites could converse was that of the Amazulu. No,Nkose, not as yours was the tongue in which thatisanusispake. It was quicker—far quicker—and accompanied with more movements, like that of ourselves.“There, my father,” said Umzilikazi. “The little one is of thine own colour. Now begin with her, and teach her about this strange God, which seems to me to be teaching more fitted for her than for us black ones.”The white man’s face lighted up with joy at this permission, and he poured forth many words of praise for the goodness of the King. And we, too, we echoed the words ofbongawith a loud voice. And the little one, she too seemed glad because of those words; and not long after, in the presence of the King, and all who were then at Kwa’zingwenya, the whiteisanusiperformed strange ceremonies over her, of which the principal seemed the sprinkling of water, and declared she was now especially a child of that great God of whom he had spoken. This Umzilikazi was very willing to sanction, for was not the child white—and a girl? But when it came to teaching warriors a belief that peace was better than war—Au! that was a very different matter.Now I had been kept so busy all this while, attending to the affairs of the King and the nation, that no time had I to visit the mountain of death and her who dwelt in the secret chamber thereof. Yet my mind was ever in flight thither as I beheld its flat top standing out through the haze afar off. Wherefore I resolved, for good or for ill, to journey thither, as though to hunt.Once well beyond the last outpost of our people I began to run, travelling with a speed worthy the days when I was the King’s chief runner. At length I stood beneath the mountain and began to ascend its slopes, and I sang softly to myself a song of gladness and of love as I thought how soon I should be drinking in the strange sweet sorcery of Lalusini’s words and looks.I had nearly gained the summit when a loud and savage growl brought me up motionless in my own footprints, and, taking the great Assegai in my right hand and advancing my small shield forward a little in the left, I peered eagerly in search of the enemy.Not a moment had I to look. The flaming eyes, the long, yellow shape, the shaggy mane, almost blurred up as they were by the brown of the mountain-side, represented nothing less than a lion—an enormous one, crouching for a spring. There was no turning aside. Face to face we had come, in this narrow gully. Neither could give way. One must advance over the body of the other.Whau, Nkose! This was no light matter; for to kill a full-grown lion, single-handed, with spears only, is a business we never willingly undertake. But this one gave me no choice, for, with a savage snarl, he launched himself into the air.I know not how I avoided that onslaught; but I was quick in those days,Nkose, quick as any wild beast. What I did was to run in upon him, flinging myselfright underhis spring. Then, as he flew over me, I flashed upright, and, poised on tip-toe, quick as lightning I hurled one of my casting spears. It sang, quivering on its way, striking the mighty beast slantwise in the ribs and sinking deep. With terrible roars and snarls he rolled over and over, snapping at the spear-haft, and biting his own skin in the agony of his pain, and, the more he struggled, the deeper sank the spear. Now I saw what I would do. It would be quicker and far safer, and I did not want to brave over much danger just then. A great mass of loose rock stood poised upon a firmly embedded one immediately above the body of the lion, which, with hideous roars, was writhing and struggling beneath. Running to this, I mustered all my strength for a push. It swayed and tottered. Another mighty effort, the huge stone swung over and went crashing down the slope. The aim was good. With a frightful yell the great beast yielded up his life, and lay with ribs and spine shattered, while the rock tore down the mountain-side in leaps and bounds, splitting into fragments as it rolled.“Bayéte!” I cried, in my exultation; for I had done something really great. “Hail, king of the plain and the mountain! A short burial shall first be thine.”Collecting stones, I piled them upon the sinewy frame of the mighty beast to protect it from the vultures; for I desired not to tarry then, so eager was I once more to behold Lalusini. Then, having gained the flat summit of the mountain, I took my way cautiously to the secret entrance of the sorceress’s retreat.And now, as I threaded the dark passage through the earth, I began softly to sing a song of love, which should let Lalusini know that I was coming. But there came back no answering song.Whau, Nkose! Warrior as I was, I felt weak then, and my pulses began to beat. I sprang down into the great rock hollow. It was empty.Then I felt like a man who would willingly die, so strong was the witchery of the spell which this sorceress of Zulu blood had woven around me. I called her by name, first softly, then louder, for I thought she might be doing this to try me, and, even then, might be watching me from somewhere, and laughing to herself at my discomfiture. Still, no answer.Then a hideous thought took possession of my mind. That great lion I had slain! Had not Lalusini herself made mention of having heard its voice rolling upon the mountain at night? Had she not expressed some fear lest the beast might find its way in through the tunnel? As a man who has gone mad, I sprang to the hole and examined the ground for traces. But there were none—none such as would have been left by a lion forcing his way in, and returning, dragging a heavy body. So the possession of my senses returned, and I fell to making an investigation of the place. Ha! The mystery was a mystery no longer. Lalusini had, indeed, gone, but she had departed of her own free will, for most of the articles necessary to her comfort, such as clothing, cooking utensils, and so forth, had disappeared.Yes,Nkose; my heart was sore within me. Whither had she gone? Was it to return once more to that great, yet distant, people, among whom she had promised to make me great? Wearied with the length of time I had been forced to leave her unvisited—in the light of my hesitation to agree to throw in my lot with hers under such mad circumstances of peril and hazard—had she decided to leave me altogether? It seemed like it. Yet, I would track her—would find her. And then I laughed at myself for a fool, for how knew I, after all this time, which way to turn to seek her? She might be far away by that time.Sore at heart, I went up into the outer day again, and there upon the summit of the mountain I sought long and hard for footprints. But I sought in vain. There were none. Lalusini might have vanished like a bird into the air.All that day I searched. There might be other hiding-places upon the mountain, even more secret than the one which was known only to me and to her. But if this was so I know not. I only know that, search as I would, no trace could I find of such.Then I went down again into the rock hollow to pass the night, thinking she might chance to return. But when I lay down to sleep, sleep would not come, or if it did, only so lightly as to be more wakefulness than sleep; and it seemed that the face of the beautiful sorceress hung over me in my dreams, but when I would start to clasp her, calling her by name, there was nothing, no sound but the howling of beasts, ravening upon the mountain slopes throughout the night. And when the sun rose at last, then mounted higher into the sky, and still Lalusini did not return, I knew then that I had lost her forever, that never would I behold her more.So, with heart heavy and sore, I dragged myself away from the place, and returning to where I had left the dead lion, cut off the head and forepaws and the tail-tuft of the mighty beast, and, thus laden, took my way back to Kwa’zingwenya, sorrowing exceedingly for the loss of her who had thus bewitched me.Note. That this travelling priest was of French nationality was somewhat confirmed, for on hearing that language spoken, although unable to recognise any specific word, Untúswa declared that it seemed to bring back to his mind something of the stranger’s speech.

Now, as time went by, this whiteisanusistill continued to dwell in our midst in great contentment, for the King ordered that his treatment should be of the best; and, indeed, it was so. From time to time he and the Gaza would offer sacrifice together, as we had first beheld it. Howbeit, he did not importune us with this new teaching, but busied himself in going in and out among the people, talking to them, and acting as a friend to all—even among the very lowest of the Amaholi and enslaved captives. To these he taught that there would come a time when they should be free—but the way to such freedom lay through the gates of death; and this caused the slaves to shake their heads and jeer. Their lives were hard, and they wanted to be free; but if the land of freedom was only to be reached through the gates of death, why, then they preferred to remain in the land of the Amandebeli. Yet among all was this whiteisanusiloved, because his words were ever soft and kind; and soon the name by which he became known among the people was that of “Father.” There was one thing, too, which he never failed to bring into his teaching—and this was that, although the King was equally subject to the Great Great One who dwelt above the skies, yet the people were none the less bound to obey the “word” of the King and the orders of hisindunasand captains. And, this being so, he retained the favour of Umzilikazi, who had set spies to watch him secretly, and report what his teachings really were.

It happened that a few days after his arrival among us the white stranger was with the King, for often would the Great Great One invite him to anindaba, that he might listen to wonderful tales of far countries beyond the sea. Yet when theisanusiwould tell once more that marvellous tale which he had first told, and begin to set forth its teachings, Umzilikazi would laugh softly to himself, and bring round the talk to other matters. It happened,Nkose, that on the day I named, an idea seemed to strike the King.

“See, now, father of the strangemúti,” he said. “Do all the white people believe that great tale?”

We who were watching the stranger’s face saw a troubled look come over it, as he answered that nearly all did.

“Do the Amabuna believe it?” went on the King.

“They believe it, Great Great One—but not the whole of it.”

“Ha! Not the whole of it! They are a lying and treacherous race, deadly as a swarm of locusts! Say, my father, if they believed the whole of it, they would lie, and steal land, and make slaves no more?”

“That is so, Black Elephant.”

The King smiled grimly to himself as he took snuff. We, too, smiled. Here were teachings which would never do for us—for although we of the Zulu race did not lie, yet we took land and slaves, even as the Amabuna did, and made war. Now these were customs we could not by any possibility give up. Then the Great Great One leaned over, and whispered a word to me.

Now the little white child we had taken from among the Amabuna was fast becoming one of ourselves. Yet not; for those with whom she played she would somehow cause tokonzato her, even in their games, as though she were born to rule. If they played at building kraals, she it was whose hut was always the largest. If the boys were playing soldiers, it was always before her they came, singing the mimic war-song, and forcing the defeated side tokonza. She reigned among them as a little queen. Even my two younger wives, who had the care of her, she seemed to rule. They would not, however, allow her to run wild with our children, but, as her clothing wore out, they made her garments of the softest of dressed fawn-skins, ornamented largely with the most valued of beads. And now, as in obedience to the word of the King, I led the little one forth into his presence, and the stranger looked for the first time upon the fair skin and flower-like little face—the heaven-blue eyes, and hair like a stream of sunlight falling down the beaded robe of the child—he made as though he would have leaped from his seat.

“See now, my father,” said the King, as the little one put up her hand and cried theBayéte, “here is one of thine own colour, though but a tiny child. See now if thy story of the God of Peace is known in any way to her.”

Now the whiteisanusihardly waited for the word of the King, and the change which came upon him was strange indeed. He sprang to his feet, and advanced to the little one, who stared at him with her great blue eyes, yet did not shrink from him as in fear of a stranger. Then he put his hand over her head, and, looking upward and then down at her, his lips moved.

“Au! he is placing a spell upon her,” growled one who sat near me.

“It is not a spell that will harm,” murmured another in reply. But no more was said, for now the stranger was talking quick and fast in his own language, and the little one might have been his own child, long, long lost; for tears stood in his eyes as he talked, and soon rolled down upon his great beard.HaulIt was a strange sight. He wept, this white man who knew not fear: yes, here, in the presence of the King, and of weizindunaand war-captains, he wept, and that at the sight of a little blue-eyed child!

But here was another strange thing. The little one’s face wore a blank look. Clearly she did not understand a word of what he was saying. Truly a strange thing! These two white people—the old man and the tiny girl—meeting thus by chance in the midst of our nation, understood not each other’s tongue!

“Speak to her with the tongue of the Amabuna, my father,” said the King.

But of this language the whiteisanusihad but scant knowledge, and in the end the only tongue with which these two whites could converse was that of the Amazulu. No,Nkose, not as yours was the tongue in which thatisanusispake. It was quicker—far quicker—and accompanied with more movements, like that of ourselves.

“There, my father,” said Umzilikazi. “The little one is of thine own colour. Now begin with her, and teach her about this strange God, which seems to me to be teaching more fitted for her than for us black ones.”

The white man’s face lighted up with joy at this permission, and he poured forth many words of praise for the goodness of the King. And we, too, we echoed the words ofbongawith a loud voice. And the little one, she too seemed glad because of those words; and not long after, in the presence of the King, and all who were then at Kwa’zingwenya, the whiteisanusiperformed strange ceremonies over her, of which the principal seemed the sprinkling of water, and declared she was now especially a child of that great God of whom he had spoken. This Umzilikazi was very willing to sanction, for was not the child white—and a girl? But when it came to teaching warriors a belief that peace was better than war—Au! that was a very different matter.

Now I had been kept so busy all this while, attending to the affairs of the King and the nation, that no time had I to visit the mountain of death and her who dwelt in the secret chamber thereof. Yet my mind was ever in flight thither as I beheld its flat top standing out through the haze afar off. Wherefore I resolved, for good or for ill, to journey thither, as though to hunt.

Once well beyond the last outpost of our people I began to run, travelling with a speed worthy the days when I was the King’s chief runner. At length I stood beneath the mountain and began to ascend its slopes, and I sang softly to myself a song of gladness and of love as I thought how soon I should be drinking in the strange sweet sorcery of Lalusini’s words and looks.

I had nearly gained the summit when a loud and savage growl brought me up motionless in my own footprints, and, taking the great Assegai in my right hand and advancing my small shield forward a little in the left, I peered eagerly in search of the enemy.

Not a moment had I to look. The flaming eyes, the long, yellow shape, the shaggy mane, almost blurred up as they were by the brown of the mountain-side, represented nothing less than a lion—an enormous one, crouching for a spring. There was no turning aside. Face to face we had come, in this narrow gully. Neither could give way. One must advance over the body of the other.

Whau, Nkose! This was no light matter; for to kill a full-grown lion, single-handed, with spears only, is a business we never willingly undertake. But this one gave me no choice, for, with a savage snarl, he launched himself into the air.

I know not how I avoided that onslaught; but I was quick in those days,Nkose, quick as any wild beast. What I did was to run in upon him, flinging myselfright underhis spring. Then, as he flew over me, I flashed upright, and, poised on tip-toe, quick as lightning I hurled one of my casting spears. It sang, quivering on its way, striking the mighty beast slantwise in the ribs and sinking deep. With terrible roars and snarls he rolled over and over, snapping at the spear-haft, and biting his own skin in the agony of his pain, and, the more he struggled, the deeper sank the spear. Now I saw what I would do. It would be quicker and far safer, and I did not want to brave over much danger just then. A great mass of loose rock stood poised upon a firmly embedded one immediately above the body of the lion, which, with hideous roars, was writhing and struggling beneath. Running to this, I mustered all my strength for a push. It swayed and tottered. Another mighty effort, the huge stone swung over and went crashing down the slope. The aim was good. With a frightful yell the great beast yielded up his life, and lay with ribs and spine shattered, while the rock tore down the mountain-side in leaps and bounds, splitting into fragments as it rolled.

“Bayéte!” I cried, in my exultation; for I had done something really great. “Hail, king of the plain and the mountain! A short burial shall first be thine.”

Collecting stones, I piled them upon the sinewy frame of the mighty beast to protect it from the vultures; for I desired not to tarry then, so eager was I once more to behold Lalusini. Then, having gained the flat summit of the mountain, I took my way cautiously to the secret entrance of the sorceress’s retreat.

And now, as I threaded the dark passage through the earth, I began softly to sing a song of love, which should let Lalusini know that I was coming. But there came back no answering song.Whau, Nkose! Warrior as I was, I felt weak then, and my pulses began to beat. I sprang down into the great rock hollow. It was empty.

Then I felt like a man who would willingly die, so strong was the witchery of the spell which this sorceress of Zulu blood had woven around me. I called her by name, first softly, then louder, for I thought she might be doing this to try me, and, even then, might be watching me from somewhere, and laughing to herself at my discomfiture. Still, no answer.

Then a hideous thought took possession of my mind. That great lion I had slain! Had not Lalusini herself made mention of having heard its voice rolling upon the mountain at night? Had she not expressed some fear lest the beast might find its way in through the tunnel? As a man who has gone mad, I sprang to the hole and examined the ground for traces. But there were none—none such as would have been left by a lion forcing his way in, and returning, dragging a heavy body. So the possession of my senses returned, and I fell to making an investigation of the place. Ha! The mystery was a mystery no longer. Lalusini had, indeed, gone, but she had departed of her own free will, for most of the articles necessary to her comfort, such as clothing, cooking utensils, and so forth, had disappeared.

Yes,Nkose; my heart was sore within me. Whither had she gone? Was it to return once more to that great, yet distant, people, among whom she had promised to make me great? Wearied with the length of time I had been forced to leave her unvisited—in the light of my hesitation to agree to throw in my lot with hers under such mad circumstances of peril and hazard—had she decided to leave me altogether? It seemed like it. Yet, I would track her—would find her. And then I laughed at myself for a fool, for how knew I, after all this time, which way to turn to seek her? She might be far away by that time.

Sore at heart, I went up into the outer day again, and there upon the summit of the mountain I sought long and hard for footprints. But I sought in vain. There were none. Lalusini might have vanished like a bird into the air.

All that day I searched. There might be other hiding-places upon the mountain, even more secret than the one which was known only to me and to her. But if this was so I know not. I only know that, search as I would, no trace could I find of such.

Then I went down again into the rock hollow to pass the night, thinking she might chance to return. But when I lay down to sleep, sleep would not come, or if it did, only so lightly as to be more wakefulness than sleep; and it seemed that the face of the beautiful sorceress hung over me in my dreams, but when I would start to clasp her, calling her by name, there was nothing, no sound but the howling of beasts, ravening upon the mountain slopes throughout the night. And when the sun rose at last, then mounted higher into the sky, and still Lalusini did not return, I knew then that I had lost her forever, that never would I behold her more.

So, with heart heavy and sore, I dragged myself away from the place, and returning to where I had left the dead lion, cut off the head and forepaws and the tail-tuft of the mighty beast, and, thus laden, took my way back to Kwa’zingwenya, sorrowing exceedingly for the loss of her who had thus bewitched me.

Note. That this travelling priest was of French nationality was somewhat confirmed, for on hearing that language spoken, although unable to recognise any specific word, Untúswa declared that it seemed to bring back to his mind something of the stranger’s speech.

Chapter Sixteen.A Life for Ten Lives.I returned to Kwa’zingwenya with the head and paws of the great lion I had slain, and those who beheld it envied, crying, “What a hunter is Untúswa! In the chase, as in war, his is the weapon beneath which falls the mightiest!” The King, too, was pleased when he beheld those trophies. But Nangeza, seeing them, said:—“Ah, ah, Untúswa. Thy skill is in truth wonderful, who went forth to find a young heifer and found an old lion.”This she said jeering, and with her eyes upon my face. But I, while affecting not to notice, found food for much thought in the words. Had Nangeza indeed discovered my secret? Was she concerned in the disappearance of Lalusini? Ha! I resolved to watch her narrowly, and were my suspicions verified, why then, indeed, there would be room in my house for a newinkosikazi.Now at this time, things being quiet and our nation settling down in its new land, I gained the King’s leave to build myself a kraal some little distance from Kwa’zingwenya, and thither I removed with all my possessions—my cattle and my wives—and my brother Mgwali also came with me with his wives, and two other sons of my father, and soon I was the head of a large kraal of a score and a half of huts. But as time went on, and my duties in the way of seeing to the strength and efficiency of my own half of the army became greater, so far from beginning to think less of Lalusini I thought of her more. In the sunshine, darting in gold through the forest trees, it seemed that I could see her eyes, in the soft whispers of the wind at evening I could hear her voice. In my dreams I beheld her, was with her.Au! I was bewitched indeed. But although I made more than one journey again to the mountain of death, never did I discover any sign which should show she had revisited her hiding-place. All there had fallen more and more into decay, as though she had gone never to return.“Of a truth, Untúswa, thou shouldst be anisanusithyself,” said the King one day when we were sitting alone together in debate. “Thou hast a gift for findingizanusiand bringing them hither—first Masuka, now this white stranger; concerning which last my mind is in darkness, for I know not what to do with him.”“Is he not content, Black Elephant? Does he not fare well among us, teaching those who care to listen—ah, ah! those who care to listen?” I added with meaning.“For a time yes,” said Umzilikazi. “But the day will come when he will desire to travel again.”“Let him travel back by the way he came, Calf of a Black Cow,” I answered, still with meaning. “For him the way of the South is not safe. There indeed are peoples that would do him harm.”The Great Great One shook his head in discontent.“Verily, Untúswa, I know not how this will end,” he said.“Let be for the present, my father,” I answered. “The stranger is happy now, teaching the slaves. It may be that things will right themselves in this matter.”I spoke darkly,Nkose, not seeing light. But both I and the Great Great One little guessed in what manner things would right themselves, and that at no great distance of time—ah, no! little could we we foresee that.Now this was the meaning which underlay my words relating to the whiteisanusiand his teaching of the slaves. The last thing the King desired was that this white man should journey South, to bear, mayhap, the word to the Amabuna or to Dingane: “Yonder, to the North, in a fair and well-watered land, dwells Umzilikazi, and his warriors number so many, of whom a large proportion are of no account—being dogs and slaves.” The white stranger and the Gaza, Ngubazana, were but two men: what easier than to kill them secretly and thus end all trouble? There were not wanting some among theizindunawho spoke darkly to this end. But to such counsels Umzilikazi’s ears were shut. The white stranger was his friend. He was not of the race of the greedy, lying Amabuna; moreover, for himself it was easy to see he desired nothing, neither lands nor possessions; and though his teachings were not such as to be accepted by a warrior nation, there was no harm in them, no subversion of the greatness of the King. Not upon any considerations should he be harmed—neither the Gaza, his follower.But he must be kept among us; and in furtherance of this end the King gave secret orders that a few of the lowest of the slaves should listen to his teaching, and slowly and by degrees bring themselves to accept it, or pretend to. Then a few more were added to these; but ever with caution, lest the whiteisanusishould suspect. But he did not suspect; on the contrary, his heart was filled with joy at the readiness wherewith, these received his teaching, and at length—for this took time—he put them under the same rites as those which he had performed over the little white girl. So he was content to dwell with us; and while we laughed among ourselves over the trick we had played upon him, yet we were glad that this other road lay open to him besides that to the South, which would have caused us trouble, and that into the Dark Unknown, which might have caused it to him.I had left Kwa’zingwenya after thisindabawith the King, and was returning to my own kraal along the river bank, sad at heart, and pondering ever upon the disappearance of the Bakoni sorceress, when I came upon an old man, stumbling along, bent double, nosing and peering on the ground. It was old Masuka.“Greeting, my father!” I cried. “Are you seekingmútiherbs?”“Perhaps I am seeking for that which shall give sleep, son of Ntelani,” he replied, laughing at me out of his eyes. “Ha! my dreams were strange last night—strange, and they were about thee, Untúswa, about thee!”“About me, my father?” I cried.“E—hé! But, first give megwai, thou holder of the King’s Assegai, for I have none left.”I took out the long horn snuff-box which was stuck through the lobe of my ear, and, squatting down, we both took snuff in silence. Then the old man burst into a chuckle.“My dreams took me to the summit of the mountain of death, son of Ntelani. The ghost of Tauane was there—searching for something.”“For what was it searching, my father?”“For a strange thing. For an outward chamber in the cliff, like unto the place of an eagle’s nest.”“Ha!” I cried, staring at him wildly, my snuff-spoon in mid-air.How his old eyes laughed; for my confusion was great. And well it might be, for these were the very words wherewith I had taunted the chief of the Blue Cattle on his flaming bed of death. Yet old Masuka had been nowhere near at that time, nor had any who understood that tongue.“And why could not the ghost of Tauane find that place, my father?” I said. “Being a ghost, he could fly through the air until he found the chamber in the cliff like an eagle’s nest.”“Not thus would he find it, destroyer of the Bakoni,” was the answer. “‘Through the darkness of the earth’—such were his words.”“Ha! Was it for good or for ill he spoke thus? Were those all the words of Tauane’s ghost my father?”“Not so, Untúswa. Soon the ghost went winging through the air, crying and wailing that the place like an eagle’s nest was there, but that the she-eagle had flown away. Why art thou sad of late, son of Ntelani?”“Thymútiis wonderful, father,” I replied. “Will the she-eagle return? Tell me. Will it return?”“It will return. Ha! yonder alligators are hungry. They shall be fed. Oh, yes, they shall be fed. The she-eagle will return.”I liked not his tones,Nkose, and my blood ran chill. For his speech, though dark, could have but one meaning. Lalusini I should behold again; but one or both of us should find death in the alligators’ pool. Well, what matter? One could but die once; and so great was the spell cast over me by the Bakoni sorceress that it seemed, once more to behold her, once more to have speech with her, I would gladly pay the price of death.“I have a black cow, well in milk, which is one too many in my herd, father,” I said. “It shall be driven forth to-morrow to the place where thy cattle graze.”But he paid scant heed, which was strange, for he loved cattle, and always welcomed such gifts. With his head on one side, as though listening intently, he repeated softly to himself:“Yonder alligators are hungry. They shall be fed; oh, yes, they shall be fed!”You will remember,Nkose, a certain pool in the river, which the King and I had lighted upon one evening soon after arriving at our new resting-place, and into which he had caused some calves to be driven that the alligators might seize them. Now this pool had been turned into a place of execution. No longer were those adjudged to doom led forth to die beneath the knobsticks of the slayers, as formerly, but were forced to leap, or were thrown into the pool, and from it none emerged alive. As I sat and talked with Masuka, I remembered that the Pool of the Alligators lay at no great distance from us, and between ourselves and the great kraal. Upon it the old Mosutu seemed to be concentrating his attention; and, as I listened, sounds were wafted thence.“Evil-doers are about to meet death!” he said, at last. “Come, we will witness it.”We rose and took our way along the river-bank. As we crested the rise, which brought us near the brow of the cliff from which the victims were thrown, we saw a multitude streaming down from the great kraal, and in the forefront of the crowd were men armed with sticks, and driving before them two other men, who were bound.These were already half-dead with fear, and could scarcely walk, but the blows of the slayers urged them onward until they stood right upon the spot whence they should leap into the jaws of the hungry alligators. We could see at a glance that they were slaves, and sadly, indeed, they looked. From the people we learned that these two, being in charge of a flock of the King’s goats, had suffered wild dogs to break into the fold at night, whereby upwards of a score were slain. So Umzilikazi, declaring that if his goats were only fit to feed wild dogs with, assuredly to base Bakoni were only fit two feed alligators with; and they had been led forth.Now, this scene did not move us in any way,Nkose, for the death of a slave more or less was nothing. But we just lingered to see these leap in.Yet they would not. When driven to the edge they hung back, then cast themselves on the ground weeping and groaning for mercy. Already the surface of the pool below was alive with slimy, stealthy life. Widening lines upon the water told that the alligators well understood the cause of the tumult overhead. They moved silently to and fro, awaiting the plunge which should bring them the prey they had learned to love best—the flesh of men.Now the slayers had grasped the screaming wretches, and were about to fling them out, when between the cliff brow and the victims a figure suddenly sprang forth, arising, as it were, by magic. All gave a shout of wonder, and the executioners paused in their work. The black robe, the long, flowing beard, the countenance stamped with a great horror and pain, were known to all. It was the whiteisanusi.“Hold! my children!” he cried. “Hold! I beg of you!”The slayers hesitated, and growled to each other. With arms outstretched, there the white man stood on the cliff brow between the hideous, hungry reptiles and their weeping, shivering victims. To fling these in was impossible without flinging him in too.“It is the King’s will, father,” growled the chief of the slayers. “Know you not that did we hesitate we should be even as these? Stand aside.”“Not yet, not yet,” he pleaded; and there was weeping in his voice. “Not yet. Wait—only until I hasten to the King! He will hear me, for he has given me the lives of such as these!”“It may not be, father,” was the answer, made now with more alarm. “Whau! it is on us theizingwenyawill feed, if not on these. Stand now aside.”“Ah! have pity! Untúswa will take my side,” he cried in a glad voice, catching sight of my face. “Stay their hands, Untúswa, if only for a while, till I bring back the King’s pardon.”“It may not be, father,” I, too, replied. “The King’s sentence has been given. It is even as the men say. Their lives are as the lives of these if they hesitate. Would you doom to death many men where two will suffice? Let them do their work.”Now, I know not,Nkose, how this thing would have ended; for the whiteisanusistill continued to stand and plead, and none dare remove him by force, remembering in what high honour he was held by the Great Great One. But just then loud shouting made itself heard upon the outskirts of the crowd, which bent low suddenly, like a forest struck by a gale. And there advancing, with his head thrown back and a light in his eyes such as none of us cared to behold, came the Great Great One himself.He stalked straight up to where stood the whiteisanusi, to where lay the doomed ones and the executioners, who, having hesitated to perform their work, counted themselves already dead. He was attended by the oldindunaMcumbete, to whom he now turned.“See,” he said, in a voice which made many tremble, “I am no King. I am only the lowest of the Amaholi. For the word of a King is obeyed; yet my word, though long since uttered, is not obeyed.Hau! What sort of a King ami?”And the terrible frown of anger upon his face took in the white man, even as it did ourselves.“Mercy! Great Great One! Mercy for these!” cried the stranger, pointing to the doomed slaves.We who watched trembled for the life of the speaker; those of us who did not tremble for our own—and of these there could be but few—for this was a terrible thing which had happened, such a thing as had never before been known, that any man, white or black, should dare to interfere between the King’s decrees and their execution. But still the white priest stood upon the brink of that grisly pool of death pleading forgiveness, not for himself, but for those two miserable slaves. Ha! That was a sight indeed.“You do not know us yet, O stranger!” went on Umzilikazi, now in bitter and sneering tones; “else had you not thought to save the lives of these two by any such means. For now have you doomed many to death, even all those whose errand it was to carry out my sentence and have allowed themselves to hesitate in doing so. For they, too, are dead men.”A gasp of horror, which was almost a sob, ran through the multitude. Theizimbongabellowed aloud in praise of the King’s justice; but even their voices were not without a quaver. But the white priest stood facing the angry countenance of the King; and upon his own was stamped a great and deep sadness, but never a trace of fear.“Be merciful, thou ruler of a great nation!” he pleaded more earnestly. “Mercy is the quality by which a King may show himself truly great. We have been friends. Oh, slay not these men, when the fault is entirely mine.”“Not entirely. The fault of the man who hesitates to obey my word is entirely his own, and the penalty thereof he knows,” said Umzilikazi, pitilessly. “We have been friends, white stranger; but of what sort is the friendship which teaches those who are my dogs to laugh at me? Friend as thou art, I know not how thine own life shall be left thee after such an act as this.”Something in the words seemed to strike the whiteisanusi. His face lightened up.“See now, O King!” he replied. “The fault is mine. If I am a traitor in your eyes, who were my friend, take my life instead of the lives of these. Take my life, but spare theirs.”“Ha!”The gasp of amazement which softly left the lips of the King was echoed by a shiver from the crouching multitude.“Think carefully, O stranger,” he said. “Look below. See the upturned glare of the alligators’ eyes. Mark their number—their great size—their hideous shapes. This is no pleasant or easy death.”“Nor is it for these, Great Great One,” was the reply, with a sweep of the hand over the doomed men, who, victims and executioners alike, crouched motionless in the silence of despair. “And for them such a death may be more terrible than for myself, who humbly trust that it may be the opening of the gate of a new life whose glories are beyond words.”“I think words enough have been spoken upon this matter,” said Umzilikazi, coldly. “Take thy choice, whiteisanusi. Thyself to the alligators—or these.”“My choice is made, Black Elephant.”“Leap, then!” said the King, with a wave of the hand towards the brink.“I may not do that,” was the reply, “for it would be to take my own life, which my teaching forbids. The slayers of the King must throw me in—that they themselves may live. But, first, I desire a few moments wherein to pray that the Great Great One above may receive my spirit.”To this Umzilikazi gave assent, and the white priest knelt down, and, drawing out the cross, with the Figure of a Man upon it, he kissed this. And then, for the first time, some of us noticed that the sign he made upon himself with his hand more than once was in form even as that cross.Whau, Nkose! that was a strange sight—stranger, I think, I never beheld. The sun was near his rest now, and his fading beams fell upon the surface of the hideous pool beneath, painting it and the numerous snouts of the hungry monsters lurking there as it were blood-red. And above the crouching, awe-stricken multitude—the only movement among which was the rolling of distended eyeballs, the grovelling figures of the doomed ones, grey with fear, and not knowing yet if their lives would indeed be spared—the stern, upright figure of Umzilikazi, terrible in the offended majesty of his disobeyed commands, and the subdued, shrinking countenance of the oldinduna. And, in the midst of all, the kneeling priest, in his black, flowing robe, the tones of whose voice, rising and falling quickly in prayer, being the only sounds breaking in upon this dead and awesome silence. And to us who gazed it seemed as though a strange light rested upon the face of the whiteisanusi, imparting to it a look which had nothing in common with the set, motionless expression to be seen upon the face of a brave man doomed to die; but this might have been caused by the long rays of the setting sun darting upon it. At length he arose.The King made a sign to the slayers. Not this time was any hesitation to be found among them. Leaping eagerly to their feet, they sprang forward and laid hands upon the white priest.“A moment!” said this one, signing them back. “Bid me now farewell, son of Matyobane! for I wish thee no harm on account of my death, and for it I forgive thee freely. Nay, more, I thank thee for it! since, through it, thou sparest the lives of these, who number more than half a score.”He stretched forth his open hand. Umzilikazi grasped it, yet let it not go; and thus for a moment they stood, gazing into each other’s faces. And that of the white man expressed the truth of his words; for in it was no evil look, no sign of fear, or of a desire for revenge. Still they stood thus, uttering no sound. The strain was becoming terrible. In crushed, breathless silence the multitude hung upon what was to follow. Was the King bewitched? Could he not relax his grasp? A dull splash was heard beneath, as one of the alligators turned on the water. And now the sun rested on the western heights, like a wheel of red flame. Then Umzilikazi spoke:“The alligators may go hungry this night, for thou art a brave man, my father; too brave a man that thy life should pay for the miserable lives of such as these. Yet for thy sake I will spare them too, though I know not whether after doing so I am a King or as one of their dogs!—Hau!”“A greater King than ever, son of Matyobane,” was the reply, uttered solemnly. “The Great One above will bless thee, my friend.”Now the shouts ofbongawhich rent the air were deafening, and from one end to the other of that vast multitude rolled the praises of the mercy of the King. And, indeed, it was wonderful, for this was the only occasion upon which I ever knew Umzilikazi spare any man when his “word” had once gone forth that that man should die. And this time he had spared upwards of half a score, owing to the strange madness of a white priest who had offered to give his own life for theirs.But some there were who murmured darkly that the King was bewitched, and among these were our ownizanusi. Yet they dared not so whisper otherwise than darkly—ah, yes, very darkly indeed.

I returned to Kwa’zingwenya with the head and paws of the great lion I had slain, and those who beheld it envied, crying, “What a hunter is Untúswa! In the chase, as in war, his is the weapon beneath which falls the mightiest!” The King, too, was pleased when he beheld those trophies. But Nangeza, seeing them, said:—

“Ah, ah, Untúswa. Thy skill is in truth wonderful, who went forth to find a young heifer and found an old lion.”

This she said jeering, and with her eyes upon my face. But I, while affecting not to notice, found food for much thought in the words. Had Nangeza indeed discovered my secret? Was she concerned in the disappearance of Lalusini? Ha! I resolved to watch her narrowly, and were my suspicions verified, why then, indeed, there would be room in my house for a newinkosikazi.

Now at this time, things being quiet and our nation settling down in its new land, I gained the King’s leave to build myself a kraal some little distance from Kwa’zingwenya, and thither I removed with all my possessions—my cattle and my wives—and my brother Mgwali also came with me with his wives, and two other sons of my father, and soon I was the head of a large kraal of a score and a half of huts. But as time went on, and my duties in the way of seeing to the strength and efficiency of my own half of the army became greater, so far from beginning to think less of Lalusini I thought of her more. In the sunshine, darting in gold through the forest trees, it seemed that I could see her eyes, in the soft whispers of the wind at evening I could hear her voice. In my dreams I beheld her, was with her.Au! I was bewitched indeed. But although I made more than one journey again to the mountain of death, never did I discover any sign which should show she had revisited her hiding-place. All there had fallen more and more into decay, as though she had gone never to return.

“Of a truth, Untúswa, thou shouldst be anisanusithyself,” said the King one day when we were sitting alone together in debate. “Thou hast a gift for findingizanusiand bringing them hither—first Masuka, now this white stranger; concerning which last my mind is in darkness, for I know not what to do with him.”

“Is he not content, Black Elephant? Does he not fare well among us, teaching those who care to listen—ah, ah! those who care to listen?” I added with meaning.

“For a time yes,” said Umzilikazi. “But the day will come when he will desire to travel again.”

“Let him travel back by the way he came, Calf of a Black Cow,” I answered, still with meaning. “For him the way of the South is not safe. There indeed are peoples that would do him harm.”

The Great Great One shook his head in discontent.

“Verily, Untúswa, I know not how this will end,” he said.

“Let be for the present, my father,” I answered. “The stranger is happy now, teaching the slaves. It may be that things will right themselves in this matter.”

I spoke darkly,Nkose, not seeing light. But both I and the Great Great One little guessed in what manner things would right themselves, and that at no great distance of time—ah, no! little could we we foresee that.

Now this was the meaning which underlay my words relating to the whiteisanusiand his teaching of the slaves. The last thing the King desired was that this white man should journey South, to bear, mayhap, the word to the Amabuna or to Dingane: “Yonder, to the North, in a fair and well-watered land, dwells Umzilikazi, and his warriors number so many, of whom a large proportion are of no account—being dogs and slaves.” The white stranger and the Gaza, Ngubazana, were but two men: what easier than to kill them secretly and thus end all trouble? There were not wanting some among theizindunawho spoke darkly to this end. But to such counsels Umzilikazi’s ears were shut. The white stranger was his friend. He was not of the race of the greedy, lying Amabuna; moreover, for himself it was easy to see he desired nothing, neither lands nor possessions; and though his teachings were not such as to be accepted by a warrior nation, there was no harm in them, no subversion of the greatness of the King. Not upon any considerations should he be harmed—neither the Gaza, his follower.

But he must be kept among us; and in furtherance of this end the King gave secret orders that a few of the lowest of the slaves should listen to his teaching, and slowly and by degrees bring themselves to accept it, or pretend to. Then a few more were added to these; but ever with caution, lest the whiteisanusishould suspect. But he did not suspect; on the contrary, his heart was filled with joy at the readiness wherewith, these received his teaching, and at length—for this took time—he put them under the same rites as those which he had performed over the little white girl. So he was content to dwell with us; and while we laughed among ourselves over the trick we had played upon him, yet we were glad that this other road lay open to him besides that to the South, which would have caused us trouble, and that into the Dark Unknown, which might have caused it to him.

I had left Kwa’zingwenya after thisindabawith the King, and was returning to my own kraal along the river bank, sad at heart, and pondering ever upon the disappearance of the Bakoni sorceress, when I came upon an old man, stumbling along, bent double, nosing and peering on the ground. It was old Masuka.

“Greeting, my father!” I cried. “Are you seekingmútiherbs?”

“Perhaps I am seeking for that which shall give sleep, son of Ntelani,” he replied, laughing at me out of his eyes. “Ha! my dreams were strange last night—strange, and they were about thee, Untúswa, about thee!”

“About me, my father?” I cried.

“E—hé! But, first give megwai, thou holder of the King’s Assegai, for I have none left.”

I took out the long horn snuff-box which was stuck through the lobe of my ear, and, squatting down, we both took snuff in silence. Then the old man burst into a chuckle.

“My dreams took me to the summit of the mountain of death, son of Ntelani. The ghost of Tauane was there—searching for something.”

“For what was it searching, my father?”

“For a strange thing. For an outward chamber in the cliff, like unto the place of an eagle’s nest.”

“Ha!” I cried, staring at him wildly, my snuff-spoon in mid-air.

How his old eyes laughed; for my confusion was great. And well it might be, for these were the very words wherewith I had taunted the chief of the Blue Cattle on his flaming bed of death. Yet old Masuka had been nowhere near at that time, nor had any who understood that tongue.

“And why could not the ghost of Tauane find that place, my father?” I said. “Being a ghost, he could fly through the air until he found the chamber in the cliff like an eagle’s nest.”

“Not thus would he find it, destroyer of the Bakoni,” was the answer. “‘Through the darkness of the earth’—such were his words.”

“Ha! Was it for good or for ill he spoke thus? Were those all the words of Tauane’s ghost my father?”

“Not so, Untúswa. Soon the ghost went winging through the air, crying and wailing that the place like an eagle’s nest was there, but that the she-eagle had flown away. Why art thou sad of late, son of Ntelani?”

“Thymútiis wonderful, father,” I replied. “Will the she-eagle return? Tell me. Will it return?”

“It will return. Ha! yonder alligators are hungry. They shall be fed. Oh, yes, they shall be fed. The she-eagle will return.”

I liked not his tones,Nkose, and my blood ran chill. For his speech, though dark, could have but one meaning. Lalusini I should behold again; but one or both of us should find death in the alligators’ pool. Well, what matter? One could but die once; and so great was the spell cast over me by the Bakoni sorceress that it seemed, once more to behold her, once more to have speech with her, I would gladly pay the price of death.

“I have a black cow, well in milk, which is one too many in my herd, father,” I said. “It shall be driven forth to-morrow to the place where thy cattle graze.”

But he paid scant heed, which was strange, for he loved cattle, and always welcomed such gifts. With his head on one side, as though listening intently, he repeated softly to himself:

“Yonder alligators are hungry. They shall be fed; oh, yes, they shall be fed!”

You will remember,Nkose, a certain pool in the river, which the King and I had lighted upon one evening soon after arriving at our new resting-place, and into which he had caused some calves to be driven that the alligators might seize them. Now this pool had been turned into a place of execution. No longer were those adjudged to doom led forth to die beneath the knobsticks of the slayers, as formerly, but were forced to leap, or were thrown into the pool, and from it none emerged alive. As I sat and talked with Masuka, I remembered that the Pool of the Alligators lay at no great distance from us, and between ourselves and the great kraal. Upon it the old Mosutu seemed to be concentrating his attention; and, as I listened, sounds were wafted thence.

“Evil-doers are about to meet death!” he said, at last. “Come, we will witness it.”

We rose and took our way along the river-bank. As we crested the rise, which brought us near the brow of the cliff from which the victims were thrown, we saw a multitude streaming down from the great kraal, and in the forefront of the crowd were men armed with sticks, and driving before them two other men, who were bound.

These were already half-dead with fear, and could scarcely walk, but the blows of the slayers urged them onward until they stood right upon the spot whence they should leap into the jaws of the hungry alligators. We could see at a glance that they were slaves, and sadly, indeed, they looked. From the people we learned that these two, being in charge of a flock of the King’s goats, had suffered wild dogs to break into the fold at night, whereby upwards of a score were slain. So Umzilikazi, declaring that if his goats were only fit to feed wild dogs with, assuredly to base Bakoni were only fit two feed alligators with; and they had been led forth.

Now, this scene did not move us in any way,Nkose, for the death of a slave more or less was nothing. But we just lingered to see these leap in.

Yet they would not. When driven to the edge they hung back, then cast themselves on the ground weeping and groaning for mercy. Already the surface of the pool below was alive with slimy, stealthy life. Widening lines upon the water told that the alligators well understood the cause of the tumult overhead. They moved silently to and fro, awaiting the plunge which should bring them the prey they had learned to love best—the flesh of men.

Now the slayers had grasped the screaming wretches, and were about to fling them out, when between the cliff brow and the victims a figure suddenly sprang forth, arising, as it were, by magic. All gave a shout of wonder, and the executioners paused in their work. The black robe, the long, flowing beard, the countenance stamped with a great horror and pain, were known to all. It was the whiteisanusi.

“Hold! my children!” he cried. “Hold! I beg of you!”

The slayers hesitated, and growled to each other. With arms outstretched, there the white man stood on the cliff brow between the hideous, hungry reptiles and their weeping, shivering victims. To fling these in was impossible without flinging him in too.

“It is the King’s will, father,” growled the chief of the slayers. “Know you not that did we hesitate we should be even as these? Stand aside.”

“Not yet, not yet,” he pleaded; and there was weeping in his voice. “Not yet. Wait—only until I hasten to the King! He will hear me, for he has given me the lives of such as these!”

“It may not be, father,” was the answer, made now with more alarm. “Whau! it is on us theizingwenyawill feed, if not on these. Stand now aside.”

“Ah! have pity! Untúswa will take my side,” he cried in a glad voice, catching sight of my face. “Stay their hands, Untúswa, if only for a while, till I bring back the King’s pardon.”

“It may not be, father,” I, too, replied. “The King’s sentence has been given. It is even as the men say. Their lives are as the lives of these if they hesitate. Would you doom to death many men where two will suffice? Let them do their work.”

Now, I know not,Nkose, how this thing would have ended; for the whiteisanusistill continued to stand and plead, and none dare remove him by force, remembering in what high honour he was held by the Great Great One. But just then loud shouting made itself heard upon the outskirts of the crowd, which bent low suddenly, like a forest struck by a gale. And there advancing, with his head thrown back and a light in his eyes such as none of us cared to behold, came the Great Great One himself.

He stalked straight up to where stood the whiteisanusi, to where lay the doomed ones and the executioners, who, having hesitated to perform their work, counted themselves already dead. He was attended by the oldindunaMcumbete, to whom he now turned.

“See,” he said, in a voice which made many tremble, “I am no King. I am only the lowest of the Amaholi. For the word of a King is obeyed; yet my word, though long since uttered, is not obeyed.Hau! What sort of a King ami?”

And the terrible frown of anger upon his face took in the white man, even as it did ourselves.

“Mercy! Great Great One! Mercy for these!” cried the stranger, pointing to the doomed slaves.

We who watched trembled for the life of the speaker; those of us who did not tremble for our own—and of these there could be but few—for this was a terrible thing which had happened, such a thing as had never before been known, that any man, white or black, should dare to interfere between the King’s decrees and their execution. But still the white priest stood upon the brink of that grisly pool of death pleading forgiveness, not for himself, but for those two miserable slaves. Ha! That was a sight indeed.

“You do not know us yet, O stranger!” went on Umzilikazi, now in bitter and sneering tones; “else had you not thought to save the lives of these two by any such means. For now have you doomed many to death, even all those whose errand it was to carry out my sentence and have allowed themselves to hesitate in doing so. For they, too, are dead men.”

A gasp of horror, which was almost a sob, ran through the multitude. Theizimbongabellowed aloud in praise of the King’s justice; but even their voices were not without a quaver. But the white priest stood facing the angry countenance of the King; and upon his own was stamped a great and deep sadness, but never a trace of fear.

“Be merciful, thou ruler of a great nation!” he pleaded more earnestly. “Mercy is the quality by which a King may show himself truly great. We have been friends. Oh, slay not these men, when the fault is entirely mine.”

“Not entirely. The fault of the man who hesitates to obey my word is entirely his own, and the penalty thereof he knows,” said Umzilikazi, pitilessly. “We have been friends, white stranger; but of what sort is the friendship which teaches those who are my dogs to laugh at me? Friend as thou art, I know not how thine own life shall be left thee after such an act as this.”

Something in the words seemed to strike the whiteisanusi. His face lightened up.

“See now, O King!” he replied. “The fault is mine. If I am a traitor in your eyes, who were my friend, take my life instead of the lives of these. Take my life, but spare theirs.”

“Ha!”

The gasp of amazement which softly left the lips of the King was echoed by a shiver from the crouching multitude.

“Think carefully, O stranger,” he said. “Look below. See the upturned glare of the alligators’ eyes. Mark their number—their great size—their hideous shapes. This is no pleasant or easy death.”

“Nor is it for these, Great Great One,” was the reply, with a sweep of the hand over the doomed men, who, victims and executioners alike, crouched motionless in the silence of despair. “And for them such a death may be more terrible than for myself, who humbly trust that it may be the opening of the gate of a new life whose glories are beyond words.”

“I think words enough have been spoken upon this matter,” said Umzilikazi, coldly. “Take thy choice, whiteisanusi. Thyself to the alligators—or these.”

“My choice is made, Black Elephant.”

“Leap, then!” said the King, with a wave of the hand towards the brink.

“I may not do that,” was the reply, “for it would be to take my own life, which my teaching forbids. The slayers of the King must throw me in—that they themselves may live. But, first, I desire a few moments wherein to pray that the Great Great One above may receive my spirit.”

To this Umzilikazi gave assent, and the white priest knelt down, and, drawing out the cross, with the Figure of a Man upon it, he kissed this. And then, for the first time, some of us noticed that the sign he made upon himself with his hand more than once was in form even as that cross.

Whau, Nkose! that was a strange sight—stranger, I think, I never beheld. The sun was near his rest now, and his fading beams fell upon the surface of the hideous pool beneath, painting it and the numerous snouts of the hungry monsters lurking there as it were blood-red. And above the crouching, awe-stricken multitude—the only movement among which was the rolling of distended eyeballs, the grovelling figures of the doomed ones, grey with fear, and not knowing yet if their lives would indeed be spared—the stern, upright figure of Umzilikazi, terrible in the offended majesty of his disobeyed commands, and the subdued, shrinking countenance of the oldinduna. And, in the midst of all, the kneeling priest, in his black, flowing robe, the tones of whose voice, rising and falling quickly in prayer, being the only sounds breaking in upon this dead and awesome silence. And to us who gazed it seemed as though a strange light rested upon the face of the whiteisanusi, imparting to it a look which had nothing in common with the set, motionless expression to be seen upon the face of a brave man doomed to die; but this might have been caused by the long rays of the setting sun darting upon it. At length he arose.

The King made a sign to the slayers. Not this time was any hesitation to be found among them. Leaping eagerly to their feet, they sprang forward and laid hands upon the white priest.

“A moment!” said this one, signing them back. “Bid me now farewell, son of Matyobane! for I wish thee no harm on account of my death, and for it I forgive thee freely. Nay, more, I thank thee for it! since, through it, thou sparest the lives of these, who number more than half a score.”

He stretched forth his open hand. Umzilikazi grasped it, yet let it not go; and thus for a moment they stood, gazing into each other’s faces. And that of the white man expressed the truth of his words; for in it was no evil look, no sign of fear, or of a desire for revenge. Still they stood thus, uttering no sound. The strain was becoming terrible. In crushed, breathless silence the multitude hung upon what was to follow. Was the King bewitched? Could he not relax his grasp? A dull splash was heard beneath, as one of the alligators turned on the water. And now the sun rested on the western heights, like a wheel of red flame. Then Umzilikazi spoke:

“The alligators may go hungry this night, for thou art a brave man, my father; too brave a man that thy life should pay for the miserable lives of such as these. Yet for thy sake I will spare them too, though I know not whether after doing so I am a King or as one of their dogs!—Hau!”

“A greater King than ever, son of Matyobane,” was the reply, uttered solemnly. “The Great One above will bless thee, my friend.”

Now the shouts ofbongawhich rent the air were deafening, and from one end to the other of that vast multitude rolled the praises of the mercy of the King. And, indeed, it was wonderful, for this was the only occasion upon which I ever knew Umzilikazi spare any man when his “word” had once gone forth that that man should die. And this time he had spared upwards of half a score, owing to the strange madness of a white priest who had offered to give his own life for theirs.

But some there were who murmured darkly that the King was bewitched, and among these were our ownizanusi. Yet they dared not so whisper otherwise than darkly—ah, yes, very darkly indeed.

Chapter Seventeen.The Return of the “She-Eagle.”Now,Nkose, I am about to tell of the strange and momentous events that next befell; for upon reaching my home that night, which you will remember was at some little distance from the great kraal, I found my family and followers in a state of wild consternation and grief. The little white girl was lost!She had not been wandering, not even playing outside with the other children. When last seen she was creeping through the door of the hut wherein she usually dwelt—that of Fumana, the youngest of my wives—and this hut she had never been seen to leave. When last seen it was shortly before the setting of the sun.This was a matter to be turned inside-out, and that speedily, to which end I called up all those concerned, and questioned them one by one; the children who had last been with her, my wives, and the Bakoni slave-girls. But while my two younger wives were half-mad with grief—for they loved the little one—Nangeza only laughed evilly, saying that it could be but a small thing to a mighty chief like myself the loss of a wretched little whelp of the Amabuna: for thus she would often speak to anger me, knowing that I always held Kwelanga to be not of the Amabuna at all, but of a far greater race.“So, woman!” I replied, pointing my stick at her menacingly, “it may be a small matter to myself, but it will be a weighty one for all here concerned, for did not the King give Kwelanga into our care? Ha! the alligators have been robbed of their food to-night—it may be that to-morrow they will be full.”I could see fear upon the faces of those who heard my words; but again Nangeza laughed evilly. I was resolved now that the end of such doings had come. The morrow would show.“Now to the search!” I cried. “The little one may have wandered abroad and have sunk down to sleep in the forest. She may not be far.”“Perhaps yonder moves her bed,” said Nangeza, with her black laugh, as the wild howling of a hyena sounded very near. “While such are moving about it is little enough will be found of any child who has sunk down to sleep in the forest, and it has long been night.”A murmur of approval greeted these words, for few among us liked to move about at night. And the voices of the hyenas and other beasts wailing dismally through the forest sounded as the ravenings of ghost animals scenting the blood of those who still lived as men. But for such considerations I cared little then. I gave my orders, and no man there but preferred to face the ghost animals to facing me having disobeyed them. So we set out, by twos and threes, on our search.There was a half-moon low down in the heavens, and by its light we searched—ah, yes, how we searched! We hunted hither and thither like wild dogs questing a scent, beneath the dark shades of the forest trees, where the beasts would howl dismally across our path, and the rustle of huge serpents fleeing away in the brake would make our hearts leap—not knowing what evil beings of the night were abroad. We searched over the openness of the plain, and among the rugged rocks where we had found the whiteisanusi. We searched indeed far out beyond any distance such a little child could travel. But we searched in vain.Not only through the night did we search, but well on into the next day. Sometimes our hearts would chill as we saw something white, like a skull or bones, lying away from us, but on drawing near it would prove to be a stone, or perchance the skull of a kid or a buck, devoured by wild animals. I sent runners to all the outlying kraals around us but these returned bearing no news, and at last so thoroughly had we searched that I was constrained to believe that it was as Nangeza had so evilly suggested—the little one had wandered away from the kraal, and, having lost herself, had been carried off or devoured by wild animals.Now my own heart was sad and sore, for,Nkose, I loved this little creature, with the eyes of heaven and hair like the sun, whom I had saved from the spears of our young men, and who had come to look upon me as her father; and, indeed, she would sometimes place her tiny white hand upon my great dark one and laugh, and ask whether hers would grow black, too, when she became old. And now I should see her no more; hear her rippling, joyous laughter never again—ah,Nkose, my heart was very sore. But my younger wives, Nxope and Fumana, they made terrible moan, far more so than they would have made over child of their own blood.It came about, however, that some there might have even greater reason to make moan, and that on behalf of themselves; for at day-dawn on the third morning after the disappearance of Kwelanga an armed force stood at the gate of my kraal, and in a loud voice summoned those within the huts to come forth in the King’s name.Now, many of these, looking upon the armed men, felt themselves already dead, deeming that Umzilikazi had sent to “eat up” my kraal, by reason of the manner in which its trust had been fulfilled; nor was I myself for the moment at ease.“Greeting, Ngubu!” I said. “What is the will of the Great Great One?”“This, son of Ntelani,” answered the leader of the armed band, that same Ngubu who had headed the party in pursuit of me that time I had fled with Nangeza, and who was present when I slew Njalo-njalo; “this—that thou betakest thyself at all speed to the Black Elephant, who would confer with thee. That for thee. For these, they must go with us, every one, to the last man, woman, and child.”“Whither, Ngubu?” I asked, troubled. “Into the Dark Unknown?”“Not so, Untúswa. Into the presence of the King.”They looked relieved at this I thought, though it might be but the lengthening out of their agony, for the assegais of the “eaters-up” are swifter than the teeth of the alligators. And so they started, hemmed in by the spears of the warriors, while I alone strode on in advance, by no means easy in my mind because of what was to befall, for some, assuredly, would look into darkness long before that night.A little way outside the great kraal Kwa’zingwenya was a grassy mound, crested by two large and spreading trees, and from this the plain sloped away, smooth and open, to the brink of the cliff overhanging the Pool of the Alligators. Beneath the shade of these trees Umzilikazi was wont to sit sometimes throughout the whole day, hearing and settling disputes, talking over the affairs of the nation, or it might be reviewing one or two of the young regiments practising drill upon the open plain before him. Here now I found him.“Well, Untúswa? And so there have beentagatidoings at your kraal?” he said, when I had saluted. “Where is Kwelanga?”“Now are all our hearts sore, Black Elephant,” I answered, “for search has been diligently made, but in vain.“Yet I gave her into your keeping, son of Ntelani. There has beentagatiherein, and some shall die.”“The will of the Great Great One is the delight of his children,” I replied. “Lo—now here are they who must answer for this business.”Now there came in sight across the plain the whole company of my people, surrounded by the spears of the warriors who custodied them. All, as they drew near, bent low before the King, shouting aloud theBayéte, and on every face was stamped varying stages of fear and dread.“Here has beentagatiat work,” said the King, after eyeing them in silence for a few moments. “I think, Untúswa, the women it was who had the care of Kwelanga?”“That is so, Black Elephant,” I answered.“There are thy three wives and two Bakoni slave-girls—five in all,” went on the King. “Five women, and they are not able to custody one little child! Ha! If a woman is unable to do this, of what use is she? Not to give us the aid of her counsels in war,” with a frown at Nangeza. “Clearly these are of no use at all. Away with them! The alligators are hungry!”But before the slayers could spring forward, my two younger wives flung themselves on the ground at the King’s feet.“Spare us, father!” they wailed.“She who is gone was more to me than my own children,” howled Fumana.“Our own children will die of grief for loss of her,” groaned Nxope.“Spare us, Great Great One, that we may never rest until she is found,” cried Fumana.“Notagatiis there among us two, Father—among us two,” screamed Nxope.“What mean you—witch? Ha, Nangeza,inkosikaziof Untúswa! Hast thou nothing to say, no tears for Kwelanga—for thine own life?”While the others had thus been bemoaning and praying for mercy, Nangeza was watching them with contempt in her eyes, which latter would flash into the most intense hate and menace as she met my glance. Now she answered:“I have much to say, if the King will hear it—ah, much to say;” and her glittering eyes sought my face in the triumph of their hate.“I think we have heard enough of this babble,” said Umzilikazi, with a bitter sneer; for he loved not women, deeming them, though in some ways necessary, yet of no account whatever, and only producing mischief if allowed to raise their voices at all. But even the Great Great One had reckoned without the length of Nangeza’s tongue. Hardily she went on:“There has beentagatiindeed; but not among us wives of Untúswa must such be sought. Ho, Untúswa! Where is the witch thou didst save alive from the slaughter of the Bakoni? Ha, ha, Untúswa, where is she?”Now,Nkose, my heart turned to water within me; for such a suspicion, once implanted in the King’s mind, would surely bear fruit sooner or later. And the offence was among the most deadly I could commit. But at the words, I laughed; threw back my head and laughed softly, while murmurs of amazement went up from those who heard.“Hear you the words of this woman, Untúswa?” said the King.“I hear them, Black Elephant.”“They are strange words, son of Ntelani. Hast thou no answer to make to them?”“Now, my Father, who am I that I should weary the ears of the Great Great One by crossing answers with a woman in his presence?” I cried.“That is well said,” muttered Umzilikazi. Then aloud, “So, woman, where doth she dwell, this witch whom Untúswa saved alive from the slaughter of the Bakoni?”“Upon the Mountain of Death, the mountain whereon her people were slain,” said Nangeza.“And how is she named?”“That I know not, O Elephant; but if Untúswa ever whispers her name in his sleep, it is Fumana or Nxope you should ask, O Calf of a Black Bull,” she said, in a tone full of meaning and of malice.Now I thought and thought how Nangeza could have obtained even that amount of knowledge of my secret. Could she have followed me, stealthily, the last journey I made to the Mountain of Death? It almost seemed so. Or had she set others on to watch me? Anyhow, I felt not over-certain of seeing many more suns set.“And is that all thou hast to say, wife of Untúswa?” said the King, softly, and putting his head on one side, as his manner was.“This, too, Father. For many nights past I have heard, as it were, a woman’s voice singing around our kraal. I doubt not it was the voice of this witch, and that she hath lured the little one into the forest, to devour her, as the way is with such evildoers. But it is Untúswa who has brought her about our ears to blight us with a curse.”“In truth, thou art an excellent wife—a very milch-cow of price,” said the King, mocking her. “In truth, it is worth a man’s while to throw away his life for such as thee. Thou art, indeed, worthy to be the chief wife of one of my best fighting-captains. Thou who wouldst seek to throw on to his shoulders the consequences of thine own neglect, and fill up our ears with such childish tales of witches singing around the gates! And thou, Untúswa, thou art happy, indeed, in the possession of such! Well, woman, such babble is of no avail. The alligators are hungry.”Theizimbongaraised a chorus of praise, and the frightened company of my people, seeing that only five of their number were to suffer, joined in. And now, bending low before the King, I craved a boon.“The wisdom of the King is great, and his justice is terrible,” I said. “But these, it is for these I would speak,” pointing to my younger wives.“Say on, Untúswa,” said the King.“Not for me is it to question the will of the Great Great One. But I would ask, Father, that these might be spared, at any rate, for a few days longer. It may yet be that Kwelanga is found, and then, my Father, what will she do, finding that those who took care of her are no more?”“Strange care have they taken of her, Untúswa,” replied Umzilikazi. “Hold! Whom have we here?”For over the plain a great multitude was advancing. As it drew nearer, we could make out that at some paces in front of it walked a woman. That she was tall and straight, and beautiful of build, we could see even from there. Nearer—nearer, she drew; advancing direct to where was seated the Great Great One. In silence the people parted to make way for her, and, not hesitating a moment, she paced up to the King, her head thrown slightly back, proud, stately of bearing, as though she were a queen. Then, halting, she bent down, yet not very low, and cried, “Bayéte!” And we who looked thought we had never beheld so fair and gracious a type of womanhood; while I, for my part—Whau Nkose! it seemed as though the end of all things was at hand, for she upon whom I now gazed—upon whom we all gazed—standing there before the King, was none other than Lalusini, the beautiful sorceress who had bewitched me with her love.

Now,Nkose, I am about to tell of the strange and momentous events that next befell; for upon reaching my home that night, which you will remember was at some little distance from the great kraal, I found my family and followers in a state of wild consternation and grief. The little white girl was lost!

She had not been wandering, not even playing outside with the other children. When last seen she was creeping through the door of the hut wherein she usually dwelt—that of Fumana, the youngest of my wives—and this hut she had never been seen to leave. When last seen it was shortly before the setting of the sun.

This was a matter to be turned inside-out, and that speedily, to which end I called up all those concerned, and questioned them one by one; the children who had last been with her, my wives, and the Bakoni slave-girls. But while my two younger wives were half-mad with grief—for they loved the little one—Nangeza only laughed evilly, saying that it could be but a small thing to a mighty chief like myself the loss of a wretched little whelp of the Amabuna: for thus she would often speak to anger me, knowing that I always held Kwelanga to be not of the Amabuna at all, but of a far greater race.

“So, woman!” I replied, pointing my stick at her menacingly, “it may be a small matter to myself, but it will be a weighty one for all here concerned, for did not the King give Kwelanga into our care? Ha! the alligators have been robbed of their food to-night—it may be that to-morrow they will be full.”

I could see fear upon the faces of those who heard my words; but again Nangeza laughed evilly. I was resolved now that the end of such doings had come. The morrow would show.

“Now to the search!” I cried. “The little one may have wandered abroad and have sunk down to sleep in the forest. She may not be far.”

“Perhaps yonder moves her bed,” said Nangeza, with her black laugh, as the wild howling of a hyena sounded very near. “While such are moving about it is little enough will be found of any child who has sunk down to sleep in the forest, and it has long been night.”

A murmur of approval greeted these words, for few among us liked to move about at night. And the voices of the hyenas and other beasts wailing dismally through the forest sounded as the ravenings of ghost animals scenting the blood of those who still lived as men. But for such considerations I cared little then. I gave my orders, and no man there but preferred to face the ghost animals to facing me having disobeyed them. So we set out, by twos and threes, on our search.

There was a half-moon low down in the heavens, and by its light we searched—ah, yes, how we searched! We hunted hither and thither like wild dogs questing a scent, beneath the dark shades of the forest trees, where the beasts would howl dismally across our path, and the rustle of huge serpents fleeing away in the brake would make our hearts leap—not knowing what evil beings of the night were abroad. We searched over the openness of the plain, and among the rugged rocks where we had found the whiteisanusi. We searched indeed far out beyond any distance such a little child could travel. But we searched in vain.

Not only through the night did we search, but well on into the next day. Sometimes our hearts would chill as we saw something white, like a skull or bones, lying away from us, but on drawing near it would prove to be a stone, or perchance the skull of a kid or a buck, devoured by wild animals. I sent runners to all the outlying kraals around us but these returned bearing no news, and at last so thoroughly had we searched that I was constrained to believe that it was as Nangeza had so evilly suggested—the little one had wandered away from the kraal, and, having lost herself, had been carried off or devoured by wild animals.

Now my own heart was sad and sore, for,Nkose, I loved this little creature, with the eyes of heaven and hair like the sun, whom I had saved from the spears of our young men, and who had come to look upon me as her father; and, indeed, she would sometimes place her tiny white hand upon my great dark one and laugh, and ask whether hers would grow black, too, when she became old. And now I should see her no more; hear her rippling, joyous laughter never again—ah,Nkose, my heart was very sore. But my younger wives, Nxope and Fumana, they made terrible moan, far more so than they would have made over child of their own blood.

It came about, however, that some there might have even greater reason to make moan, and that on behalf of themselves; for at day-dawn on the third morning after the disappearance of Kwelanga an armed force stood at the gate of my kraal, and in a loud voice summoned those within the huts to come forth in the King’s name.

Now, many of these, looking upon the armed men, felt themselves already dead, deeming that Umzilikazi had sent to “eat up” my kraal, by reason of the manner in which its trust had been fulfilled; nor was I myself for the moment at ease.

“Greeting, Ngubu!” I said. “What is the will of the Great Great One?”

“This, son of Ntelani,” answered the leader of the armed band, that same Ngubu who had headed the party in pursuit of me that time I had fled with Nangeza, and who was present when I slew Njalo-njalo; “this—that thou betakest thyself at all speed to the Black Elephant, who would confer with thee. That for thee. For these, they must go with us, every one, to the last man, woman, and child.”

“Whither, Ngubu?” I asked, troubled. “Into the Dark Unknown?”

“Not so, Untúswa. Into the presence of the King.”

They looked relieved at this I thought, though it might be but the lengthening out of their agony, for the assegais of the “eaters-up” are swifter than the teeth of the alligators. And so they started, hemmed in by the spears of the warriors, while I alone strode on in advance, by no means easy in my mind because of what was to befall, for some, assuredly, would look into darkness long before that night.

A little way outside the great kraal Kwa’zingwenya was a grassy mound, crested by two large and spreading trees, and from this the plain sloped away, smooth and open, to the brink of the cliff overhanging the Pool of the Alligators. Beneath the shade of these trees Umzilikazi was wont to sit sometimes throughout the whole day, hearing and settling disputes, talking over the affairs of the nation, or it might be reviewing one or two of the young regiments practising drill upon the open plain before him. Here now I found him.

“Well, Untúswa? And so there have beentagatidoings at your kraal?” he said, when I had saluted. “Where is Kwelanga?”

“Now are all our hearts sore, Black Elephant,” I answered, “for search has been diligently made, but in vain.

“Yet I gave her into your keeping, son of Ntelani. There has beentagatiherein, and some shall die.”

“The will of the Great Great One is the delight of his children,” I replied. “Lo—now here are they who must answer for this business.”

Now there came in sight across the plain the whole company of my people, surrounded by the spears of the warriors who custodied them. All, as they drew near, bent low before the King, shouting aloud theBayéte, and on every face was stamped varying stages of fear and dread.

“Here has beentagatiat work,” said the King, after eyeing them in silence for a few moments. “I think, Untúswa, the women it was who had the care of Kwelanga?”

“That is so, Black Elephant,” I answered.

“There are thy three wives and two Bakoni slave-girls—five in all,” went on the King. “Five women, and they are not able to custody one little child! Ha! If a woman is unable to do this, of what use is she? Not to give us the aid of her counsels in war,” with a frown at Nangeza. “Clearly these are of no use at all. Away with them! The alligators are hungry!”

But before the slayers could spring forward, my two younger wives flung themselves on the ground at the King’s feet.

“Spare us, father!” they wailed.

“She who is gone was more to me than my own children,” howled Fumana.

“Our own children will die of grief for loss of her,” groaned Nxope.

“Spare us, Great Great One, that we may never rest until she is found,” cried Fumana.

“Notagatiis there among us two, Father—among us two,” screamed Nxope.

“What mean you—witch? Ha, Nangeza,inkosikaziof Untúswa! Hast thou nothing to say, no tears for Kwelanga—for thine own life?”

While the others had thus been bemoaning and praying for mercy, Nangeza was watching them with contempt in her eyes, which latter would flash into the most intense hate and menace as she met my glance. Now she answered:

“I have much to say, if the King will hear it—ah, much to say;” and her glittering eyes sought my face in the triumph of their hate.

“I think we have heard enough of this babble,” said Umzilikazi, with a bitter sneer; for he loved not women, deeming them, though in some ways necessary, yet of no account whatever, and only producing mischief if allowed to raise their voices at all. But even the Great Great One had reckoned without the length of Nangeza’s tongue. Hardily she went on:

“There has beentagatiindeed; but not among us wives of Untúswa must such be sought. Ho, Untúswa! Where is the witch thou didst save alive from the slaughter of the Bakoni? Ha, ha, Untúswa, where is she?”

Now,Nkose, my heart turned to water within me; for such a suspicion, once implanted in the King’s mind, would surely bear fruit sooner or later. And the offence was among the most deadly I could commit. But at the words, I laughed; threw back my head and laughed softly, while murmurs of amazement went up from those who heard.

“Hear you the words of this woman, Untúswa?” said the King.

“I hear them, Black Elephant.”

“They are strange words, son of Ntelani. Hast thou no answer to make to them?”

“Now, my Father, who am I that I should weary the ears of the Great Great One by crossing answers with a woman in his presence?” I cried.

“That is well said,” muttered Umzilikazi. Then aloud, “So, woman, where doth she dwell, this witch whom Untúswa saved alive from the slaughter of the Bakoni?”

“Upon the Mountain of Death, the mountain whereon her people were slain,” said Nangeza.

“And how is she named?”

“That I know not, O Elephant; but if Untúswa ever whispers her name in his sleep, it is Fumana or Nxope you should ask, O Calf of a Black Bull,” she said, in a tone full of meaning and of malice.

Now I thought and thought how Nangeza could have obtained even that amount of knowledge of my secret. Could she have followed me, stealthily, the last journey I made to the Mountain of Death? It almost seemed so. Or had she set others on to watch me? Anyhow, I felt not over-certain of seeing many more suns set.

“And is that all thou hast to say, wife of Untúswa?” said the King, softly, and putting his head on one side, as his manner was.

“This, too, Father. For many nights past I have heard, as it were, a woman’s voice singing around our kraal. I doubt not it was the voice of this witch, and that she hath lured the little one into the forest, to devour her, as the way is with such evildoers. But it is Untúswa who has brought her about our ears to blight us with a curse.”

“In truth, thou art an excellent wife—a very milch-cow of price,” said the King, mocking her. “In truth, it is worth a man’s while to throw away his life for such as thee. Thou art, indeed, worthy to be the chief wife of one of my best fighting-captains. Thou who wouldst seek to throw on to his shoulders the consequences of thine own neglect, and fill up our ears with such childish tales of witches singing around the gates! And thou, Untúswa, thou art happy, indeed, in the possession of such! Well, woman, such babble is of no avail. The alligators are hungry.”

Theizimbongaraised a chorus of praise, and the frightened company of my people, seeing that only five of their number were to suffer, joined in. And now, bending low before the King, I craved a boon.

“The wisdom of the King is great, and his justice is terrible,” I said. “But these, it is for these I would speak,” pointing to my younger wives.

“Say on, Untúswa,” said the King.

“Not for me is it to question the will of the Great Great One. But I would ask, Father, that these might be spared, at any rate, for a few days longer. It may yet be that Kwelanga is found, and then, my Father, what will she do, finding that those who took care of her are no more?”

“Strange care have they taken of her, Untúswa,” replied Umzilikazi. “Hold! Whom have we here?”

For over the plain a great multitude was advancing. As it drew nearer, we could make out that at some paces in front of it walked a woman. That she was tall and straight, and beautiful of build, we could see even from there. Nearer—nearer, she drew; advancing direct to where was seated the Great Great One. In silence the people parted to make way for her, and, not hesitating a moment, she paced up to the King, her head thrown slightly back, proud, stately of bearing, as though she were a queen. Then, halting, she bent down, yet not very low, and cried, “Bayéte!” And we who looked thought we had never beheld so fair and gracious a type of womanhood; while I, for my part—Whau Nkose! it seemed as though the end of all things was at hand, for she upon whom I now gazed—upon whom we all gazed—standing there before the King, was none other than Lalusini, the beautiful sorceress who had bewitched me with her love.

Chapter Eighteen.In Dark Warning.There she stood—she on whom my thoughts had dwelt day and night—she for whom I had sought so carefully and yet so fruitlessly—she whom I had never expected to behold again. There she stood, and as quick murmurs of amazement, of admiration, went up from all who beheld, her eyes swept around our circle and rested upon my face—yet hardly rested—for in them there was no brightening, no recognition. She looked at me as she looked at the others—as though she had never seen me before.Now I remembered Masuka’s strange, dark, prophecy—how that the “she-eagle” should return, but that then the alligators should be fed. The King would remember the name as spoken by Tauane—and that, coupled with Nangeza’s accusation, ah—good night! Well, I cared not. I, like others, leaned eagerly forward as I crouched, straining my eyes to gaze upon the beauty of the sorceress. Yet even then, while her glance was not directly meeting mine, I seemed to read in her eyes an unspoken, yet none the less vividly-flashed, message—even as I had read the glance of old Masuka that dreadful day upon which I stood between the King’s assegai and doom. And the language I read in this glance was—“Caution!”She was attired in the short, apron-like girdle of the Bakoni, ornamented with rich bead-work, and a light mantle of dressed fawn-skin similarly adorned hung from one shoulder. As when I saw her first, she wore upon her arms and neck bands of solid gold, after the manner of the richer of the Bakoni, and her hair was gathered up from the scalp into a high cone as the Zulu women wear it.“Who art thou, my sister?” said the King, not choosing to show the astonishment which even he felt.“I am of the Bakoni, Great Great One. I am called Lalusini,” she answered in purest Zulu.“Of the Bakoni? Lalusini?Hau! That is no name ever brought forth of the twisted tongues of those chattering dogs. It is a full ripe Zulu name, born of the race of the Heavens,” returned the King. “Say now, Lalusini. What wert thou among the Bakoni dogs whom we have stamped flat? A prisoner?”“Yea and nay, Black Black One. I was the Queen of theirmúti.”“Ha! Yet another magician! It seems that all the magicians in the world find their way, or are brought here: first old Masuka, then the white man—now this one,” said Umzilikazi. “Ha, Untúswa—thou magician-finder! How is it thou didst not find this one—thou who didst find the rest?”I only made murmur, for I guessed that the King was mocking me. And the moment was in truth a trial as he went on—“Say now, Queen of the Bakonimúti. How didst thou escape death or capture when my children stamped flat thy people?”“By the name thou spakest just now, Black Elephant—Queen of the Bakonimúti, Now of what use ismútiif it fails in the day of necessity?”“Thy story I will yet hear,” answered the King. “Now say, Lalusini, knowest thou Untúswa?”“Untúswa? I seem to have heard that name. Surely it was that of the King’s messenger, who with only one young man, and he unringed, did hold the Bakoni in defiance like a lion at bay.”“And thou hast not beheld him since that day?”“I think not, Great Great One—and that day only from afar did I behold him. Nay I saw him once at the council, and then nearer. He was a tall man, who carried a very large spear.”“Look around, my sister, and tell me if he is here to-day,” said the King.Lalusini looked first among such groups of warriors as were mustered around. Then she stepped over to the assemblage ofizindunaamong whom I sat, and looked long and earnestly. Umzilikazi, meanwhile, was watching her narrowly.“I think that is the King’s messenger,” she said, gazing into my face. “He has the look of such a warrior as that one was.”But before anything more could be said Nangeza sprang forward, and her eyes were glittering with hate, and in her voice was a snarl as that of a wild beast.“She is the witch whom Untúswa saved from the slaughter, reserving her for himself. Look, O King! Now they pretend not to know each other,” shrieked Nangeza, darting her hand furiously forth as though it contained a weapon.Now,Nkose, it was a dreadful moment for me, for at first there was dead silence. All were too amazed even to exclaim. I merely uttered a disdainful click, shaking my head. But Lalusini—she turned towards Nangeza, glanced her up and down, and laughed—laughed softly, musically. Then, waving her hands into the air, she began to sing, and the words were in the tongue of the Bakoni, which none there present understood. Yet her voice was musical and sweet, and in it there thrilled a mystery. All watched in silence as she moved her hands and feet to the measure of her chant. Since I understood this tongue,Nkose, I listened as though a great serpent were tightening its coils more and more around me, for her words were dark and full of a strange and terrifying mystery. Her song ceased.“What dost thou seek here now, my sister?” softly said the King, for even he could not refuse to acknowledge the influence of her charm. “Is it to makemútiamong thine own people, having had enough of the Bakoni dogs whom we have eaten up?”“I think there are enough who make suchmútihere, Black Elephant,” she answered. “Not for this have I come. I am here to save the Father of a new nation.”“Hau!” we gasped, stricken well-nigh dumb, for the words were spoken slow and sad, and with weighty warning. None doubted but that they applied to a near attack on the part of our most to be dreaded enemies, and at once all men’s minds flew to theimpisof Dingane advancing upon us in force—or, perhaps, the Amabuna, or even both in concert. Dismay was on every face, for we liked not to be thus taken by surprise. But upon that of Umzilikazi was a frown of terrible import, which meant badly for those from whose quarter the foe should first appear, they having failed to report it.“Thy words are dark indeed,” he said. “Explain, sorceress, for time does not wait.”But Lalusini, for reply, only returned a swift, silent glance. Then once more she burst into song, again in the Bakoni tongue. Her head was thrown back, and she seemed to be gazing at some momentous object invisible to us. She seemed to lose herself, to utterly forget our presence, as her voice rose wild and sweet and clear. Yes, indeed, there was a mystery in her song, and it seemed to me that the words had a very certain meaning; also that, all the while standing facing me as she was, her glance betimes met mine quickly, as in a flash, and with a purpose. It was, I felt, in her mind that I should mark her words and weigh them well. Thus they ran:—“The Lion sinksTo the serpent’s fang;The eagle dropsTo the bowstring’s twang.“Great is small;Little is great;Great ones fallWhen the mean deal fate.“The serpent’s coilHides the fangs of death;A coil of blueVeils the serpent’s breath.“See the White Bull’s prideO’er the Black Bull wave;Now, the White Bull’s hideMay the Black Bull save.”Whau, Nkose! Then was amazement my master—I its slave! The “coil of blue!” Such a blue-beaded girdle was that of Nangeza’s skirt, beside which she wore little else when summoned before the King. Upon this my eyes fixed themselves, only, however, to follow once more the meaning glance of Lalusini. And the King sat wondering, yet not understanding themútisong. And above his head, waving softly to and fro in the hand of its bearer, rose aloft the royal white shield. It was as the buzzing of bees within my ears that I heard the voice of the Great Great One.“I have a mind to end thisindaba,” he was saying. “Thou, Nangeza, hast a pestilent tongue and an evil heart; wherefore my servant Untúswa must seek a new wife, forthy place among us shall be empty. Take her hence. The alligators are hungry.”“So, too, is Death, thou fool who art King!” yelled Nangeza. I saw her hand swift at her girdle. Something flashed through the air. It struck—struck hard and quivering—into the great white shield, which, quick as the movement, as the flash itself, I had snatched from the shield-bearer, and whirled down so as to cover the person of the King. It was one of those short, javelin-shaped arrows, such as were used by the mountain tribes, and sometimes among the Bakoni. And the point thereof was green and sticky with the most deadly of poisons.That was a scene—the wild, quavering gasp of horror that went up from all who beheld! Nangeza, yelling, and biting like a wild beast, in the grasp of those who had seized her; myself, immovable as a stone, still holding the shield with the poisoned dart sticking through it—exactly as I flung it between the Great Great One and certain death. And the only two who were completely unconcerned were Lalusini and the King himself.“Whau!” cried Umzilikazi, having taken a pinch of snuff. “I think that would have made me sneeze, Untúswa. See, the point was coming straight for my face, and it was flung hard—flung hard! Yet thou hast saved me from such a scratch, Untúswa—and it was well! Strange, too, that thou shouldst have been the one to do it, seeing that she was thineinkosikazi!”There was suspicion in the tone—deadly suspicion—as the King sat looking at me with half-closed eyes, speaking softly withal.“It is not strange, Father, seeing that I was the one who alone understood the Bakoni witch-song,” I replied.“Ha! And what said that?”“‘A coil of blue veils the serpent’s breath.’ Also, ‘Now the White Bull’s hide may the Black Bull save.’ And, indeed, was it not so, Black Bull, Whose horns gore not merely, but kill?” I said.“This, then, was the warning thou wouldst have conveyed, thou strange sorceress,” said the King, pausing a moment, while shouts of amazement and ofkonzawent up from all. “Verily, thymútiis great. But of this witch first. The alligators are hungry; but their teeth are not sharp enough for such royal prey as this. The stake of impalement is a still sharper tooth. Away with her! Yet for the alligators we will find some meat. It seems that Untúswa’s wives are of a bad disposition—at any rate, after dwelling side by side with yonder witch, they will have drunk in some of her evil mind. Let them, therefore, be taken to the alligators.”Now,Nkose, my heart was sad, for I loved my two younger wives, who were ever laughing and pleasant, and needed not to be told twice to do a thing. But these, as the slayers sprang forward to drag them forth to the terrible pool of death, flung themselves on the ground weeping.“Spare us, Father!” howled Fumana. “She who has done evil is nothing to us.”“We only live by the light of the King’s presence,” groaned Nxope.“Spare us, Great Great One!” wept Fumana.“We are only weak women, and fear the dreadful death, O Elephant who art strong!” screamed Nxope.“Peace, witches!” said the King. “Well, Untúswa! And thou! What hast thou to say? Do not these deserve to die?”That was something of a question,Nkose; and one which it might cost a man his life to hesitate in answering. For did I not at once agree, after what had happened, the people would howl for my death, as being privy to the bold attempt upon the King’s life, just made by my chief wife; and I suspected the question was put to try me. Yet I was fond of these two women, who had always done well by me; nor did I ever err on the side of timidity in those days. So I made answer—“I think these two are innocent of the other’s evil-doing, Great Great One. The wisdom of the King is great, and his justice is terrible. Yet I would crave the boon of their lives; for I have never known them do or think harm. So, too, shall I be left without wives at all, if these are taken from me.”“New wives shall be found for thee, Untúswa—and better than the old ones,” answered Umzilikazi, half in mockery. “Ha! I think thou keepest thy wives too long.Whau! A bowl oftywala, when fresh, is needful and pleasant; but if kept too long, it grows sour and unwholesome, even harmful, and is only fit to be thrown away. So it is with a woman. But thou, sister, whosemútiis great enough to discover serpent’s fangs beneath a witch’s girdle—what sayest thou? Is it well that these two should live?”I looked at Lalusini and saw that her eyes were full of pity for these two horribly frightened women crouching there before the King, and then I knew that her heart was not dark and fierce as that of Nangeza, else had they certainly been dead.“I think it well they should live, Great Great One, for they are innocent of the other’s ill-doing,” she answered.“Ha! sayest thou so? Well, I give ye your lives, ye two. Begone! For the other, it seems that the stake is long in making ready.”This dreadful form of death, remember, being seldom used amongst us, some time must elapse while its instrument was preparing. Meanwhile, all crying aloud in praise of the King’s mercy and justice, Nangeza seized the opportunity of wrenching herself from the grasp of those who held her, and before any could stay her—so lithe and active was she—she was darting across the plain in leaps and bounds, fleeing with the speed of a buck.“To the alligators!” she cried, laughing wildly. “The alligators are hungry. They must be fed! They must be fed!”The ground was open, the way but short. Before any could come up with her she had gained the brink of the cliff overhanging the pool. She turned and stood facing us, and there, in sight of all, shrieked out a last curse upon the King, upon me, and upon the whole nation; then, just as the foremost of the pursuers sprang to seize her, she flung herself backward from the brink. There was a loud splash, but no cry, and they who hurried to look declared that the water was lashed into a red-and-white foam, as the ravenous monsters rushed upon their prey, rending it limb from limb in a moment; and, indeed, though this is a hideous death enough, it is but a mere passing pang when compared with the black, lingering agony of the stake of impalement.Thus died Nangeza, myinkosikazi, she whom I had stolen from theisigodhloin times past, and in doing so had thrust my head deep within the red jaws of death. Now she died thus, brave, fierce, defiant to the last; and,Nkose—I think it was about time she did.

There she stood—she on whom my thoughts had dwelt day and night—she for whom I had sought so carefully and yet so fruitlessly—she whom I had never expected to behold again. There she stood, and as quick murmurs of amazement, of admiration, went up from all who beheld, her eyes swept around our circle and rested upon my face—yet hardly rested—for in them there was no brightening, no recognition. She looked at me as she looked at the others—as though she had never seen me before.

Now I remembered Masuka’s strange, dark, prophecy—how that the “she-eagle” should return, but that then the alligators should be fed. The King would remember the name as spoken by Tauane—and that, coupled with Nangeza’s accusation, ah—good night! Well, I cared not. I, like others, leaned eagerly forward as I crouched, straining my eyes to gaze upon the beauty of the sorceress. Yet even then, while her glance was not directly meeting mine, I seemed to read in her eyes an unspoken, yet none the less vividly-flashed, message—even as I had read the glance of old Masuka that dreadful day upon which I stood between the King’s assegai and doom. And the language I read in this glance was—“Caution!”

She was attired in the short, apron-like girdle of the Bakoni, ornamented with rich bead-work, and a light mantle of dressed fawn-skin similarly adorned hung from one shoulder. As when I saw her first, she wore upon her arms and neck bands of solid gold, after the manner of the richer of the Bakoni, and her hair was gathered up from the scalp into a high cone as the Zulu women wear it.

“Who art thou, my sister?” said the King, not choosing to show the astonishment which even he felt.

“I am of the Bakoni, Great Great One. I am called Lalusini,” she answered in purest Zulu.

“Of the Bakoni? Lalusini?Hau! That is no name ever brought forth of the twisted tongues of those chattering dogs. It is a full ripe Zulu name, born of the race of the Heavens,” returned the King. “Say now, Lalusini. What wert thou among the Bakoni dogs whom we have stamped flat? A prisoner?”

“Yea and nay, Black Black One. I was the Queen of theirmúti.”

“Ha! Yet another magician! It seems that all the magicians in the world find their way, or are brought here: first old Masuka, then the white man—now this one,” said Umzilikazi. “Ha, Untúswa—thou magician-finder! How is it thou didst not find this one—thou who didst find the rest?”

I only made murmur, for I guessed that the King was mocking me. And the moment was in truth a trial as he went on—

“Say now, Queen of the Bakonimúti. How didst thou escape death or capture when my children stamped flat thy people?”

“By the name thou spakest just now, Black Elephant—Queen of the Bakonimúti, Now of what use ismútiif it fails in the day of necessity?”

“Thy story I will yet hear,” answered the King. “Now say, Lalusini, knowest thou Untúswa?”

“Untúswa? I seem to have heard that name. Surely it was that of the King’s messenger, who with only one young man, and he unringed, did hold the Bakoni in defiance like a lion at bay.”

“And thou hast not beheld him since that day?”

“I think not, Great Great One—and that day only from afar did I behold him. Nay I saw him once at the council, and then nearer. He was a tall man, who carried a very large spear.”

“Look around, my sister, and tell me if he is here to-day,” said the King.

Lalusini looked first among such groups of warriors as were mustered around. Then she stepped over to the assemblage ofizindunaamong whom I sat, and looked long and earnestly. Umzilikazi, meanwhile, was watching her narrowly.

“I think that is the King’s messenger,” she said, gazing into my face. “He has the look of such a warrior as that one was.”

But before anything more could be said Nangeza sprang forward, and her eyes were glittering with hate, and in her voice was a snarl as that of a wild beast.

“She is the witch whom Untúswa saved from the slaughter, reserving her for himself. Look, O King! Now they pretend not to know each other,” shrieked Nangeza, darting her hand furiously forth as though it contained a weapon.

Now,Nkose, it was a dreadful moment for me, for at first there was dead silence. All were too amazed even to exclaim. I merely uttered a disdainful click, shaking my head. But Lalusini—she turned towards Nangeza, glanced her up and down, and laughed—laughed softly, musically. Then, waving her hands into the air, she began to sing, and the words were in the tongue of the Bakoni, which none there present understood. Yet her voice was musical and sweet, and in it there thrilled a mystery. All watched in silence as she moved her hands and feet to the measure of her chant. Since I understood this tongue,Nkose, I listened as though a great serpent were tightening its coils more and more around me, for her words were dark and full of a strange and terrifying mystery. Her song ceased.

“What dost thou seek here now, my sister?” softly said the King, for even he could not refuse to acknowledge the influence of her charm. “Is it to makemútiamong thine own people, having had enough of the Bakoni dogs whom we have eaten up?”

“I think there are enough who make suchmútihere, Black Elephant,” she answered. “Not for this have I come. I am here to save the Father of a new nation.”

“Hau!” we gasped, stricken well-nigh dumb, for the words were spoken slow and sad, and with weighty warning. None doubted but that they applied to a near attack on the part of our most to be dreaded enemies, and at once all men’s minds flew to theimpisof Dingane advancing upon us in force—or, perhaps, the Amabuna, or even both in concert. Dismay was on every face, for we liked not to be thus taken by surprise. But upon that of Umzilikazi was a frown of terrible import, which meant badly for those from whose quarter the foe should first appear, they having failed to report it.

“Thy words are dark indeed,” he said. “Explain, sorceress, for time does not wait.”

But Lalusini, for reply, only returned a swift, silent glance. Then once more she burst into song, again in the Bakoni tongue. Her head was thrown back, and she seemed to be gazing at some momentous object invisible to us. She seemed to lose herself, to utterly forget our presence, as her voice rose wild and sweet and clear. Yes, indeed, there was a mystery in her song, and it seemed to me that the words had a very certain meaning; also that, all the while standing facing me as she was, her glance betimes met mine quickly, as in a flash, and with a purpose. It was, I felt, in her mind that I should mark her words and weigh them well. Thus they ran:—

“The Lion sinksTo the serpent’s fang;The eagle dropsTo the bowstring’s twang.“Great is small;Little is great;Great ones fallWhen the mean deal fate.“The serpent’s coilHides the fangs of death;A coil of blueVeils the serpent’s breath.“See the White Bull’s prideO’er the Black Bull wave;Now, the White Bull’s hideMay the Black Bull save.”

“The Lion sinksTo the serpent’s fang;The eagle dropsTo the bowstring’s twang.“Great is small;Little is great;Great ones fallWhen the mean deal fate.“The serpent’s coilHides the fangs of death;A coil of blueVeils the serpent’s breath.“See the White Bull’s prideO’er the Black Bull wave;Now, the White Bull’s hideMay the Black Bull save.”

Whau, Nkose! Then was amazement my master—I its slave! The “coil of blue!” Such a blue-beaded girdle was that of Nangeza’s skirt, beside which she wore little else when summoned before the King. Upon this my eyes fixed themselves, only, however, to follow once more the meaning glance of Lalusini. And the King sat wondering, yet not understanding themútisong. And above his head, waving softly to and fro in the hand of its bearer, rose aloft the royal white shield. It was as the buzzing of bees within my ears that I heard the voice of the Great Great One.

“I have a mind to end thisindaba,” he was saying. “Thou, Nangeza, hast a pestilent tongue and an evil heart; wherefore my servant Untúswa must seek a new wife, forthy place among us shall be empty. Take her hence. The alligators are hungry.”

“So, too, is Death, thou fool who art King!” yelled Nangeza. I saw her hand swift at her girdle. Something flashed through the air. It struck—struck hard and quivering—into the great white shield, which, quick as the movement, as the flash itself, I had snatched from the shield-bearer, and whirled down so as to cover the person of the King. It was one of those short, javelin-shaped arrows, such as were used by the mountain tribes, and sometimes among the Bakoni. And the point thereof was green and sticky with the most deadly of poisons.

That was a scene—the wild, quavering gasp of horror that went up from all who beheld! Nangeza, yelling, and biting like a wild beast, in the grasp of those who had seized her; myself, immovable as a stone, still holding the shield with the poisoned dart sticking through it—exactly as I flung it between the Great Great One and certain death. And the only two who were completely unconcerned were Lalusini and the King himself.

“Whau!” cried Umzilikazi, having taken a pinch of snuff. “I think that would have made me sneeze, Untúswa. See, the point was coming straight for my face, and it was flung hard—flung hard! Yet thou hast saved me from such a scratch, Untúswa—and it was well! Strange, too, that thou shouldst have been the one to do it, seeing that she was thineinkosikazi!”

There was suspicion in the tone—deadly suspicion—as the King sat looking at me with half-closed eyes, speaking softly withal.

“It is not strange, Father, seeing that I was the one who alone understood the Bakoni witch-song,” I replied.

“Ha! And what said that?”

“‘A coil of blue veils the serpent’s breath.’ Also, ‘Now the White Bull’s hide may the Black Bull save.’ And, indeed, was it not so, Black Bull, Whose horns gore not merely, but kill?” I said.

“This, then, was the warning thou wouldst have conveyed, thou strange sorceress,” said the King, pausing a moment, while shouts of amazement and ofkonzawent up from all. “Verily, thymútiis great. But of this witch first. The alligators are hungry; but their teeth are not sharp enough for such royal prey as this. The stake of impalement is a still sharper tooth. Away with her! Yet for the alligators we will find some meat. It seems that Untúswa’s wives are of a bad disposition—at any rate, after dwelling side by side with yonder witch, they will have drunk in some of her evil mind. Let them, therefore, be taken to the alligators.”

Now,Nkose, my heart was sad, for I loved my two younger wives, who were ever laughing and pleasant, and needed not to be told twice to do a thing. But these, as the slayers sprang forward to drag them forth to the terrible pool of death, flung themselves on the ground weeping.

“Spare us, Father!” howled Fumana. “She who has done evil is nothing to us.”

“We only live by the light of the King’s presence,” groaned Nxope.

“Spare us, Great Great One!” wept Fumana.

“We are only weak women, and fear the dreadful death, O Elephant who art strong!” screamed Nxope.

“Peace, witches!” said the King. “Well, Untúswa! And thou! What hast thou to say? Do not these deserve to die?”

That was something of a question,Nkose; and one which it might cost a man his life to hesitate in answering. For did I not at once agree, after what had happened, the people would howl for my death, as being privy to the bold attempt upon the King’s life, just made by my chief wife; and I suspected the question was put to try me. Yet I was fond of these two women, who had always done well by me; nor did I ever err on the side of timidity in those days. So I made answer—

“I think these two are innocent of the other’s evil-doing, Great Great One. The wisdom of the King is great, and his justice is terrible. Yet I would crave the boon of their lives; for I have never known them do or think harm. So, too, shall I be left without wives at all, if these are taken from me.”

“New wives shall be found for thee, Untúswa—and better than the old ones,” answered Umzilikazi, half in mockery. “Ha! I think thou keepest thy wives too long.Whau! A bowl oftywala, when fresh, is needful and pleasant; but if kept too long, it grows sour and unwholesome, even harmful, and is only fit to be thrown away. So it is with a woman. But thou, sister, whosemútiis great enough to discover serpent’s fangs beneath a witch’s girdle—what sayest thou? Is it well that these two should live?”

I looked at Lalusini and saw that her eyes were full of pity for these two horribly frightened women crouching there before the King, and then I knew that her heart was not dark and fierce as that of Nangeza, else had they certainly been dead.

“I think it well they should live, Great Great One, for they are innocent of the other’s ill-doing,” she answered.

“Ha! sayest thou so? Well, I give ye your lives, ye two. Begone! For the other, it seems that the stake is long in making ready.”

This dreadful form of death, remember, being seldom used amongst us, some time must elapse while its instrument was preparing. Meanwhile, all crying aloud in praise of the King’s mercy and justice, Nangeza seized the opportunity of wrenching herself from the grasp of those who held her, and before any could stay her—so lithe and active was she—she was darting across the plain in leaps and bounds, fleeing with the speed of a buck.

“To the alligators!” she cried, laughing wildly. “The alligators are hungry. They must be fed! They must be fed!”

The ground was open, the way but short. Before any could come up with her she had gained the brink of the cliff overhanging the pool. She turned and stood facing us, and there, in sight of all, shrieked out a last curse upon the King, upon me, and upon the whole nation; then, just as the foremost of the pursuers sprang to seize her, she flung herself backward from the brink. There was a loud splash, but no cry, and they who hurried to look declared that the water was lashed into a red-and-white foam, as the ravenous monsters rushed upon their prey, rending it limb from limb in a moment; and, indeed, though this is a hideous death enough, it is but a mere passing pang when compared with the black, lingering agony of the stake of impalement.

Thus died Nangeza, myinkosikazi, she whom I had stolen from theisigodhloin times past, and in doing so had thrust my head deep within the red jaws of death. Now she died thus, brave, fierce, defiant to the last; and,Nkose—I think it was about time she did.

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