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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1207 ***
+
+Nada the Lily
+
+by H. Rider Haggard
+
+
+Contents
+
+ DEDICATION
+ PREFACE
+ NADA THE LILY
+ INTRODUCTION
+
+ CHAPTER I. THE BOY CHAKA PROPHESIES
+ CHAPTER II. MOPO IS IN TROUBLE
+ CHAPTER III. MOPO VENTURES HOME
+ CHAPTER IV. THE FLIGHT OF MOPO AND BALEKA
+ CHAPTER V. MOPO BECOMES THE KING’S DOCTOR
+ CHAPTER VI.  THE BIRTH OF UMSLOPOGAAS
+ CHAPTER VII. UMSLOPOGAAS ANSWERS THE KING
+ CHAPTER VIII. THE GREAT INGOMBOCO
+ CHAPTER IX. THE LOSS OF UMSLOPOGAAS
+ CHAPTER X. THE TRIAL OF MOPO
+ CHAPTER XI. THE COUNSEL OF BALEKA
+ CHAPTER XII. THE TALE OF GALAZI THE WOLF
+ CHAPTER XIII. GALAZI BECOMES KING OF THE WOLVES
+ CHAPTER XIV. THE WOLF-BRETHREN
+ CHAPTER XV. THE DEATH OF THE KING’S SLAYERS
+ CHAPTER XVI. UMSLOPOGAAS VENTURES OUT TO WIN THE AXE
+ CHAPTER XVII. UMSLOPOGAAS BECOMES CHIEF OF THE PEOPLE OF THE AXE
+ CHAPTER XVIII.  THE CURSE OF BALEKA
+ CHAPTER XIX. MASILO COMES TO THE KRAAL DUGUZA
+ CHAPTER XX. MOPO BARGAINS WITH THE PRINCES
+ CHAPTER XXI. THE DEATH OF CHAKA
+ CHAPTER XXII. MOPO GOES TO SEEK THE SLAUGHTERER
+ CHAPTER XXIII. MOPO REVEALS HIMSELF TO THE SLAUGHTERER
+ CHAPTER XXIV. THE SLAYING OF THE BOERS
+ CHAPTER XXV. THE WAR WITH THE HALAKAZI PEOPLE
+ CHAPTER XXVI. THE FINDING OF NADA
+ CHAPTER XXVII. THE STAMPING OF THE FIRE
+ CHAPTER XXVIII. THE LILY IS BROUGHT TO DINGAAN
+ CHAPTER XXIX. MOPO TELLS HIS TALE
+ CHAPTER XXX. THE COMING OF NADA
+ CHAPTER XXXI. THE WAR OF THE WOMEN
+ CHAPTER XXXII. ZINITA COMES TO THE KING 
+ CHAPTER XXXIII. THE END OF THE PEOPLE, BLACK AND GREY
+ CHAPTER XXXIV. THE LILY’S FAREWELL
+ CHAPTER XXXV. THE VENGEANCE OF MOPO AND HIS FOSTERLING
+ CHAPTER XXXVI. MOPO ENDS HIS TALE
+
+
+
+
+DEDICATION
+
+
+Sompseu:
+
+For I will call you by the name that for fifty years has been honoured
+by every tribe between Zambesi and Cape Agulbas,—I greet you!
+
+Sompseu, my father, I have written a book that tells of men and matters
+of which you know the most of any who still look upon the light;
+therefore, I set your name within that book and, such as it is, I offer
+it to you.
+
+If you knew not Chaka, you and he have seen the same suns shine, you
+knew his brother Panda and his captains, and perhaps even that very
+Mopo who tells this tale, his servant, who slew him with the Princes.
+You have seen the circle of the witch-doctors and the unconquerable
+Zulu impis rushing to war; you have crowned their kings and shared
+their counsels, and with your son’s blood you have expiated a
+statesman’s error and a general’s fault.
+
+Sompseu, a song has been sung in my ears of how first you mastered this
+people of the Zulu. Is it not true, my father, that for long hours you
+sat silent and alone, while three thousand warriors shouted for your
+life? And when they grew weary, did you not stand and say, pointing
+towards the ocean: “Kill me if you wish, men of Cetywayo, but I tell
+you that for every drop of my blood a hundred avengers shall rise from
+yonder sea!”
+
+Then, so it was told me, the regiments turned staring towards the Black
+Water, as though the day of Ulundi had already come and they saw the
+white slayers creeping across the plains.
+
+Thus, Sompseu, your name became great among the people of the Zulu, as
+already it was great among many another tribe, and their nobles did you
+homage, and they gave you the _Bayéte_, the royal salute, declaring by
+the mouth of their Council that in you dwelt the spirit of Chaka.
+
+Many years have gone by since then, and now you are old, my father. It
+is many years even since I was a boy, and followed you when you went up
+among the Boers and took their country for the Queen.
+
+Why did you do this, my father? I will answer, who know the truth. You
+did it because, had it not been done, the Zulus would have stamped out
+the Boers. Were not Cetywayo’s impis gathered against the land, and was
+it not because it became the Queen’s land that at your word he sent
+them murmuring to their kraals?[1] To save bloodshed you annexed the
+country beyond the Vaal. Perhaps it had been better to leave it, since
+“Death chooses for himself,” and after all there was killing—of our own
+people, and with the killing, shame. But in those days we did not guess
+what we should live to see, and of Majuba we thought only as a little
+hill!
+
+Enemies have borne false witness against you on this matter, Sompseu,
+you who never erred except through over kindness. Yet what does that
+avail? When you have “gone beyond” it will be forgotten, since the
+sting of ingratitude passes and lies must wither like the winter veldt.
+Only your name will not be forgotten; as it was heard in life so it
+shall be heard in story, and I pray that, however humbly, mine may pass
+down with it. Chance has taken me by another path, and I must leave the
+ways of action that I love and bury myself in books, but the old days
+and friends are in my mind, nor while I have memory shall I forget them
+and you.
+
+Therefore, though it be for the last time, from far across the seas I
+speak to you, and lifting my hand I give your “Sibonga”[2] and that
+royal salute, to which, now that its kings are gone and the “People of
+Heaven” are no more a nation, with Her Majesty you are alone entitled:—
+
+_Bayéte!_ Baba, Nkosi ya makosi!
+Ngonyama! Indhlovu ai pendulwa!
+Wen’ o wa vela wasi pata!
+Wen’ o wa hlul’ izizwe zonke za patwa nguive!
+Wa geina nge la Mabun’ o wa ba hlul’ u yedwa!
+Umsizi we zintandane e ziblupekayo!
+Si ya kuleka Baba!
+_Bayéte_, T’ Sompseu![3]
+
+and farewell!
+
+H. RIDER HAGGARD.
+
+To Sir Theophilus Shepstone, K.C.M.G., Natal.
+13 _September_, 1891.
+
+ [1] “I thank my father Sompseu for his message. I am glad that he has
+ sent it, because the Dutch have tired me out, and I intended to fight
+ them once and once only, and to drive them over the Vaal. Kabana, you
+ see my impis are gathered. It was to fight the Dutch I called them
+ together; now I send them back to their homes.” —Message from Cetywayo
+ to Sir. T. Shepstone, April, 1877.
+
+ [2] Titles of praise.
+
+ [3] _Bayéte_, Father, Chief of Chiefs!
+Lion! Elephant that is not turned!
+You who nursed us from of old!
+You who overshadowed all peoples and took charge of them,
+And ended by mastering the Boers with your single strength!
+Help of the fatherless when in trouble!
+Salutation to you, Father!
+_Bayéte_, O Sompseu!
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+The writer of this romance has been encouraged to his task by a purpose
+somewhat beyond that of setting out a wild tale of savage life. When he
+was yet a lad,—now some seventeen years ago,—fortune took him to South
+Africa. There he was thrown in with men who, for thirty or forty years,
+had been intimately acquainted with the Zulu people, with their
+history, their heroes, and their customs. From these he heard many
+tales and traditions, some of which, perhaps, are rarely told nowadays,
+and in time to come may cease to be told altogether. Then the Zulus
+were still a nation; now that nation has been destroyed, and the chief
+aim of its white rulers is to root out the warlike spirit for which it
+was remarkable, and to replace it by a spirit of peaceful progress. The
+Zulu military organisation, perhaps the most wonderful that the world
+has seen, is already a thing of the past; it perished at Ulundi. It was
+Chaka who invented that organisation, building it up from the smallest
+beginnings. When he appeared at the commencement of this century, it
+was as the ruler of a single small tribe; when he fell, in the year
+1828, beneath the assegais of his brothers, Umhlangana and Dingaan, and
+of his servant, Mopo or Umbopo, as he is called also, all south-eastern
+Africa was at his feet, and in his march to power he had slaughtered
+more than a million human beings. An attempt has been made in these
+pages to set out the true character of this colossal genius and most
+evil man,—a Napoleon and a Tiberius in one,—and also that of his
+brother and successor, Dingaan, so no more need be said of them here.
+The author’s aim, moreover, has been to convey, in a narrative form,
+some idea of the remarkable spirit which animated these kings and their
+subjects, and to make accessible, in a popular shape, incidents of
+history which are now, for the most part, only to be found in a few
+scarce works of reference, rarely consulted, except by students. It
+will be obvious that such a task has presented difficulties, since he
+who undertakes it must for a time forget his civilisation, and think
+with the mind and speak with the voice of a Zulu of the old regime. All
+the horrors perpetrated by the Zulu tyrants cannot be published in this
+polite age of melanite and torpedoes; their details have, therefore,
+been suppressed. Still much remains, and those who think it wrong that
+massacre and fighting should be written of,—except by special
+correspondents,—or that the sufferings of mankind beneath one of the
+world’s most cruel tyrannies should form the groundwork of romance, may
+be invited to leave this book unread. Most, indeed nearly all, of the
+historical incidents here recorded are substantially true. Thus, it is
+said that Chaka did actually kill his mother, Unandi, for the reason
+given, and destroy an entire tribe in the Tatiyana cleft, and that he
+prophesied of the coming of the white man after receiving his death
+wounds. Of the incident of the Missionary and the furnace of logs, it
+is impossible to speak so certainly. It came to the writer from the
+lips of an old traveller in “the Zulu”; but he cannot discover any
+confirmation of it. Still, these kings undoubtedly put their soldiers
+to many tests of equal severity. Umbopo, or Mopo, as he is named in
+this tale, actually lived. After he had stabbed Chaka, he rose to great
+eminence. Then he disappears from the scene, but it is not accurately
+known whether he also went “the way of the assegai,” or perhaps, as is
+here suggested, came to live near Stanger under the name of Zweete. The
+fate of the two lovers at the mouth of the cave is a true Zulu tale,
+which has been considerably varied to suit the purposes of this
+romance. The late Mr. Leslie, who died in 1874, tells it in his book
+“Among the Zulus and Amatongas.” “I heard a story the other day,” he
+says, “which, if the power of writing fiction were possessed by me, I
+might have worked up into a first-class sensational novel.” It is the
+story that has been woven into the plot of this book. To him also the
+writer is indebted for the artifice by which Umslopogaas obtained
+admission to the Swazi stronghold; it was told to Mr. Leslie by the
+Zulu who performed the feat and thereby won a wife. Also the writer’s
+thanks are due to his friends, Mr. F. B. Fynney,[1] late Zulu border
+agent, for much information given to him in bygone years by word of
+mouth, and more recently through his pamphlet “Zululand and the Zulus,”
+and to Mr. John Bird, formerly treasurer to the Government of Natal,
+whose compilation, “The Annals of Natal,” is invaluable to all who
+would study the early history of that colony and of Zululand.
+
+ [1] I grieve to state that I must now say the late Mr. F. B. Fynney.
+
+As for the wilder and more romantic incidents of this story, such as
+the hunting of Umslopogaas and Galazi with the wolves, or rather with
+the hyaenas,—for there are no true wolves in Zululand,—the author can
+only say that they seem to him of a sort that might well have been
+mythically connected with the names of those heroes. Similar beliefs
+and traditions are common in the records of primitive peoples. The club
+“Watcher of the Fords,” or, to give its Zulu name, U-nothlola-mazibuko,
+is an historical weapon, chronicled by Bishop Callaway. It was once
+owned by a certain Undhlebekazizwa. He was an arbitrary person, for “no
+matter what was discussed in our village, he would bring it to a
+conclusion with a stick.” But he made a good end; for when the Zulu
+soldiers attacked him, he killed no less than twenty of them with the
+Watcher, and the spears stuck in him “as thick as reeds in a morass.”
+This man’s strength was so great that he could kill a leopard “like a
+fly,” with his hands only, much as Umslopogaas slew the traitor in this
+story.
+
+Perhaps it may be allowable to add a few words about the Zulu
+mysticism, magic, and superstition, to which there is some allusion in
+this romance. It has been little if at all exaggerated. Thus the writer
+well remembers hearing a legend how the Guardian Spirit of the Ama-Zulu
+was seen riding down the storm. Here is what Mr. Fynney says of her in
+the pamphlet to which reference has been made: “The natives have a
+spirit which they call Nomkubulwana, or the Inkosazana-ye-Zulu (the
+Princess of Heaven). She is said to be robed in white, and to take the
+form of a young maiden, in fact an angel. She is said to appear to some
+chosen person, to whom she imparts some revelation; but, whatever that
+revelation may be, it is kept a profound secret from outsiders. I
+remember that, just before the Zulu war, Nomkubulwana appeared,
+revealing something or other which had a great effect throughout the
+land, and I know that the Zulus were quite impressed that some calamity
+was about to befall them. One of the ominous signs was that fire is
+said to have descended from heaven, and ignited the grass over the
+graves of the former kings of Zululand. ... On another occasion
+Nomkubulwana appeared to some one in Zululand, the result of that visit
+being, that the native women buried their young children up to their
+heads in sand, deserting them for the time being, going away weeping,
+but returning at nightfall to unearth the little ones again.”
+
+For this divine personage there is, therefore, authority, and the same
+may be said of most of the supernatural matters spoken of in these
+pages. The exact spiritual position held in the Zulu mind by the
+Umkulunkulu,—the Old—Old,—the Great—Great,—the Lord of Heavens,—is a
+more vexed question, and for its proper consideration the reader must
+be referred to Bishop Callaway’s work, the “Religious System of the
+Amazulu.” Briefly, Umkulunkulu’s character seems to vary from the idea
+of an ancestral spirit, or the spirit of an ancestor, to that of a god.
+In the case of an able and highly intelligent person like the Mopo of
+this story, the ideal would probably not be a low one; therefore he is
+made to speak of Umkulunkulu as the Great Spirit, or God.
+
+It only remains to the writer to express his regret that this story is
+not more varied in its hue. It would have been desirable to introduce
+some gayer and more happy incidents. But it has not been possible. It
+is believed that the picture given of the times is a faithful one,
+though it may be open to correction in some of its details. At the
+least, the aged man who tells the tale of his wrongs and vengeance
+could not be expected to treat his subject in an optimistic or even in
+a cheerful vein.
+
+
+
+
+NADA THE LILY
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+Some years since—it was during the winter before the Zulu War—a White
+Man was travelling through Natal. His name does not matter, for he
+plays no part in this story. With him were two wagons laden with goods,
+which he was transporting to Pretoria. The weather was cold and there
+was little or no grass for the oxen, which made the journey difficult;
+but he had been tempted to it by the high rates of transport that
+prevailed at that season of the year, which would remunerate him for
+any probable loss he might suffer in cattle. So he pushed along on his
+journey, and all went well until he had passed the little town of
+Stanger, once the site of Duguza, the kraal of Chaka, the first Zulu
+king and the uncle of Cetywayo. The night after he left Stanger the air
+turned bitterly cold, heavy grey clouds filled the sky, and hid the
+light of the stars.
+
+“Now if I were not in Natal, I should say that there was a heavy fall
+of snow coming,” said the White Man to himself. “I have often seen the
+sky look like that in Scotland before snow.” Then he reflected that
+there had been no deep snow in Natal for years, and, having drunk a
+“tot” of squareface and smoked his pipe, he went to bed beneath the
+after-tent of his larger wagon.
+
+During the night he was awakened by a sense of bitter cold and the low
+moaning of the oxen that were tied to the trek-tow, every ox in its
+place. He thrust his head through the curtain of the tent and looked
+out. The earth was white with snow, and the air was full of it, swept
+along by a cutting wind.
+
+Now he sprang up, huddling on his clothes and as he did so calling to
+the Kaffirs who slept beneath the wagons. Presently they awoke from the
+stupor which already was beginning to overcome them, and crept out,
+shivering with cold and wrapped from head to foot in blankets.
+
+“Quick! you boys,” he said to them in Zulu; “quick! Would you see the
+cattle die of the snow and wind? Loose the oxen from the trek-tows and
+drive them in between the wagons; they will give them some shelter.”
+And lighting a lantern he sprang out into the snow.
+
+At last it was done—no easy task, for the numbed hands of the Kaffirs
+could scarcely loosen the frozen reins. The wagons were outspanned side
+by side with a space between them, and into this space the mob of
+thirty-six oxen was driven and there secured by reims tied crosswise
+from the front and hind wheels of the wagons. Then the White Man crept
+back to his bed, and the shivering natives, fortified with gin, or
+squareface, as it is called locally, took refuge on the second wagon,
+drawing a tent-sail over them.
+
+For awhile there was silence, save for the moaning of the huddled and
+restless cattle.
+
+“If the snow goes on I shall lose my oxen,” he said to himself; “they
+can never bear this cold.”
+
+Hardly had the words passed his lips when the wagon shook; there was a
+sound of breaking reims and trampling hoofs. Once more he looked out.
+The oxen had “skrecked” in a mob. There they were, running away into
+the night and the snow, seeking to find shelter from the cold. In a
+minute they had vanished utterly. There was nothing to be done, except
+wait for the morning.
+
+At last it came, revealing a landscape blind with snow. Such search as
+could be made told them nothing. The oxen had gone, and their spoor was
+obliterated by the fresh-fallen flakes. The White Man called a council
+of his Kaffir servants. “What was to be done?” he asked.
+
+One said this thing, one that, but all agreed that they must wait to
+act until the snow melted.
+
+“Or till we freeze, you whose mothers were fools!” said the White Man,
+who was in the worst of tempers, for had he not lost four hundred
+pounds’ worth of oxen?
+
+Then a Zulu spoke, who hitherto had remained silent. He was the driver
+of the first wagon.
+
+“My father,” he said to the White Man, “this is my word. The oxen are
+lost in the snow. No man knows whither they have gone, or whether they
+live or are now but hides and bones. Yet at the kraal yonder,” and he
+pointed to some huts about two miles away on the hillside, “lives a
+witch doctor named Zweete. He is old—very old—but he has wisdom, and he
+can tell you where the oxen are if any man may, my father.”
+
+“Stuff!” answered the White Man. “Still, as the kraal cannot be colder
+than this wagon, we will go and ask Zweete. Bring a bottle of
+squareface and some snuff with you for presents.”
+
+An hour later he stood in the hut of Zweete. Before him was a very
+ancient man, a mere bag of bones, with sightless eyes, and one hand—his
+left—white and shrivelled.
+
+“What do you seek of Zweete, my white father?” asked the old man in a
+thin voice. “You do not believe in me and my wisdom; why should I help
+you? Yet I will do it, though it is against your law, and you do wrong
+to ask me,—yes, to show you that there is truth in us Zulu doctors, I
+will help you. My father, I know what you seek. You seek to know where
+your oxen have run for shelter from the cold! Is it not so?”
+
+“It is so, Doctor,” answered the White Man. “You have long ears.”
+
+“Yes, my white father, I have long ears, though they say that I grow
+deaf. I have keen eyes also, and yet I cannot see your face. Let me
+hearken! Let me look!”
+
+For awhile he was silent, rocking himself to and fro, then he spoke:
+“You have a farm, White Man, down near Pine Town, is it not? Ah! I
+thought so—and an hour’s ride from your farm lives a Boer with four
+fingers only on his right hand. There is a kloof on the Boer’s farm
+where mimosa-trees grow. There, in the kloof, you shall find your
+oxen—yes, five days’ journey from here you will find them all. I say
+all, my father, except three only—the big black Africander ox, the
+little red Zulu ox with one horn, and the speckled ox. You shall not
+find these, for they have died in the snow. Send, and you will find the
+others. No, no! I ask no fee! I do not work wonders for reward. Why
+should I? I am rich.”
+
+Now the White Man scoffed. But in the end, so great is the power of
+superstition, he sent. And here it may be stated that on the eleventh
+day of his sojourn at the kraal of Zweete, those whom he sent returned
+with the oxen, except the three only. After that he scoffed no more.
+Those eleven days he spent in a hut of the old man’s kraal, and every
+afternoon he came and talked with him, sitting far into the night.
+
+On the third day he asked Zweete how it was that his left hand was
+white and shrivelled, and who were Umslopogaas and Nada, of whom he had
+let fall some words. Then the old man told him the tale that is set out
+here. Day by day he told some of it till it was finished. It is not all
+written in these pages, for portions may have been forgotten, or put
+aside as irrelevant. Neither has it been possible for the writer of it
+to render the full force of the Zulu idiom nor to convey a picture of
+the teller. For, in truth, he acted rather than told his story. Was the
+death of a warrior in question, he stabbed with his stick, showing how
+the blow fell and where; did the story grow sorrowful, he groaned, or
+even wept. Moreover, he had many voices, one for each of the actors in
+his tale. This man, ancient and withered, seemed to live again in the
+far past. It was the past that spoke to his listener, telling of deeds
+long forgotten, of deeds that are no more known.
+
+Yet as he best may, the White Man has set down the substance of the
+story of Zweete in the spirit in which Zweete told it. And because the
+history of Nada the Lily and of those with whom her life was
+intertwined moved him strangely, and in many ways, he has done more, he
+has printed it that others may judge of it.
+
+And now his part is played. Let him who was named Zweete, but who had
+another name, take up the story.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+THE BOY CHAKA PROPHESIES
+
+
+You ask me, my father, to tell you the tale of the youth of
+Umslopogaas, holder of the iron Chieftainess, the axe Groan-maker, who
+was named Bulalio the Slaughterer, and of his love for Nada, the most
+beautiful of Zulu women. It is long; but you are here for many nights,
+and, if I live to tell it, it shall be told. Strengthen your heart, my
+father, for I have much to say that is sorrowful, and even now, when I
+think of Nada the tears creep through the horn that shuts out my old
+eyes from light.
+
+Do you know who I am, my father? You do not know. You think that I am
+an old, old witch-doctor named Zweete. So men have thought for many
+years, but that is not my name. Few have known it, for I have kept it
+locked in my breast, lest, though I live now under the law of the White
+Man, and the Great Queen is my chieftainess, an assegai still might
+find this heart did any know my name.
+
+Look at this hand, my father—no, not that which is withered with fire;
+look on this right hand of mine. You see it, though I who am blind
+cannot. But still, within me, I see it as it was once. Ay! I see it red
+and strong—red with the blood of two kings. Listen, my father; bend
+your ear to me and listen. I am Mopo—ah! I felt you start; you start as
+the regiment of the Bees started when Mopo walked before their ranks,
+and from the assegai in his hand the blood of Chaka[1] dropped slowly
+to the earth. I am Mopo who slew Chaka the king. I killed him with
+Dingaan and Umhlangana the princes; but the wound was mine that his
+life crept out of, and but for me he would never have been slain. I
+killed him with the princes, but Dingaan, I and one other slew alone.
+
+ [1] The Zulu Napoleon, one of the greatest geniuses and most wicked
+ men who ever lived. He was killed in the year 1828, having slaughtered
+ more than a million human beings.—ED.
+
+What do you say? “Dingaan died by the Tongola.”
+
+Yes, yes, he died, but not there; he died on the Ghost Mountain; he
+lies in the breast of the old Stone Witch who sits aloft forever
+waiting for the world to perish. But I also was on the Ghost Mountain.
+In those days my feet still could travel fast, and vengeance would not
+let me sleep. I travelled by day, and by night I found him. I and
+another, we killed him—ah! ah!
+
+Why do I tell you this? What has it to do with the loves of Umslopogaas
+and Nada the Lily? I will tell you. I stabbed Chaka for the sake of my
+sister, Baleka, the mother of Umslopogaas, and because he had murdered
+my wives and children. I and Umslopogaas slew Dingaan for the sake of
+Nada, who was my daughter.
+
+There are great names in the story, my father. Yes, many have heard the
+names: when the Impis roared them out as they charged in battle, I have
+felt the mountains shake and seen the waters quiver in their sound. But
+where are they now? Silence has them, and the white men write them down
+in books. I opened the gates of distance for the holders of the names.
+They passed through and they are gone beyond. I cut the strings that
+tied them to the world. They fell off. Ha! ha! They fell off! Perhaps
+they are falling still, perhaps they creep about their desolate kraals
+in the skins of snakes. I wish I knew the snakes that I might crush
+them with my heel. Yonder, beneath us, at the burying-place of kings,
+there is a hole. In that hole lie the bones of Chaka, the king who died
+for Baleka. Far away in Zululand there is a cleft upon the Ghost
+Mountain. At the foot of that cleft lie the bones of Dingaan, the king
+who died for Nada. It was far to fall and he was heavy; those bones of
+his are broken into little pieces. I went to see them when the vultures
+and the jackals had done their work. And then I laughed three times and
+came here to die.
+
+All that is long ago, and I have not died; though I wish to die and
+follow the road that Nada trod. Perhaps I have lived to tell you this
+tale, my father, that you may repeat it to the white men if you will.
+How old am I? Nay, I do not know. Very, very old. Had Chaka lived he
+would have been as old as I.[2] None are living whom I knew when I was
+a boy. I am so old that I must hasten. The grass withers, and the
+winter comes. Yes, while I speak the winter nips my heart. Well, I am
+ready to sleep in the cold, and perhaps I shall awake again in the
+spring.
+
+ [2] This would have made him nearly a hundred years old, an age rarely
+ attained by a native. The writer remembers talking to an aged Zulu
+ woman, however, who told him that she was married when Chaka was
+ king.—ED.
+
+Before the Zulus were a people—for I will begin at the beginning—I was
+born of the Langeni tribe. We were not a large tribe; afterwards, all
+our able-bodied men numbered one full regiment in Chaka’s army, perhaps
+there were between two and three thousand of them, but they were brave.
+Now they are all dead, and their women and children with them,—that
+people is no more. It is gone like last month’s moon; how it went I
+will tell you by-and-bye.
+
+Our tribe lived in a beautiful open country; the Boers, whom we call
+the Amaboona, are there now, they tell me. My father, Makedama, was
+chief of the tribe, and his kraal was built on the crest of a hill, but
+I was not the son of his head wife. One evening, when I was still
+little, standing as high as a man’s elbow only, I went out with my
+mother below the cattle kraal to see the cows driven in. My mother was
+very fond of these cows, and there was one with a white face that would
+follow her about. She carried my little sister Baleka riding on her
+hip; Baleka was a baby then. We walked till we met the lads driving in
+the cows. My mother called the white-faced cow and gave it mealie
+leaves which she had brought with her. Then the boys went on with the
+cattle, but the white-faced cow stopped by my mother. She said that she
+would bring it to the kraal when she came home. My mother sat down on
+the grass and nursed her baby, while I played round her, and the cow
+grazed. Presently we saw a woman walking towards us across the plain.
+She walked like one who is tired. On her back was a bundle of mats, and
+she led by the hand a boy of about my own age, but bigger and stronger
+than I was. We waited a long while, till at last the woman came up to
+us and sank down on the veldt, for she was very weary. We saw by the
+way her hair was dressed that she was not of our tribe.
+
+“Greeting to you!” said the woman.
+
+“Good-morrow!” answered my mother. “What do you seek?”
+
+“Food, and a hut to sleep in,” said the woman. “I have travelled far.”
+
+“How are you named?—and what is your people?” asked my mother.
+
+“My name is Unandi: I am the wife of Senzangacona, of the Zulu tribe,”
+said the stranger.
+
+Now there had been war between our people and the Zulu people, and
+Senzangacona had killed some of our warriors and taken many of our
+cattle. So, when my mother heard the speech of Unandi she sprang up in
+anger.
+
+“You dare to come here and ask me for food and shelter, wife of a dog
+of a Zulu!” she cried; “begone, or I will call the girls to whip you
+out of our country.”
+
+The woman, who was very handsome, waited till my mother had finished
+her angry words; then she looked up and spoke slowly, “There is a cow
+by you with milk dropping from its udder; will you not even give me and
+my boy a gourd of milk?” And she took a gourd from her bundle and held
+it towards us.
+
+“I will not,” said my mother.
+
+“We are thirsty with long travel; will you not, then, give us a cup of
+water? We have found none for many hours.”
+
+“I will not, wife of a dog; go and seek water for yourself.”
+
+The woman’s eyes filled with tears, but the boy folded his arms on his
+breast and scowled. He was a very handsome boy, with bright black eyes,
+but when he scowled his eyes were like the sky before a thunderstorm.
+
+“Mother,” he said, “we are not wanted here any more than we were wanted
+yonder,” and he nodded towards the country where the Zulu people lived.
+“Let us be going to Dingiswayo; the Umtetwa people will protect us.”
+
+“Yes, let us be going, my son,” answered Unandi; “but the path is long,
+we are weary and shall fall by the way.”
+
+I heard, and something pulled at my heart; I was sorry for the woman
+and her boy, they looked so tired. Then, without saying anything to my
+mother, I snatched the gourd and ran with it to a little donga that was
+hard by, for I knew that there was a spring. Presently I came back with
+the gourd full of water. My mother wanted to catch me, for she was very
+angry, but I ran past her and gave the gourd to the boy. Then my mother
+ceased trying to interfere, only she beat the woman with her tongue all
+the while, saying that evil had come to our kraals from her husband,
+and she felt in her heart that more evil would come upon us from her
+son. Her _Ehlosé_[3] told her so. Ah! my father, her _Ehlosé_ told her
+true. If the woman Unandi and her child had died that day on the veldt,
+the gardens of my people would not now be a wilderness, and their bones
+would not lie in the great gulley that is near U’Cetywayo’s kraal.
+
+ [3] Guardian spirit.—ED.
+
+While my mother talked I and the cow with the white face stood still
+and watched, and the baby Baleka cried aloud. The boy, Unandi’s son,
+having taken the gourd, did not offer the water to his mother. He drank
+two-thirds of it himself; I think that he would have drunk it all had
+not his thirst been slaked; but when he had done he gave what was left
+to his mother, and she finished it. Then he took the gourd again, and
+came forward, holding it in one hand; in the other he carried a short
+stick.
+
+“What is your name, boy?” he said to me as a big rich man speaks to one
+who is little and poor.
+
+“Mopo is my name,” I answered.
+
+“And what is the name of your people?”
+
+I told him the name of my tribe, the Langeni tribe.
+
+“Very well, Mopo; now I will tell you my name. My name is Chaka, son of
+Senzangacona, and my people are called the Amazulu. And I will tell you
+something more. I am little to-day, and my people are a small people.
+But I shall grow big, so big that my head will be lost in the clouds;
+you will look up and you shall not see it. My face will blind you; it
+will be bright like the sun; and my people will grow great with me;
+they shall eat up the whole world. And when I am big and my people are
+big, and we have stamped the earth flat as far as men can travel, then
+I will remember your tribe—the tribe of the Langeni, who would not give
+me and my mother a cup of milk when we were weary. You see this gourd;
+for every drop it can hold the blood of a man shall flow—the blood of
+one of your men. But because you gave me the water I will spare you,
+Mopo, and you only, and make you great under me. You shall grow fat in
+my shadow. You alone I will never harm, however you sin against me;
+this I swear. But for that woman,” and he pointed to my mother, “let
+her make haste and die, so that I do not need to teach her what a long
+time death can take to come. I have spoken.” And he ground his teeth
+and shook his stick towards us.
+
+My mother stood silent awhile. Then she gasped out: “The little liar!
+He speaks like a man, does he? The calf lows like a bull. I will teach
+him another note—the brat of an evil prophet!” And putting down Baleka,
+she ran at the boy.
+
+Chaka stood quite still till she was near; then suddenly he lifted the
+stick in his hand, and hit her so hard on the head that she fell down.
+After that he laughed, turned, and went away with his mother Unandi.
+
+These, my father, were the first words I heard Chaka speak, and they
+were words of prophecy, and they came true. The last words I heard him
+speak were words of prophecy also, and I think that they will come
+true. Even now they are coming true. In the one he told how the Zulu
+people should rise. And say, have they not risen? In the other he told
+how they should fall; and they did fall. Do not the white men gather
+themselves together even now against U’Cetywayo, as vultures gather
+round a dying ox? The Zulus are not what they were to stand against
+them. Yes, yes, they will come true, and mine is the song of a people
+that is doomed.
+
+But of these other words I will speak in their place.
+
+I went to my mother. Presently she raised herself from the ground and
+sat up with her hands over her face. The blood from the wound the stick
+had made ran down her face on to her breast, and I wiped it away with
+grass. She sat for a long while thus, while the child cried, the cow
+lowed to be milked, and I wiped up the blood with the grass. At last
+she took her hands away and spoke to me.
+
+“Mopo, my son,” she said, “I have dreamed a dream. I dreamed that I saw
+the boy Chaka who struck me: he was grown like a giant. He stalked
+across the mountains and the veldt, his eyes blazed like the lightning,
+and in his hand he shook a little assegai that was red with blood. He
+caught up people after people in his hands and tore them, he stamped
+their kraals flat with his feet. Before him was the green of summer,
+behind him the land was black as when the fires have eaten the grass. I
+saw our people, Mopo; they were many and fat, their hearts laughed, the
+men were brave, the girls were fair; I counted their children by the
+hundreds. I saw them again, Mopo. They were bones, white bones,
+thousands of bones tumbled together in a rocky place, and he, Chaka,
+stood over the bones and laughed till the earth shook. Then, Mopo, in
+my dream, I saw you grown a man. You alone were left of our people. You
+crept up behind the giant Chaka, and with you came others, great men of
+a royal look. You stabbed him with a little spear, and he fell down and
+grew small again; he fell down and cursed you. But you cried in his ear
+a name—the name of Baleka, your sister—and he died. Let us go home,
+Mopo, let us go home; the darkness falls.”
+
+So we rose and went home. But I held my peace, for I was afraid, very
+much afraid.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+MOPO IS IN TROUBLE
+
+
+Now, I must tell how my mother did what the boy Chaka had told her, and
+died quickly. For where his stick had struck her on the forehead there
+came a sore that would not be healed, and in the sore grew an abscess,
+and the abscess ate inwards till it came to the brain. Then my mother
+fell down and died, and I cried very much, for I loved her, and it was
+dreadful to see her cold and stiff, with not a word to say however
+loudly I called to her. Well, they buried my mother, and she was soon
+forgotten. I only remembered her, nobody else did—not even Baleka, for
+she was too little—and as for my father he took another young wife and
+was content. After that I was unhappy, for my brothers did not love me,
+because I was much cleverer than they, and had greater skill with the
+assegai, and was swifter in running; so they poisoned the mind of my
+father against me and he treated me badly. But Baleka and I loved each
+other, for we were both lonely, and she clung to me like a creeper to
+the only tree in a plain, and though I was young, I learned this: that
+to be wise is to be strong, for though he who holds the assegai kills,
+yet he whose mind directs the battle is greater than he who kills. Now
+I saw that the witch-finders and the medicine-men were feared in the
+land, and that everybody looked up to them, so that, even when they had
+only a stick in their hands, ten men armed with spears would fly before
+them. Therefore I determined that I should be a witch-doctor, for they
+alone can kill those whom they hate with a word. So I learned the arts
+of the medicine-men. I made sacrifices, I fasted in the veldt alone, I
+did all those things of which you have heard, and I learned much; for
+there is wisdom in our magic as well as lies—and you know it, my
+father, else you had not come here to ask me about your lost oxen.
+
+So things went on till I was twenty years of age—a man full grown. By
+now I had mastered all I could learn by myself, so I joined myself on
+to the chief medicine-man of our tribe, who was named Noma. He was old,
+had one eye only, and was very clever. Of him I learned some tricks and
+more wisdom, but at last he grew jealous of me and set a trap to catch
+me. As it chanced, a rich man of a neighbouring tribe had lost some
+cattle, and came with gifts to Noma praying him to smell them out. Noma
+tried and could not find them; his vision failed him. Then the headman
+grew angry and demanded back his gifts; but Noma would not give up that
+which he once had held, and hot words passed. The headman said that he
+would kill Noma; Noma said that he would bewitch the headman.
+
+“Peace,” I said, for I feared that blood would be shed. “Peace, and let
+me see if my snake will tell me where the cattle are.”
+
+“You are nothing but a boy,” answered the headman. “Can a boy have
+wisdom?”
+
+“That shall soon be known,” I said, taking the bones in my hand.[1]
+
+ [1] The Kafir witch-doctors use the knuckle-bones of animals in their
+ magic rites, throwing them something as we throw dice.—ED.
+
+“Leave the bones alone!” screamed Noma. “We will ask nothing more of
+our snakes for the good of this son of a dog.”
+
+“He shall throw the bones,” answered the headman. “If you try to stop
+him, I will let sunshine through you with my assegai.” And he lifted
+his spear.
+
+Then I made haste to begin; I threw the bones. The headman sat on the
+ground before me and answered my questions. You know of these matters,
+my father—how sometimes the witch-doctor has knowledge of where the
+lost things are, for our ears are long, and sometimes his _Ehlosé_
+tells him, as but the other day it told me of your oxen. Well, in this
+case, my snake stood up. I knew nothing of the man’s cattle, but my
+Spirit was with me and soon I saw them all, and told them to him one by
+one, their colour, their age—everything. I told him, too, where they
+were, and how one of them had fallen into a stream and lay there on its
+back drowned, with its forefoot caught in a forked root. As my _Ehlosé_
+told me so I told the headman.
+
+Now, the man was pleased, and said that if my sight was good, and he
+found the cattle, the gifts should be taken from Noma and given to me;
+and he asked the people who were sitting round, and there were many, if
+this was not just. “Yes, yes,” they said, it was just, and they would
+see that it was done. But Noma sat still and looked at me evilly. He
+knew that I had made a true divination, and he was very angry. It was a
+big matter: the herd of cattle were many, and, if they were found where
+I had said, then all men would think me the greater wizard. Now it was
+late, and the moon had not yet risen, therefore the headman said that
+he would sleep that night in our kraal, and at the first light would go
+with me to the spot where I said the cattle were. After that he went
+away.
+
+I too went into my hut and lay down to sleep. Suddenly I awoke, feeling
+a weight upon my breast. I tried to start up, but something cold
+pricked my throat. I fell back again and looked. The door of the hut
+was open, the moon lay low on the sky like a ball of fire far away. I
+could see it through the door, and its light crept into the hut. It
+fell upon the face of Noma the witch-doctor. He was seated across me,
+glaring at me with his one eye, and in his hand was a knife. It was
+that which I had felt prick my throat.
+
+“You whelp whom I have bred up to tear me!” he hissed into my ear, “you
+dared to divine where I failed, did you? Very well, now I will show you
+how I serve such puppies. First, I will pierce through the root of your
+tongue, so that you cannot squeal, then I will cut you to pieces
+slowly, bit by bit, and in the morning I will tell the people that the
+spirits did it because you lied. Next, I will take off your arms and
+legs. Yes, yes, I will make you like a stick! Then I will”—and he began
+driving in the knife under my chin.
+
+“Mercy, my uncle,” I said, for I was frightened and the knife hurt.
+“Have mercy, and I will do whatever you wish!”
+
+“Will you do this?” he asked, still pricking me with the knife. “Will
+you get up, go to find the dog’s cattle and drive them to a certain
+place, and hide them there?” And he named a secret valley that was
+known to very few. “If you do that, I will spare you and give you three
+of the cows. If you refuse or play me false, then, by my father’s
+spirit, I will find a way to kill you!”
+
+“Certainly I will do it, my uncle,” I answered. “Why did you not trust
+me before? Had I known that you wanted to keep the cattle, I would
+never have smelt them out. I only did so fearing lest you should lose
+the presents.”
+
+“You are not so wicked as I thought,” he growled. “Get up, then, and do
+my bidding. You can be back here two hours after dawn.”
+
+So I got up, thinking all the while whether I should try to spring on
+him. But I was without arms, and he had the knife; also if, by chance,
+I prevailed and killed him, it would have been thought that I had
+murdered him, and I should have tasted the assegai. So I made another
+plan. I would go and find the cattle in the valley where I had smelt
+them out, but I would not bring them to the secret hiding-place. No; I
+would drive them straight to the kraal, and denounce Noma before the
+chief, my father, and all the people. But I was young in those days,
+and did not know the heart of Noma. He had not been a witch-doctor till
+he grew old for nothing. Oh! he was evil!—he was cunning as a jackal,
+and fierce like a lion. He had planted me by him like a tree, but he
+meant to keep me clipped like a bush. Now I had grown tall and
+overshadowed him; therefore he would root me up.
+
+I went to the corner of my hut, Noma watching me all the while, and
+took a kerrie and my small shield. Then I started through the
+moonlight. Till I was past the kraal I glided along quietly as a
+shadow. After that, I began to run, singing to myself as I went, to
+frighten away the ghosts, my father.
+
+For an hour I travelled swiftly over the plain, till I came to the
+hillside where the bush began. Here it was very dark under the shade of
+the trees, and I sang louder than ever. At last I found the little
+buffalo path I sought, and turned along it. Presently I came to an open
+place, where the moonlight crept in between the trees. I knelt down and
+looked. Yes! my snake had not lied to me; there was the spoor of the
+cattle. Then I went on gladly till I reached a dell through which the
+water ran softly, sometimes whispering and sometimes talking out loud.
+Here the trail of the cattle was broad: they had broken down the ferns
+with their feet and trampled the grass. Presently I came to a pool. I
+knew it—it was the pool my snake had shown me. And there at the edge of
+the pool floated the drowned ox, its foot caught in a forked root. All
+was just as I had seen it in my heart.
+
+I stepped forward and looked round. My eye caught something; it was the
+faint grey light of the dawn glinted on the cattle’s horns. As I
+looked, one of them snorted, rose and shook the dew from his hide. He
+seemed big as an elephant in the mist and twilight.
+
+Then I collected them all—there were seventeen—and drove them before me
+down the narrow path back towards the kraal. Now the daylight came
+quickly, and the sun had been up an hour when I reached the spot where
+I must turn if I wished to hide the cattle in the secret place, as Noma
+had bid me. But I would not do this. No, I would go on to the kraal
+with them, and tell all men that Noma was a thief. Still, I sat down
+and rested awhile, for I was tired. As I sat, I heard a noise, and
+looked up. There, over the slope of the rise, came a crowd of men, and
+leading them was Noma, and by his side the headman who owned the
+cattle. I rose and stood still, wondering; but as I stood, they ran
+towards me shouting and waving sticks and spears.
+
+“There he is!” screamed Noma. “There he is!—the clever boy whom I have
+brought up to bring shame on me. What did I tell you? Did I not tell
+you that he was a thief? Yes—yes! I know your tricks, Mopo, my child!
+See! he is stealing the cattle! He knew where they were all the time,
+and now he is taking them away to hide them. They would be useful to
+buy a wife with, would they not, my clever boy?” And he made a rush at
+me, with his stick lifted, and after him came the headman, grunting
+with rage.
+
+I understood now, my father. My heart went mad in me, everything began
+to swim round, a red cloth seemed to lift itself up and down before my
+eyes. I have always seen it thus when I was forced to fight. I screamed
+out one word only, “Liar!” and ran to meet him. On came Noma. He struck
+at me with his stick, but I caught the blow upon my little shield, and
+hit back. Wow! I did hit! The skull of Noma met my kerrie, and down he
+fell dead at my feet. I yelled again, and rushed on at the headman. He
+threw an assegai, but it missed me, and next second I hit him too. He
+got up his shield, but I knocked it down upon his head, and over he
+rolled senseless. Whether he lived or died I do not know, my father;
+but his head being of the thickest, I think it likely that he lived.
+Then, while the people stood astonished, I turned and fled like the
+wind. They turned too, and ran after me, throwing spears at me and
+trying to cut me off. But none of them could catch me—no, not one. I
+went like the wind; I went like a buck when the dogs wake it from
+sleep; and presently the sound of their chase grew fainter and fainter,
+till at last I was out of sight and alone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+MOPO VENTURES HOME
+
+
+I threw myself down on the grass and panted till my breath came back;
+then I went and hid in a patch of reeds down by a swamp. All day long I
+lay there thinking. What was I to do? Now I was a jackal without a
+hole. If I went back to my people, certainly they would kill me, whom
+they thought a thief. My blood would be given for Noma’s, and that I
+did not wish, though my heart was sad. Then there came into my mind the
+thought of Chaka, the boy to whom I had given the cup of water long
+ago. I had heard of him: his name was known in the land; already the
+air was big with it; the very trees and grass spoke it. The words he
+had said and the vision that my mother had seen were beginning to come
+true. By the help of the Umtetwas he had taken the place of his father
+Senzangacona; he had driven out the tribe of the Amaquabe; now he made
+war on Zweete, chief of the Endwande, and he had sworn that he would
+stamp the Endwande flat, so that nobody could find them any more. Now I
+remembered how this Chaka promised that he would make me great, and
+that I should grow fat in his shadow; and I thought to myself that I
+would arise and go to him. Perhaps he would kill me; well, what did it
+matter? Certainly I should be killed if I stayed here. Yes, I would go.
+But now my heart pulled another way. There was but one whom I loved in
+the world—it was my sister Baleka. My father had betrothed her to the
+chief of a neighbouring tribe, but I knew that this marriage was
+against her wish. Perhaps my sister would run away with me if I could
+get near her to tell her that I was going. I would try—yes, I would
+try.
+
+I waited till the darkness came down, then I rose from my bed of weeds
+and crept like a jackal towards the kraal. In the mealie gardens I
+stopped awhile, for I was very hungry, and filled myself with the
+half-ripe mealies. Then I went on till I came to the kraal. Some of my
+people were seated outside of a hut, talking together over a fire. I
+crept near, silently as a snake, and hid behind a little bush. I knew
+that they could not see me outside the ring of the firelight, and I
+wanted to hear what they said. As I guessed, they were talking of me
+and called me many names. They said that I should bring ill-luck on the
+tribe by having killed so great a witch-doctor as Noma; also that the
+people of the headman would demand payment for the assault on him. I
+learned, moreover, that my father had ordered out all the men of the
+tribe to hunt for me on the morrow and to kill me wherever they found
+me. “Ah!” I thought, “you may hunt, but you will bring nothing home to
+the pot.” Just then a dog that was lying by the fire got up and began
+to sniff the air. I could not see what dog it was—indeed, I had
+forgotten all about the dogs when I drew near the kraal; that is what
+comes of want of experience, my father. The dog sniffed and sniffed,
+then he began to growl, looking always my way, and I grew afraid.
+
+“What is the dog growling at?” said one man to another. “Go and see.”
+But the other man was taking snuff and did not like to move. “Let the
+dog go and see for himself,” he answered, sneezing, “what is the good
+of keeping a dog if you have to catch the thief?”
+
+“Go on, then,” said the first man to the dog. And he ran forward,
+barking. Then I saw him: it was my own dog, Koos, a very good dog.
+Presently, as I lay not knowing what to do, he smelt my smell, stopped
+barking, and running round the bush he found me and began to lick my
+face. “Be quiet, Koos!” I whispered to him. And he lay down by my side.
+
+“Where has that dog gone now?” said the first man. “Is he bewitched,
+that he stops barking suddenly and does not come back?”
+
+“We will see,” said the other, rising, a spear in his hand.
+
+Now once more I was terribly afraid, for I thought that they would
+catch me, or I must run for my life again. But as I sprang up to run, a
+big black snake glided between the men and went off towards the huts.
+They jumped aside in a great fright, then all of them turned to follow
+the snake, saying that this was what the dog was barking at. That was
+my good _Ehlosé_, my father, which without any doubt took the shape of
+a snake to save my life.
+
+When they had gone I crept off the other way, and Koos followed me. At
+first I thought that I would kill him, lest he should betray me; but
+when I called to him to knock him on the head with my kerrie, he sat
+down upon the ground wagging his tail, and seemed to smile in my face,
+and I could not do it. So I thought that I would take my chance, and we
+went on together. This was my purpose: first to creep into my own hut
+and get my assegais and a skin blanket, then to gain speech with
+Baleka. My hut, I thought, would be empty, for nobody sleeps there
+except myself, and the huts of Noma were some paces away to the right.
+I came to the reed fence that surrounded the huts. Nobody was to be
+seen at the gate, which was not shut with thorns as usual. It was my
+duty to close it, and I had not been there to do so. Then, bidding the
+dog lie down outside, I stepped through boldly, reached the door of my
+hut, and listened. It was empty; there was not even a breath to be
+heard. So I crept in and began to search for my assegais, my
+water-gourd, and my wood pillow, which was so nicely carved that I did
+not like to leave it. Soon I found them. Then I felt about for my skin
+rug, and as I did so my hand touched something cold. I started, and
+felt again. It was a man’s face—the face of a dead man, of Noma, whom I
+had killed and who had been laid in my hut to await burial. Oh! then I
+was frightened, for Noma dead and in the dark was worse than Noma
+alive. I made ready to fly, when suddenly I heard the voices of women
+talking outside the door of the hut. I knew the voices; they were those
+of Noma’s two wives, and one of them said she was coming in to watch by
+her husband’s body. Now I was in a trap indeed, for before I could do
+anything I saw the light go out of a hole in the hut, and knew by the
+sound of a fat woman puffing as she bent herself up that Noma’s first
+wife was coming through it. Presently she was in, and, squatting by the
+side of the corpse in such a fashion that I could not get to the door,
+she began to make lamentations and to call down curses on me. Ah! she
+did not know that I was listening. I too squatted by Noma’s head, and
+grew quick-witted in my fear. Now that the woman was there I was not so
+much afraid of the dead man, and I remembered, too, that he had been a
+great cheat; so I thought I would make him cheat for the last time. I
+placed my hands beneath his shoulders and pushed him up so that he sat
+upon the ground. The woman heard the noise and made a sound in her
+throat.
+
+“Will you not be quiet, you old hag?” I said in Noma’s voice. “Can you
+not let me be at peace, even now when I am dead?”
+
+She heard, and, falling backwards in fear, drew in her breath to shriek
+aloud.
+
+“What! will you also dare to shriek?” I said again in Noma’s voice;
+“then I must teach you silence.” And I tumbled him over on to the top
+of her.
+
+Then her senses left her, and whether she ever found them again I do
+not know. At least she grew quiet for that time. For me, I snatched up
+the rug—afterwards I found it was Noma’s best kaross, made by Basutos
+of chosen cat-skins, and worth three oxen—and I fled, followed by Koos.
+
+Now the kraal of the chief, my father, Makedama, was two hundred paces
+away, and I must go thither, for there Baleka slept. Also I dared not
+enter by the gate, because a man was always on guard there. So I cut my
+way through the reed fence with my assegai and crept to the hut where
+Baleka was with some of her half-sisters. I knew on which side of the
+hut it was her custom to lie, and where her head would be. So I lay
+down on my side and gently, very gently, began to bore a hole in the
+grass covering of the hut. It took a long while, for the thatch was
+thick, but at last I was nearly through it. Then I stopped, for it came
+into my mind that Baleka might have changed her place, and that I might
+wake the wrong girl. I almost gave it over, thinking that I would fly
+alone, when suddenly I heard a girl wake and begin to cry on the other
+side of the thatch. “Ah,” I thought, “that is Baleka, who weeps for her
+brother!” So I put my lips where the thatch was thinnest and
+whispered:—
+
+“Baleka, my sister! Baleka, do not weep! I, Mopo, am here. Say not a
+word, but rise. Come out of the hut, bringing your skin blanket.”
+
+Now Baleka was very clever: she did not shriek, as most girls would
+have done. No; she understood, and, after waiting awhile, she rose and
+crept from the hut, her blanket in her hand.
+
+“Why are you here, Mopo?” she whispered, as we met. “Surely you will be
+killed!”
+
+“Hush!” I said. And then I told her of the plan which I had made. “Will
+you come with me?” I said, when I had done, “or will you creep back
+into the hut and bid me farewell?”
+
+She thought awhile, then she said, “No, my brother, I will come, for I
+love you alone among our people, though I believe that this will be the
+end of it—that you will lead me to my death.”
+
+I did not think much of her words at the time, but afterwards they came
+back to me. So we slipped away together, followed by the dog Koos, and
+soon we were running over the veldt with our faces set towards the
+country of the Zulu tribe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+THE FLIGHT OF MOPO AND BALEKA
+
+
+All the rest of that night we journeyed, till even the dog was tired.
+Then we hid in a mealie field for the day, as we were afraid of being
+seen. Towards the afternoon we heard voices, and, looking through the
+stems of the mealies, we saw a party of my father’s men pass searching
+for us. They went on to a neighbouring kraal to ask if we had been
+seen, and after that we saw them no more for awhile. At night we
+travelled again; but, as fate would have it, we were met by an old
+woman, who looked oddly at us but said nothing. After that we pushed on
+day and night, for we knew that the old woman would tell the pursuers
+if she met them; and so indeed it came about. On the third evening we
+reached some mealie gardens, and saw that they had been trampled down.
+Among the broken mealies we found the body of a very old man, as full
+of assegai wounds as a porcupine with quills. We wondered at this, and
+went on a little way. Then we saw that the kraal to which the gardens
+belonged was burnt down. We crept up to it, and—ah! it was a sad sight
+for us to see! Afterwards we became used to such sights. All about us
+lay the bodies of dead people, scores of them—old men, young men,
+women, children, little babies at the breast—there they lay among the
+burnt huts, pierced with assegai wounds. Red was the earth with their
+blood, and red they looked in the red light of the setting sun. It was
+as though all the land had been smeared with the bloody hand of the
+Great Spirit, of the Umkulunkulu. Baleka saw it and began to cry; she
+was weary, poor girl, and we had found little to eat, only grass and
+green corn.
+
+“An enemy has been here,” I said, and as I spoke I thought that I heard
+a groan from the other side of a broken reed hedge. I went and looked.
+There lay a young woman: she was badly wounded, but still alive, my
+father. A little way from her lay a man dead, and before him several
+other men of another tribe: he had died fighting. In front of the woman
+were the bodies of three children; another, a little one, lay on her
+body. I looked at the woman, and, as I looked, she groaned again,
+opened her eyes and saw me, and that I had a spear in my hand.
+
+“Kill me quickly!” she said. “Have you not tortured me enough?”
+
+I said that I was a stranger and did not want to kill her.
+
+“Then bring me water,” she said; “there is a spring there behind the
+kraal.”
+
+I called to Baleka to come to the woman, and went with my gourd to the
+spring. There were bodies in it, but I dragged them out, and when the
+water had cleared a little I filled the gourd and brought it back to
+the woman. She drank deep, and her strength came back a little—the
+water gave her life.
+
+“How did you come to this?” I asked.
+
+“It was an impi of Chaka, Chief of the Zulus, that ate us up,” she
+answered. “They burst upon as at dawn this morning while we were asleep
+in our huts. Yes, I woke up to hear the sound of killing. I was
+sleeping by my husband, with him who lies there, and the children. We
+all ran out. My husband had a spear and shield. He was a brave man.
+See! he died bravely: he killed three of the Zulu devils before he
+himself was dead. Then they caught me, and killed my children, and
+stabbed me till they thought that I was dead. Afterwards, they went
+away. I don’t know why they came, but I think it was because our chief
+would not send men to help Chaka against Zweete.”
+
+She stopped, gave a great cry, and died.
+
+My sister wept at the sight, and I too was stirred by it. “Ah!” I
+thought to myself, “the Great Spirit must be evil. If he is not evil
+such things would not happen.” That is how I thought then, my father;
+now I think differently. I know that we had not found out the path of
+the Great Spirit, that is all. I was a chicken in those days, my
+father; afterwards I got used to such sights. They did not stir me any
+more, not one whit. But then in the days of Chaka the rivers ran
+blood—yes, we had to look at the water to see if it was clean before we
+drank. People learned how to die then and not make a noise about it.
+What does it matter? They would have been dead now anyway. It does not
+matter; nothing matters, except being born. That is a mistake, my
+father.
+
+We stopped at the kraal that night, but we could not sleep, for we
+heard the _Itongo_, the ghosts of the dead people, moving about and
+calling to each other. It was natural that they should do so; men were
+looking for their wives, and mothers for their children. But we were
+afraid that they might be angry with us for being there, so we clung
+together and trembled in each other’s arms. Koos also trembled, and
+from time to time he howled loudly. But they did not seem to see us,
+and towards morning their cries grew fainter.
+
+When the first light came we rose and picked our way through the dead
+down to the plain. Now we had an easy road to follow to Chaka’s kraal,
+for there was the spoor of the impi and of the cattle which they had
+stolen, and sometimes we came to the body of a warrior who had been
+killed because his wounds prevented him from marching farther. But now
+I was doubtful whether it was wise for us to go to Chaka, for after
+what we had seen I grew afraid lest he should kill us. Still, we had
+nowhere to turn, so I said that we would walk along till something
+happened. Now we grew faint with hunger and weariness, and Baleka said
+that we had better sit down and die, for then there would be no more
+trouble. So we sat down by a spring. But I did not wish to die yet,
+though Baleka was right, and it would have been well to do so. As we
+sat, the dog Koos went to a bush that was near, and presently I heard
+him spring at something and the sound of struggling. I ran to the
+bush—he had caught hold of a duiker buck, as big as himself, that was
+asleep in it. Then I drove my spear into the buck and shouted for joy,
+for here was food. When the buck was dead I skinned him, and we took
+bits of the flesh, washed them in the water, and ate them, for we had
+no fire to cook them with. It is not nice to eat uncooked flesh, but we
+were so hungry that we did not mind, and the food refreshed us. When we
+had eaten what we could, we rose and washed ourselves at the spring;
+but, as we washed, Baleka looked up and gave a cry of fear. For there,
+on the crest of the hill, about ten spear-throws away, was a party of
+six armed men, people of my own tribe—children of my father
+Makedama—who still pursued us to take us or kill us. They saw us—they
+raised a shout, and began to run. We too sprang up and ran—ran like
+bucks, for fear had touched our feet.
+
+Now the land lay thus. Before us the ground was open and sloped down to
+the banks of the White Umfolozi, which twisted through the plain like a
+great and shining snake. On the other side the ground rose again, and
+we did not know what was beyond, but we thought that in this direction
+lay the kraal of Chaka. We ran for the river—where else were we to run?
+And after us came the warriors. They gained on us; they were strong,
+and they were angry because they had come so far. Run as we would,
+still they gained. Now we neared the banks of the river; it was full
+and wide. Above us the waters ran angrily, breaking into swirls of
+white where they passed over sunken rocks; below was a rapid, in which
+none might live; between the two a deep pool, where the water was quiet
+but the stream strong.
+
+“Ah! my brother, what shall we do?” gasped Baleka.
+
+“There is this to choose,” I answered; “perish on the spears of our
+people or try the river.”
+
+“Easier to die by water than on iron,” she answered.
+
+“Good!” I said. “Now may our snakes look towards us and the spirits of
+our fathers be with us! At the least we can swim.” And I led her to the
+head of the pool. We threw away our blankets—everything except an
+assegai, which I held in my teeth—and we plunged in, wading as far as
+we could. Now we were up to our breasts; now we had lost the earth and
+were swimming towards the middle of the river, the dog Koos leading the
+way.
+
+Then it was that the soldiers appeared upon the bank. “Ah! little
+people,” one cried, “you swim, do you? Well, you will drown; and if you
+do not drown we know a ford, and we will catch you and kill you—yes! if
+we must run over the edge of the world after you we will catch you.”
+And he hurled an assegai after us, which fell between us like a flash
+of light.
+
+While he spoke we swam hard, and now we were in the current. It swept
+us downwards, but still we made way, for we could swim well. It was
+just this: if we could reach the bank before we were swept into the
+rapids we were safe; if not, then—good-night! Now we were near the
+other side, but, alas! we were also near the lip of the foaming water.
+We strained, we struggled. Baleka was a brave girl, and she swam
+bravely; but the water pushed her down below me, and I could do nothing
+to help her. I got my foot upon the rock and looked round. There she
+was, and eight paces from her the broken water boiled. I could not go
+back. I was too weak, and it seemed that she must perish. But the dog
+Koos saw. He swam towards her, barking, then turned round, heading for
+the shore. She grasped him by the tail with her right hand. Then he put
+out his strength—he was very strong. She too struck out with her feet
+and left hand, and slowly—very slowly—drew near. Then I stretched out
+the handle of my assegai towards her. She caught it with her left hand.
+Already her feet were over the brink of the rapids, but I pulled and
+Koos pulled, and we brought her safe into the shallows, and from the
+shallows to the bank, and there she fell gasping.
+
+Now when the soldiers on the other bank saw that we had crossed, they
+shouted threats at us, then ran away down the bank.
+
+“Arise, Baleka!” I said: “they have gone to see a ford.”
+
+“Ah, let me die!” she answered.
+
+But I forced her to rise, and after awhile she got her breath again,
+and we walked on as fast as we could up the long rise. For two hours we
+walked, or more, till at last we came to the crest of the rise, and
+there, far away, we saw a large kraal.
+
+“Keep heart,” I said. “See, there is the kraal of Chaka.”
+
+“Yes, brother,” she answered, “but what waits us there? Death is behind
+us and before us—we are in the middle of death.”
+
+Presently we came to a path that ran to the kraal from the ford of the
+Umfolozi. It was by it that the Impi had travelled. We followed the
+path till at last we were but half an hour’s journey from the kraal.
+Then we looked back, and lo! there behind us were the pursuers—five of
+them—one had drowned in crossing the river.
+
+Again we ran, but now we were weak, and they gained upon us. Then once
+more I thought of the dog. He was fierce and would tear any one on whom
+I set him. I called him and told him what to do, though I knew that it
+would be his death. He understood, and flew towards the soldiers
+growling, his hair standing up on his spine. They tried to kill him
+with spears and kerries, but he jumped round them, biting at them, and
+kept them back. At last a man hit him, and he sprang up and seized the
+man by the throat. There he clung, man and dog rolling over and over
+together, till the end of it was that they both died. Ah! he was a dog!
+We do not see such dogs nowadays. His father was a Boer hound, the
+first that came into the country. That dog once killed a leopard all by
+himself. Well, this was the end of Koos!
+
+Meanwhile, we had been running. Now we were but three hundred paces
+from the gate of the kraal, and there was something going on inside it;
+that we could see from the noise and the dust. The four soldiers,
+leaving the dead dog and the dying man, came after us swiftly. I saw
+that they must catch us before we reached the gate, for now Baleka
+could go but slowly. Then a thought came into my head. I had brought
+her here, I would save her life if I could. Should she reach the kraal
+without me, Chaka would not kill a girl who was so young and fair.
+
+“Run on, Baleka! run on!” I said, dropping behind. Now she was almost
+blind with weariness and terror, and, not seeing my purpose, staggered
+towards the gate of the kraal. But I sat down on the veldt to get my
+breath again, for I was about to fight four men till I was killed. My
+heart beat and the blood drummed in my ears, but when they drew near
+and I rose—the assegai in my hand—once more the red cloth seemed to go
+up and down before my eyes, and all fear left me.
+
+The men were running, two and two, with the length of a spear throw
+between them. But of the first pair one was five or six paces in front
+of the other. This man shouted out loud and charged me, shield and
+spear up. Now I had no shield—nothing but the assegai; but I was crafty
+and he was overbold. On he came. I stood waiting for him till he drew
+back the spear to stab me. Then suddenly I dropped to my knees and
+thrust upward with all my strength, beneath the rim of his shield, and
+he also thrust, but over me, his spear only cutting the flesh of my
+shoulder—see! here is its scar; yes, to this day. And my assegai? Ah!
+it went home; it ran through and through his middle. He rolled over and
+over on the plain. The dust hid him; only I was now weaponless, for the
+haft of my spear—it was but a light throwing assegai—broke in two,
+leaving nothing but a little bit of stick in my hand. And the other one
+was upon me. Then in the darkness I saw a light. I fell on to my hands
+and knees and flung myself over sideways. My body struck the legs of
+the man who was about to stab me, lifting his feet from beneath him.
+Down he came heavily. Before he had touched the ground I was off it.
+His spear had fallen from his hand. I stooped, seized it, and as he
+rose I stabbed him through the back. It was all done in the shake of a
+leaf, my father; in the shake of a leaf he also was dead. Then I ran,
+for I had no stomach for the other two; my valour was gone.
+
+About a hundred paces from me Baleka was staggering along with her arms
+out like one who has drunk too much beer. By the time I caught her she
+was some forty paces from the gate of the kraal. But then her strength
+left her altogether. Yes! there she fell senseless, and I stood by her.
+And there, too, I should have been killed, had not this chanced, since
+the other two men, having stayed one instant by their dead fellows,
+came on against me mad with rage. For at that moment the gate of the
+kraal opened, and through it ran a party of soldiers dragging a
+prisoner by the arms. After them walked a great man, who wore a leopard
+skin on his shoulders, and was laughing, and with him were five or six
+ringed councillors, and after them again came a company of warriors.
+
+The soldiers saw that killing was going on, and ran up just as the
+slayers reached us.
+
+“Who are you?” they cried, “who dare to kill at the gate of the
+Elephant’s kraal? Here the Elephant kills alone.”
+
+“We are of the children of Makedama,” they answered, “and we follow
+these evildoers who have done wickedness and murder in our kraal. See!
+but now two of us are dead at their hands, and others lie dead along
+the road. Suffer that we slay them.”
+
+“Ask that of the Elephant,” said the soldiers; “ask too that he suffer
+you should not be slain.”
+
+Just then the tall chief saw blood and heard words. He stalked up; and
+he was a great man to look at, though still quite young in years. For
+he was taller by a head than any round him, and his chest was big as
+the chests of two; his face was fierce and beautiful, and when he grew
+angry his eye flashed like a smitten brand.
+
+“Who are these that dare to stir up dust at the gates of my kraal?” he
+asked, frowning.
+
+“O Chaka, O Elephant!” answered the captain of the soldiers, bending
+himself double before him, “the men say that these are evildoers and
+that they pursue them to kill them.”
+
+“Good!” he answered. “Let them slay the evildoers.”
+
+“O great chief! thanks be to thee, great chief!” said those men of my
+people who sought to kill us.
+
+“I hear you,” he answered, then spoke once more to the captain. “And
+when they have slain the evildoers, let themselves be blinded and
+turned loose to seek their way home, because they have dared to lift a
+spear within the Zulu gates. Now praise on, my children!” And he
+laughed, while the soldiers murmured, “_Ou!_ he is wise, he is great,
+his justice is bright and terrible like the sun!”
+
+But the two men of my people cried out in fear, for they did not seek
+such justice as this.
+
+“Cut out their tongues also,” said Chaka. “What? shall the land of the
+Zulus suffer such a noise? Never! lest the cattle miscarry. To it, ye
+black ones! There lies the girl. She is asleep and helpless. Kill her!
+What? you hesitate? Nay, then, if you will have time for thought, I
+give it. Take these men, smear them with honey, and pin them over
+ant-heaps; by to-morrow’s sun they will know their own minds. But first
+kill these two hunted jackals,” and he pointed to Baleka and myself.
+“They seem tired and doubtless they long for sleep.”
+
+Then for the first time I spoke, for the soldiers drew near to slay us.
+
+“O Chaka,” I cried, “I am Mopo, and this is my sister Baleka.”
+
+I stopped, and a great shout of laughter went up from all who stood
+round.
+
+“Very well, Mopo and thy sister Baleka,” said Chaka, grimly.
+“Good-morning to you, Mopo and Baleka—also, good-night!”
+
+“O Chaka,” I broke in, “I am Mopo, son of Makedama of the Langeni
+tribe. It was I who gave thee a gourd of water many years ago, when we
+were both little. Then thou badest me come to thee when thou hadst
+grown great, vowing that thou wouldst protect me and never do me harm.
+So I have come, bringing my sister with me; and now, I pray thee, do
+not eat up the words of long ago.”
+
+As I spoke, Chaka’s face changed, and he listened earnestly, as a man
+who holds his hand behind his ear. “Those are no liars,” he said.
+“Welcome, Mopo! Thou shalt be a dog in my hut, and feed from my hand.
+But of thy sister I said nothing. Why, then, should she not be slain
+when I swore vengeance against all thy tribe, save thee alone?”
+
+“Because she is too fair to slay, O Chief!” I answered, boldly; “also
+because I love her, and ask her life as a boon!”
+
+“Turn the girl over,” said Chaka. And they did so, showing her face.
+
+“Again thou speakest no lie, son of Makedama,” said the chief. “I grant
+thee the boon. She also shall lie in my hut, and be of the number of my
+‘sisters.’ Now tell me thy tale, speaking only the truth.”
+
+So I sat down and told him all. Nor did he grow weary of listening.
+But, when I had done, he said but one thing—that he would that the dog
+Koos had not been killed; since, if he had still been alive, he would
+have set him on the hut of my father Makedama, and made him chief over
+the Langeni.
+
+Then he spoke to the captain of the soldiers. “I take back my words,”
+he said. “Let not these men of the Langeni be mutilated. One shall die
+and the other shall go free. Here,” and he pointed to the man whom we
+had seen led out of the kraal-gate, “here, Mopo, we have a man who has
+proved himself a coward. Yesterday a kraal of wizards yonder was eaten
+up by my order—perhaps you two saw it as you travelled. This man and
+three others attacked a soldier of that kraal who defended his wife and
+children. The man fought well—he slew three of my people. Then this dog
+was afraid to meet him face to face. He killed him with a throwing
+assegai, and afterwards he stabbed the woman. That is nothing; but he
+should have fought the husband hand to hand. Now I will do him honour.
+He shall fight to the death with one of these pigs from thy sty,” and
+he pointed with his spear to the men of my father’s kraal, “and the one
+who survives shall be run down as they tried to run you down. I will
+send back the other pig to the sty with a message. Choose, children of
+Makedama, which of you will live.”
+
+Now the two men of my tribe were brothers, and loved one another, and
+each of them was willing to die that the other might go free.
+Therefore, both of them stepped forward, saying that they would fight
+the Zulu.
+
+“What, is there honour among pigs?” said Chaka. “Then I will settle it.
+See this assegai? I throw it into the air; if the blade falls uppermost
+the tall man shall go free; if the shaft falls uppermost, then life is
+to the short one, so!” And he sent the little spear whirling round and
+round in the air. Every eye watched it as it wheeled and fell. The haft
+struck the ground first.
+
+“Come hither, thou,” said Chaka to the tall brother. “Hasten back to
+the kraal of Makedama, and say to him, Thus says Chaka, the Lion of the
+Zulu-ka-Malandela, ‘Years ago thy tribe refused me milk. To-day the dog
+of thy son Mopo howls upon the roof of thy hut.’ Begone!”[1]
+
+ [1] Among the Zulus it is a very bad omen for a dog to climb the roof
+ of a hut. The saying conveyed a threat to be appreciated by every
+ Zulu.—ED.
+
+The man turned, shook his brother by the hand, and went, bearing the
+words of evil omen.
+
+Then Chaka called to the Zulu and the last of those who had followed us
+to kill us, bidding them fight. So, when they had praised the prince
+they fought fiercely, and the end of it was that the man of my people
+conquered the Zulu. But as soon as he had found his breath again he was
+set to run for his life, and after him ran five chosen men.
+
+Still, it came about that he outran them, doubling like a hare, and got
+away safely. Nor was Chaka angry at this; for I think that he bade the
+men who hunted him to make speed slowly. There was only one good thing
+in the cruel heart of Chaka, that he would always save the life of a
+brave man if he could do so without making his word nothing. And for my
+part, I was glad to think that the man of my people had conquered him
+who murdered the children of the dying woman that we found at the kraal
+beyond the river.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+MOPO BECOMES THE KING’S DOCTOR
+
+
+These, then, my father, were the events that ended in the coming of me,
+Mopo, and of my sister Baleka to the kraal of Chaka, the Lion of the
+Zulu. Now you may ask why have I kept you so long with this tale, which
+is as are other tales of our people. But that shall be seen, for from
+these matters, as a tree from a seed, grew the birth of Umslopogaas
+Bulalio, Umslopogaas the Slaughterer, and Nada the Beautiful, of whose
+love my story has to tell. For Nada was my daughter, and Umslopogaas,
+though few knew it, was none other than the son of Chaka, born of my
+sister Baleka.
+
+Now when Baleka recovered from the weariness of our flight, and had her
+beauty again, Chaka took her to wife, numbering her among his women,
+whom he named his “sisters.” And me Chaka took to be one of his
+doctors, of his _izinyanga_ of medicine, and he was so well pleased
+with my medicine that in the end I became his head doctor. Now this was
+a great post, in which, during the course of years, I grew fat in
+cattle and in wives; but also it was one of much danger. For when I
+rose strong and well in the morning, I could never know but that at
+night I should sleep stiff and red. Many were the doctors whom Chaka
+slew; doctored they never so well, they were killed at last. For a day
+would surely come when the king felt ill in his body or heavy in his
+mind, and then to the assegai or the torment with the wizard who had
+doctored him! Yet I escaped, because of the power of my medicine, and
+also because of that oath which Chaka had sworn to me as a child. So it
+came about that where the king went there I went with him. I slept near
+his hut, I sat behind him at council, in the battle I was ever at his
+side.
+
+Ah! the battle! the battle! In those days we knew how to fight, my
+father! In those days the vultures would follow our impis by thousands,
+the hyenas would steal along our path in packs, and none went empty
+away. Never may I forget the first fight I stood in at the side of
+Chaka. It was just after the king had built his great kraal on the
+south bank of the Umhlatuze. Then it was that the chief Zwide attacked
+his rival Chaka for the third time and Chaka moved out to meet him with
+ten full regiments,[1] now for the first time armed with the short
+stabbing-spear.
+
+ [1] About 30,000 men.—ED.
+
+The ground lay thus: On a long, low hill in front of our impi were
+massed the regiments of Zwide; there were seventeen of them; the earth
+was black with their number; their plumes filled the air like snow. We,
+too, were on a hill, and between us lay a valley down which there ran a
+little stream. All night our fires shone out across the valley; all
+night the songs of soldiers echoed down the hills. Then the grey
+dawning came, the oxen lowed to the light, the regiments arose from
+their bed of spears; they sprang up and shook the dew from hair and
+shield—yes! they arose! the glad to die! The impi assumed its array
+regiment by regiment. There was the breast of spears, there were the
+horns of spears, they were numberless as the stars, and like the stars
+they shone. The morning breeze came up and fanned them, their plumes
+bent in the breeze; like a plain of seeding grass they bent, the plumes
+of the soldiers ripe for the assegai. Up over the shoulder of the hill
+came the sun of Slaughter; it glowed red upon the red shields, red grew
+the place of killing; the white plumes of the chiefs were dipped in the
+blood of heaven. They knew it; they saw the omen of death, and, ah!
+they laughed in the joy of the waking of battle. What was death? Was it
+not well to die on the spear? What was death? Was it not well to die
+for the king? Death was the arms of Victory. Victory would be their
+bride that night, and oh! her breast is fair.
+
+Hark! the war-song, the Ingomo, the music of which has the power to
+drive men mad, rose far away to the left, and was thrown along from
+regiment to regiment—a rolling ball of sound—
+
+We are the king’s kine, bred to be butchered,
+    You, too, are one of us!
+We are the Zulu, children of the Lion,
+    What! did you tremble?
+
+Suddenly Chaka was seen stalking through the ranks, followed by his
+captains, his indunas, and by me. He walked along like a great buck;
+death was in his eyes, and like a buck he sniffed the air, scenting the
+air of slaughter. He lifted his assegai, and a silence fell; only the
+sound of chanting still rolled along the hills.
+
+“Where are the children of Zwide?” he shouted, and his voice was like
+the voice of a bull.
+
+“Yonder, father,” answered the regiments. And every spear pointed
+across the valley.
+
+“They do not come,” he shouted again. “Shall we then sit here till we
+grow old?”
+
+“No, father,” they answered. “Begin! begin!”
+
+“Let the Umkandhlu regiment come forward!” he shouted a third time, and
+as he spoke the black shields of the Umkandhlu leaped from the ranks of
+the impi.
+
+“Go, my children!” cried Chaka. “There is the foe. Go and return no
+more!”
+
+“We hear you, father!” they answered with one voice, and moved down the
+slope like a countless herd of game with horns of steel.
+
+Now they crossed the stream, and now Zwide awoke. A murmur went through
+his companies; lines of light played above his spears.
+
+_Ou!_ they are coming! _Ou!_ they have met! Hearken to the thunder of
+the shields! Hearken to the song of battle!
+
+To and fro they swing. The Umkandhlu gives way—it flies! They pour back
+across the stream—half of them; the rest are dead. A howl of rage goes
+up from the host, only Chaka smiles.
+
+“Open up! open up!” he cries. “Make room for the Umkandhlu _girls!_”
+And with hanging heads they pass us.
+
+Now he whispers a word to the indunas. The indunas run; they whisper to
+Menziwa the general and to the captains; then two regiments rush down
+the hill, two more run to the right, and yet another two to the left.
+But Chaka stays on the hill with the three that are left. Again comes
+the roar of the meeting shields. Ah! these are men: they fight, they do
+not run. Regiment after regiment pours upon them, but still they stand.
+They fall by hundreds and by thousands, but no man shows his back, and
+on each man there lie two dead. _Wow!_ my father, of those two
+regiments not one escaped. They were but boys, but they were the
+children of Chaka. Menziwa was buried beneath the heaps of his
+warriors. Now there are no such men.
+
+They are all dead and quiet. Chaka still holds his hand! He looks to
+the north and to the south. See! spears are shining among the trees.
+Now the horns of our host close upon the flanks of the foe. They slay
+and are slain, but the men of Zwide are many and brave, and the battle
+turns against us.
+
+Then again Chaka speaks a word. The captains hear, the soldiers stretch
+out their necks to listen.
+
+It has come at last. “_Charge! Children of the Zulu!_”
+
+There is a roar, a thunder of feet, a flashing of spears, a bending of
+plumes, and, like a river that has burst its banks, like storm-clouds
+before the gale, we sweep down upon friend and foe. They form up to
+meet us; the stream is passed; our wounded rise upon their haunches and
+wave us on. We trample them down. What matter? They can fight no more.
+Then we meet Zwide rushing to greet us, as bull meets bull. _Ou!_ my
+father, I know no more. Everything grows red. That fight! that fight!
+We swept them away. When it was done there was nothing to be seen, but
+the hillside was black and red. Few fled; few were left to fly. We
+passed over them like fire; we ate them up. Presently we paused,
+looking for the foe. All were dead. The host of Zwide was no more. Then
+we mustered. Ten regiments had looked upon the morning sun; three
+regiments saw the sun sink; the rest had gone where no suns shine.
+
+Such were our battles in the days of Chaka!
+
+You ask of the Umkandhlu regiment which fled. I will tell you. When we
+reached our kraal once more, Chaka summoned that regiment and mustered
+it. He spoke to them gently, gently. He thanked them for their service.
+He said it was natural that “_girls_” should faint at the sight of
+blood and turn to seek their kraals. Yet he had bid them come back no
+more and they had come back! What then was there now left for him to
+do? And he covered his face with his blanket. Then the soldiers killed
+them all, nearly two thousand of them—killed them with taunts and
+jeers.
+
+That is how we dealt with cowards in those days, my father. After that,
+one Zulu was a match for five of any other tribe. If ten came against
+him, still he did not turn his back. “Fight and fall, but fly not,”
+that was our watchword. Never again while Chaka lived did a conquered
+force pass the gates of the king’s kraal.
+
+That fight was but one war out of many. With every moon a fresh impi
+started to wash its spears, and came back few and thin, but with
+victory and countless cattle. Tribe after tribe went down before us.
+Those of them who escaped the assegai were enrolled into fresh
+regiments, and thus, though men died by thousands every month, yet the
+army grew. Soon there were no other chiefs left. Umsuduka fell, and
+after him Mancengeza. Umzilikazi was driven north; Matiwane was stamped
+flat. Then we poured into this land of Natal. When we entered, its
+people could not be numbered. When we left, here and there a man might
+be found in a hole in the earth—that was all. Men, women, and children,
+we wiped them out; the land was clean of them. Next came the turn of
+U’Faku, chief of the Amapondos. Ah! where is U’Faku now?
+
+And so it went on and on, till even the Zulus were weary of war and the
+sharpest assegais grew blunt.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+THE BIRTH OF UMSLOPOGAAS
+
+
+This was the rule of the life of Chaka, that he would have no children,
+though he had many wives. Every child born to him by his “sisters” was
+put away at once.
+
+“What, Mopo,” he said to me, “shall I rear up children to put me to the
+assegai when they grow great? They call me tyrant. Say, how do those
+chiefs die whom men name tyrants? They die at the hands of those whom
+they have bred. Nay, Mopo, I will rule for my life, and when I join the
+spirits of my fathers let the strongest take my power and my place!”
+
+Now it chanced that shortly after Chaka had spoken thus, my sister
+Baleka, the king’s wife, fell in labour; and on that same day my wife
+Macropha was brought to bed of twins, and this but eight days after my
+second wife, Anadi, had given birth to a son. You ask, my father, how I
+came to be married, seeing that Chaka forbade marriage to all his
+soldiers till they were in middle life and had put the man’s ring upon
+their heads. It was a boon he granted me as _inyanga_ of medicine,
+saying it was well that a doctor should know the sicknesses of women
+and learn how to cure their evil tempers. As though, my father, that
+were possible!
+
+When the king heard that Baleka was sick he did not kill her outright,
+because he loved her a little, but he sent for me, commanding me to
+attend her, and when the child was born to cause its body to be brought
+to him, according to custom, so that he might be sure that it was dead.
+I bent to the earth before him, and went to do his bidding with a heavy
+heart, for was not Baleka my sister? and would not her child be of my
+own blood? Still, it must be so, for Chaka’s whisper was as the shout
+of other kings, and, if we dared to disobey, then our lives and the
+lives of all in our kraals would answer for it. Better that an infant
+should die than that we should become food for jackals. Presently I
+came to the _Emposeni_, the place of the king’s wives, and declared the
+king’s word to the soldiers on guard. They lowered their assegais and
+let me pass, and I entered the hut of Baleka. In it were others of the
+king’s wives, but when they saw me they rose and went away, for it was
+not lawful that they should stay where I was. Thus I was left alone
+with my sister.
+
+For awhile she lay silent, and I did not speak, though I saw by the
+heaving of her breast that she was weeping.
+
+“Hush, little one!” I said at length; “your sorrow will soon be done.”
+
+“Nay,” she answered, lifting her head, “it will be but begun. Oh, cruel
+man! I know the reason of your coming. You come to murder the babe that
+shall be born of me.”
+
+“It is the king’s word, woman.”
+
+“It is the king’s word, and what is the king’s word? Have I, then,
+naught to say in this matter?”
+
+“It is the king’s child, woman.”
+
+“It is the king’s child, and it is not also my child? Must my babe be
+dragged from my breast and be strangled, and by you, Mopo? Have I not
+loved you, Mopo? Did I not flee with you from our people and the
+vengeance of our father? Do you know that not two moons gone the king
+was wroth with you because he fell sick, and would have caused you to
+be slain had I not pleaded for you and called his oath to mind? And
+thus you pay me: you come to kill my child, my first-born child!”
+
+“It is the king’s word, woman,” I answered sternly; but my heart was
+split in two within me.
+
+Then Baleka said no more, but, turning her face to the wall of the hut,
+she wept and groaned bitterly.
+
+Now, as she wept I heard a stir without the hut, and the light in the
+doorway was darkened. A woman entered alone. I looked round to see who
+it was, then fell upon the ground in salutation, for before me was
+Unandi, mother of the king, who was named “Mother of the Heavens,” that
+same lady to whom my mother had refused the milk.
+
+“Hail, Mother of the Heavens!” I said.
+
+“Greeting, Mopo,” she answered. “Say, why does Baleka weep? Is it
+because the sorrow of women is upon her?”
+
+“Ask of her, great chieftainess,” I said.
+
+Then Baleka spoke: “I weep, mother of a king, because this man, who is
+my brother, has come from him who is my lord and thy son, to murder
+that which shall be born of me. O thou whose breasts have given suck,
+plead for me! Thy son was not slain at birth.”
+
+“Perhaps it were well if he had been so slain, Baleka,” said Unandi;
+“then had many another man lived to look upon the sun who is now dead.”
+
+“At the least, as an infant he was good and gentle, and thou mightest
+love him, Mother of the Zulu.”
+
+“Never, Baleka! As a babe he bit my breast and tore my hair; as the man
+is so was the babe.”
+
+“Yet may his child be otherwise, Mother of the Heavens! Think, thou
+hast no grandson to comfort thee in thy age. Wilt thou, then, see all
+thy stock wither? The king, our lord, lives in war. He too may die, and
+what then?”
+
+“Then the root of Senzangacona is still green. Has the king no
+brothers?”
+
+“They are not of thy flesh, mother. What? thou dost not hearken! Then
+as a woman to woman I plead with thee. Save my child or slay me with my
+child!”
+
+Now the heart of Unandi grew gentle, and she was moved to tears.
+
+“How may this be done, Mopo?” she said. “The king must see the dead
+infant, and if he suspect, and even reeds have ears, you know the heart
+of Chaka and where we shall lie to-morrow.”
+
+“Are there then no other new-born babes in Zululand?” said Baleka,
+sitting up and speaking in a whisper like the hiss of a snake. “Listen,
+Mopo! Is not your wife also in labour? Now hear me, Mother of the
+Heavens, and, my brother, hear me also. Do not think to play with me in
+this matter. I will save my child or you twain will perish with it. For
+I will tell the king that you came to me, the two of you, and whispered
+plots into my ear—plots to save the child and kill the king. Now
+choose, and swiftly!”
+
+She sank bank, there was silence, and we looked one upon another. Then
+Unandi spoke.
+
+“Give me your hand, Mopo, and swear that you will be faithful to me in
+this secret, as I swear to you. A day may come when this child who has
+not seen the light rules as king in Zululand, and then in reward you
+shall be the greatest of the people, the king’s voice, whisperer in the
+king’s ear. But if you break your oath, then beware, for I shall not
+die alone!”
+
+“I swear, Mother of the Heavens,” I answered.
+
+“It is well, son of Makedama.”
+
+“It is well, my brother,” said Baleka. “Now go and do that which must
+be done swiftly, for my sorrow is upon me. Go, knowing that if you fail
+I will be pitiless, for I will bring you to your death, yes, even if my
+own death is the price!”
+
+So I went. “Whither do you go?” asked the guard at the gate.
+
+“I go to bring my medicines, men of the king,” I answered.
+
+So I said; but, oh! my heart was heavy, and this was my plan—to fly far
+from Zululand. I could not, and I dared not do this thing. What? should
+I kill my own child that its life might be given for the life of the
+babe of Baleka? And should I lift up my will against the will of the
+king, saving the child to look upon the sun which he had doomed to
+darkness? Nay, I would fly, leaving all, and seek out some far tribe
+where I might begin to live again. Here I could not live; here in the
+shadow of Chaka was nothing but death.
+
+I reached my own huts, there to find that my wife Macropha was
+delivered of twins. I sent away all in the hut except my other wife,
+Anadi, she who eight days gone had borne me a son. The second of the
+twins was born; it was a boy, born dead. The first was a girl, she who
+lived to be Nada the Beautiful, Nada the Lily. Then a thought came into
+my heart. Here was a path to run on.
+
+“Give me the boy,” I said to Anadi. “He is not dead. Give him to me
+that I may take him outside the kraal and wake him to life by my
+medicine.”
+
+“It is of no use—the child is dead,” said Anadi.
+
+“Give him to me, woman!” I said fiercely. And she gave me the body.
+
+Then I took him and wrapped him up in my bundle of medicines, and
+outside of all I rolled a mat of plaited grass.
+
+“Suffer none to enter the hut till I return,” I said; “and speak no
+word of the child that seems to be dead. If you allow any to enter, or
+if you speak a word, then my medicine will not work and the babe will
+be dead indeed.”
+
+So I went, leaving the women wondering, for it is not our custom to
+save both when twins are born; but I ran swiftly to the gates of the
+_Emposeni_.
+
+“I bring the medicines, men of the king!” I said to the guards.
+
+“Pass in,” they answered.
+
+I passed through the gates and into the hut of Baleka. Unandi was alone
+in the hut with my sister.
+
+“The child is born,” said the mother of the king. “Look at him, Mopo,
+son of Makedama!”
+
+I looked. He was a great child with large black eyes like the eyes of
+Chaka the king; and Unandi, too, looked at me. “Where is it?” she
+whispered.
+
+I loosed the mat and drew the dead child from the medicines, glancing
+round fearfully as I did so.
+
+“Give me the living babe,” I whispered back.
+
+They gave it to me and I took of a drug that I knew and rubbed it on
+the tongue of the child. Now this drug has the power to make the tongue
+it touches dumb for awhile. Then I wrapped up the child in my medicines
+and again bound the mat about the bundle. But round the throat of the
+still-born babe I tied a string of fibre as though I had strangled it,
+and wrapped it loosely in a piece of matting.
+
+Now for the first time I spoke to Baleka: “Woman,” I said, “and thou
+also, Mother of the Heavens, I have done your wish, but know that
+before all is finished this deed shall bring about the death of many.
+Be secret as the grave, for the grave yawns for you both.”
+
+I went again, bearing the mat containing the dead child in my right
+hand. But the bundle of medicines that held the living one I fastened
+across my shoulders. I passed out of the _Emposeni_, and, as I went, I
+held up the bundle in my right hand to the guards, showing them that
+which was in it, but saying nothing.
+
+“It is good,” they said, nodding.
+
+But now ill-fortune found me, for just outside the _Emposeni_ I met
+three of the king’s messengers.
+
+“Greeting, son of Makedama!” they said. “The king summons you to the
+_Intunkulu_”—that is the royal house, my father.
+
+“Good!” I answered. “I will come now; but first I would run to my own
+place to see how it goes with Macropha, my wife. Here is that which the
+king seeks,” and I showed them the dead child. “Take it to him if you
+will.”
+
+“That is not the king’s command, Mopo,” they answered. “His word is
+that you should stand before him at once.”
+
+Now my heart turned to water in my breast. Kings have many ears. Could
+he have heard? And how dared I go before the Lion bearing his living
+child hidden on my back? Yet to waver was to be lost, to show fear was
+to be lost, to disobey was to be lost.
+
+“Good! I come,” I answered. And we walked to the gate of the
+_Intunkulu_.
+
+It was sundown. Chaka was sitting in the little courtyard in front of
+his hut. I went down on my knees before him and gave the royal salute,
+_Bayéte_, and so I stayed.
+
+“Rise, son of Makedama!” he said.
+
+“I cannot rise, Lion of the Zulu,” I answered, “I cannot rise, having
+royal blood on my hands, till the king has pardoned me.”
+
+“Where is it?” he asked.
+
+I pointed to the mat in my hand.
+
+“Let me look at it.”
+
+Then I undid the mat, and he looked on the child, and laughed aloud.
+
+“He might have been a king,” he said, as he bade a councillor take it
+away. “Mopo, thou hast slain one who might have been a king. Art thou
+not afraid?”
+
+“No, Black One,” I answered, “the child is killed by order of one who
+is a king.”
+
+“Sit down, and let us talk,” said Chaka, for his mood was idle.
+“To-morrow thou shalt have five oxen for this deed; thou shalt choose
+them from the royal herd.”
+
+“The king is good; he sees that my belt is drawn tight; he satisfies my
+hunger. Will the king suffer that I go? My wife is in labour and I
+would visit her.”
+
+“Nay, stay awhile; say how it is with Baleka, my sister and thine?”
+
+“It is well.”
+
+“Did she weep when you took the babe from her?”
+
+“Nay, she wept not. She said, ‘My lord’s will is my will.’”
+
+“Good! Had she wept she had been slain also. Who was with her?”
+
+“The Mother of the Heavens.”
+
+The brow of Chaka darkened. “Unandi, my mother, what did she there? By
+myself I swear, though she is my mother—if I thought”—and he ceased.
+
+There was a silence, then he spoke again. “Say, what is in that mat?”
+and he pointed with his little assegai at the bundle on my shoulders.
+
+“Medicine, king.”
+
+“Thou dost carry enough to doctor an impi. Undo the mat and let me look
+at it.”
+
+“Now, my father, I tell you that the marrow melted in my bones with
+terror, for if I undid the mat I feared he must see the child and
+then—”
+
+“It is _tagati_, it is bewitched, O king. It is not wise to look on
+medicine.”
+
+“Open!” he answered angrily. “What? may I not look at that which I am
+forced to swallow—I, who am the first of doctors?”
+
+“Death is the king’s medicine,” I answered, lifting the bundle, and
+laying it as far from him in the shadow of the fence as I dared. Then I
+bent over it, slowly undoing the rimpis with which it was tied, while
+the sweat of terror ran down my face blinding me like tears. What would
+I do if he saw the child? What if the child awoke and cried? I would
+snatch the assegai from his hand and stab him! Yes, I would kill the
+king and then kill myself! Now the mat was unrolled. Inside were the
+brown leaves and roots of medicine; beneath them was the senseless babe
+wrapped in dead moss.
+
+“Ugly stuff,” said the king, taking snuff. “Now see, Mopo, what a good
+aim I have! This for thy medicine!” And he lifted his assegai to throw
+it through the bundle. But as he threw, my snake put it into the king’s
+heart to sneeze, and thus it came to pass that the assegai only pierced
+the outer leaves of the medicine, and did not touch the child.
+
+“May the heavens bless the king!” I said, according to custom.
+
+“Thanks to thee, Mopo, it is a good omen,” he answered. “And now,
+begone! Take my advice: kill thy children, as I kill mine, lest they
+live to worry thee. The whelps of lions are best drowned.”
+
+I did up the bundle fast—fast, though my hands trembled. Oh! what if
+the child should wake and cry. It was done; I rose and saluted the
+king. Then I doubled myself up and passed from before him. Scarcely was
+I outside the gates of the _Intunkulu_ when the infant began to squeak
+in the bundle. If it had been one minute before!
+
+“What,” said a soldier, as I passed, “have you got a puppy hidden under
+your moocha,[1] Mopo?”
+
+ [1] Girdle composed of skin and tails of oxen.-ED.
+
+I made no answer, but hurried on till I came to my huts. I entered;
+there were my two wives alone.
+
+“I have recovered the child, women,” I said, as I undid the bundle.
+
+Anadi took him and looked at him.
+
+“The boy seems bigger than he was,” she said.
+
+“The breath of life has come into him and puffed him out,” I answered.
+
+“His eyes are not as his eyes were,” she said again. “Now they are big
+and black, like the eyes of the king.”
+
+“My spirit looked upon his eyes and made them beautiful,” I answered.
+
+“This child has a birth-mark on his thigh,” she said a third time.
+“That which I gave you had no mark.”
+
+“I laid my medicine there,” I answered.
+
+“It is not the same child,” she said sullenly. “It is a changeling who
+will lay ill-luck at our doors.”
+
+Then I rose up in my rage and cursed her heavily, for I saw that if she
+was not stopped this woman’s tongue would bring us all to ruin.
+
+“Peace, witch!” I cried. “How dare you to speak thus from a lying
+heart? Do you wish to draw down a curse upon our roof? Would you make
+us all food for the king’s spear? Say such words again, and you shall
+sit within the circle—the _Ingomboco_ shall know you for a witch!”
+
+So I stormed on, threatening to bring her to death, till at length she
+grew fearful, and fell at my feet praying for mercy and forgiveness.
+But I was much afraid because of this woman’s tongue, and not without
+reason.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+UMSLOPOGAAS ANSWERS THE KING
+
+
+Now the years went on, and this matter slept. Nothing more was heard of
+it, but still it only slept; and, my father, I feared greatly for the
+hour when it should awake. For the secret was known by two
+women—Unandi, Mother of the Heavens, and Baleka, my sister, wife of the
+king; and by two more—Macropha and Anadi, my wives—it was guessed at.
+How, then, should it remain a secret forever? Moreover, it came about
+that Unandi and Baleka could not restrain their fondness for this child
+who was called my son and named Umslopogaas, but who was the son of
+Chaka, the king, and of Baleka, and the grandson of Unandi. So it
+happened that very often one or the other of them would come into my
+hut, making pretence to visit my wives, and take the boy upon her lap
+and fondle it. In vain did I pray them to forbear. Love pulled at their
+heart-strings more heavily than my words, and still they came. This was
+the end of it—that Chaka saw the child sitting on the knee of Unandi,
+his mother.
+
+“What does my mother with that brat of thine, Mopo?” he asked of me.
+“Cannot she kiss me, if she will find a child to kiss?” And he laughed
+like a wolf.
+
+I said that I did not know, and the matter passed over for awhile. But
+after that Chaka caused his mother to be watched. Now the boy
+Umslopogaas grew great and strong; there was no such lad of his years
+for a day’s journey round. But from a babe he was somewhat surly, of
+few words, and like his father, Chaka, afraid of nothing. In all the
+world there were but two people whom he loved—these were I, Mopo, who
+was called his father, and Nada, she who was said to be his twin
+sister.
+
+Now it must be told of Nada that as the boy Umslopogaas was the
+strongest and bravest of children, so the girl Nada was the gentlest
+and most fair. Of a truth, my father, I believe that her blood was not
+all Zulu, though this I cannot say for certain. At the least, her eyes
+were softer and larger than those of our people, her hair longer and
+less tightly curled, and her skin was lighter—more of the colour of
+pure copper. These things she had from her mother, Macropha; though she
+was fairer than Macropha—fairer, indeed, than any woman of my people
+whom I have seen. Her mother, Macropha, my wife, was of Swazi blood,
+and was brought to the king’s kraal with other captives after a raid,
+and given to me as a wife by the king. It was said that she was the
+daughter of a Swazi headman of the tribe of the Halakazi, and that she
+was born of his wife is true, but whether he was her father I do not
+know; for I have heard from the lips of Macropha herself, that before
+she was born there was a white man staying at her father’s kraal. He
+was a Portuguese from the coast, a handsome man, and skilled in the
+working of iron. This white man loved the mother of my wife, Macropha,
+and some held that Macropha was his daughter, and not that of the Swazi
+headman. At least I know this, that before my wife’s birth the Swazi
+killed the white man. But none can tell the truth of these matters, and
+I only speak of them because the beauty of Nada was rather as is the
+beauty of the white people than of ours, and this might well happen if
+her grandfather chanced to be a white man.
+
+Now Umslopogaas and Nada were always together. Together they ate,
+together they slept and wandered; they thought one thought and spoke
+with one tongue. _Ou!_ it was pretty to see them! Twice while they were
+still children did Umslopogaas save the life of Nada.
+
+The first time it came about thus. The two children had wandered far
+from the kraal, seeking certain berries that little ones love. On they
+wandered and on, singing as they went, till at length they found the
+berries, and ate heartily. Then it was near sundown, and when they had
+eaten they fell asleep. In the night they woke to find a great wind
+blowing and a cold rain falling on them, for it was the beginning of
+winter, when fruits are ripe.
+
+“Up, Nada!” said Umslopogaas, “we must seek the kraal or the cold will
+kill us.”
+
+So Nada rose, frightened, and hand in hand they stumbled through the
+darkness. But in the wind and the night they lost their path, and when
+at length the dawn came they were in a forest that was strange to them.
+They rested awhile, and finding berries ate them, then walked again.
+All that day they wandered, till at last the night came down, and they
+plucked branches of trees and piled the branches over them for warmth,
+and they were so weary that they fell asleep in each other’s arms. At
+dawn they rose, but now they were very tired and berries were few, so
+that by midday they were spent. Then they lay down on the side of a
+steep hill, and Nada laid her head upon the breast of Umslopogaas.
+
+“Here let us die, my brother,” she said.
+
+But even then the boy had a great spirit, and he answered, “Time to
+die, sister, when Death chooses us. See, now! Do you rest here, and I
+will climb the hill and look across the forest.”
+
+So he left her and climbed the hill, and on its side he found many
+berries and a root that is good for food, and filled himself with them.
+At length he came to the crest of the hill and looked out across the
+sea of green. Lo! there, far away to the east, he saw a line of white
+that lay like smoke against the black surface of a cliff, and knew it
+for the waterfall beyond the royal town. Then he came down the hill,
+shouting for joy and bearing roots and berries in his hand. But when he
+reached the spot where Nada was, he found that her senses had left her
+through hunger, cold, and weariness. She lay upon the ground like one
+asleep, and over her stood a jackal that fled as he drew nigh. Now it
+would seem that there were but two shoots to the stick of Umslopogaas.
+One was to save himself, and the other to lie down and die by Nada. Yet
+he found a third, for, undoing the strips of his moocha, he made ropes
+of them, and with the ropes he bound Nada on his back and started for
+the king’s kraal. He could never have reached it, for the way was long,
+yet at evening some messengers running through the forest came upon a
+naked lad with a girl bound to his back and a staff in his hand, who
+staggered along slowly with starting eyes and foam upon his lips. He
+could not speak, he was so weary, and the ropes had cut through the
+skin of his shoulders; yet one of the messengers knew him for
+Umslopogaas, the son of Mopo, and they bore him to the kraal. They
+would have left the girl Nada, thinking her dead, but he pointed to her
+breast, and, feeling it, they found that her heart still beat, so they
+brought her also; and the end of it was that both recovered and loved
+each other more than ever before.
+
+Now after this, I, Mopo, bade Umslopogaas stay at home within the
+kraal, and not lead his sister to the wilds. But the boy loved roaming
+like a fox, and where he went there Nada followed. So it came about
+that one day they slipped from the kraal when the gates were open, and
+sought out a certain deep glen which had an evil name, for it was said
+that spirits haunted it and put those to death who entered there.
+Whether this was true I do not know, but I know that in the glen dwelt
+a certain woman of the woods, who had her habitation in a cave and
+lived upon what she could kill or steal or dig up with her hands. Now
+this woman was mad. For it had chanced that her husband had been “smelt
+out” by the witch-doctors as a worker of magic against the king, and
+slain. Then Chaka, according to custom, despatched the slayers to eat
+up his kraal, and they came to the kraal and killed his people. Last of
+all they killed his children, three young girls, and would have
+assegaied their mother, when suddenly a spirit entered into her at the
+sight, and she went mad, so that they let her go, being afraid to touch
+her afterwards. So she fled and took up her abode in the haunted glen;
+and this was the nature of her madness, that whenever she saw children,
+and more especially girl children, a longing came upon her to kill them
+as her own had been killed. This, indeed, she did often, for when the
+moon was full and her madness at its highest, she would travel far to
+find children, snatching them away from the kraals like a hyena. Still,
+none would touch her because of the spirit in her, not even those whose
+children she had murdered.
+
+So Umslopogaas and Nada came to the glen where the child-slayer lived,
+and sat down by a pool of water not far from the mouth of her cave,
+weaving flowers into a garland. Presently Umslopogaas left Nada, to
+search for rock lilies which she loved. As he went he called back to
+her, and his voice awoke the woman who was sleeping in her cave, for
+she came out by night only, like a jackal. Then the woman stepped
+forth, smelling blood and having a spear in her hand. Presently she saw
+Nada seated upon the grass weaving flowers, and crept towards her to
+kill her. Now as she came—so the child told me—suddenly a cold wind
+seemed to breathe upon Nada, and fear took hold of her, though she did
+not see the woman who would murder her. She let fall the flowers, and
+looked before her into the pool, and there, mirrored in the pool, she
+saw the greedy face of the child-slayer, who crept down upon her from
+above, her hair hanging about her brow and her eyes shining like the
+eyes of a lion.
+
+Then with a cry Nada sprang up and fled along the path which
+Umslopogaas had taken, and after her leapt and ran the mad woman.
+Umslopogaas heard her cry. He turned and rushed back over the brow of
+the hill, and, lo! there before him was the murderess. Already she had
+grasped Nada by the hair, already her spear was lifted to pierce her.
+Umslopogaas had no spear, he had nothing but a little stick without a
+knob; yet with it he rushed at the mad woman and struck her so smartly
+on the arm that she let go of the girl and turned on him with a yell.
+Then, lifting her spear, she struck at him, but he leapt aside. Again
+she struck; but he sprang into the air, and the spear passed beneath
+him. A third time the woman struck, and, though he fell to earth to
+avoid the blow, yet the assegai pierced his shoulder. But the weight of
+his body as he fell twisted it from her hand, and before she could
+grasp him he was up, and beyond her reach, the spear still fast in his
+shoulder.
+
+Then the woman turned, screaming with rage and madness, and ran at Nada
+to kill her with her hands. But Umslopogaas set his teeth, and, drawing
+the spear from his wound, charged her, shouting. She lifted a great
+stone and hurled it at him—so hard that it flew into fragments against
+another stone which it struck; yet he charged on, and smote at her so
+truly that he drove the spear through her, and she fell down dead.
+After that Nada bound up his wound, which was deep, and with much pain
+he reached the king’s kraal and told me this story.
+
+Now there were some who cried that the boy must be put to death,
+because he had killed one possessed with a spirit. But I said no, he
+should not be touched. He had killed the woman in defence of his own
+life and the life of his sister; and every one had a right to slay in
+self-defence, except as against the king or those who did the king’s
+bidding. Moreover, I said, if the woman had a spirit, it was an evil
+one, for no good spirit would ask the lives of children, but rather
+those of cattle, for it is against our custom to sacrifice human beings
+to the _Amatonga_ even in war, though the Basuta dogs do so. Still, the
+tumult grew, for the witch-doctors were set upon the boy’s death,
+saying that evil would come of it if he was allowed to live, having
+killed one inspired, and at last the matter came to the ears of the
+king. Then Chaka summoned me and the boy before him, and he also
+summoned the witch-doctors.
+
+First, the witch-doctors set out their case, demanding the death of
+Umslopogaas. Chaka asked them what would happen if the boy was not
+killed. They answered that the spirit of the dead woman would lead him
+to bring evil on the royal house. Chaka asked if he would bring evil on
+him, the king. They in turn asked the spirits, and answered no, not on
+him, but on one of the royal house who should be after him. Chaka said
+that he cared nothing what happened to those who came after him, or
+whether good or evil befell them. Then he spoke to Umslopogaas, who
+looked him boldly in the face, as an equal looks at an equal.
+
+“Boy,” he said, “what hast thou to say as to why thou shouldst not be
+killed as these men demand?”
+
+“This, Black One,” answered Umslopogaas; “that I stabbed the woman in
+defence of my own life.”
+
+“That is nothing,” said Chaka. “If I, the king, wished to kill thee,
+mightest thou therefore kill me or those whom I sent? The _Itongo_ in
+the woman was a Spirit King and ordered her to kill thee; thou shouldst
+then have let thyself be killed. Hast thou no other reason?”
+
+“This, Elephant,” answered Umslopogaas; “the woman would have murdered
+my sister, whom I love better than my life.”
+
+“That is nothing,” said Chaka. “If I ordered thee to be killed for any
+cause, should I not also order all within thy gates to be killed with
+thee? May not, then, a Spirit King do likewise? If thou hast nothing
+more to say thou must die.”
+
+Now I grew afraid, for I feared lest Chaka should slay him who was
+called my son because of the word of the doctors. But the boy
+Umslopogaas looked up and answered boldly, not as one who pleads for
+his life, but as one who demands a right:—
+
+“I have this to say, Eater-up of Enemies, and if it is not enough, let
+us stop talking, and let me be killed. Thou, O king, didst command that
+this woman should be slain. Those whom thou didst send to destroy her
+spared her, because they thought her mad. I have carried out the
+commandment of the king; I have slain her, mad or sane, whom the king
+commanded should be killed, and I have earned not death, but a reward.”
+
+“Well said, Umslopogaas!” answered Chaka. “Let ten head of cattle be
+given to this boy with the heart of a man; his father shall guard them
+for him. Art thou satisfied now, Umslopogaas?”
+
+“I take that which is due to me, and I thank the king because he need
+not pay unless he will,” Umslopogaas answered.
+
+Chaka stared awhile, began to grow angry, then burst out laughing.
+
+“Why, this calf is such another one as was dropped long ago in the
+kraal of Senzangacona!” he said. “As I was, so is this boy. Go on, lad,
+in that path, and thou mayst find those who shall cry the royal salute
+of _Bayéte_ to thee at the end of it. Only keep out of my way, for two
+of a kind might not agree. Now begone!”
+
+So we went out, but as we passed them I saw the doctors muttering
+together, for they were ill-pleased and foreboded evil. Also they were
+jealous of me, and wished to smite me through the heart of him who was
+called my son.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+THE GREAT INGOMBOCO
+
+
+After this there was quiet until the Feast of the First-fruits was
+ended. But few people were killed at this feast, though there was a
+great _Ingomboco_, or witch-hunt, and many were smelt out by the
+witch-doctors as working magic against the king. Now things had come to
+this pass in Zululand—that the whole people cowered before the
+witch-doctors. No man might sleep safe, for none knew but that on the
+morrow he would be touched by the wand of an _Isanusi_, as we name a
+finder of witches, and led away to his death. For awhile Chaka said
+nothing, and so long as the doctors smelt out those only whom he wished
+to get rid of—and they were many—he was well pleased. But when they
+began to work for their own ends, and to do those to death whom he did
+not desire to kill, he grew angry. Yet the custom of the land was that
+he whom the witch-doctor touched must die, he and all his house;
+therefore the king was in a cleft stick, for he scarcely dared to save
+even those whom he loved. One night I came to doctor him, for he was
+sick in his mind. On that very day there had been an _Ingomboco_, and
+five of the bravest captains of the army had been smelt out by the
+_Abangoma_, the witch-finders, together with many others. All had been
+destroyed, and men had been sent to kill the wives and children of the
+dead. Now Chaka was very angry at this slaying, and opened his heart to
+me.
+
+“The witch-doctors rule in Zululand, and not I, Mopo, son of Makedama,”
+he said to me. “Where, then, is it to end? Shall I myself be smelt out
+and slain? These _Isanusis_ are too strong for me; they lie upon the
+land like the shadow of night. Tell me, how may I be free of them?”
+
+“Those who walk the Bridge of Spears, O king, fall off into Nowhere,” I
+answered darkly; “even witch-doctors cannot keep a footing on that
+bridge. Has not a witch-doctor a heart that can cease to beat? Has he
+not blood that can be made to flow?”
+
+Chaka looked at me strangely. “Thou art a bold man who darest to speak
+thus to me, Mopo,” he said. “Dost thou not know that it is sacrilege to
+touch an _Isanusi?_”
+
+“I speak that which is in the king’s mind,” I answered. “Hearken, O
+king! It is indeed sacrilege to touch a true _Isanusi_, but what if the
+_Isanusi_ be a liar? What if he smell out falsely, bringing those to
+death who are innocent of evil? Is it then sacrilege to bring him to
+that end which he has given to many another? Say, O king!”
+
+“Good words!” answered Chaka. “Now tell me, son of Makedama, how may
+this matter be put to proof?”
+
+Then I leaned forward, whispering into the ear of the Black One, and he
+nodded heavily.
+
+Thus I spoke then, because I, too, saw the evil of the _Isanusis_, I
+who knew their secrets. Also, I feared for my own life and for the
+lives of all those who were dear to me. For they hated me as one
+instructed in their magic, one who had the seeing eye and the hearing
+ear.
+
+One morning thereafter a new thing came to pass in the royal kraal, for
+the king himself ran out, crying aloud to all people to come and see
+the evil that had been worked upon him by a wizard. They came together
+and saw this. On the door-posts of the gateway of the _Intunkulu_, the
+house of the king, were great smears of blood. The knees of men strong
+in the battle trembled when they saw it; women wailed aloud as they
+wail over the dead; they wailed because of the horror of the omen.
+
+“Who has done this thing?” cried Chaka in a terrible voice. “Who has
+dared to bewitch the king and to strike blood upon his house?”
+
+There was no answer, and Chaka spoke again. “This is no little matter,”
+he said, “to be washed away with the blood of one or two and be
+forgotten. The man who wrought it shall not die alone or travel with a
+few to the world of spirits. All his tribe shall go with him, down to
+the baby in his hut and cattle in his kraal! Let messengers go out east
+and west, and north and south, and summon the witch-doctors from every
+quarter! Let them summon the captains from every regiment and the
+headmen from every kraal! On the tenth day from now the circle of the
+_Ingomboco_ must be set, and there shall be such a smelling out of
+wizards and of witches as has not been known in Zululand!”
+
+So the messengers went out to do the bidding of the king, taking the
+names of those who should be summoned from the lips of the indunas, and
+day by day people flocked up to the gates of the royal kraal, and,
+creeping on their knees before the majesty of the king, praised him
+aloud. But he vouchsafed an answer to none. One noble only he caused to
+be killed, because he carried in his hand a stick of the royal red
+wood, which Chaka himself had given him in bygone years.[1]
+
+ [1] This beautiful wood is known in Natal as “red ivory.”—ED.
+
+On the last night before the forming of the _Ingomboco_, the
+witch-doctors, male and female, entered the kraal. There were a hundred
+and a half of them, and they were made hideous and terrible with the
+white bones of men, with bladders of fish and of oxen, with fat of
+wizards, and with skins of snakes. They walked in silence till they
+came in front of the _Intunkulu_, the royal house; then they stopped
+and sang this song for the king to hear:—
+
+We have come, O king, we have come from the caves and the rocks and the
+swamps,
+    To wash in the blood of the slain;
+We have gathered our host from the air as vultures are gathered in war
+    When they scent the blood of the slain.
+
+We come not alone, O king: with each Wise One there passes a ghost,
+    Who hisses the name of the doomed.
+We come not alone, for we are the sons and Indunas of Death,
+    And he guides our feet to the doomed.
+
+Red rises the moon o’er the plain, red sinks the sun in the west,
+    Look, wizards, and bid them farewell!
+We count you by hundreds, you who cried for a curse on the king.
+    Ha! soon shall we bid _you_ farewell!
+
+Then they were silent, and went in silence to the place appointed for
+them, there to pass the night in mutterings and magic. But those who
+were gathered together shivered with fear when they heard their words,
+for they knew well that many a man would be switched with the gnu’s
+tail before the sun sank once more. And I, too, trembled, for my heart
+was full of fear. Ah! my father, those were evil days to live in when
+Chaka ruled, and death met us at every turn! Then no man might call his
+life his own, or that of his wife or child, or anything. All were the
+king’s, and what war spared that the witch-doctors took.
+
+The morning dawned heavily, and before it was well light the heralds
+were out summoning all to the king’s _Ingomboco_. Men came by hundreds,
+carrying short sticks only—for to be seen armed was death—and seated
+themselves in the great circle before the gates of the royal house. Oh!
+their looks were sad, and they had little stomach for eating that
+morning, they who were food for death. They seated themselves; then
+round them on the outside of the circle gathered knots of warriors,
+chosen men, great and fierce, armed with kerries only. These were the
+slayers.
+
+When all was ready, the king came out, followed by his indunas and by
+me. As he appeared, wrapped in the kaross of tiger-skins and towering a
+head higher than any man there, all the multitude—and it was many as
+the game on the hills—cast themselves to earth, and from every lip
+sharp and sudden went up the royal salute of _Bayéte_. But Chaka took
+no note; his brow was cloudy as a mountain-top. He cast one glance at
+the people and one at the slayers, and wherever his eye fell men turned
+grey with fear. Then he stalked on, and sat himself upon a stool to the
+north of the great ring looking toward the open space.
+
+For awhile there was silence; then from the gates of the women’s
+quarters came a band of maidens arrayed in their beaded
+dancing-dresses, and carrying green branches in their hands. As they
+came, they clapped their hands and sang softly:—
+
+We are the heralds of the king’s feast. Ai! Ai!
+    Vultures shall eat it. Ah! Ah!
+It is good—it is good to die for the king!
+
+They ceased, and ranged themselves in a body behind us. Then Chaka held
+up his hand, and there was a patter of running feet. Presently from
+behind the royal huts appeared the great company of the _Abangoma_, the
+witch-doctors—men to the right and women to the left. In the left hand
+of each was the tail of a vilderbeeste, in the right a bundle of
+assegais and a little shield. They were awful to see, and the bones
+about them rattled as they ran, the bladders and the snake-skins
+floated in the air behind them, their faces shone with the fat of
+anointing, their eyes started like the eyes of fishes, and their lips
+twitched hungrily as they glared round the death-ring. Ha! ha! little
+did those evil children guess who should be the slayers and who should
+be the slain before that sun sank!
+
+On they came, like a grey company of the dead. On they came in silence
+broken only by the patter of their feet and the dry rattling of their
+bony necklets, till they stood in long ranks before the Black One.
+Awhile they stood thus, then suddenly every one of them thrust forward
+the little shield in his hand, and with a single voice they cried,
+“Hail, Father!”
+
+“Hail, my children!” answered Chaka.
+
+“What seekest thou, Father?” they cried again. “Blood?”
+
+“The blood of the guilty,” he answered.
+
+They turned and spoke each to each; the company of the men spoke to the
+company of the women.
+
+“The Lion of the Zulu seeks blood.”
+
+“He shall be fed!” screamed the women.
+
+“The Lion of the Zulu smells blood.”
+
+“He shall see it!” screamed the women.
+
+“His eyes search out the wizards.”
+
+“He shall count their dead!” screamed the women.
+
+“Peace!” cried Chaka. “Waste not the hours in talk, but to the work.
+Hearken! Wizards have bewitched me! Wizards have dared to smite blood
+upon the gateways of the king. Dig in the burrows of the earth and find
+them, ye rats! Fly through the paths of the air and find them, ye
+vultures! Smell at the gates of the people and name them, ye jackals!
+ye hunters in the night! Drag them from the caves if they be hidden,
+from the distance if they be fled, from the graves if they be dead. To
+the work! to the work! Show them to me truly, and your gifts shall be
+great; and for them, if they be a nation, they shall be slain. Now
+begin. Begin by companies of ten, for you are many, and all must be
+finished ere the sun sink.”
+
+“It shall be finished, Father,” they answered.
+
+Then ten of the women stood forward, and at their head was the most
+famous witch-doctress of that day—an aged woman named Nobela, a woman
+to whose eyes the darkness was no evil, whose scent was keen as a
+dog’s, who heard the voices of the dead as they cried in the night, and
+spoke truly of what she heard. All the other _Isanusis_, male and
+female, sat down in a half-moon facing the king, but this woman drew
+forward, and with her came nine of her sisterhood. They turned east and
+west, north and south, searching the heavens; they turned east and
+west, north and south, searching the earth; they turned east and west,
+north and south, searching the hearts of men. Then they crept round and
+round the great ring like cats; then they threw themselves upon the
+earth and smelt it. And all the time there was silence, silence deep as
+midnight, and in it men hearkened to the beating of their hearts; only
+now and again the vultures shrieked in the trees.
+
+At length Nobela spoke:—
+
+“Do you smell him, sisters?”
+
+“We smell him,” they answered.
+
+“Does he sit in the east, sisters?”
+
+“He sits in the east,” they answered.
+
+“Is he the son of a stranger, sisters?”
+
+“He is the son of a stranger.”
+
+Then they crept nearer, crept on their hands and knees, till they were
+within ten paces of where I sat among the indunas near to the king. The
+indunas looked on each other and grew grey with fear; and for me, my
+father, my knees were loosened and my marrow turned to water in my
+bones. For I knew well who was that son of a stranger of whom they
+spoke. It was I, my father, I who was about to be smelt out; and if I
+was smelt out I should be killed with all my house, for the king’s oath
+would scarcely avail me against the witch-doctors. I looked at the
+fierce faces of the _Isanusis_ before me, as they crept, crept like
+snakes. I glanced behind and saw the slayers grasping their kerries for
+the deed of death, and I say I felt like one for whom the bitterness is
+overpast. Then I remembered the words which the king and I had
+whispered together of the cause for which this _Ingomboco_ was set, and
+hope crept back to me like the first gleam of the dawn upon a stormy
+night. Still I did not hope overmuch, for it well might happen that the
+king had but set a trap to catch me.
+
+Now they were quite near and halted.
+
+“Have we dreamed falsely, sisters?” asked Nobela, the aged.
+
+“What we dreamed in the night we see in the day,” they answered.
+
+“Shall I whisper his name in your ears, sisters?”
+
+They lifted their heads from the ground like snakes and nodded, and as
+they nodded the necklets of bones rattled on their skinny necks. Then
+they drew their heads to a circle, and Nobela thrust hers into the
+centre of the circle and said a word.
+
+“Ha! ha!” they laughed, “we hear you! His is the name. Let him be named
+by it in the face of Heaven, him and all his house; then let him hear
+no other name forever!”
+
+And suddenly they sprang up and rushed towards me, Nobela, the aged
+_Isanusi_, at their head. They leaped at me, pointing to me with the
+tails of the vilderbeestes in their hands. Then Nobela switched me in
+the face with the tail of the beast, and cried aloud:—
+
+“Greeting, Mopo, son of Makedama! Thou art the man who smotest blood on
+the door-posts of the king to bewitch the king. Let thy house be
+stamped flat!”
+
+I saw her come, I felt the blow on my face as a man feels in a dream. I
+heard the feet of the slayers as they bounded forward to hale me to the
+dreadful death, but my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth—I could not
+say a word. I glanced at the king, and, as I did so, I thought that I
+heard him mutter: “Near the mark, not in it.”
+
+Then he held up his spear, and all was silence. The slayers stopped in
+their stride, the witch-doctors stood with outstretched arms, the world
+of men was as though it had been frozen into sleep.
+
+“Hold!” he said. “Stand aside, son of Makedama, who art named an
+evildoer! Stand aside, thou, Nobela, and those with thee who have named
+him evildoer! What? Shall I be satisfied with the life of one dog?
+Smell on, ye vultures, company by company, smell on! For the day the
+labour, at night the feast!”
+
+So I rose, astonished, and stood on one side. The witch-doctresses also
+stood on one side, wonderstruck, since no such smelling out as this had
+been seen in the land. For till this hour, when a man was swept with
+the gnu’s tail of the _Isanusi_ that was the instant of his death. Why,
+then, men asked in their hearts, was the death delayed? The
+witch-doctors asked it also, and looked to the king for light, as men
+look to a thunder-cloud for the flash. But from the Black One there
+came no word.
+
+So we stood on one side, and a second party of the _Isanusi_ women
+began their rites. As the others had done, so they did, and yet they
+worked otherwise, for this is the fashion of the _Isanusis_, that no
+two of them smell out in the same way. And this party swept the faces
+of certain of the king’s councillors, naming them guilty of the
+witch-work.
+
+“Stand ye on one side!” said the king to those who had been smelt out;
+“and ye who have hunted out their wickedness, stand ye with those who
+named Mopo, son of Makedama. It well may be that all are guilty.”
+
+So these stood on one side also, and a third party took up the tale.
+And they named certain of the great generals, and were in turn bidden
+to stand on one side together with those whom they had named.
+
+So it went on through all the day. Company by company the women doomed
+their victims, till there were no more left in their number, and were
+commanded to stand aside together with those whom they had doomed. Then
+the male _Isanusis_ began, and I could see well that by this time their
+hearts were fearful, for they smelt a snare. Yet the king’s bidding
+must be done, and though their magic failed them here, victims must be
+found. So they smelt out this man and that man till we were a great
+company of the doomed, who sat in silence on the ground looking at each
+other with sad eyes and watching the sun, which we deemed our last,
+climb slowly down the sky. And ever as the day waned those who were
+left untried of the witch-doctors grew madder and more fierce. They
+leaped into the air, they ground their teeth, and rolled upon the
+ground. They drew forth snakes and devoured them alive, they shrieked
+out to the spirits and called upon the names of ancient kings.
+
+At length it drew on to evening, and the last company of the
+witch-doctors did their work, smelling out some of the keepers of the
+_Emposeni_, the house of the women. But there was one man of their
+company, a young man and a tall, who held back and took no share in the
+work, but stood by himself in the centre of the great circle, fixing
+his eyes on the heavens.
+
+And when this company had been ordered to stand aside also together
+with those whom they had smelt out, the king called aloud to the last
+of the witch-doctors, asking him of his name and tribe, and why he
+alone did not do his office.
+
+“My name is Indabazimbi, the son of Arpi, O king,” he answered, “and I
+am of the tribe of the Maquilisini. Does the king bid me to smell out
+him of whom the spirits have spoken to me as the worker of this deed?”
+
+“I bid thee,” said the king.
+
+Then the young man Indabazimbi stepped straight forward across the
+ring, making no cries or gestures, but as one who walks from his gate
+to the cattle kraal, and suddenly he struck the king in the face with
+the tail in his hand, saying, “I smell out the _Heavens above me!_”[2]
+
+ [2] A Zulu title for the king.—ED.
+
+Now a great gasp of wonder went up from the multitude, and all looked
+to see this fool killed by torture. But Chaka rose and laughed aloud.
+
+“Thou hast said it,” he cried, “and thou alone! Listen, ye people! _I_
+did the deed! _I_ smote blood upon the gateways of my kraal; with my
+own hand I smote it, that I might learn who were the true doctors and
+who were the false! Now it seems that in the land of the Zulu there is
+one true doctor—this young man—and of the false, look at them and count
+them, they are like the leaves. See! there they stand, and by them
+stand those whom they have doomed—the innocent whom, with their wives
+and children, they have doomed to the death of the dog. Now I ask you,
+my people, what reward shall be given to them?”
+
+Then a great roar went up from all the multitude, “Let them die, O
+king!”
+
+“Ay!” he answered. “Let them die as liars should!”
+
+Now the _Isanusis_, men and women, screamed aloud in fear, and cried
+for mercy, tearing themselves with their nails, for least of all things
+did they desire to taste of their own medicine of death. But the king
+only laughed the more.
+
+“Hearken ye!” he said, pointing to the crowd of us who had been smelt
+out. “Ye were doomed to death by these false prophets. Now glut
+yourselves upon them. Slay them, my children! slay them all! wipe them
+away! stamp them out!—all! all, save this young man!”
+
+Then we bounded from the ground, for our hearts were fierce with hate
+and with longing to avenge the terrors we had borne. The doomed slew
+the doomers, while from the circle of the _Ingomboco_ a great roar of
+laughter went up, for men rejoiced because the burden of the
+witch-doctors had fallen from them.
+
+At last it was done, and we drew back from the heap of the dead.
+Nothing was heard there now—no more cries or prayers or curses. The
+witch-finders travelled the path on which they had set the feet of
+many. The king drew near to look. He came alone, and all who had done
+his bidding bent their heads and crept past him, praising him as they
+went. Only I stood still, covered, as I was with mire and filth, for I
+did not fear to stand in the presence of the king. Chaka drew near, and
+looked at the piled-up heaps of the slain and the cloud of dust that
+yet hung over them.
+
+“There they lie, Mopo,” he said. “There lie those who dared to prophesy
+falsely to the king! That was a good word of thine, Mopo, which taught
+me to set the snare for them; yet methought I saw thee start when
+Nobela, queen of the witch-doctresses, switched death on thee. Well,
+they are dead, and the land breathes more freely; and for the evil
+which they have done, it is as yonder dust, that shall soon sink again
+to earth and there be lost.”
+
+Thus he spoke, then ceased—for lo! something moved beneath the cloud of
+dust, something broke a way through the heap of the dead. Slowly it
+forced its path, pushing the slain this way and that, till at length it
+stood upon its feet and tottered towards us—a thing dreadful to look
+on. The shape was the shape of an aged woman, and even through the
+blood and mire I knew her. It was Nobela, she who had doomed me, she
+whom but now I had smitten to earth, but who had come back from the
+dead to curse me!
+
+On she tottered, her apparel hanging round her in red rags, a hundred
+wounds upon her face and form. I saw that she was dying, but life still
+flickered in her, and the fire of hate burned in her snaky eyes.
+
+“Hail, king!” she screamed.
+
+“Peace, liar!” he answered; “thou art dead!”
+
+“Not yet, king. I heard thy voice and the voice of yonder dog, whom I
+would have given to the jackals, and I will not die till I have spoken.
+I smelt him out this morning when I was alive; now that I am as one
+already dead, I smell him out again. He shall bewitch thee with blood
+indeed, Chaka—he and Unandi, thy mother, and Baleka, thy wife. Think of
+my words when the assegai reddens before thee for the last time, king!
+Farewell!” And she uttered a great cry and rolled upon the ground dead.
+
+“The witch lies hard and dies hard,” said the king carelessly, and
+turned upon his heel. But those words of dead Nobela remained fixed in
+his memory, or so much of them as had been spoken of Unandi and Baleka.
+There they remained like seeds in the earth, there they grew to bring
+forth fruit in their season.
+
+And thus ended the great _Ingomboco_ of Chaka, the greatest _Ingomboco_
+that ever was held in Zululand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+THE LOSS OF UMSLOPOGAAS
+
+
+Now, after the smelling out of the witch-doctors, Chaka caused a watch
+to be kept upon his mother Unandi, and his wife Baleka, my sister, and
+report was brought to him by those who watched, that the two women came
+to my huts by stealth, and there kissed and nursed a boy—one of my
+children. Then Chaka remembered the prophecy of Nobela, the dead
+_Isanusi_, and his heart grew dark with doubt. But to me he said
+nothing of the matter, for then, as always, his eyes looked over my
+head. He did not fear me or believe that I plotted against him, I who
+was his dog. Still, he did this, though whether by chance or design I
+do not know: he bade me go on a journey to a distant tribe that lived
+near the borders of the Amaswazi, there to take count of certain of the
+king’s cattle which were in the charge of that tribe, and to bring him
+account of the tale of their increase. So I bowed before the king, and
+said that I would run like a dog to do his bidding, and he gave me men
+to go with me.
+
+Then I returned to my huts to bid farewell to my wives and children,
+and there I found that my wife, Anadi, the mother of Moosa, my son, had
+fallen sick with a wandering sickness, for strange things came into her
+mind, and what came into her mind that she said, being, as I did not
+doubt, bewitched by some enemy of my house.
+
+Still, I must go upon the king’s business, and I told this to my wife
+Macropha, the mother of Nada, and, as it was thought, of Umslopogaas,
+the son of Chaka. But when I spoke to Macropha of the matter she burst
+into tears and clung to me. I asked her why she wept thus, and she
+answered that the shadow of evil lay upon her heart, for she was sure
+that if I left her at the king’s kraal, when I returned again I should
+find neither her nor Nada, my child, nor Umslopogaas, who was named my
+son, and whom I loved as a son, still in the land of life. Then I tried
+to calm her; but the more I strove the more she wept, saying that she
+knew well that these things would be so.
+
+Now I asked her what could be done, for I was stirred by her tears, and
+the dread of evil crept from her to me as shadows creep from the valley
+to the mountain.
+
+She answered, “Take me with you, my husband, that I may leave this evil
+land, where the very skies rain blood, and let me rest awhile in the
+place of my own people till the terror of Chaka has gone by.”
+
+“How can I do this?” I said. “None may leave the king’s kraal without
+the king’s pass.”
+
+“A man may put away his wife,” she replied. “The king does not stand
+between a man and his wife. Say, my husband, that you love me no
+longer, that I bear you no more children, and that therefore you send
+me back whence I came. By-and-bye we will come together again if we are
+left among the living.”
+
+“So be it,” I answered. “Leave the kraal with Nada and Umslopogaas this
+night, and to-morrow morning meet me at the river bank, and we shall go
+on together, and for the rest may the spirits of our fathers hold us
+safe.”
+
+So we kissed each other, and Macropha went on secretly with the
+children.
+
+Now at the dawning on the morrow I summoned the men whom the king had
+given me, and we started upon our journey. When the sun was well up we
+came to the banks of the river, and there I found my wife Macropha, and
+with her the two children. They rose as I came, but I frowned at my
+wife and she gave me no greeting. Those with me looked at her askance.
+
+“I have divorced this woman,” I said to them. “She is a withered tree,
+a worn out old hag, and now I take her with me to send her to the
+country of the Swazis, whence she came. Cease weeping,” I added to
+Macropha, “it is my last word.”
+
+“What says the king?” asked the men.
+
+“I will answer to the king,” I said. And we went on.
+
+Now I must tell how we lost Umslopogaas, the son of Chaka, who was then
+a great lad drawing on to manhood, fierce in temper, well grown and
+broad for his years.
+
+We had journeyed seven days, for the way was long, and on the night of
+the seventh day we came to a mountainous country in which there were
+few kraals, for Chaka had eaten them all up years before. Perhaps you
+know the place, my father. In it is a great and strange mountain. It is
+haunted also, and named the Ghost Mountain, and on the top of it is a
+grey peak rudely shaped like the head of an aged woman. Here in this
+wild place we must sleep, for darkness drew on. Now we soon learned
+that there were many lions in the rocks around, for we heard their
+roaring and were much afraid, all except Umslopogaas, who feared
+nothing. So we made a circle of thorn-bushes and sat in it, holding our
+assegais ready. Presently the moon came up—it was a full-grown moon and
+very bright, so bright that we could see everything for a long way
+round. Now some six spear-throws from where we sat was a cliff, and at
+the top of the cliff was a cave, and in this cave lived two lions and
+their young. When the moon grew bright we saw the lions come out and
+stand upon the edge of the cliff, and with them were two little ones
+that played about like kittens, so that had we not been frightened it
+would have been beautiful to see them.
+
+“Oh! Umslopogaas,” said Nada, “I wish that I had one of the little
+lions for a dog.”
+
+The boy laughed, saying, “Then, shall I fetch you one, sister?”
+
+“Peace, boy,” I said. “No man may take young lions from their lair and
+live.”
+
+“Such things have been done, my father,” he answered, laughing. And no
+more was said of the matter.
+
+Now when the cubs had played awhile, we saw the lioness take up the
+cubs in her mouth and carry them into the cave. Then she came out
+again, and went away with her mate to seek food, and soon we heard them
+roaring in the distance. Now we stacked up the fire and went to sleep
+in our enclosure of thorns without fear, for we knew that the lions
+were far away eating game. But Umslopogaas did not sleep, for he had
+determined that he would fetch the cub which Nada had desired, and,
+being young and foolhardy, he did not think of the danger which he
+would bring upon himself and all of us. He knew no fear, and now, as
+ever, if Nada spoke a word, nay, even if she thought of a thing to
+desire it, he would not rest till it was won for her. So while we slept
+Umslopogaas crept like a snake from the fence of thorns, and, taking an
+assegai in his hand, he slipped away to the foot of the cliff where the
+lions had their den. Then he climbed the cliff, and, coming to the
+cave, entered there and groped his way into it. The cubs heard him,
+and, thinking that it was their mother who returned, began to whine and
+purr for food. Guided by the light of their yellow eyes, he crept over
+the bones, of which there were many in the cave, and came to where they
+lay. Then he put out his hands and seized one of the cubs, killing the
+other with his assegai, because he could not carry both of them. Now he
+made haste thence before the lions returned, and came back to the thorn
+fence where we lay just as dawn was breaking.
+
+I awoke at the coming of the dawn, and, standing up, I looked out. Lo!
+there, on the farther side of the thorn fence, looking large in the
+grey mist, stood the lad Umslopogaas, laughing. In his teeth he held
+the assegai, yet dripping with blood, and in his hands the lion cub
+that, despite its whines and struggles, he grasped by the skin of the
+neck and the hind legs.
+
+“Awake, my sister!” he cried; “here is the dog you seek. Ah! he bites
+now, but he will soon grow tame.”
+
+Nada awoke, and rising, cried out with joy at the sight of the cub, but
+for a moment I stood astonished.
+
+“Fool!” I cried at last, “let the cub go before the lions come to rend
+us!”
+
+“I will not let it go, my father,” he answered sullenly. “Are there not
+five of us with spears, and can we not fight two cats? I was not afraid
+to go alone into their den. Are you all afraid to meet them in the
+open?”
+
+“You are mad,” I said; “let the cub go!” And I ran towards Umslopogaas
+to take it from him. But he sprang aside and avoided me.
+
+“I will never let that go of which I have got hold,” he said, “at least
+not living!” And suddenly he seized the head of the cub and twisted its
+neck; then threw it on to the ground, and added, “See, now I have done
+your bidding, my father!”
+
+As he spoke we heard a great sound of roaring from the cave in the
+cliff. The lions had returned and found one cub dead and the other
+gone.
+
+“Into the fence!—back into the fence!” I cried, and we sprang over the
+thorn-bushes where those with us were making ready their spears,
+trembling as they handled them with fear and the cold of the morning.
+We looked up. There, down the side of the cliff, came the lions,
+bounding on the scent of him who had robbed them of their young. The
+lion ran first, and as he came he roared; then followed the lioness,
+but she did not roar, for in her mouth was the cub that Umslopogaas had
+assegaied in the cave. Now they drew near, mad with fury, their manes
+bristling, and lashing their flanks with their long tails.
+
+“Curse you for a fool, son of Mopo,” said one of the men with me to
+Umslopogaas; “presently I will beat you till the blood comes for this
+trick.”
+
+“First beat the lions, then beat me if you can,” answered the lad, “and
+wait to curse till you have done both.”
+
+Now the lions were close to us; they came to the body of the second
+cub, that lay outside the fence of thorns. The lion stopped and sniffed
+it. Then he roared—ah! he roared till the earth shook. As for the
+lioness, she dropped the dead cub which she was carrying, and took the
+other into her mouth, for she could not carry both.
+
+“Get behind me, Nada,” cried Umslopogaas, brandishing his spear, “the
+lion is about to spring.”
+
+As the words left his mouth the great brute crouched to the ground.
+Then suddenly he sprang from it like a bird, and like a bird he
+travelled through the air towards us.
+
+“Catch him on the spears!” cried Umslopogaas, and by nature, as it
+were, we did the boy’s bidding; for huddling ourselves together, we
+held out the assegais so that the lion fell upon them as he sprang, and
+their blades sank far into him. But the weight of his charge carried us
+to the ground, and he fell on to us, striking at us and at the spears,
+and roaring with pain and fury as he struck. Presently he was on his
+legs biting at the spears in his breast. Then Umslopogaas, who alone
+did not wait his onslaught, but had stepped aside for his own ends,
+uttered a loud cry and drove his assegai into the lion behind the
+shoulder, so that with a groan the brute rolled over dead.
+
+Meanwhile, the lioness stood without the fence, the second dead cub in
+her mouth, for she could not bring herself to leave either of them. But
+when she heard her mate’s last groan she dropped the cub and gathered
+herself together to spring. Umslopogaas alone stood up to face her, for
+he only had withdrawn his assegai from the carcase of the lion. She
+swept on towards the lad, who stood like a stone to meet her. Now she
+met his spear, it sunk in, it snapped, and down fell Umslopogaas dead
+or senseless beneath the mass of the lioness. She sprang up, the broken
+spear standing in her breast, sniffed at Umslopogaas, then, as though
+she knew that it was he who had robbed her, she seized him by the loins
+and moocha, and sprang with him over the fence.
+
+“Oh, save him!” cried the girl Nada in bitter woe. And we rushed after
+the lioness shouting.
+
+For a moment she stood over her dead cubs, Umslopogaas hanging from her
+mouth, and looked at them as though she wondered; and we hoped that she
+might let him fall. Then, hearing our cries, she turned and bounded
+away towards the bush, bearing Umslopogaas in her mouth. We seized our
+spears and followed; but the ground grew stony, and, search as we
+would, we could find no trace of Umslopogaas or of the lioness. They
+had vanished like a cloud. So we came back, and, ah! my heart was sore,
+for I loved the lad as though he had indeed been my son. But I knew
+that he was dead, and there was an end.
+
+“Where is my brother?” cried Nada when we came back.
+
+“Lost,” I answered. “Lost, never to be found again.”
+
+Then the girl gave a great and bitter cry, and fell to the earth
+saying, “I would that I were dead with my brother!”
+
+“Let us be going,” said Macropha, my wife.
+
+“Have you no tears to weep for your son?” asked a man of our company.
+
+“What is the use of weeping over the dead? Does it, then, bring them
+back?” she answered. “Let us be going!”
+
+The man thought these words strange, but he did not know that
+Umslopogaas was not born of Macropha.
+
+Still, we waited in that place a day, thinking that, perhaps, the
+lioness would return to her den and that, at least, we might kill her.
+But she came back no more. So on the next morning we rolled up our
+blankets and started forward on our journey, sad at heart. In truth,
+Nada was so weak from grief that she could hardly travel, but I never
+heard the name of Umslopogaas pass her lips again during that journey.
+She buried him in her heart and said nothing. And I too said nothing,
+but I wondered why it had been brought about that I should save the
+life of Umslopogaas from the jaws of the Lion of Zulu, that the lioness
+of the rocks might devour him.
+
+And so the time went on till we reached the kraal where the king’s
+business must be done, and where I and my wife should part.
+
+On the morning after we came to the kraal, having kissed in secret,
+though in public we looked sullenly on one another, we parted as those
+part who meet no more, for it was in our thoughts, that we should never
+see each other’s face again, nor, indeed, did we do so. And I drew Nada
+aside and spoke to her thus: “We part, my daughter; nor do I know when
+we shall meet again, for the times are troubled and it is for your
+safety and that of your mother that I rob my eyes of the sight of you.
+Nada, you will soon be a woman, and you will be fairer than any woman
+among our people, and it may come about that many great men will seek
+you in marriage, and, perhaps, that I, your father, shall not be there
+to choose for you whom you shall wed, according to the custom of our
+land. But I charge you, as far as may be possible for you to do so,
+take only a man whom you can love, and be faithful to him alone, for
+thus shall a woman find happiness.”
+
+Here I stopped, for the girl took hold of my hand and looked into my
+face. “Peace, my father,” she said, “do not speak to me of marriage,
+for I will wed no man, now that Umslopogaas is dead because of my
+foolishness. I will live and die alone, and, oh! may I die quickly,
+that I may go to seek him whom I love only!”
+
+“Nay, Nada,” I said, “Umslopogaas was your brother, and it is not
+fitting that you should speak of him thus, even though he is dead.”
+
+“I know nothing of such matters, my father,” she said. “I speak what my
+heart tells me, and it tells me that I loved Umslopogaas living, and,
+though he is dead, I shall love him alone to the end. Ah! you think me
+but a child, yet my heart is large, and it does not lie to me.”
+
+Now I upbraided the girl no more, because I knew that Umslopogaas was
+not her brother, but one whom she might have married. Only I marvelled
+that the voice of nature should speak so truly in her, telling her that
+which was lawful, even when it seemed to be most unlawful.
+
+“Speak no more of Umslopogaas,” I said, “for surely he is dead, and
+though you cannot forget him, yet speak of him no more, and I pray of
+you, my daughter, that if we do not meet again, yet you should keep me
+in your memory, and the love I bear you, and the words which from time
+to time I have said to you. The world is a thorny wilderness, my
+daughter, and its thorns are watered with a rain of blood, and we
+wander in our wretchedness like lost travellers in a mist; nor do I
+know why our feet are set on this wandering. But at last there comes an
+end, and we die and go hence, none know where, but perhaps where we go
+the evil may change to the good, and those who were dear to each other
+on the earth may become yet dearer in the heavens; for I believe that
+man is not born to perish altogether, but is rather gathered again to
+the Umkulunkulu who sent him on his journeyings. Therefore keep hope,
+my daughter, for if these things are not so, at least sleep remains,
+and sleep is soft, and so farewell.”
+
+Then we kissed and parted, and I watched Macropha, my wife, and Nada,
+my daughter, till they melted into the sky, as they walked upon their
+journey to Swaziland, and was very sad, because, having lost
+Umslopogaas, he who in after days was named the Slaughterer and the
+Woodpecker, I must lose them also.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+THE TRIAL OF MOPO
+
+
+Now I sat four days in the huts of the tribe whither I had been sent,
+and did the king’s business. And on the fifth morning I rose up,
+together with those with me, and we turned our faces towards the king’s
+kraal. But when we had journeyed a little way we met a party of
+soldiers, who commanded us to stand.
+
+“What is it, king’s men?” I asked boldly.
+
+“This, son of Makedama,” answered their spokesman: “give over to us
+your wife Macropha and your children Umslopogaas and Nada, that we may
+do with them as the king commands.”
+
+“Umslopogaas,” I answered, “has gone where the king’s arm cannot
+stretch, for he is dead; and for my wife Macropha and my daughter Nada,
+they are by now in the caves of the Swazis, and the king must seek them
+there with an army if he will find them. To Macropha he is welcome, for
+I hate her, and have divorced her; and as for the girl, well, there are
+many girls, and it is no great matter if she lives or dies, yet I pray
+him to spare her.”
+
+Thus I spoke carelessly, for I knew well that my wife and child were
+beyond the reach of Chaka.
+
+“You do well to ask the girl’s life,” said the soldier, laughing, “for
+all those born to you are dead, by order of the king.”
+
+“Is it indeed so?” I answered calmly, though my knees shook and my
+tongue clove to my lips. “The will of the king be done. A cut stick
+puts out new leaves; I can have more children.”
+
+“Ay, Mopo; but first you must get new wives, for yours are dead also,
+all five of them.”
+
+“Is it indeed so?” I answered. “The king’s will be done. I wearied of
+those brawling women.”
+
+“So, Mopo,” said the soldier; “but to get other wives and have more
+children born to you, you must live yourself, for no children are born
+to the dead, and I think that Chaka has an assegai which you shall
+kiss.”
+
+“Is it so?” I answered. “The king’s will be done. The sun is hot, and I
+tire of the road. He who kisses the assegai sleeps sound.”
+
+Thus I spoke, my father, and, indeed, in that hour I desired to die.
+The world was empty for me. Macropha and Nada were gone, Umslopogaas
+was dead, and my other wives and children were murdered. I had no heart
+to begin to build up a new house, none were left for me to love, and it
+seemed well that I should die also.
+
+The soldiers asked those with me if that tale was true which I told of
+the death of Umslopogaas and of the going of Macropha and Nada into
+Swaziland. They said, Yes, it was true. Then the soldiers said that
+they would lead me back to the king, and I wondered at this, for I
+thought that they would kill me where I stood. So we went on, and piece
+by piece I learned what had happened at the king’s kraal.
+
+On the day after I left, it came to the ears of Chaka, by the mouth of
+his spies, that my second wife—Anadi—was sick and spoke strange words
+in her sickness. Then, taking three soldiers with him, he went to my
+kraal at the death of the day. He left the three soldiers by the gates
+of the kraal, bidding them to suffer none to come in or go out, but
+Chaka himself entered the large hut where Anadi lay sick, having his
+toy assegai, with the shaft of the royal red wood, in his hand. Now, as
+it chanced, in the hut were Unandi, the mother of Chaka, and Baleka, my
+sister, the wife of Chaka, for, not knowing that I had taken away
+Umslopogaas, the son of Baleka, according to their custom, these two
+foolish women had come to kiss and fondle the lad. But when they
+entered the hut they found it full of my other wives and children.
+These they sent away, all except Moosa, the son of Anadi—that boy who
+was born eight days before Umslopogaas, the son of Chaka. But they kept
+Moosa in the hut, and kissed him, giving him imphi[1] to eat, fearing
+lest it should seem strange to the women, my wives, if, Umslopogaas
+being gone, they refused to take notice of any other child.
+
+ [1] A variety of sugar-cane.—ED.
+
+Now as they sat thus, presently the doorway was darkened, and, behold!
+the king himself crept through it, and saw them fondling the child
+Moosa. When they knew who it was that entered, the women flung
+themselves upon the ground before him and praised him. But he smiled
+grimly, and bade them be seated. Then he spoke to them, saying, “You
+wonder, Unandi, my mother, and Baleka, my wife, why it is that I am
+come here into the hut of Mopo, son of Makedama. I will tell you: it is
+because he is away upon my business, and I hear that his wife Anadi is
+sick—it is she who lies there, is it not? Therefore, as the first
+doctor in the land, I am come to cure her, Unandi, my mother, and
+Baleka, my sister.”
+
+Thus he spoke, eyeing them as he did so, and taking snuff from the
+blade of his little assegai, and though his words were gentle they
+shook with fear, for when Chaka spoke thus gently he meant death to
+many. But Unandi, Mother of the Heavens, answered, saying that it was
+well that the king had come, since his medicine would bring rest and
+peace to her who lay sick.
+
+“Yes,” he answered; “it is well. It is pleasant, moreover, my mother
+and sister, to see you kissing yonder child. Surely, were he of your
+own blood you could not love him more.”
+
+Now they trembled again, and prayed in their hearts that Anadi, the
+sick woman, who lay asleep, might not wake and utter foolish words in
+her wandering. But the prayer was answered from below and not from
+above, for Anadi woke, and, hearing the voice of the king, her sick
+mind flew to him whom she believed to be the king’s child.
+
+“Ah!” she said, sitting upon the ground and pointing to her own son,
+Moosa, who squatted frightened against the wall of the hut. “Kiss him,
+Mother of the Heavens, kiss him! Whom do they call him, the young cub
+who brings ill-fortune to our doors? They call him the son of Mopo and
+Macropha!” And she laughed wildly, stopped speaking, and sank back upon
+the bed of skins.
+
+“They call him the son of Mopo and Macropha,” said the king in a low
+voice. “Whose son is he, then, woman?”
+
+“Oh, ask her not, O king,” cried his mother and his wife, casting
+themselves upon the ground before him, for they were mad with fear.
+“Ask her not; she has strange fancies such as are not meet for your
+ears to hear. She is bewitched, and has dreams and fancies.”
+
+“Peace!” he answered. “I will listen to this woman’s wanderings.
+Perhaps some star of truth shines in her darkness, and I would see
+light. Who, then, is he, woman?”
+
+“Who is he?” she answered. “Are you a fool that ask who he is? He
+is—hush!—put your ear close—let me speak low lest the reeds of the hut
+speak it to the king. He is—do you listen? He is—the son of Chaka and
+Baleka, the sister of Mopo, the changeling whom Unandi, Mother of the
+Heavens, palmed off upon this house to bring a curse on it, and whom
+she would lead out before the people when the land is weary of the
+wickedness of the king, her son, to take the place of the king.”
+
+“It is false, O king!” cried the two women. “Do not listen to her; it
+is false. The boy is her own son, Moosa, whom she does not know in her
+sickness.”
+
+But Chaka stood up in the hut and laughed terribly. “Truly, Nobela
+prophesied well,” he cried, “and I did ill to slay her. So this is the
+trick thou hast played upon me, my mother. Thou wouldst give a son to
+me who will have no son: thou wouldst give me a son to kill me. Good!
+Mother of the Heavens, take thou the doom of the Heavens! Thou wouldst
+give me a son to slay me and rule in my place; now, in turn, I, thy
+son, will rob me of a mother. Die, Unandi!—die at the hand thou didst
+bring forth!” And he lifted the little assegai and smote it through
+her.
+
+For a moment Unandi, Mother of the Heavens, wife of Senzangacona, stood
+uttering no cry. Then she put up her hand, and drew the assegai from
+her side.
+
+“So shalt thou die also, Chaka the Evil!” she cried, and fell down dead
+there in the hut.
+
+Thus, then, did Chaka murder his mother Unandi.
+
+Now when Baleka saw what had been done, she turned and fled from the
+hut into the _Emposeni_, and so swiftly that the guards at the gates
+could not stop her. But when she reached her own hut Baleka’s strength
+failed her, and she fell senseless on the ground. But the boy Moosa, my
+son, being overcome with terror, stayed where he was, and Chaka,
+believing him to be his son, murdered him also, and with his own hand.
+
+Then he stalked out of the hut, and leaving the three guards at the
+gate, commanded a company of soldiers to surround the kraal and fire
+it. This they did, and as the people rushed out they killed them, and
+those who did not run out were burned in the fire. Thus, then, perished
+all my wives, my children, my servants, and those who were within the
+gates in their company. The tree was burned, and the bees in it, and I
+alone was left living—I and Macropha and Nada, who were far away.
+
+Nor was Chaka yet satisfied with blood, for, as has been told, he sent
+messengers bidding them kill Macropha, my wife, and Nada, my daughter,
+and him who was named my son. But he commanded the messengers that they
+should not slay me, but bring me living before him.
+
+Now when the soldiers did not kill me I took counsel with myself, for
+it was my belief that I was saved alive only that I might die later,
+and in a more cruel fashion. Therefore for awhile I thought that it
+would be well if I did that for myself which another purposed to do for
+me. Why should I, who was already doomed, wait to meet my doom? What
+had I left to keep me in the place of life, seeing that all whom I
+loved were dead or gone? To die would be easy, for I knew the ways of
+death. In my girdle I carried a secret medicine; he who eats of it, my
+father, will see the sun’s shadow move no more, and will never look
+upon the stars again. But I was minded to know the assegai or the
+kerrie; nor would I perish more slowly beneath the knives of the
+tormentors, nor be parched by the pangs of thirst, or wander eyeless to
+my end. Therefore it was that, since I had sat in the doom ring looking
+hour after hour into the face of death, I had borne this medicine with
+me by night and by day. Surely now was the time to use it.
+
+So I thought as I sat through the watches of the night, ay! and drew
+out the bitter drug and laid it on my tongue. But as I did so I
+remembered my daughter Nada, who was left to me, though she sojourned
+in a far country, and my wife Macropha and my sister Baleka, who still
+lived, so said the soldiers, though how it came about that the king had
+not killed her I did not know then. Also another thought was born in my
+heart. While life remained to me, I might be revenged upon him who had
+wrought me this woe; but can the dead strike? Alas! the dead are
+strengthless, and if they still have hearts to suffer, they have no
+hands to give back blow for blow. Nay, I would live on. Time to die
+when death could no more be put away. Time to die when the voice of
+Chaka spoke my doom. Death chooses for himself and answers no
+questions; he is a guest to whom none need open the door of his hut,
+for when he wills he can pass through the thatch like air. Not yet
+would I taste of that medicine of mine.
+
+So I lived on, my father, and the soldiers led me back to the kraal of
+Chaka. Now when we came to the kraal it was night, for the sun had sunk
+as we passed through the gates. Still, as he had been commanded, the
+captain of those who watched me went in before the king and told him
+that I lay without in bonds. And the king said, “Let him be brought
+before me, who was my physician, that I may tell him how I have
+doctored those of his house.”
+
+So they took me and led me to the royal house, and pushed me through
+the doorway of the great hut.
+
+Now a fire burned in the hut, for the night was cold, and Chaka sat on
+the further side of the fire, looking towards the opening of the hut,
+and the smoke from the fire wreathed him round, and its light shone
+upon his face and flickered in his terrible eyes.
+
+At the door of the hut certain councillors seized me by the arms and
+dragged me towards the fire. But I broke from them, and prostrating
+myself, for my arms were free, I praised the king and called him by his
+royal names. The councillors sprang towards me to seize me again, but
+Chaka said, “Let him be; I would talk with my servant.” Then the
+councillors bowed themselves on either side, and laid their hands on
+their sticks, their foreheads touching the ground. But I sat down on
+the floor of the hut over against the king, and we talked through the
+fire.
+
+“Tell me of the cattle that I sent thee to number, Mopo, son of
+Makedama,” said Chaka. “Have my servants dealt honestly with my
+cattle?”
+
+“They have dealt honestly, O king,” I answered.
+
+“Tell me, then, of the number of the cattle and of their markings,
+Mopo, forgetting none.”
+
+So I sat and told him, ox by ox, cow by cow, and heifer by heifer,
+forgetting none; and Chaka listened silently as one who is asleep. But
+I knew that he did not sleep, for all the while the firelight flickered
+in his fierce eyes. Also I knew that he did but torment me, or that,
+perhaps, he would learn of the cattle before he killed me. At length
+all the tale was told.
+
+“So,” said the king, “it goes well. There are yet honest men left in
+the land. Knowest thou, Mopo, that sorrow has come upon thy house while
+thou wast about my business.”
+
+“I have heard it, O king!” I answered, as one who speaks of a small
+matter.
+
+“Yes, Mopo, sorrow has come upon thy house, the curse of Heaven has
+fallen upon thy kraal. They tell me, Mopo, that the fire from above ran
+briskly through thy huts.”
+
+“I have heard it, O king!”
+
+“They tell me, Mopo, that those within thy gates grew mad at the sight
+of the fire, and dreaming there was no escape, that they stabbed
+themselves with assegais or leaped into the flames.”
+
+“I have heard it, O king! What of it? Any river is deep enough to drown
+a fool!”
+
+“Thou hast heard these things, Mopo, but thou hast not yet heard all.
+Knowest thou, Mopo, that among those who died in thy kraal was she who
+bore me, she who was named Mother of the Heavens?”
+
+Then, my father, I, Mopo, acted wisely, because of the thought which my
+good spirit gave me, for I cast myself upon the ground, and wailed
+aloud as though in utter grief.
+
+“Spare my ears, Black One!” I wailed. “Tell me not that she who bore
+thee is dead, O Lion of the Zulu. For the others, what is it? It is a
+breath of wind, it is a drop of water; but this trouble is as the gale
+or as the sea.”
+
+“Cease, my servant, cease!” said the mocking voice of Chaka; “but know
+this, thou hast done well to grieve aloud, because the Mother of the
+Heavens is no more, and ill wouldst thou have done to grieve because
+the fire from above has kissed thy gates. For hadst thou done this last
+thing or left the first undone, I should have known that thy heart was
+wicked, and by now thou wouldst have wept indeed—tears of blood, Mopo.
+It is well for thee, then, that thou hast read my riddle aright.”
+
+Now I saw the depths of the pit that Chaka had dug for me, and blessed
+my _Ehlosé_ who had put into my heart those words which I should
+answer. I hoped also that Chaka would now let me go; but it was not to
+be, for this was but the beginning of my trial.
+
+“Knowest thou, Mopo,” said the king, “that as my mother died yonder in
+the flames of thy kraal she cried out strange and terrible words which
+came to my ears through the singing of the fire. These were her words:
+that thou, Mopo, and thy sister Baleka, and thy wives, had conspired
+together to give a child to me who would be childless. These were her
+words, the words that came to me through the singing of the fire. Tell
+me now, Mopo, where are those children that thou leddest from thy
+kraal, the boy with the lion eyes who is named Umslopogaas, and the
+girl who is named Nada?”
+
+“Umslopogaas is dead by the lion’s mouth, O king!” I answered, “and
+Nada sits in the Swazi caves.” And I told him of the death of
+Umslopogaas and of how I had divorced Macropha, my wife.
+
+“The boy with the lion eyes to the lion’s mouth!” said Chaka. “Enough
+of him; he is gone. Nada may yet be sought for with the assegai in the
+Swazi caves; enough of her. Let us speak of this song that my
+mother—who, alas! is dead, Mopo—this song she sang through the singing
+of the flames. Tell me, Mopo, tell me now, was it a true tale.”
+
+“Nay, O king! surely the Mother of the Heavens was maddened by the
+Heavens when she sang that song,” I answered. “I know nothing of it, O
+king.”
+
+“Thou knowest naught of it, Mopo?” said the king. And again he looked
+at me terribly through the reek of the fire. “Thou knowest naught of
+it, Mopo? Surely thou art a-cold; thy hands shake with cold. Nay, man,
+fear not—warm them, warm them, Mopo. See, now, plunge that hand of
+thine into the heart of the flame!” And he pointed with his little
+assegai, the assegai handled with the royal wood, to where the fire
+glowed reddest—ay, he pointed and laughed.
+
+Then, my father, I grew cold indeed—yes, I grew cold who soon should be
+hot, for I saw the purpose of Chaka. He would put me to the trial by
+fire.
+
+For a moment I sat silent, thinking. Then the king spoke again in a
+great voice: “Nay, Mopo, be not so backward; shall I sit warm and see
+thee suffer cold? What, my councillors, rise, take the hand of Mopo,
+and hold it to the flame, that his heart may rejoice in the warmth of
+the flame while we speak together of this matter of the child that was,
+so my mother sang, born to Baleka, my wife, the sister of Mopo, my
+servant.”
+
+“There is little need for that, O king,” I answered, being made bold by
+fear, for I saw that if I did nothing death would swiftly end my
+doubts. Once, indeed, I bethought me of the poison that I bore, and was
+minded to swallow it and make an end, but the desire to live is great,
+and keen is the thirst for vengeance, so I said to my heart, “Not yet
+awhile; I will endure this also; afterwards, if need be, I can die.”
+
+“I thank the king for his graciousness, and I will warm me at the fire.
+Speak on, O king, while I warm myself, and thou shalt hear true words,”
+I said boldly.
+
+Then, my father, I stretched out my left hand and plunged it into the
+fire—not into the hottest of the fire, but where the smoke leapt from
+the flame. Now my flesh was wet with the sweat of fear, and for a
+little moment the flames curled round it and did not burn me. But I
+knew that the torment was to come.
+
+For a short while Chaka watched me, smiling. Then he spoke slowly, that
+the fire might find time to do its work.
+
+“Say, then, Mopo, thou knowest nothing of this matter of the birth of a
+son to thy sister Baleka?”
+
+“I know this only, O king!” I answered, “that a son was born in past
+years to thy wife Baleka, that I killed the child in obedience to thy
+word, and laid its body before thee.”
+
+Now, my father, the steam from my flesh had been drawn from my hand by
+the heat, and the flame got hold of me and ate into my flesh, and its
+torment was great. But of this I showed no sign upon my face, for I
+knew well that if I showed sign or uttered cry, then, having failed in
+the trial, death would be my portion.
+
+Then the king spoke again, “Dost thou swear by my head, Mopo, that no
+son of mine was suckled in thy kraals?”
+
+“I swear it, O king! I swear it by thy head,” I answered.
+
+And now, my father, the agony of the fire was such as may not be told.
+I felt my eyes start forward in their sockets, my blood seemed to boil
+within me, it rushed into my head, and down my face there ran two tears
+of blood. But yet I held my hand in the fire and made no sign, while
+the king and his councillors watched me curiously. Still, for a moment
+Chaka said nothing, and that moment seemed to me as all the years of my
+life.
+
+“Ah!” he said at length, “I see that thou growest warm, Mopo! Withdraw
+thy hand from the flame. I am answered; thou hast passed the trial; thy
+heart is clean; for had there been lies in it the fire had given them
+tongue, and thou hadst cried aloud, making thy last music, Mopo!”
+
+Now I took my hand from the flame, and for awhile the torment left me.
+
+“It is well, O king,” I said calmly. “Fire has no power of hurt on
+those whose heart is pure.”
+
+But as I spoke I looked at my left hand. It was black, my father—black
+as a charred stick, and the nails were gone from the twisted fingers.
+Look at it now, my father; you can see, though my eyes are blind. The
+hand is white, like yours—it is white and dead and shrivelled. These
+are the marks of the fire in Chaka’s hut—the fire that kissed me many,
+many years ago; I have had but little use of that hand since this night
+of torment. But my right arm yet remained to me, my father, and, ah! I
+used it.
+
+“It seems that Nobela, the doctress, who is dead, lied when she
+prophesied evil on me from thee, Mopo,” said Chaka again. “It seems
+that thou art innocent of this offence, and that Baleka, thy sister, is
+innocent, and that the song which the Mother of the Heavens sang
+through the singing flames was no true song. It is well for thee, Mopo,
+for in such a matter my oath had not helped thee. But my mother is
+dead—dead in the flames with thy wives and children, Mopo, and in this
+there is witchcraft. We will have a mourning, Mopo, thou and I, such a
+mourning as has not been seen in Zululand, for all the people on the
+earth shall weep at it. And there shall be a ‘smelling out’ at this
+mourning, Mopo. But we will summon no witch-doctors, thou and I will be
+witch-doctors, and ourselves shall smell out those who have brought
+these woes upon us. What! shall my mother die unavenged, she who bore
+me and has perished by witchcraft, and shall thy wives and children die
+unavenged—thou being innocent? Go forth, Mopo, my faithful servant,
+whom I have honoured with the warmth of my fire, go forth!” And once
+again he stared at me through the reek of the flame, and pointed with
+his assegai to the door of the hut.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+THE COUNSEL OF BALEKA
+
+
+I rose, I praised the king with a loud voice, and I went from the
+_Intunkulu_, the house of the king. I walked slowly through the gates,
+but when I was without the gates the anguish that took me because of my
+burnt hand was more than I could bear. I ran to and fro groaning till I
+came to the hut of one whom I knew. There I found fat, and having
+plunged my hand in the fat, I wrapped it round with a skin and passed
+out again, for I could not stay still. I went to and fro, till at
+length I reached the spot where my huts had been. The outer fence of
+the huts still stood; the fire had not caught it. I passed through the
+fence; there within were the ashes of the burnt huts—they lay
+ankle-deep. I walked in among the ashes; my feet struck upon things
+that were sharp. The moon was bright, and I looked; they were the
+blackened bones of my wives and children. I flung myself down in the
+ashes in bitterness of heart; I covered myself over with the ashes of
+my kraal and with the bones of my wives and children. Yes, my father,
+there I lay, and on me were the ashes, and among the ashes were the
+bones. Thus, then, did I lie for the last time in my kraal, and was
+sheltered from the frost of the night by the dust of those to whom I
+had given life. Such were the things that befell us in the days of
+Chaka, my father; yes, not to me alone, but to many another also.
+
+I lay among the ashes and groaned with the pain of my burn, and groaned
+also from the desolation of my heart. Why had I not tasted the poison,
+there in the hut of Chaka, and before the eyes of Chaka? Why did I not
+taste it now and make an end? Nay, I had endured the agony; I would not
+give him this last triumph over me. Now, having passed the fire, once
+more I should be great in the land, and I would become great. Yes, I
+would bear my sorrows, and become great, that in a day to be I might
+wreak vengeance on the king. Ah! my father, there, as I rolled among
+the ashes, I prayed to the _Amatongo_, to the ghosts of my ancestors. I
+prayed to my _Ehlosé_, to the spirit that watches me—ay, and I even
+dared to pray to the Umkulunkulu, the great soul of the world, who
+moves through the heavens and the earth unseen and unheard. And thus I
+prayed, that I might yet live to kill Chaka as he had killed those who
+were dear to me. And while I prayed I slept, or, if I did not sleep,
+the light of thought went out of me, and I became as one dead. Then
+there came a vision to me, a vision that was sent in answer to my
+prayer, or, perchance, it was a madness born of my sorrows. For, my
+father, it seemed to me that I stood upon the bank of a great and wide
+river. It was gloomy there, the light lay low upon the face of the
+river, but far away on the farther side was a glow like the glow of a
+stormy dawn, and in the glow I saw a mighty bed of reeds that swayed
+about in the breath of dawn, and out of the reeds came men and women
+and children, by hundreds and thousands, and plunged into the waters of
+the river and were buffeted about by them. Now, my father, all the
+people that I saw in the water were black people, and all those who
+were torn out of the reeds were black—they were none of them white like
+your people, my father, for this vision was a vision of the Zulu race,
+who alone are “torn out of the reeds.” Now, I saw that of those who
+swam in the river some passed over very quickly and some stood still,
+as it were, still in the water—as in life, my father, some die soon and
+some live for many years. And I saw the countless faces of those in the
+water, among them were many that I knew. There, my father, I saw the
+face of Chaka, and near him was my own face; there, too, I saw the face
+of Dingaan, the prince, his brother, and the face of the boy
+Umslopogaas and the face of Nada, my daughter, and then for the first
+time I knew that Umslopogaas was not dead, but only lost.
+
+Now I turned in my vision, and looked at that bank of the river on
+which I stood. Then I saw that behind the bank was a cliff, mighty and
+black, and in the cliff were doors of ivory, and through them came
+light and the sound of laughter; there were other doors also, black as
+though fashioned of coal, and through them came darkness and the sounds
+of groans. I saw also that in front of the doors was set a seat, and on
+the seat was the figure of a glorious woman. She was tall, and she
+alone was white, and clad in robes of white, and her hair was like gold
+which is molten in the fire, and her face shone like the midday sun.
+Then I saw that those who came up out of the river stood before the
+woman, the water yet running from them, and cried aloud to her.
+
+“Hail, _Inkosazana-y-Zulu!_ Hail, Queen of the Heavens!”
+
+Now the figure of the glorious woman held a rod in either hand, and the
+rod in her right hand was white and of ivory, and the rod in her left
+hand was black and of ebony. And as those who came up before her throne
+greeted her, so she pointed now with the wand of ivory in her right
+hand, and now with the wand of ebony in her left hand. And with the
+wand of ivory she pointed to the gates of ivory, through which came
+light and laughter, and with the wand of ebony she pointed to the gates
+of coal, through which came blackness and groans. And as she pointed,
+so those who greeted her turned, and went, some through the gates of
+light and some through the gates of blackness.
+
+Presently, as I stood, a handful of people came up from the bank of the
+river. I looked on them and knew them. There was Unandi, the mother of
+Chaka, there was Anadi, my wife, and Moosa, my son, and all my other
+wives and children, and those who had perished with them.
+
+They stood before the figure of the woman, the Princess of the Heavens,
+to whom the Umkulunkulu has given it to watch over the people of the
+Zulu, and cried aloud, “Hail, _Inkosazana-y-Zulu!_ Hail!”
+
+Then she, the Inkosazana, pointed with the rod of ivory to the gates of
+ivory; but still they stood before her, not moving. Now the woman spoke
+for the first time, in a low voice that was sad and awful to hear.
+
+“Pass in, children of my people, pass in to the judgment. Why tarry ye?
+Pass in through the gates of light.”
+
+But still they tarried, and in my vision Unandi spoke: “We tarry, Queen
+of the Heavens—we tarry to pray for justice on him who murdered us. I,
+who on earth was named Mother of the Heavens, on behalf of all this
+company, pray to thee, Queen of the Heavens, for justice on him who
+murdered us.”
+
+“How is he named?” asked the voice that was low and awful.
+
+“Chaka, king of the Zulus,” answered the voice of Unandi. “Chaka, my
+son.”
+
+“Many have come to ask for vengeance on that head,” said the voice of
+the Queen of the Heavens, “and many more shall come. Fear not, Unandi,
+it shall fall. Fear not, Anadi and ye wives and children of Mopo, it
+shall fall, I say. With the spear that pierced thy breast, Unandi,
+shall the breast of Chaka be also pierced, and, ye wives and children
+of Mopo, the hand that pierces shall be the hand of Mopo. As I guide
+him so shall he go. Ay, I will teach him to wreak my vengeance on the
+earth! Pass in, children of my people—pass in to the judgment, for the
+doom of Chaka is written.”
+
+Thus I dreamed, my father. Ay, this was the vision that was sent me as
+I lay in pain and misery among the bones of my dead in the ashes of my
+kraal. Thus it was given me to see the Inkosazana of the Heavens as she
+is in her own place. Twice more I saw her, as you shall hear, but that
+was on the earth and with my waking eyes. Yes, thrice has it been given
+to me in all to look upon that face that I shall now see no more till I
+am dead, for no man may look four times on the Inkosazana and live. Or
+am I mad, my father, and did I weave these visions from the woof of my
+madness? I do not know, but it is true that I seemed to see them.
+
+I woke when the sky was grey with the morning light; it was the pain of
+my burnt hand that aroused me from my sleep or from my stupor. I rose
+shaking the ashes from me, and went without the kraal to wash away
+their defilement. Then I returned, and sat outside the gates of the
+_Emposeni_, waiting till the king’s women, whom he named his sisters,
+should come to draw water according to their custom. At last they came,
+and, sitting with my kaross thrown over my face to hide it, looked for
+the passing of Baleka. Presently I saw her; she was sad-faced, and
+walked slowly, her pitcher on her head. I whispered her name, and she
+drew aside behind an aloe bush, and, making pretence that her foot was
+pierced with a thorn, she lingered till the other women had gone by.
+Then she came up to me, and we greeted one another, gazing heavily into
+each other’s eyes.
+
+“In an ill day did I hearken to you, Baleka,” I said, “to you and to
+the Mother of the Heavens, and save your child alive. See now what has
+sprung from this seed! Dead are all my house, dead is the Mother of the
+Heavens—all are dead—and I myself have been put to the torment by
+fire,” and I held out my withered hand towards her.
+
+“Ay, Mopo, my brother,” she answered, “but flesh is nearest to flesh,
+and I should think little of it were not my son Umslopogaas also dead,
+as I have heard but now.”
+
+“You speak like a woman, Baleka. Is it, then, nothing to you that I,
+your brother, have lost—all I love?”
+
+“Fresh seed can yet be raised up to you, my brother, but for me there
+is no hope, for the king looks on me no more. I grieve for you, but I
+had this one alone, and flesh is nearest to flesh. Think you that I
+shall escape? I tell you nay. I am but spared for a little, then I go
+where the others have gone. Chaka has marked me for the grave; for a
+little while I may be left, then I die: he does but play with me as a
+leopard plays with a wounded buck. I care not, I am weary, but I grieve
+for the boy; there was no such boy in the land. Would that I might die
+swiftly and go to seek him.”
+
+“And if the boy is not dead, Baleka, what then?”
+
+“What is that you said?” she answered, turning on me with wild eyes.
+“Oh, say it again—again, Mopo! I would gladly die a hundred deaths to
+know that Umslopogaas still lives.”
+
+“Nay, Baleka, I know nothing. But last night I dreamed a dream,” and I
+told her all my dream, and also of that which had gone before the
+dream.
+
+She listened as one listens to the words of a king when he passes
+judgement for life or for death.
+
+“I think that there is wisdom in your dreams, Mopo,” she said at
+length. “You were ever a strange man, to whom the gates of distance are
+no bar. Now it is borne in upon my heart that Umslopogaas still lives,
+and now I shall die happy. Yes, gainsay me not; I shall die, I know it.
+I read it in the king’s eyes. But what is it? It is nothing, if only
+the prince Umslopogaas yet lives.”
+
+“Your love is great, woman,” I said; “and this love of yours has
+brought many woes upon us, and it may well happen that in the end it
+shall all be for nothing, for there is an evil fate upon us. Say now,
+what shall I do? Shall I fly, or shall I abide here, taking the chance
+of things?”
+
+“You must stay here, Mopo. See, now! This is in the king’s mind. He
+fears because of the death of his mother at his own hand—yes, even he;
+he is afraid lest the people should turn upon him who killed his own
+mother. Therefore he will give it out that he did not kill her, but
+that she perished in the fire which was called down upon your kraals by
+witchcraft; and, though all men know the lie, yet none shall dare to
+gainsay him. As he said to you, there will be a smelling out, but a
+smelling out of a new sort, for he and you shall be the witch-finders,
+and at that smelling out he will give to death all those whom he fears,
+all those whom he knows hate him for his wickedness and because with
+his own hand he slew his mother. For this cause, then, he will save you
+alive, Mopo—yes, and make you great in the land, for if, indeed, his
+mother Unandi died through witchcraft, as he shall say, are you not
+also wronged by him, and did not your wives and children also perish by
+witchcraft? Therefore, do not fly; abide here and become great—become
+great to the great end of vengeance, Mopo, my brother. You have much
+wrong to wreak; soon you will have more, for I, too, shall be gone, and
+my blood also shall cry for vengeance to you. Hearken, Mopo. Are there
+not other princes in the land? What of Dingaan, what of Umhlangana,
+what of Umpanda, brothers to the king? Do not these also desire to be
+kings? Do they not day by day rise from sleep feeling their limbs to
+know if they yet live, do they not night by night lie down to sleep not
+knowing if it shall be their wives that they shall kiss ere dawn or the
+red assegai of the king? Draw near to them, my brother; creep into
+their hearts and learn their counsel or teach them yours; so in the end
+shall Chaka be brought to that gate through which your wives have
+passed, and where I also am about to tread.”
+
+Thus Baleka spoke and she was gone, leaving me pondering, for her words
+were heavy with wisdom. I knew well that the brothers of the king went
+heavily and in fear of death, for his shadow was on them. With Panda,
+indeed, little could be done, for he lived softly, speaking always as
+one whose wits are few. But Dingaan and Umhlangana were of another
+wood, and from them might be fashioned a kerrie that should scatter the
+brains of Chaka to the birds. But the time to speak was not now; not
+yet was the cup of Chaka full.
+
+Then, having finished my thought, I rose, and, going to the kraal of my
+friend, I doctored my burnt hand, that pained me, and as I was
+doctoring it there came a messenger to me summoning me before the king.
+
+I went in before the king, and prostrated myself, calling him by his
+royal names; but he took me by the hand and raised me up, speaking
+softly.
+
+“Rise, Mopo, my servant!” he said. “Thou hast suffered much woe because
+of the witchcraft of thine enemies. I, I have lost my mother, and thou,
+thou hast lost thy wives and children. Weep, my councillors, weep,
+because I have lost my mother, and Mopo, my servant, has lost his wives
+and children, by the witchcraft of our foes!”
+
+Then all the councillors wept aloud, while Chaka glared at them.
+
+“Hearken, Mopo!” said the king, when the weeping was done. “None can
+give me back my mother; but I can give thee more wives, and thou shalt
+find children. Go in among the damsels who are reserved to the king,
+and choose thee six; go in among the cattle of the king, and choose
+thee ten times ten of the best; call upon the servants of the king that
+they build up thy kraal greater and fairer than it was before! These
+things I give thee freely; but thou shalt have more, Mopo—yes! thou
+shalt have vengeance! On the first day of the new moon I summon a great
+meeting, a _bandhla_ of all the Zulu people: yes, thine own tribe, the
+Langeni, shall be there also. Then we will mourn together over our
+woes; then, too, we will learn who brought these woes upon us. Go now,
+Mopo, go! And go ye also, my councillors, leaving me to weep alone
+because my mother is dead!”
+
+Thus, then, my father, did the words of Baleka come true, and thus,
+because of the crafty policy of Chaka, I grew greater in the land than
+ever I had been before. I chose the cattle, they were fat; I chose the
+wives, they were fair; but I took no pleasure in them, nor were any
+more children born to me. For my heart was like a withered stick; the
+sap and strength had gone from my heart—it was drawn out in the fire of
+Chaka’s hut, and lost in my sorrow for those whom I had loved.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+THE TALE OF GALAZI THE WOLF
+
+
+Now, my father, I will go back a little, for my tale is long and winds
+in and out like a river in a plain, and tell of the fate of Umslopogaas
+when the lion had taken him, as he told it to me in the after years.
+
+The lioness bounded away, and in her mouth was Umslopogaas. Once he
+struggled, but she bit him hard, so he lay quiet in her mouth, and
+looking back he saw the face of Nada as she ran from the fence of
+thorns, crying “Save him!” He saw her face, he heard her words, then he
+saw and heard little more, for the world grew dark to him and he
+passed, as it were, into a deep sleep. Presently Umslopogaas awoke
+again, feeling pain in his thigh, where the lioness had bitten him, and
+heard a sound of shouting. He looked up; near to him stood the lioness
+that had loosed him from her jaws. She was snorting with rage, and in
+front of her was a lad long and strong, with a grim face, and a wolf’s
+hide, black and grey, bound about his shoulders in such fashion that
+the upper jaw and teeth of the wolf rested on his head. He stood before
+the lioness, shouting, and in one hand he held a large war-shield, and
+in the other he grasped a heavy club shod with iron.
+
+Now the lioness crouched herself to spring, growling terribly, but the
+lad with the club did not wait for her onset. He ran in upon her and
+struck her on the head with the club. He smote hard and well, but this
+did not kill her, for she reared herself upon her hind legs and struck
+at him heavily. He caught the blow upon his shield, but the shield was
+driven against his breast so strongly that he fell backwards beneath
+it, and lay there howling like a wolf in pain. Then the lioness sprang
+upon him and worried him. Still, because of the shield, as yet she
+could not come at him to slay him; but Umslopogaas saw that this might
+not endure, for presently the shield would be torn aside and the
+stranger must be killed. Now in the breast of the lioness still stood
+the half of Umslopogaas’s broken spear, and its blade was a span deep
+in her breast. Then this thought came into the mind of Umslopogaas,
+that he would drive the spear home or die. So he rose swiftly, for
+strength came back to him in his need, and ran to where the lioness
+worried at him who lay beneath the shield. She did not heed him, so he
+flung himself upon his knees before her, and, seizing the haft of the
+broken spear, drove it deep into her and wrenched it round. Now she saw
+Umslopogaas and turned roaring, and clawed at him, tearing his breast
+and arms. Then, as he lay, he heard a mighty howling, and, behold! grey
+wolves and black leaped upon the lioness and rent and worried her till
+she fell and was torn to pieces by them. After this the senses of
+Umslopogaas left him again, and the light went out of his eyes so that
+he was as one dead.
+
+At length his mind came back to him, and with it his memory, and he
+remembered the lioness and looked up to find her. But he did not find
+her, and he saw that he lay in a cave upon a bed of grass, while all
+about him were the skins of beasts, and at his side was a pot filled
+with water. He put out his hand and, taking the pot, drank of the
+water, and then he saw that his arm was wasted as with sickness, and
+that his breast was thick with scars scarcely skinned over.
+
+Now while he lay and wondered, the mouth of the cave was darkened, and
+through it entered that same lad who had done battle with the lioness
+and been overthrown by her, bearing a dead buck upon his shoulders. He
+put down the buck upon the ground, and, walking to where Umslopogaas
+lay, looked at him.
+
+“_Ou!_” he said, “your eyes are open—do you, then, live, stranger?”
+
+“I live,” answered Umslopogaas, “and I am hungry.”
+
+“It is time,” said the other, “since with toil I bore you here through
+the forest, for twelve days you have lain without sense, drinking water
+only. So deeply had the lion clawed you that I thought of you as dead.
+Twice I was near to killing you, that you might cease to suffer and I
+to be troubled; but I held my hand, because of a word which came to me
+from one who is dead. Now eat, that your strength may return to you.
+Afterwards, we will talk.”
+
+So Umslopogaas ate, and little by little his health returned to
+him—every day a little. And afterwards, as they sat at night by the
+fire in the cave they spoke together.
+
+“How are you named?” asked Umslopogaas of the other.
+
+“I am named Galazi the Wolf,” he answered, “and I am of Zulu blood—ay,
+of the blood of Chaka the king; for the father of Senzangacona, the
+father of Chaka, was my great-grandfather.”
+
+“Whence came you, Galazi?”
+
+“I came from Swaziland—from the tribe of the Halakazi, which I should
+rule. This is the story: Siguyana, my grandfather, was a younger
+brother of Senzangacona, the father of Chaka. But he quarrelled with
+Senzangacona, and became a wanderer. With certain of the people of the
+Umtetwa he wandered into Swaziland, and sojourned with the Halakazi
+tribe in their great caves; and the end of it was that he killed the
+chief of the tribe and took his place. After he was dead, my father
+ruled in his place; but there was a great party in the tribe that hated
+his rule because he was of the Zulu race, and it would have set up a
+chief of the old Swazi blood in his place. Still, they could not do
+this, for my father’s hand was heavy on the people. Now I was the only
+son of my father by his head wife, and born to be chief after him, and
+therefore those of the Swazi party, and they were many and great, hated
+me also. So matters stood till last year in the winter, and then my
+father set his heart on killing twenty of the headmen, with their wives
+and children, because he knew that they plotted against him. But the
+headmen learned what was to come, and they prevailed upon a wife of my
+father, a woman of their own blood, to poison him. So she poisoned him
+in the night and in the morning it was told me that my father lay sick
+and summoned me, and I went to him. In his hut I found him, and he was
+writhing with pain.
+
+“‘What is it, my father?’ I said. ‘Who has done this evil?’
+
+“‘It is this, my son,’ he gasped, ‘that I am poisoned, and she stands
+yonder who has done the deed.’ And he pointed to the woman, who stood
+at the side of the hut near the door, her chin upon her breast,
+trembling as she looked upon the fruit of her wickedness.
+
+“Now the girl was young and fair, and we had been friends, yet I say
+that I did not pause, for my heart was mad within me. I did not pause,
+but, seizing my spear, I ran at her, and, though she cried for mercy, I
+killed her with the spear.
+
+“‘That was well done, Galazi!’ said my father. ‘But when I am gone,
+look to yourself, my son, for these Swazi dogs will drive you out and
+rob you of your place! But if they drive you out and you still live,
+swear this to me—that you will not rest till you have avenged me.’
+
+“‘I swear it, my father,’ I answered. ‘I swear that I will stamp out
+the men of the tribe of Halakazi, every one of them, except those of my
+own blood, and bring their women to slavery and their children to
+bonds!’
+
+“‘Big words for a young mouth,’ said my father. ‘Yet shall you live to
+bring these things about, Galazi. This I know of you now in my hour of
+death: you shall be a wanderer for a few years of your life, child of
+Siguyana, and wandering in another land you shall die a man’s death,
+and not such a death as yonder witch has given to me.’ Then, having
+spoken thus, he lifted up his head, looked at me, and with a great
+groan he died.
+
+“Now I passed out of the hut dragging the body of the dead girl after
+me. In front of the hut were gathered many headmen waiting for the end,
+and I saw that their looks were sullen.
+
+“‘The chief, my father, is dead!’ I cried in a loud voice, ‘and I,
+Galazi, who am the chief, have slain her who murdered him!’ And I
+rolled the body of the girl over on to her back so that they might look
+upon her face.
+
+“Now the father of the girl was among those who stood before me, he who
+had persuaded her to the deed, and he was maddened at the sight.
+
+“‘What, my brothers?’ he cried. ‘Shall we suffer that this young Zulu
+dog, this murderer of a girl, be chief over us? Never! The old lion is
+dead, now for the cub!’ And he ran at me with spear aloft.
+
+“‘Never!’ shouted the others, and they, too, ran towards me, shaking
+their spears.
+
+“I waited, I did not hasten, for I knew well that I should not die
+then, I knew it from my father’s last words. I waited till the man was
+near me; he thrust, I sprang aside and drove my spear through him, and
+on the daughter’s body the father fell dead. Then I shouted aloud and
+rushed through them. None touched me; none could catch me; the man does
+not live who can overtake me when my feet are on the ground and I am
+away.”
+
+“Yet I might try,” said Umslopogaas, smiling, for of all lads among the
+Zulus he was the swiftest of foot.
+
+“First walk again, then run,” answered Galazi.
+
+“Take up the tale,” quoth Umslopogaas; “it is a merry one.”
+
+“Something is left to tell, stranger. I fled from the country of the
+Halakazi, nor did I linger at all in the land of the Swazis, but came
+on swiftly into the Zulu. Now, it was in my mind to go to Chaka and
+tell him of my wrongs, asking that he would send an impi to make an end
+of the Halakazi. But while I journeyed, finding food and shelter as I
+might, I came one night to the kraal of an old man who knew Chaka, and
+had known Siguyana, my grandfather, and to him, when I had stayed there
+two days, I told my tale. But the old man counselled me against my
+plan, saying that Chaka, the king, did not love to welcome new shoots
+sprung from the royal stock, and would kill me; moreover, the man
+offered me a place in his kraal. Now, I held that there was wisdom in
+his words, and thought no more of standing before the king to cry for
+justice, for he who cries to kings for justice sometimes finds death.
+Still, I would not stay in the kraal of the old man, for he had sons to
+come after him who looked on me with no liking; moreover, I wished to
+be a chief myself, even if I lived alone. So I left the kraal by night
+and walked on, not knowing where I should go.
+
+“Now, on the third night, I came to a little kraal that stands on the
+farther side of the river at the foot of the mountain. In front of the
+kraal sat a very old woman basking in the rays of the setting sun. She
+saw me, and spoke to me, saying, ‘Young man, you are tall and strong
+and swift of foot. Would you earn a famous weapon, a club, that
+destroys all who stand before it?’
+
+“I said that I wished to have such a club, and asked what I should do
+to win it.
+
+“‘You shall do this,’ said the old woman: ‘to-morrow morning, at the
+first light, you shall go up to yonder mountain,’ and she pointed to
+the mountain where you are now, stranger, on which the stone Witch sits
+forever waiting for the world to die. ‘Two-thirds of the way up the
+mountain you will come to a path that is difficult to climb. You shall
+climb the path and enter a gloomy forest. It is very dark in the
+forest, but you must push through it till you come to an open place
+with a wall of rock behind it. In the wall of rock is a cave, and in
+the cave you will find the bones of a man. Bring down the bones in a
+bag, and I will give you the club!’
+
+“While she spoke thus people came out of the kraal and listened.
+
+“‘Do not heed her, young man,’ they said, ‘unless you are weary of
+life. Do not heed her: she is crazy. The mountain is haunted; it is a
+place of ghosts. Look at the stone Witch who sits upon it! Evil spirits
+live in that forest, and no man has walked there for many years. This
+woman’s son was foolish: he went to wander in the forest, saying that
+he cared nothing for ghosts, and the _Amatongo_, the ghost-folk, killed
+him. That was many years ago, and none have dared to seek his bones.
+Ever she sits here and asks of the passers by that they should bring
+him to her, offering the great club for a reward; but they dare not!’
+
+“‘They lie!’ said the old woman. ‘There are no ghosts there. The ghosts
+live only in their cowardly hearts; there are but wolves. I know that
+the bones of my son lie in the cave, for I have seen them in a dream;
+but, alas! my old limbs are too weak to carry me up the mountain path,
+and all these are cowards; there is no man among them since the Zulus
+killed my husband, covering him with wounds!’
+
+“Now, I listened, answering nothing; but when all had done, I asked to
+see the club which should be given to him who dared to face the
+_Amatongo_, the spirits who lived in the forest upon the Ghost
+Mountain. Then the old woman rose, and creeping on her hands went into
+the hut. Presently she returned again, dragging the great club after
+her.
+
+“Look at it, stranger! look at it! Was there ever such a club?” And
+Galazi held it up before the eyes of Umslopogaas.
+
+In truth, my father, that was a club, for I, Mopo, saw it in after
+days. It was great and knotty, black as iron that had been smoked in
+the fire, and shod with metal that was worn smooth with smiting.
+
+“I looked at it,” went on Galazi, “and I tell you, stranger, a great
+desire came into my heart to possess it.
+
+“‘How is this club named?’ I asked of the old woman.
+
+“‘It is named Watcher of the Fords,’ she answered, ‘and it has not
+watched in vain. Five men have held that club in war and a
+hundred-and-seventy-three have given up their lives beneath its
+strokes. He who held it last slew twenty before he was slain himself,
+for this fortune goes with the club—that he who owns it shall die
+holding it, but in a noble fashion. There is but one other weapon to
+match with it in Zululand, and that is the great axe of Jikiza, the
+chief of the People of the Axe, who dwells in the kraal yonder; the
+ancient horn-hafted _Imbubuzi_, the Groan-Maker, that brings victory.
+Were axe, Groan-Maker, and club, Watcher of the Fords, side by side,
+there are no thirty men in Zululand who could stand before them. I have
+said. Choose!’ And the aged woman watched me cunningly through her
+horny eyes.
+
+“‘She speaks truly now,’ said one of those who stood near. ‘Let the
+club be, young man: he who owns it smites great blows indeed, but in
+the end he dies by the assegai. None dare own the Watcher of the
+Fords.’
+
+“‘A good death and a swift!’ I answered. And pondered a time, while
+still the old woman watched me through her horny eyes. At length she
+rose, ‘La!, la!’ she said, ‘the Watcher is not for this one. This is
+but a child, I must seek me a man, I must seek me a man!’
+
+“‘Not so fast, old wife,’ I said. ‘Will you lend me this club to hold
+in my hand while I go to find the bones of your son and to snatch them
+from the people of the ghosts?’
+
+“‘Lend you the Watcher, boy? Nay, nay! I should see little of you again
+or of the good club either.’
+
+“‘I am no thief,’ I answered. ‘If the ghosts kill me, you will see me
+no more, or the club either; but if I live I will bring you back the
+bones, or, if I do not find them, I will render the Watcher into your
+hands again. At the least I say that if you will not lend me the club,
+then I will not go into the haunted place.’
+
+“‘Boy, your eyes are honest,’ she said, still peering at me. ‘Take the
+Watcher, go seek the bones. If you die, let the club be lost with you;
+if you fail, bring it back to me; but if you win the bones, then it is
+yours, and it shall bring you glory and you shall die a man’s death at
+last holding him aloft among the dead.’
+
+“So on the morrow at dawn I took the club Watcher in my hand and a
+little dancing shield, and made ready to start. The old woman blessed
+me and bade me farewell, but the other people of the kraal mocked,
+saying: ‘A little man for so big a club! Beware, little man, lest the
+ghosts use the club on you!’ So they spoke, but one girl in the
+kraal—she is a granddaughter of the old woman—led me aside, praying me
+not to go, for the forest on the Ghost Mountain had an evil name: none
+dared walk there, since it was certainly full of spirits, who howled
+like wolves. I thanked the girl, but to the others I said nothing, only
+I asked of the path to the Ghost Mountain.
+
+“Now stranger, if you have strength, come to the mouth of the cave and
+look out, for the moon is bright.”
+
+So Umslopogaas rose and crept through the narrow mouth of the cave.
+There, above him, a great grey peak towered high into the air, shaped
+like a seated woman, her chin resting upon her breast, the place where
+the cave was being, as it were, on the lap of the woman. Below this
+place the rock sloped sharply, and was clothed with little bushes.
+Lower down yet was a forest, great and dense, that stretched to the top
+of a cliff, and at the foot of the cliff, beyond the waters of the
+river, lay the wide plains of Zululand.
+
+“Yonder, stranger,” said Galazi, pointing with the club Watcher of the
+Fords far away to the plain beneath; “yonder is the kraal where the
+aged woman dwelt. There is a cliff rising from the plain, up which I
+must climb; there is the forest where dwell the _Amatongo_, the people
+of the ghosts; there, on the hither side of the forest, runs the path
+to the cave, and here is the cave itself. See this stone lying at the
+mouth of the cave, it turns thus, shutting up the entrance hole—it
+turns gently; though it is so large, a child may move it, for it rests
+upon a sharp point of rock. Only mark this, the stone must not be
+pushed too far; for, look! if it came to here,” and he pointed to a
+mark in the mouth of the cave, “then that man need be strong who can
+draw it back again, though I have done it myself, who am not a man full
+grown. But if it pass beyond this mark, then, see, it will roll down
+the neck of the cave like a pebble down the neck of a gourd, and I
+think that two men, one striving from within and one dragging from
+without, scarcely could avail to push it clear. Look now, I close the
+stone, as is my custom of a night, so,”—and he grasped the rock and
+swung it round upon its pivot, on which it turned as a door turns.
+“Thus I leave it, and though, except those to whom the secret is known,
+none would guess that a cave was here, yet it can be rolled back again
+with a push of the hand. But enough of the stone. Enter again,
+wanderer, and I will go forward with my tale, for it is long and
+strange.
+
+“I started from the kraal of the old woman, and the people of the kraal
+followed me to the brink of the river. It was in flood, and few had
+dared to cross it.
+
+“‘Ha! ha!’ they cried, ‘now your journey is done, little man; watch by
+the ford you who would win the Watcher of the Ford! Beat the water with
+the club, perhaps so it shall grow gentle that your feet may pass it!’
+
+“I answered nothing to their mocking, only I bound the shield upon my
+shoulders with a string, and the bag that I had brought I made fast
+about my middle, and I held the great club in my teeth by the thong.
+Then I plunged into the river and swam. Twice, stranger, the current
+bore me under, and those on the bank shouted that I was lost; but I
+rose again, and in the end I won the farther shore.
+
+“Now those on the bank mocked no more; they stood still wondering, and
+I walked on till I came to the foot of the cliff. That cliff is hard to
+climb, stranger; when you are strong upon your feet, I will show you
+the path. Yet I found a way up it, and by midday I came to the forest.
+Here, on the edge of the forest, I rested awhile, and ate a little food
+that I had brought with me in the bag, for now I must gather up my
+strength to meet the ghosts, if ghosts there were. Then I rose and
+plunged into the forest. The trees were great that grow there,
+stranger, and their leaves are so thick that in certain places the
+light is as that of night when the moon is young. Still, I wended on,
+often losing my path. But from time to time between the tops of the
+trees I saw the figure of the grey stone woman who sits on the top of
+Ghost Mountain, and shaped my course towards her knees. My heart beat
+as I travelled through the forest in dark and loneliness like that of
+the night, and ever I looked round searching for the eyes of the
+_Amatongo_. But I saw no spirits, though at times great spotted snakes
+crept from before my feet, and perhaps these were the _Amatongo_. At
+times, also, I caught glimpses of some grey wolf as he slunk from tree
+to tree watching me, and always high above my head the wind sighed in
+the great boughs with a sound like the sighing of women.
+
+“Still, I went on, singing to myself as I went, that my heart might not
+be faint with fear, and at length, towards the end of the second hour,
+the trees grew fewer, the ground sloped upwards, and the light poured
+down from the heavens again. But, stranger, you are weary, and the
+night wears on; sleep now, and to-morrow I will end the tale. Say,
+first, how are you named?”
+
+“I am named Umslopogaas, son of Mopo,” he answered, “and my tale shall
+be told when yours is done; let us sleep!”
+
+Now when Galazi heard this name he started and was troubled, but said
+nothing. So they laid them down to sleep, and Galazi wrapped
+Umslopogaas with the skins of bucks.
+
+But Galazi the Wolf was so hardy that he lay on the bare ground and had
+no covering. So they slept, and without the door of the cave the wolves
+howled, scenting the blood of men.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+GALAZI BECOMES KING OF THE WOLVES
+
+
+On the morrow Umslopogaas awoke, and knew that strength was growing on
+him fast. Still, all that day he rested in the cave, while Galazi went
+out to hunt. In the evening he returned, bearing a buck upon his
+shoulders, and they skinned the buck and ate of it as they sat by the
+fire. And when the sun was down Galazi took up his tale.
+
+“Now Umslopogaas, son of Mopo, hear! I had passed the forest, and had
+come, as it were, to the legs of the old stone Witch who sits up aloft
+there forever waiting for the world to die. Here the sun shone merrily,
+here lizards ran and birds flew to and fro, and though it grew towards
+the evening—for I had wandered long in the forest—I was afraid no more.
+So I climbed up the steep rock, where little bushes grow like hair on
+the arms of a man, till at last I came to the knees of the stone Witch,
+which are the space before the cave. I lifted my head over the brink of
+the rock and looked, and I tell you, Umslopogaas, my blood ran cold and
+my heart turned to water, for there, before the cave, rolled wolves,
+many and great. Some slept and growled in their sleep, some gnawed at
+the skulls of dead game, some sat up like dogs and their tongues hung
+from their grinning jaws. I looked, I saw, and beyond I discovered the
+mouth of the cave, where the bones of the boy should be. But I had no
+wish to come there, being afraid of the wolves, for now I knew that
+these were the ghosts who live upon the mountain. So I bethought me
+that I would fly, and turned to go. And, Umslopogaas, even as I turned,
+the great club Watcher of the Fords swung round and smote me on the
+back with such a blow as a man smites upon a coward. Now whether this
+was by chance or whether the Watcher would shame him who bore it, say
+you, for I do not know. At the least, shame entered into me. Should I
+go back to be mocked by the people of the kraal and by the old woman?
+And if I wished to go, should I not be killed by the ghosts at night in
+the forest? Nay, it was better to die in the jaws of the wolves, and at
+once.
+
+“Thus I thought in my heart; then, tarrying not, lest fear should come
+upon me again, I swung up the Watcher, and crying aloud the war-cry of
+the Halakazi, I sprang over the brink of the rock and rushed upon the
+wolves. They, too, sprang up and stood howling, with bristling hides
+and fiery eyes, and the smell of them came into my nostrils. Yet when
+they saw it was a man that rushed upon them, they were seized with
+sudden fear and fled this way and that, leaping by great bounds from
+the place of rock, which is the knees of the stone Witch, so that
+presently I stood alone in front of the cave. Now, having conquered the
+wolf ghosts and no blow struck, my heart swelled within me, and I
+walked to the mouth of the cave proudly, as a cock walks upon a roof,
+and looked in through the opening. As it chanced, the sinking sun shone
+at this hour full into the cave, so that all its darkness was made red
+with light. Then, once more, Umslopogaas, I grew afraid indeed, for I
+could see the end of the cave.
+
+“Look now! There is a hole in the wall of the cave, where the firelight
+falls below the shadow of the roof, twice the height of a man from the
+floor. It is a narrow hole and a high, is it not?—as though one had cut
+it with iron, and a man might sit in it, his legs hanging towards the
+floor of the cave. Ay, Umslopogaas, a man might sit in it, might he
+not? And there a man sat, or that which had been a man. There sat the
+bones of a man, and the black skin had withered on his bones, holding
+them together, and making him awful to see. His hands were open beside
+him, he leaned upon them, and in the right hand was a piece of hide
+from his moocha. It was half eaten, Umslopogaas; he had eaten it before
+he died. His eyes also were bound round with a band of leather, as
+though to hide something from their gaze, one foot was gone, one hung
+over the edge of the niche towards the floor, and beneath it on the
+floor, red with rust, lay the blade of a broken spear.
+
+“Now come hither, Umslopogaas, place your hand upon the wall of the
+cave, just here; it is smooth, is it not?—smooth as the stones on which
+women grind their corn. ‘What made it so smooth?’ you ask. I will tell
+you.
+
+“When I peered through the door of the cave I saw this: on the floor of
+the cave lay a she-wolf panting, as though she had galloped many a
+mile; she was great and fierce. Near to her was another wolf—he was a
+dog—old and black, bigger than any I have seen, a very father of
+wolves, and all his head and flanks were streaked with grey. But this
+wolf was on his feet. As I watched he drew back nearly to the mouth of
+the cave, then of a sudden he ran forward and bounded high into the air
+towards the withered foot of that which hung from the cleft of the
+rock. His pads struck upon the rock here where it is smooth, and there
+for a second he seemed to cling, while his great jaws closed with a
+clash but a spear’s breadth beneath the dead man’s foot. Then he fell
+back with a howl of rage, and drew slowly down the cave. Again he ran
+and leaped, again the great jaws closed, again he fell down howling.
+Then the she-wolf rose, and they sprang together, striving to pull down
+him who sat above. But it was all in vain; they could never come nearer
+than within a spear’s breadth of the dead man’s foot. And now,
+Umslopogaas, you know why the rock is smooth and shines. From month to
+month and year to year the wolves had ravened there, seeking to devour
+the bones of him who sat above. Night upon night they had leaped thus
+against the wall of the cave, but never might their clashing jaws close
+upon his foot. One foot they had, indeed, but the other they could not
+come by.
+
+“Now as I watched, filled with fear and wonder, the she-wolf, her
+tongue lolling from her jaws, made so mighty a bound that she almost
+reached the hanging foot, and yet not quite. She fell back, and then I
+saw that the leap was her last for that time, for she had oversprung
+herself, and lay there howling, the black blood flowing from her mouth.
+The wolf saw also: he drew near, sniffed at her, then, knowing that she
+was hurt, seized her by the throat and worried her. Now all the place
+was filled with groans and choking howls, as the wolves rolled over and
+over beneath him who sat above, and in the blood-red light of the dying
+sun the sight and sounds were so horrid that I trembled like a child.
+The she-wolf grew faint, for the fangs of her mate were buried in her
+throat. Then I saw that now was the time to smite him, lest when he had
+killed her he should kill me also. So I lifted the Watcher and sprang
+into the cave, having it in my mind to slay the wolf before he lifted
+up his head. But he heard my footsteps, or perhaps my shadow fell upon
+him. Loosing his grip, he looked up, this father of wolves; then,
+making no sound, he sprang straight at my throat.
+
+“I saw him, and whirling the Watcher aloft, I smote with all my
+strength. The blow met him in mid-air; it fell full on his chest and
+struck him backwards to the earth. But there he would not stay, for,
+rising before I could smite again, once more he sprang at me. This time
+I leaped aside and struck downwards, and the blow fell upon his right
+leg and broke it, so that he could spring no more. Yet he ran at me on
+three feet, and, though the club fell on his side, he seized me with
+his teeth, biting through that leather bag, which was wound about my
+middle, into the flesh behind. Then I yelled with pain and rage, and
+lifting the Watcher endways, drove it down with both hands, as a man
+drives a stake into the earth, and that with so great a stroke that the
+skull of the wolf was shattered like a pot, and he fell dead, dragging
+me with him. Presently I sat up on the ground, and, placing the handle
+of the Watcher between his jaws, I forced them open, freeing my flesh
+from the grip of his teeth. Then I looked at my wounds; they were not
+deep, for the leather bag had saved me, yet I feel them to this hour,
+for there is poison in the mouth of a wolf. Presently I glanced up, and
+saw that the she-wolf had found her feet again, and stood as though
+unhurt; for this is the nature of these ghosts, Umslopogaas, that,
+though they fight continually, they cannot destroy each other. They may
+be killed by man alone, and that hardly. There she stood, and yet she
+did not look at me or on her dead mate, but at him who sat above. I
+saw, and crept softly behind her, then, lifting the Watcher, I dashed
+him down with all my strength. The blow fell on her neck and broke it,
+so that she rolled over and at once was dead.
+
+“Now I rested awhile, then went to the mouth of the cave and looked
+out. The sun was sinking: all the depth of the forest was black, but
+the light still shone on the face of the stone woman who sits forever
+on the mountain. Here, then, I must bide this night, for, though the
+moon shone white and full in the sky, I dared not wend towards the
+plains alone with the wolves and the ghosts. And if I dared not go
+alone, how much less should I dare to go bearing with me him who sat in
+the cleft of the rock! Nay, here I must bide, so I went out of the cave
+to the spring which flows from the rock on the right yonder and washed
+my wounds and drank. Then I came back and sat in the mouth of the cave,
+and watched the light die away from the face of the world. While it was
+dying there was silence, but when it was dead the forest awoke. A wind
+sprang up and tossed it till the green of its boughs waved like
+troubled water on which the moon shines faintly. From the heart of it,
+too, came howlings of ghosts and wolves, that were answered by howls
+from the rocks above—hearken, Umslopogaas, such howlings as we hear
+to-night!
+
+“It was awful here in the mouth of the cave, for I had not yet learned
+the secret of the stone, and if I had known it, should I have dared to
+close it, leaving myself alone with the dead wolves and him whom the
+wolves had struggled to tear down? I walked out yonder on to the
+platform and looked up. The moon shone full upon the face of the stone
+Witch who sits aloft forever. She seemed to grin at me, and, oh! I grew
+afraid, for now I knew that this was a place of dead men, a place where
+spirits perch like vultures in a tree, as they sweep round and round
+the world. I went back to the cave, and feeling that I must do
+something lest I should go mad, I drew to me the carcase of the great
+dog-wolf which I had killed, and, taking my knife of iron, I began to
+skin it by the light of the moon. For an hour or more I skinned,
+singing to myself as I worked, and striving to forget him who sat in
+the cleft above and the howlings which ran about the mountains. But
+ever the moonlight shone more clearly into the cave: now by it I could
+see his shape of bone and skin, ay, and even the bandage about his
+eyes. Why had he tied it there? I wondered—perhaps to hide the faces of
+the fierce wolves as they sprang upwards to grip him. And always the
+howlings drew nearer; now I could see grey forms creeping to and fro in
+the shadows of the rocky place before me. Ah! there before me glared
+two red eyes: a sharp snout sniffed at the carcase which I skinned.
+With a yell, I lifted the Watcher and smote. There came a scream of
+pain, and something galloped away into the shadows.
+
+“Now the skin was off. I cast it behind me, and seizing the carcase
+dragged it to the edge of the rock and left it. Presently the sound of
+howlings drew near again, and I saw the grey shapes creep up one by
+one. Now they gathered round the carcase, now they fell upon it and
+rent it, fighting horribly till all was finished. Then, licking their
+red chops, they slunk back to the forest.
+
+“Did I sleep or did I wake? Nay, I cannot tell. But I know this, that
+of a sudden I seemed to look up and see. I saw a light—perchance,
+Umslopogaas, it was the light of the moon, shining upon him that sat
+aloft at the end of the cave. It was a red light, and he glowed in it
+as glows a thing that is rotten. I looked, or seemed to look, and then
+I thought that the hanging jaw moved, and from it came a voice that was
+harsh and hollow as of one who speaks from an empty belly, through a
+withered throat.
+
+“‘Hail, Galazi, child of Siguyana!’ said the voice, ‘Galazi the Wolf!
+Say, what dost thou here in the Ghost Mountain, where the stone Witch
+sits forever, waiting for the world to die?’
+
+“Then, Umslopogaas, I answered, or seemed to answer, and my voice, too,
+sounded strange and hollow:—
+
+“‘Hail, Dead One, who sittest like a vulture on a rock! I do this on
+the Ghost Mountain. I come to seek thy bones and bear them to thy
+mother for burial.’
+
+“‘Many and many a year have I sat aloft, Galazi,’ answered the voice,
+‘watching the ghost-wolves leap and leap to drag me down, till the rock
+grew smooth beneath the wearing of their feet. So I sat seven days and
+nights, being yet alive, the hungry wolves below, and hunger gnawing at
+my heart. So I have sat many and many a year, being dead in the heart
+of the old stone Witch, watching the moon and the sun and the stars,
+hearkening to the howls of the ghost-wolves as they ravened beneath me,
+and learning the wisdom of the old witch who sits above in everlasting
+stone. Yet my mother was young and fair when I trod the haunted forest
+and climbed the knees of stone. How seems she now, Galazi?’
+
+“‘She is white and wrinkled and very aged,’ I answered. ‘They call her
+mad, yet at her bidding I came to seek thee, Dead One, bearing the
+Watcher that was thy father’s and shall be mine.’
+
+“‘It shall be thine, Galazi,’ said the voice, ‘for thou alone hast
+dared the ghosts to give me sleep and burial. Hearken, thine also shall
+be the wisdom of the old witch who sits aloft forever, frozen into
+everlasting stone—thine and one other’s. These are not wolves that thou
+hast seen, that is no wolf which thou hast slain; nay, they are
+ghosts—evil ghosts of men who lived in ages gone, and who must now live
+till they be slain by men. And knowest thou how they lived, Galazi, and
+what was the food they ate? When the light comes again, Galazi, climb
+to the breasts of the stone Witch, and look in the cleft which is
+between her breasts. There shalt thou see how these men lived. And now
+this doom is on them: they must wander gaunt and hungry in the shape of
+wolves, haunting that Ghost Mountain where they once fed, till they are
+led forth to die at the hands of men. Because of their devouring hunger
+they have leapt from year to year, striving to reach my bones; and he
+whom thou hast slain was the king of them, and she at his side was
+their queen.
+
+“‘Now, Galazi the Wolf, this is the wisdom that I give thee: thou shalt
+be king of the ghost-wolves, thou and another, whom a lion shall bring
+thee. Gird the black skin upon thy shoulders, and the wolves shall
+follow thee; all the three hundred and sixty and three of them that are
+left, and let him who shall be brought to thee gird on the skin of
+grey. Where ye twain lead them, there shall they raven, bringing you
+victory till all are dead. But know this, that there only may they
+raven where in life they ravened, seeking for their food. Yet, that was
+an ill gift thou tookest from my mother—the gift of the Watcher, for
+though without the Watcher thou hadst never slain the king of the
+ghost-wolves, yet, bearing the Watcher, thou shalt thyself be slain.
+Now, on the morrow carry me back to my mother, so that I may sleep
+where the ghost-wolves leap no more. I have spoken, Galazi.’
+
+“Now the Dead One’s voice seemed to grow ever fainter and more hollow
+as he spoke, till at the last I could scarcely hear his words, yet I
+answered him, asking him this:—
+
+“‘Who is it, then, that the lion shall bring to me to rule with me over
+the ghost-wolves, and how is he named?’
+
+“Then the Dead One spoke once more very faintly, yet in the silence of
+the place I heard his words:—
+
+“‘He is named Umslopogaas the Slaughterer, son of Chaka, Lion of the
+Zulu.”
+
+Now Umslopogaas started up from his place by the fire.
+
+“I am named Umslopogaas,” he said, “but the Slaughterer I am not named,
+and I am the son of Mopo, and not the son of Chaka, Lion of the Zulu;
+you have dreamed a dream, Galazi, or, if it was no dream, then the Dead
+One lied to you.”
+
+“Perchance this was so, Umslopogaas,” answered Galazi the Wolf.
+“Perhaps I dreamed, or perhaps the Dead One lied; nevertheless, if he
+lied in this matter, in other matters he did not lie, as you shall
+hear.
+
+“After I had heard these words, or had dreamed that I heard them, I
+slept indeed, and when I woke the forest beneath was like the clouds of
+mist, but the grey light glinted upon the face of her who sits in stone
+above. Now I remembered the dream that I had dreamed, and I would see
+if it were all a dream. So I rose, and leaving the cave, found a place
+where I might climb up to the breasts and head of the stone Witch. I
+climbed, and as I went the rays of the sun lit upon her face, and I
+rejoiced to see them. But, when I drew near, the likeness to the face
+of a woman faded away, and I saw nothing before me but rugged heaps of
+piled-up rock. For this, Umslopogaas, is the way of witches, be they of
+stone or flesh—when you draw near to them they change their shape.
+
+“Now I was on the breast of the mountain, and wandered to and fro
+awhile between the great heaps of stone. At length I found, as it were,
+a crack in the stone thrice as wide as a man can jump, and in length
+half a spear’s throw, and near this crack stood great stones blackened
+by fire, and beneath them broken pots and a knife of flint. I looked
+down into the crack—it was very deep, and green with moss, and tall
+ferns grew about in it, for the damp gathered there. There was nothing
+else. I had dreamed a lying dream. I turned to go, then found another
+mind, and climbed down into the cleft, pushing aside the ferns. Beneath
+the ferns was moss; I scraped it away with the Watcher. Presently the
+iron of the club struck on something that was yellow and round like a
+stone, and from the yellow thing came a hollow sound. I lifted it,
+Umslopogaas; it was the skull of a child.
+
+“I dug deeper and scraped away more moss, till presently I saw. Beneath
+the moss was nothing but the bones of men—old bones that had lain there
+many years; the little ones had rotted, the larger ones remained—some
+were yellow, some black, and others still white. They were not broken,
+as are those that hyenas and wolves have worried, yet on some of them I
+could see the marks of teeth. Then, Umslopogaas, I went back to the
+cave, never looking behind me.
+
+“Now when I was come to the cave I did this: I skinned the she-wolf
+also. When I had finished the sun was up, and I knew that it was time
+to go. But I could not go alone—he who sat aloft in the cleft of the
+cave must go with me. I greatly feared to touch him—this Dead One, who
+had spoken to me in a dream; yet I must do it. So I brought stones and
+piled them up till I could reach him; then I lifted him down, for he
+was very light, being but skin and bones. When he was down, I bound the
+hides of the wolves about me, then leaving the leather bag, into which
+he could not enter, I took the Dead One and placed him on my shoulders
+as a man might carry a child, for his legs were fixed somewhat apart,
+and holding him by the foot which was left on him, I set out for the
+kraal. Down the slope I went as swiftly as I could, for now I knew the
+way, seeing and hearing nothing, except once, when there came a rush of
+wings, and a great eagle swept down at that which sat upon my
+shoulders. I shouted, and the eagle flew away, then I entered the dark
+of the forest. Here I must walk softly, lest the head of him I carried
+should strike against the boughs and be smitten from him.
+
+“For awhile I went on thus, till I drew near to the heart of the
+forest. Then I heard a wolf howl on my right, and from the left came
+answering howls, and these, again, were answered by others in front of
+and behind me. I walked on boldly, for I dared not stay, guiding myself
+by the sun, which from time to time shone down on me redly through the
+boughs of the great trees. Now I could see forms grey and black
+slinking near my path, sniffing at the air as they went, and now I came
+to a little open place, and, behold! all the wolves in the world were
+gathered together there. My heart melted, my legs trembled beneath me.
+On every side were the brutes, great and hungry. And I stood still,
+with club aloft, and slowly they crept up, muttering and growling as
+they came, till they formed a deep circle round me. Yet they did not
+spring on me, only drew nearer and ever nearer. Presently one sprang,
+indeed, but not at me; he sprang at that which sat upon my shoulders. I
+moved aside, and he missed his aim, and, coming to the ground again,
+stood there growling and whining like a beast afraid. Then I remembered
+the words of my dream, if dream it were, how that the Dead One had
+given me wisdom that I should be king of the ghost-wolves—I and another
+whom a lion should bear to me. Was it not so? If it was not so, how
+came it that the wolves did not devour me?
+
+“For a moment I stood thinking, then I lifted up my voice and howled
+like a wolf, and lo! Umslopogaas, all the wolves howled in answer with
+a mighty howling. I stretched out my hand and called to them. They ran
+to me, gathering round me as though to devour me. But they did not harm
+me; they licked my legs with their red tongues, and fighting to come
+near me, pressed themselves against me as does a cat. One, indeed,
+snatched at him who sat on my shoulder, but I struck him with the
+Watcher and he slunk back like a whipped hound; moreover, the others
+bit him so that he yelled. Now I knew that I had no more to fear, for I
+was king of the ghost-wolves, so I walked on, and with me came all the
+great pack of them. I walked on and on, and they trotted beside me
+silently, and the fallen leaves crackled beneath their feet, and the
+dust rose up about them, till at length I reached the edge of the
+forest.
+
+“Now I remembered that I must not be seen thus by men, lest they should
+think me a wizard and kill me. Therefore, at the edge of the forest I
+halted and made signs to the wolves to go back. At this they howled
+piteously, as though in grief, but I called to them that I would come
+again and be their king, and it seemed as though their brute hearts
+understood my words. Then they all went, still howling, till presently
+I was alone.
+
+“And now, Umslopogaas, it is time to sleep; to-morrow night I will end
+my tale.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+THE WOLF-BRETHREN
+
+
+Now, my father, on the morrow night, once again Umslopogaas and Galazi
+the wolf sat by the fire in the mouth of their cave, as we sit
+to-night, my father, and Galazi took up his tale.
+
+“I passed on till I came to the river; it was still full, but the water
+had run down a little, so that my feet found foothold. I waded into the
+river, using the Watcher as a staff, and the stream reached to my
+elbows, but no higher. Now one on the farther bank of the river saw
+that which sat upon my shoulders, and saw also the wolf’s skin on my
+head, and ran to the kraal crying, ‘Here comes one who walks the waters
+on the back of a wolf.’
+
+“So it came about that when I drew towards the kraal all the people of
+the kraal were gathered together to meet me, except the old woman, who
+could not walk so far. But when they saw me coming up the slope of the
+hill, and when they knew what it was that sat upon my shoulders, they
+were smitten with fear. Yet they did not run, because of their great
+wonder, only they walked backward before me, clinging each to each and
+saying nothing. I too came on silently, till at length I reached the
+kraal, and before its gates sat the old woman basking in the sun of the
+afternoon. Presently she looked up and cried:—
+
+“‘What ails you, people of my house, that you walk backwards like men
+bewitched, and who is that tall and deathly man who comes toward you?’
+
+“But still they drew on backward, saying no word, the little children
+clinging to the women, the women clinging to the men, till they had
+passed the old wife and ranged themselves behind her like a regiment of
+soldiers. Then they halted against the fence of the kraal. But I came
+on to the old woman, and lifted him who sat upon my shoulders, and
+placed him on the ground before her, saying, ‘Woman, here is your son;
+I have snatched him with much toil from the jaws of the ghosts—and they
+are many up yonder—all save one foot, which I could not find. Take him
+now and bury him, for I weary of his fellowship.’
+
+“She looked upon that which sat before her. She put out her withered
+hand and drew the bandage from his sunken eyes. Then she screamed aloud
+a shrill scream, and, flinging her arms about the neck of the Dead One,
+she cried: ‘It is my son whom I bore—my very son, whom for twice ten
+years and half a ten I have not looked upon. Greeting, my son,
+greeting! Now shalt thou find burial, and I with thee—ay, I with thee!’
+
+“And once more she cried aloud, standing upon her feet with arms
+outstretched. Then of a sudden foam burst from her lips, and she fell
+forward upon the body of her son, and was dead.
+
+“Now silence came upon the place again, for all were fearful. At last
+one cried: ‘How is this man named who has won the body from the
+ghosts?’
+
+“‘I am named Galazi,’ I answered.
+
+“‘Nay,’ said he. ‘The Wolf you are named. Look at the wolf’s red hide
+upon his head!’
+
+“‘I am named Galazi, and the Wolf you have named me,’ I said again. ‘So
+be it: I am named Galazi the Wolf.’
+
+“‘Methinks he is a wolf,’ said he. ‘Look, now, at his teeth, how they
+grin! This is no man, my brothers, but a wolf.’
+
+“‘No wolf and no man,’ said another, ‘but a wizard. None but a wizard
+could have passed the forest and won the lap of her who sits in stone
+forever.’
+
+“‘Yes, yes! he is a wolf—he is a wizard!’ they screamed. ‘Kill him!
+Kill the wolf-wizard before he brings the ghosts upon us!’ And they ran
+towards me with uplifted spears.
+
+“‘I am a wolf indeed,’ I cried, ‘and I am a wizard indeed, and I will
+bring wolves and ghosts upon you ere all is done.’ And I turned and
+fled so swiftly that soon they were left behind me. Now as I ran I met
+a girl; a basket of mealies was on her head, and she bore a dead kid in
+her hand. I rushed at her howling like a wolf, and I snatched the
+mealies from her head and the kid from her hand. Then I fled on, and
+coming to the river, I crossed it, and for that night I hid myself in
+the rocks beyond, eating the mealies and the flesh of the kid.
+
+“On the morrow at dawn I rose and shook the dew from the wolf-hide.
+Then I went on into the forest and howled like a wolf. They knew my
+voice, the ghost-wolves, and howled in answer from far and near. Then I
+heard the pattering of their feet, and they came round me by tens and
+by twenties, and fawned upon me. I counted their number; they numbered
+three hundred and sixty and three.
+
+“Afterwards, I went on to the cave, and I have lived there in the cave,
+Umslopogaas, for nigh upon twelve moons, and I have become a wolf-man.
+For with the wolves I hunt and raven, and they know me, and what I bid
+them that they do. Stay, Umslopogaas, now you are strong again, and, if
+your courage does not fail you, you shall see this very night. Come
+now, have you the heart, Umslopogaas?”
+
+Then Umslopogaas rose and laughed aloud. “I am young in years,” he
+cried, “and scarcely come to the full strength of men; yet hitherto I
+have not turned my back on lion or witch, on wolf or man. Now let us
+see this impi of yours—this impi black and grey, that runs on four legs
+with fangs for spears!”
+
+“You must first bind on the she-wolf’s hide, Umslopogaas,” quoth
+Galazi, “else, before a man could count his fingers twice there would
+be little enough left of you. Bind it about the neck and beneath the
+arms, and see that the fastenings do not burst, lest it be the worse
+for you.”
+
+So Umslopogaas took the grey wolf’s hide and bound it on with thongs of
+leather, and its teeth gleamed upon his head, and he took a spear in
+his hand. Galazi also bound on the hide of the king of the wolves, and
+they went out on to the space before the cave. Galazi stood there
+awhile, and the moonlight fell upon him, and Umslopogaas saw that his
+face grew wild and beastlike, that his eyes shone, and his teeth
+grinned beneath his curling lips. He lifted up his head and howled out
+upon the night. Thrice Galazi lifted his head and thrice he howled
+loudly, and yet more loud. But before ever the echoes had died in the
+air, from the heights of the rocks above and the depths of the forest
+beneath, there came howlings in answer. Nearer they grew and nearer;
+now there was a sound of feet, and a wolf, great and grey, bounded
+towards them, and after him many another. They came to Galazi, they
+sprang upon him, fawning round him, but he beat them down with the
+Watcher. Then of a sudden they saw Umslopogaas, and rushed at him
+open-mouthed.
+
+“Stand and do not move!” cried Galazi. “Be not afraid!”
+
+“I have always fondled dogs,” answered Umslopogaas, “shall I learn to
+fear them now?”
+
+Yet though he spoke boldly, in his heart he was afraid, for this was
+the most terrible of all sights. The wolves rushed on him open-mouthed,
+from before and from behind, so that in a breath he was well-nigh
+hidden by their forms. Yet no fang pierced him, for as they leapt they
+smelt the smell of the skin upon him. Then Umslopogaas saw that the
+wolves leapt at him no more, but the she-wolves gathered round him who
+wore the she-wolf’s skin. They were great and gaunt and hungry, all
+were full-grown, there were no little ones, and their number was so
+many that he could not count them in the moonlight. Umslopogaas,
+looking into their red eyes, felt his heart become as the heart of a
+wolf, and he, too, lifted up his head and howled, and the she-wolves
+howled in answer.
+
+“The pack is gathered; now for the hunt!” cried Galazi. “Make your feet
+swift, my brother, for we shall journey far to-night. Ho, Blackfang!
+ho, Greysnout! Ho, my people black and grey, away! away!”
+
+He spoke and bounded forward, and with him went Umslopogaas, and after
+him streamed the ghost-wolves. They fled down the mountain sides,
+leaping from boulder to boulder like bucks. Presently they stood by a
+kloof that was thick with trees. Galazi stopped, holding up the
+Watcher, and the wolves stopped with him.
+
+“I smell a quarry,” he cried; “in, my people, in!”
+
+Then the wolves plunged silently into the great kloof, but Galazi and
+Umslopogaas drew to the foot of it and waited. Presently there came a
+sound of breaking boughs, and lo! before them stood a buffalo, a bull
+who lowed fiercely and sniffed the air.
+
+“This one will give us a good chase, my brother; see, he is gaunt and
+thin! Ah! that meat is tender which my people have hunted to the
+death!”
+
+As Galazi spoke, the first of the wolves drew from the covert and saw
+the buffalo; then, giving tongue, they sprang towards it. The bull saw
+also, and dashed down the hill, and after him came Galazi and
+Umslopogaas, and with them all their company, and the rocks shook with
+the music of their hunting. They rushed down the mountain side, and it
+came into the heart of Umslopogaas, that he, too, was a wolf. They
+rushed madly, yet his feet were swift as the swiftest; no wolf could
+outstrip him, and in him was but one desire—the desire of prey. Now
+they neared the borders of the forest, and Galazi shouted. He shouted
+to Greysnout and to Blackfang, to Blood and to Deathgrip, and these
+four leaped forward from the pack, running so swiftly that their
+bellies seemed to touch the ground. They passed about the bull, turning
+him from the forest and setting his head up the slope of the mountain.
+Then the chase wheeled, the bull leaped and bounded up the mountain
+side, and on one flank lay Greysnout and Deathgrip and on the other lay
+Blood and Blackfang, while behind came the Wolf-Brethren, and after
+them the wolves with lolling tongues. Up the hill they sped, but the
+feet of Umslopogaas never wearied, his breath did not fail him. Once
+more they drew near the lap of the Grey Witch where the cave was. On
+rushed the bull, mad with fear. He ran so swiftly that the wolves were
+left behind, since here for a space the ground was level to his feet.
+Galazi looked on Umslopogaas at his side, and grinned.
+
+“You do not run so ill, my brother, who have been sick of late. See now
+if you can outrun me! Who shall touch the quarry first?”
+
+Now the bull was ahead by two spear-throws. Umslopogaas looked and
+grinned back at Galazi. “Good!” he cried, “away!”
+
+They sped forward with a bound, and for awhile it seemed to Umslopogaas
+as though they stood side by side, only the bull grew nearer and
+nearer. Then he put out his strength and the swiftness of his feet, and
+lo! when he looked again he was alone, and the bull was very near.
+Never were feet so swift as those of Umslopogaas. Now he reached the
+bull as he laboured on. Umslopogaas placed his hands upon the back of
+the bull and leaped; he was on him, he sat him as you white men sit a
+horse. Then he lifted the spear in his hand, and drove it down between
+the shoulders to the spine, and of a sudden the great buffalo
+staggered, stopped, and fell dead.
+
+Galazi came up. “Who now is the swiftest, Galazi?” cried Umslopogaas,
+“I, or you, or your wolf host?”
+
+“You are the swiftest, Umslopogaas,” said Galazi, gasping for his
+breath. “Never did a man run as you run, nor ever shall again.”
+
+Now the wolves streamed up, and would have torn the carcase, but Galazi
+beat them back, and they rested awhile. Then Galazi said, “Let us cut
+meat from the bull with a spear.”
+
+So they cut meat from the bull, and when they had finished Galazi
+motioned to the wolves, and they fell upon the carcase, fighting
+furiously. In a little while nothing was left except the larger bones,
+and yet each wolf had but a little.
+
+Then they went back to the cave and slept.
+
+Afterwards Umslopogaas told Galazi all his tale, and Galazi asked him
+if he would abide with him and be his brother, and rule with him over
+the wolf-kind, or seek his father Mopo at the kraal of Chaka.
+
+Umslopogaas said that it was rather in his mind to seek his sister
+Nada, for he was weary of the kraal of Chaka, but he thought of Nada
+day and night.
+
+“Where, then, is Nada, your sister?” asked Galazi.
+
+“She sleeps in the caves of your people, Galazi; she tarries with the
+Halakazi.”
+
+“Stay awhile, Umslopogaas,” cried Galazi; “stay till we are men indeed.
+Then we will seek this sister of yours and snatch her from the caves of
+the Halakazi.”
+
+Now the desire of this wolf-life had entered into the heart of
+Umslopogaas, and he said that it should be so, and on the morrow they
+made them blood-brethren, to be one till death, before all the company
+of ghost-wolves, and the wolves howled when they smelt the blood of
+men. In all things thenceforth these two were equal, and the
+ghost-wolves hearkened to the voice of both of them. And on many a
+moonlight night they and the wolves hunted together, winning their
+food. At times they crossed the river, hunting in the plains, for game
+was scarce on the mountain, and the people of the kraal would come out,
+hearing the mighty howling, and watch the pack sweep across the veldt,
+and with them a man or men. Then they would say that the ghosts were
+abroad and creep into their huts shivering with fear. But as yet the
+Wolf-Brethren and their pack killed no men, but game only, or, at
+times, elephants and lions.
+
+Now when Umslopogaas had abode some moons in the Witch Mountain, on a
+night he dreamed of Nada, and awakening soft at heart, bethought
+himself that he would learn tidings concerning me, his father, Mopo,
+and what had befallen me and her whom he deemed his mother, and Nada,
+his sister, and his other brethren. So he clothed himself, hiding his
+nakedness, and, leaving Galazi, descended to that kraal where the old
+woman had dwelt, and there gave it out that he was a young man, a
+chief’s son from a far place, who sought a wife. The people of the
+kraal listened to him, though they held that his look was fierce and
+wild, and one asked if this were Galazi the Wolf, Galazi the Wizard.
+But another answered that this was not Galazi, for their eyes had seen
+him. Umslopogaas said that he knew nothing of Galazi, and little of
+wolves, and lo! while he spoke there came an impi of fifty men and
+entered the kraal. Umslopogaas looked at the leaders of the impi and
+knew them for captains of Chaka. At first he would have spoken to them,
+but his _Ehlosé_ bade him hold his peace. So he sat in a corner of the
+big hut and listened. Presently the headman of the kraal, who trembled
+with fear, for he believed that the impi had been sent to destroy him
+and all that were his, asked the captain what was his will.
+
+“A little matter, and a vain,” said the captain. “We are sent by the
+king to search for a certain youth, Umslopogaas, the son of Mopo, the
+king’s doctor. Mopo gave it out that the youth was killed by a lion
+near these mountains, and Chaka would learn if this is true.”
+
+“We know nothing of the youth,” said the headman. “But what would ye
+with him?”
+
+“Only this,” answered the captain, “to kill him.”
+
+“That is yet to do,” thought Umslopogaas.
+
+“Who is this Mopo?” asked the headman.
+
+“An evildoer, whose house the king has eaten up—man, woman, and child,”
+answered the captain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+THE DEATH OF THE KING’S SLAYERS
+
+
+When Umslopogaas heard these words his heart was heavy, and a great
+anger burned in his breast, for he thought that I, Mopo, was dead with
+the rest of his house, and he loved me. But he said nothing; only,
+watching till none were looking, he slipped past the backs of the
+captains and won the door of the hut. Soon he was clear of the kraal,
+and, running swiftly, crossed the river and came to the Ghost Mountain.
+Meanwhile, the captain asked the headman of the kraal if he knew
+anything of such a youth as him for whom they sought. The headman told
+the captain of Galazi the Wolf, but the captain said that this could
+not be the lad, for Galazi had dwelt many moons upon the Ghost
+Mountain.
+
+“There is another youth,” said the headman; “a stranger, fierce, strong
+and tall, with eyes that shine like spears. He is in the hut now; he
+sits yonder in the shadow.”
+
+The captain rose and looked into the shadow, but Umslopogaas was gone.
+
+“Now this youth is fled,” said the headman, “and yet none saw him fly!
+Perhaps he also is a wizard! Indeed, I have heard that now there are
+two of them upon the Ghost Mountain, and that they hunt there at night
+with the ghost-wolves, but I do not know if it is true.”
+
+“Now I am minded to kill you,” said the captain in wrath, “because you
+have suffered this youth to escape me. Without doubt it is Umslopogaas,
+son of Mopo.”
+
+“It is no fault of mine,” said the headman. “These young men are
+wizards, who can pass hither and thither at will. But I say this to
+you, captain of the king, if you will go on the Ghost Mountain, you
+must go there alone with your soldiers, for none in these parts dare to
+tread upon that mountain.”
+
+“Yet I shall dare to-morrow,” said the captain. “We grow brave at the
+kraal of Chaka. There men do not fear spears or ghosts or wild beasts
+or magic, but they fear the king’s word alone. The sun sets—give us
+food. To-morrow we will search the mountain.”
+
+Thus, my father, did this captain speak in his folly,—he who should
+never see another sun.
+
+Now Umslopogaas reached the mountain, and when he had passed the
+forest—of which he had learned every secret way—the darkness gathered,
+and the wolves awoke in the darkness and drew near howling. Umslopogaas
+howled in answer, and presently that great wolf Deathgrip came to him.
+Umslopogaas saw him and called him by his name; but, behold! the brute
+did not know him, and flew at him, growling. Then Umslopogaas
+remembered that the she-wolf’s skin was not bound about his shoulders,
+and therefore it was that the wolf Deathgrip knew him not. For though
+in the daytime, when the wolves slept, he might pass to and fro without
+the skin, at night it was not so. He had not brought the skin, because
+he dared not wear it in the sight of the men of the kraal, lest they
+should know him for one of the Wolf-Brethren, and it had not been his
+plan to seek the mountain again that night, but rather on the morrow.
+Now Umslopogaas knew that his danger was great indeed. He beat back
+Deathgrip with his kerrie, but others were behind him, for the wolves
+gathered fast. Then he bounded away towards the cave, for he was so
+swift of foot that the wolves could not catch him, though they pressed
+him hard, and once the teeth of one of them tore his moocha. Never
+before did he run so fast, and in the end he reached the cave and
+rolled the rock to, and as he did so the wolves dashed themselves
+against it. Then he clad himself in the hide of the she-wolf, and,
+pushing aside the stone, came out. And, lo! the eyes of the wolves were
+opened, and they knew him for one of the brethren who ruled over them,
+and slunk away at his bidding.
+
+Now Umslopogaas sat himself down at the mouth of the cave waiting for
+Galazi, and he thought. Presently Galazi came, and in few words
+Umslopogaas told him all his tale.
+
+“You have run a great risk, my brother,” said Galazi. “What now?”
+
+“This,” said Umslopogaas: “these people of ours are hungry for the
+flesh of men; let us feed them full on the soldiers of Chaka, who sit
+yonder at the kraal seeking my life. I would take vengeance for Mopo,
+my father, and all my brethren who are dead, and for my mothers, the
+wives of Mopo. What say you?”
+
+Galazi laughed aloud. “That will be merry, my brother,” he said. “I
+weary of hunting beasts, let us hunt men to-night.”
+
+“Ay, to-night,” said Umslopogaas, nodding. “I long to look upon that
+captain as a maid longs for her lover’s kiss. But first let us rest and
+eat, for the night is young; then, Galazi, summon our impi.”
+
+So they rested and ate, and afterwards went out armed, and Galazi
+howled to the wolves, and they came in tens and twenties till all were
+gathered together. Galazi moved among them, shaking the Watcher, as
+they sat upon their haunches, and followed him with their fiery eyes.
+
+“We do not hunt game to-night, little people,” he cried, “but men, and
+you love the flesh of men.”
+
+Now all the wolves howled as though they understood. Then the pack
+divided itself as was its custom, the she-wolves following Umslopogaas,
+the dog-wolves following Galazi, and in silence they moved swiftly down
+towards the plain. They came to the river and swam it, and there, eight
+spear throws away, on the farther side of the river stood the kraal.
+Now the Wolf-Brethren took counsel together, and Galazi, with the
+dog-wolves, went to the north gate, and Umslopogaas with the she-wolves
+to the south gate. They reached them safely and in silence, for at the
+bidding of the brethren the wolves ceased from their howlings. The
+gates were stopped with thorns, but the brethren pulled out the thorns
+and made a passage. As they did this it chanced that certain dogs in
+the kraal heard the sound of the stirred boughs, and awakening, caught
+the smell of the wolves that were with Umslopogaas, for the wind blew
+from that quarter. These dogs ran out barking, and presently they came
+to the south gate of the kraal, and flew at Umslopogaas, who pulled
+away the thorns. Now when the wolves saw the dogs they could be
+restrained no longer, but sprang on them and tore them to fragments,
+and the sound of their worrying came to the ears of the soldiers of
+Chaka and of the dwellers in the kraal, so that they sprang from sleep,
+snatching their arms. And as they came out of the huts they saw in the
+moonlight a man wearing a wolf’s hide rushing across the empty cattle
+kraal, for the grass was long and the cattle were out at graze, and
+with him countless wolves, black and grey. Then they cried aloud in
+terror, saying that the ghosts were on them, and turned to flee to the
+north gate of the kraal. But, behold! here also they met a man clad in
+a wolf’s skin only, and with him countless wolves, black and grey.
+
+Now, some flung themselves to earth screaming in their fear, and some
+strove to run away, but the greater part of the soldiers, and with them
+many of the men of the kraal, came together in knots, being minded to
+die like men at teeth of the ghosts, and that though they shook with
+fear. Then Umslopogaas howled aloud, and howled Galazi, and they flung
+themselves upon the soldiers and the people of the kraal, and with them
+came the wolves. Then a crying and a baying rose up to heaven as the
+grey wolves leaped and bit and tore. Little they heeded the spears and
+kerries of the soldiers. Some were killed, but the rest did not stay.
+Presently the knots of men broke up, and to each man wolves hung by
+twos and threes, dragging him to earth. Some few fled, indeed, but the
+wolves hunted them by gaze and scent, and pulled them down before they
+passed the gates of the kraal.
+
+The Wolf-Brethren also ravened with the rest. Busy was the Watcher, and
+many bowed beneath him, and often the spear of Umslopogaas flashed in
+the moonlight. It was finished; none were left living in that kraal,
+and the wolves growled sullenly as they took their fill, they who had
+been hungry for many days. Now the brethren met, and laughed in their
+wolf joy, because they had slaughtered those who were sent out to
+slaughter. They called to the wolves, bidding them search the huts, and
+the wolves entered the huts as dogs enter a thicket, and killed those
+who lurked there, or drove them forth to be slain without. Presently a
+man, great and tall, sprang from the last of the huts, where he had
+hidden himself, and the wolves outside rushed on him to drag him down.
+But Umslopogaas beat them back, for he had seen the face of the man: it
+was that captain whom Chaka had sent out to kill him. He beat them
+back, and stalked up to the captain, saying: “Greeting to you, captain
+of the king! Now tell us what is your errand here, beneath the shadow
+of her who sits in stone?” And he pointed with his spear to the Grey
+Witch on the Ghost Mountain, on which the moon shone bright.
+
+Now the captain had a great heart, though he had hidden from the
+wolves, and answered boldly:—
+
+“What is that to you, wizard? Your ghost wolves had made an end of my
+errand. Let them make an end of me also.”
+
+“Be not in haste, captain,” said Umslopogaas. “Say, did you not seek a
+certain youth, the son of Mopo?”
+
+“That is so,” answered the captain. “I sought one youth, and I have
+found many evil spirits.” And he looked at the wolves tearing their
+prey, and shuddered.
+
+“Say, captain,” quoth Umslopogaas, drawing back his hood of wolf’s hide
+so that the moonlight fell upon his face, “is this the face of that
+youth whom you sought?”
+
+“It is the face,” answered the captain, astonished.
+
+“Ay,” laughed Umslopogaas, “it is the face. Fool! I knew your errand
+and heard your words, and thus have I answered them.” And he pointed to
+the dead. “Now choose, and swiftly. Will you run for your life against
+my wolves? Will you do battle for your life against these four?” And he
+pointed to Greysnout and to Blackfang, to Blood and to Deathgrip, who
+watched him with slavering lips; “or will you stand face to face with
+me, and if I am slain, with him who bears the club, and with whom I
+rule this people black and grey?”
+
+“I fear ghosts, but of men I have no fear, though they be wizards,”
+answered the captain.
+
+“Good!” cried Umslopogaas, shaking his spear.
+
+Then they rushed together, and that fray was fierce. For presently the
+spear of Umslopogaas was broken in the shield of the captain and he was
+left weaponless. Now Umslopogaas turned and fled swiftly, bounding over
+the dead and the wolves who preyed upon them, and the captain followed
+with uplifted spear, and mocked him as he came. Galazi also wondered
+that Umslopogaas should fly from a single man. Hither and thither fled
+Umslopogaas, and always his eyes were on the earth. Of a sudden,
+Galazi, who watched, saw him sweep forward like a bird and stoop to the
+ground. Then he wheeled round, and lo! there was an axe in his hand.
+The captain rushed at him, and Umslopogaas smote as he rushed, and the
+blade of the great spear that was lifted to pierce him fell to the
+ground hewn from its haft. Again Umslopogaas smote: the moon-shaped axe
+sank through the stout shield deep into the breast beyond. Then the
+captain threw up his arms and fell to the earth.
+
+“Ah!” cried Umslopogaas, “you sought a youth to slay him, and have
+found an axe to be slain by it! Sleep softly, captain of Chaka.”
+
+Then Umslopogaas spoke to Galazi, saying: “My brother, I will fight no
+more with the spear, but with the axe alone; it was to seek an axe that
+I ran to and fro like a coward. But this is a poor thing! See, the haft
+is split because of the greatness of my stroke! Now this is my
+desire—to win that great axe of Jikiza, which is called Groan-Maker, of
+which we have heard tell, so that axe and club may stand together in
+the fray.”
+
+“That must be for another night,” said Galazi. “We have not done so ill
+for once. Now let us search for pots and corn, of which we stand in
+need, and then to the mountain before dawn finds us.”
+
+Thus, then, did the Wolf-Brethren bring death on the impi of Chaka, and
+this was but the first of many deaths that they wrought with the help
+of the wolves. For ever they ravened through the land at night, and,
+falling on those they hated, they ate them up, till their name and the
+name of the ghost-wolves became terrible in the ears of men, and the
+land was swept clean. But they found that the wolves would not go
+abroad to worry everywhere. Thus, on a certain night, they set out to
+fall upon the kraals of the People of the Axe, where dwelt the chief
+Jikiza, who was named the Unconquered, and owned the axe Groan-Maker,
+but when they neared the kraal the wolves turned back and fled. Then
+Galazi remembered the dream that he had dreamed, in which the Dead One
+in the cave had seemed to speak, telling him that there only where the
+men-eaters had hunted in the past might the wolves hunt to-day. So they
+returned home, but Umslopogaas set himself to find a plan to win the
+axe.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+UMSLOPOGAAS VENTURES OUT TO WIN THE AXE
+
+
+Now many moons had gone by since Umslopogaas became a king of the
+wolves, and he was a man full grown, a man fierce and tall and keen; a
+slayer of men, fleet of foot and of valour unequalled, seeing by night
+as well as by day. But he was not yet named the Slaughterer, and not
+yet did he hold that iron chieftainess, the axe Groan-Maker. Still, the
+desire to win the axe was foremost in his mind, for no woman had
+entered there, who when she enters drives out all other desire—ay, my
+father, even that of good weapons. At times, indeed, Umslopogaas would
+lurk in the reeds by the river looking at the kraal of Jikiza the
+Unconquered, and would watch the gates of his kraal, and once as he
+lurked he saw a man great, broad and hairy, who bore upon his shoulder
+a shining axe, hafted with the horn of a rhinoceros. After that his
+greed for this axe entered into Umslopogaas more and more, till at
+length he scarcely could sleep for thinking of it, and to Galazi he
+spoke of little else, wearying him much with his talk, for Galazi loved
+silence. But for all his longing he could find no means to win it.
+
+Now it befell that as Umslopogaas hid one evening in the reeds,
+watching the kraal of Jikiza, he saw a maiden straight and fair, whose
+skin shone like the copper anklets on her limbs. She walked slowly
+towards the reeds where he lay hidden. Nor did she stop at the brink of
+the reeds; she entered them and sat herself down within a spear’s
+length of where Umslopogaas was seated, and at once began to weep,
+speaking to herself as she wept.
+
+“Would that the ghost-wolves might fall on him and all that is his,”
+she sobbed, “ay, and on Masilo also! I would hound them on, even if I
+myself must next know their fangs. Better to die by the teeth of the
+wolves than to be sold to this fat pig of a Masilo. Oh! if I must wed
+him, I will give him a knife for the bride’s kiss. Oh! that I were a
+lady of the ghost-wolves, there should be a picking of bones in the
+kraal of Jikiza before the moon grows young again.”
+
+Umslopogaas heard, and of a sudden reared himself up before the maid,
+and he was great and wild to look on, and the she-wolf’s fangs shone
+upon his brow.
+
+“The ghost-wolves are at hand, damsel,” he said. “They are ever at hand
+for those who need them.”
+
+Now the maid saw him and screamed faintly, then grew silent, wondering
+at the greatness and the fierce eyes of the man who spoke to her.
+
+“Who are you?” she asked. “I fear you not, whoever you are.”
+
+“There you are wrong, damsel, for all men fear me, and they have cause
+to fear. I am one of the Wolf-Brethren, whose names have been told of;
+I am a wizard of the Ghost Mountain. Take heed, now, lest I kill you.
+It will be of little avail to call upon your people, for my feet are
+fleeter than theirs.”
+
+“I have no wish to call upon my people, Wolf-Man,” she answered. “And
+for the rest, I am too young to kill.”
+
+“That is so, maiden,” answered Umslopogaas, looking at her beauty.
+“What were the words upon your lips as to Jikiza and a certain Masilo?
+Were they not fierce words, such as my heart likes well?”
+
+“It seems that you heard them,” answered the girl. “What need to waste
+breath in speaking them again?”
+
+“No need, maiden. Now tell me your story; perhaps I may find a way to
+help you.”
+
+“There is little to tell,” she answered. “It is a small tale and a
+common. My name is Zinita, and Jikiza the Unconquered is my
+step-father. He married my mother, who is dead, but none of his blood
+is in me. Now he would give me in marriage to a certain Masilo, a fat
+man and an old, whom I hate, because Masilo offers many cattle for me.”
+
+“Is there, then, another whom you would wed, maiden?” asked
+Umslopogaas.
+
+“There is none,” answered Zinita, looking him in the eyes.
+
+“And is there no path by which you may escape from Masilo?”
+
+“There is only one path, Wolf-Man—by death. If I die, I shall escape;
+if Masilo dies, I shall escape; but to little end, for I shall be given
+to another; but if Jikiza dies, then it will be well. What of that
+wolf-people of yours, are they not hungry, Wolf-Man?”
+
+“I cannot bring them here,” answered Umslopogaas. “Is there no other
+way?”
+
+“There is another way,” said Zinita, “if one can be found to try it.”
+And again she looked at him strangely, causing the blood to beat within
+him. “Hearken! do you not know how our people are governed? They are
+governed by him who holds the axe Groan-Maker. He that can win the axe
+in war from the hand of him who holds it, shall be our chief. But if he
+who holds the axe dies unconquered, then his son takes his place and
+with it the axe. It has been thus, indeed, for four generations, since
+he who held Groan-Maker has always been unconquerable. But I have heard
+that the great-grandfather of Jikiza won the axe from him who held it
+in his day; he won it by fraud. For when the axe had fallen on him but
+lightly, he fell over, feigning death. Then the owner of the axe
+laughed, and turned to walk away. But the forefather of Jikiza sprang
+up behind him and pierced him through with a spear, and thus he became
+chief of the People of the Axe. Therefore, it is the custom of Jikiza
+to hew off the heads of those whom he kills with the axe.”
+
+“Does he, then, slay many?” asked Umslopogaas.
+
+“Of late years, few indeed,” she said, “for none dare stand against
+him—no, not with all to win. For, holding the axe Groan-Maker, he is
+unconquerable, and to fight with him is sure death. Fifty-and-one have
+tried in all, and before the hut of Jikiza there are piled
+fifty-and-one white skulls. And know this, the axe must be won in
+fight; if it is stolen or found, it has no virtue—nay, it brings shame
+and death to him who holds it.”
+
+“How, then, may a man give battle to Jikiza?” he asked again.
+
+“Thus: Once in every year, on the first day of the new moon of the
+summer season, Jikiza holds a meeting of the headmen. Then he must rise
+and challenge all or any to come forward and do battle with him to win
+the axe and become chief in his place. Now if one comes forward, they
+go into the cattle kraal, and there the matter is ended. Afterwards,
+when the head is hewn from his foe, Jikiza goes back to the meeting of
+the headmen, and they talk as before. All are free to come to the
+meeting, and Jikiza must fight with them if they wish it, whoever they
+be.”
+
+“Perhaps I shall be there,” said Umslopogaas.
+
+“After this meeting at the new moon, I am to be given in marriage to
+Masilo,” said the maid. “But should one conquer Jikiza, then he will be
+chief, and can give me in marriage to whom he will.”
+
+Now Umslopogaas understood her meaning, and knew that he had found
+favour in her sight; and the thought moved him a little, for women were
+strange to him as yet.
+
+“If perchance I should be there,” he said, “and if perchance I should
+win the iron chieftainess, the axe Groan-Maker, and rule over the
+People of the Axe, you should not live far from the shadow of the axe
+thenceforward, maid Zinita.”
+
+“It is well, Wolf-Man, though some might not wish to dwell in that
+shadow; but first you must win the axe. Many have tried, and all have
+failed.”
+
+“Yet one must succeed at last,” he said, “and so, farewell!” and he
+leaped into the torrent of the river, and swam it with great strokes.
+
+Now the maid Zinita watched him till he was gone, and love of him
+entered into her heart—a love that was fierce and jealous and strong.
+But as he wended to the Ghost Mountain Umslopogaas thought rather of
+axe Groan-Maker than of Maid Zinita; for ever, at the bottom,
+Umslopogaas loved war more than women, though this has been his fate,
+that women have brought sorrow on his head.
+
+Fifteen days must pass before the day of the new moon, and during this
+time Umslopogaas thought much and said little. Still, he told Galazi
+something of the tale, and that he was determined to do battle with
+Jikiza the Unconquered for the axe Groan-Maker. Galazi said that he
+would do well to let it be, and that it was better to stay with the
+wolves than to go out seeking strange weapons. He said also that even
+if he won the axe, the matter might not stay there, for he must take
+the girl also, and his heart boded no good of women. It had been a girl
+who poisoned his father in the kraals of the Halakazi. To all of which
+Umslopogaas answered nothing, for his heart was set both on the axe and
+the girl, but more on the first than the last.
+
+So the time wore on, and at length came the day of the new moon. At the
+dawn of that day Umslopogaas arose and clad himself in a moocha,
+binding the she-wolf’s skin round his middle beneath the moocha. In his
+hand he took a stout fighting-shield, which he had made of buffalo
+hide, and that same light moon-shaped axe with which he had slain the
+captain of Chaka.
+
+“A poor weapon with which to kill Jikiza the Unconquerable,” said
+Galazi, eyeing it askance.
+
+“It shall serve my turn,” answered Umslopogaas.
+
+Now Umslopogaas ate, and then they moved together slowly down the
+mountain and crossed the river by a ford, for he wished to save his
+strength. On the farther side of the river Galazi hid himself in the
+reeds, because his face was known, and there Umslopogaas bade him
+farewell, not knowing if he should look upon him again. Afterwards he
+walked up to the Great Place of Jikiza. Now when he reached the gates
+of the kraal, he saw that many people were streaming through them, and
+mingled with the people. Presently they came to the open space in front
+of the huts of Jikiza, and there the headmen were gathered together. In
+the centre of them, and before a heap of the skulls of men which were
+piled up against his door-posts, sat Jikiza, a huge man, a hairy and a
+proud, who glared about him rolling his eyes. Fastened to his arm by a
+thong of leather was the great axe Groan-Maker, and each man as he came
+up saluted the axe, calling it “_Inkosikaas_,” or chieftainess, but he
+did not salute Jikiza. Umslopogaas sat down with the people in front of
+the councillors, and few took any notice of him, except Zinita, who
+moved sullenly to and fro bearing gourds of beer to the councillors.
+Near to Jikiza, on his right hand, sat a fat man with small and
+twinkling eyes, who watched the maid Zinita greedily.
+
+“Yon man,” thought Umslopogaas, “is Masilo. The better for
+blood-letting will you be, Masilo.”
+
+Presently Jikiza spoke, rolling his eyes: “This is the matter before
+you, councillors. I have settled it in my mind to give my step-daughter
+Zinita in marriage to Masilo, but the marriage gift is not yet agreed
+on. I demand a hundred head of cattle from Masilo, for the maid is fair
+and straight, a proper maid, and, moreover, my daughter, though not of
+my blood. But Masilo offers fifty head only, therefore I ask you to
+settle it.”
+
+“We hear you, Lord of the Axe,” answered one of the councillors, “but
+first, O Unconquered, you must on this day of the year, according to
+ancient custom, give public challenge to any man to fight you for the
+Groan-Maker and for your place as chief of the People of the Axe.”
+
+“This is a wearisome thing,” grumbled Jikiza. “Can I never have done in
+it? Fifty-and-three have I slain in my youth without a wound, and now
+for many years I have challenged, like a cock on a dunghill, and none
+crow in answer.”
+
+“Ho, now! Is there any man who will come forward and do battle with me,
+Jikiza, for the great axe Groan-Maker? To him who can win it, it shall
+be, and with it the chieftainship of the People of the Axe.”
+
+Thus he spoke very fast, as a man gabbles a prayer to a spirit in whom
+he has little faith, then turned once more to talk of the cattle of
+Masilo and of the maid Zinita. But suddenly Umslopogaas stood up,
+looking at him over the top of his war shield, and crying, “Here is
+one, O Jikiza, who will do battle with you for the axe Groan-Maker and
+for the chieftainship that is to him who holds the axe.”
+
+Now, all the people laughed, and Jikiza glared at him.
+
+“Come forth from behind that big shield of yours,” he said. “Come out
+and tell me your name and lineage—you who would do battle with the
+Unconquered for the ancient axe.”
+
+Then Umslopogaas came forward, and he looked so fierce, though he was
+but young, that the people laughed no more.
+
+“What is my name and lineage to you, Jikiza?” he said. “Let it be, and
+hasten to do me battle, as you must by the custom, for I am eager to
+handle the Groan-Maker and to sit in your seat and settle this matter
+of the cattle of Masilo the Pig. When I have killed you I will take a
+name who now have none.”
+
+Now once more the people laughed, but Jikiza grew mad with wrath, and
+sprang up gasping.
+
+“What!” he said, “you dare to speak thus to me, you babe unweaned, to
+me the Unconquered, the holder of the axe! Never did I think to live to
+hear such talk from a long-legged pup. On to the cattle kraal, to the
+cattle kraal, People of the Axe, that I may hew this braggart’s head
+from his shoulders. He would stand in my place, would he?—the place
+that I and my fathers have held for four generations by virtue of the
+axe. I tell you all, that presently I will stand upon his head, and
+then we will settle the matter of Masilo.”
+
+“Babble not so fast, man,” quoth Umslopogaas, “or if you must babble,
+speak those words which you would say ere you bid the sun farewell.”
+
+Now, Jikiza choked with rage, and foam came from his lips so that he
+could not speak, but the people found this sport—all except Masilo, who
+looked askance at the stranger, tall and fierce, and Zinita, who looked
+at Masilo, and with no love. So they moved down to the cattle kraal,
+and Galazi, seeing it from afar, could keep away no longer, but drew
+near and mingled with the crowd.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+UMSLOPOGAAS BECOMES CHIEF OF THE PEOPLE OF THE AXE
+
+
+Now, when Umslopogaas and Jikiza the Unconquered had come to the cattle
+kraal, they were set in its centre and there were ten paces between
+them. Umslopogaas was armed with the great shield and the light
+moon-shaped axe, Jikiza carried the Groan-Maker and a small dancing
+shield, and, looking at the weapons of the two, people thought that the
+stranger would furnish no sport to the holder of the axe.
+
+“He is ill-armed,” said an old man, “it should be otherwise—large axe,
+small shield. Jikiza is unconquerable, and the big shield will not help
+this long-legged stranger when Groan-Maker rattles on the buffalo
+hide.” The old man spoke thus in the hearing of Galazi the Wolf, and
+Galazi thought that he spoke wisely, and sorrowed for the fate of his
+brother.
+
+Now, the word was given, and Jikiza rushed on Umslopogaas, roaring, for
+his rage was great. But Umslopogaas did not stir till his foe was about
+to strike, then suddenly he leaped aside, and as Jikiza passed he smote
+him hard upon the back with the flat of his axe, making a great sound,
+for it was not his plan to try and kill Jikiza with this axe. Now, a
+shout of laughter went up from the hundreds of the people, and the
+heart of Jikiza nearly burst with rage because of the shame of that
+blow. Round he came like a bull that is mad, and once more rushed at
+Umslopogaas, who lifted his shield to meet him. Then, of a sudden, just
+when the great axe leapt on high, Umslopogaas uttered a cry as of fear,
+and, turning, fled before the face of Jikiza. Now once more the shout
+of laughter went up, while Umslopogaas fled swiftly, and after him
+rushed Jikiza, blind with fury. Round and about the kraal sped
+Umslopogaas, scarcely a spear’s length ahead of Jikiza, and he ran
+keeping his back to the sun as much as might be, that he might watch
+the shadow of Jikiza. A second time he sped round, while the people
+cheered the chase as hunters cheer a dog which pursues a buck. So
+cunningly did Umslopogaas run, that, though he seemed to reel with
+weakness in such fashion that men thought his breath was gone, yet he
+went ever faster and faster, drawing Jikiza after him.
+
+Now, when Umslopogaas knew by the breathing of his foe and by the
+staggering of his shadow that his strength was spent, suddenly he made
+as though he were about to fall himself, and stumbled out of the path
+far to the right, and as he stumbled he let drop his great shield full
+in the way of Jikiza’s feet. Then it came about that Jikiza, rushing on
+blindly, caught his feet in the shield and fell headlong to earth.
+Umslopogaas saw, and swooped on him like an eagle to a dove. Before men
+could so much as think, he had seized the axe Groan-Maker, and with a
+blow of the steel he held had severed the thong of leather which bound
+it to the wrist of Jikiza, and sprung back, holding the great axe
+aloft, and casting down his own weapon upon the ground. Now, the
+watchers saw all the cunning of his fight, and those of them who hated
+Jikiza shouted aloud. But others were silent.
+
+Slowly Jikiza gathered himself from the ground, wondering if he were
+still alive, and as he rose he grasped the little axe of Umslopogaas,
+and, looking at it, he wept. But Umslopogaas held up the great
+Groan-Maker, the iron chieftainess, and examined its curved points of
+blue steel, the gouge that stands behind it, and the beauty of its
+haft, bound about with wire of brass, and ending in a knob like the
+knob of a stick, as a lover looks upon the beauty of his bride. Then
+before all men he kissed the broad blade and cried aloud:—
+
+“Greeting to thee, my Chieftainess, greeting to thee, Wife of my youth,
+whom I have won in war. Never shall we part, thou and I, and together
+will we die, thou and I, for I am not minded that others should handle
+thee when I am gone.”
+
+Thus he cried in the hearing of men, then turned to Jikiza, who stood
+weeping, because he had lost all.
+
+“Where now is your pride, O Unconquered?” laughed Umslopogaas. “Fight
+on. You are as well armed as I was a while ago, when I did not fear to
+stand before you.”
+
+Jikiza looked at him for a moment, then with a curse he hurled the
+little axe at him, and, turning, fled swiftly towards the gates of the
+cattle kraal.
+
+Umslopogaas stooped, and the little axe sped over him. Then he stood
+for a while watching, and the people thought that he meant to let
+Jikiza go. But that was not his desire; he waited, indeed, until Jikiza
+had covered nearly half the space between him and the gate, then with a
+roar he leaped forward, as light leaps from a cloud, and so fast did
+his feet fly that the watchers could scarce see them move. Jikiza fled
+fast also, yet he seemed but as one who stands still. Now he reached
+the gate of the kraal, now there was rush, a light of downward falling
+steel, and something swept past him. Then, behold! Jikiza fell in the
+gateway of the cattle kraal, and all saw that he was dead, smitten to
+death by that mighty axe Groan-Maker, which he and his fathers had held
+for many years.
+
+A great shout went up from the crowd of watchers when they knew that
+Jikiza the Unconquered was killed at last, and there were many who
+hailed Umslopogaas, naming him Chief and Lord of the People of the Axe.
+But the sons of Jikiza to the number of ten, great men and brave,
+rushed on Umslopogaas to kill him. Umslopogaas ran backwards, lifting
+up the Groan-Maker, when certain councillors of the people flung
+themselves in between them, crying, “Hold!”
+
+“Is not this your law, ye councillors,” said Umslopogaas, “that, having
+conquered the chief of the People of the Axe, I myself am chief?”
+
+“That is our law indeed, stranger,” answered an aged councillor, “but
+this also is our law: that now you must do battle, one by one, with all
+who come against you. So it was in my father’s time, when the
+grandfather of him who now lies dead won the axe, and so it must be
+again to-day.”
+
+“I have nothing to say against the rule,” said Umslopogaas. “Now who is
+there who will come up against me to do battle for the axe Groan-Maker
+and the chieftainship of the People of the Axe?”
+
+Then all the ten sons of Jikiza stepped forward as one man, for their
+hearts were mad with wrath because of the death of their father and
+because the chieftainship had gone from their race, so that in truth
+they cared little if they lived or died. But there were none besides
+these, for all men feared to stand before Umslopogaas and the
+Groan-Maker.
+
+Umslopogaas counted them. “There are ten, by the head of Chaka!” he
+cried. “Now if I must fight all these one by one, no time will be left
+to me this day to talk of the matter of Masilo and of the maid Zinita.
+Hearken! What say you, sons of Jikiza the Conquered? If I find one
+other to stand beside me in the fray, and all of you come on at once
+against us twain, ten against two, to slay us or be slain, will that be
+to your minds?”
+
+The brethren consulted together, and held that so they should be in
+better case than if they went up one by one.
+
+“So be it,” they said, and the councillors assented.
+
+Now, as he fled round and round, Umslopogaas had seen the face of
+Galazi, his brother, in the throng, and knew that he hungered to share
+the fight. So he called aloud that he whom he should choose, and who
+would stand back to back with him in the fray, if victory were theirs,
+should be the first after him among the People of the Axe, and as he
+called, he walked slowly down the line scanning the faces of all, till
+he came to where Galazi stood leaning on the Watcher.
+
+“Here is a great fellow who bears a great club,” said Umslopogaas. “How
+are you named, fellow?”
+
+“I am named Wolf,” answered Galazi.
+
+“Say, now, Wolf, are you willing to stand back to back with me in this
+fray of two against ten? If victory is ours, you shall be next to me
+amongst this people.”
+
+“Better I love the wild woods and the mountain’s breast than the kraals
+of men and the kiss of wives, Axebearer,” answered Galazi. “Yet,
+because you have shown yourself a warrior of might, and to taste again
+of the joy of battle, I will stand back to back with you, Axebearer,
+and see this matter ended.”
+
+“A bargain, Wolf!” cried Umslopogaas. And they walked side by side—a
+mighty pair!—till they came to the centre of the cattle kraal. All
+there looked on them wondering, and it came into the thoughts of some
+of them that these were none other than the Wolf-Brethren who dwelt
+upon the Ghost Mountain.
+
+“Now axe Groan-maker and club Watcher are come together, Galazi,” said
+Umslopogaas as they walked, “and I think that few can stand before
+them.”
+
+“Some shall find it so,” answered Galazi. “At the least, the fray will
+be merry, and what matter how frays end?”
+
+“Ah,” said Umslopogaas, “victory is good, but death ends all and is
+best of all.”
+
+Then they spoke of the fashion in which they would fight, and
+Umslopogaas looked curiously at the axe he carried, and at the point on
+its hammer, balancing it in his hand. When he had looked long, the pair
+took their stand back to back in the centre of the kraal, and people
+saw that Umslopogaas held the axe in a new fashion, its curved blade
+being inwards towards his breast, and the hollow point turned towards
+the foe. The ten brethren gathered themselves together, shaking their
+assegais; five of them stood before Umslopogaas and five before Galazi
+the Wolf. They were all great men, made fierce with rage and shame.
+
+“Now nothing except witchcraft can save these two,” said a councillor
+to one who stood by him.
+
+“Yet there is virtue in the axe,” answered the other, “and for the
+club, it seems that I know it: I think it is named Watcher of the
+Fords, and woe to those who stand before the Watcher. I myself have
+seen him aloft when I was young; moreover, these are no cravens who
+hold the axe and the club. They are but lads, indeed, yet they have
+drunk wolf’s milk.”
+
+Meanwhile, an aged man drew near to speak the word of onset; it was
+that same man who had set out the law to Umslopogaas. He must give the
+signal by throwing up a spear, and when it struck the ground, then the
+fight would begin. The old man took the spear and threw it, but his
+hand was weak, and he cast so clumsily that it fell among the sons of
+Jikiza, who stood before Umslopogaas, causing them to open up to let it
+pass between them, and drawing the eyes of all ten of them to it, but
+Umslopogaas watched for the touching of the spear only, being careless
+where it touched. As the point of it kissed the earth, he said a word,
+and lo! Umslopogaas and Galazi, not waiting for the onslaught of the
+ten, as men had thought they must, sprang forward, each at the line of
+foes who were before him. While the ten still stood confused, for it
+had been their plan to attack, the Wolf-Brethren were upon them.
+Groan-Maker was up, but as for no great stroke. He did but peck, as a
+bird pecks with his bill, and yet a man dropped dead. The Watcher also
+was up, but he fell like a falling tree, and was the death of one.
+Through the lines of the ten passed the Wolf-Brethren in the gaps that
+each had made. Then they turned swiftly and charged towards each other
+again; again Groan-Maker pecked, again the Watcher thundered, and lo!
+once more Umslopogaas and Galazi stood back to back unhurt, but before
+them lay four men dead.
+
+The onslaught and the return were so swift, that men scarcely
+understood what had been done; even those of the sons of Jikiza who
+were left stared at each other wondering. Then they knew that they were
+but six, for four of them were dead. With a shout of rage they rushed
+upon the pair from both sides, but in either case one was the most
+eager, and outstepped the other two, and thus it came about that time
+was given the Wolf-Brethren to strike at him alone, before his fellows
+were at his side. He who came at Umslopogaas drove at him with his
+spear, but he was not to be caught thus, for he bent his middle
+sideways, so that the spear only cut his skin, and as he bent tapped
+with the point of the axe at the head of the smiter, dealing death on
+him.
+
+“Yonder Woodpecker has a bill of steel, and he can use it well,” said
+the councillor to him who stood by him.
+
+“This is a Slaughterer indeed,” the man answered, and the people heard
+the names. Thenceforth they knew Umslopogaas as the Woodpecker, and as
+_Bulalio_, or the Slaughterer, and by no other names. Now, he who came
+at Galazi the Wolf rushed on wildly, holding his spear short. But
+Galazi was cunning in war. He took one step forward to meet him, then,
+swinging the Watcher backward, he let him fall at the full length of
+arms and club. The child of Jikiza lifted his shield to catch the blow,
+but the shield was to the Watcher what a leaf is to the wind. Full on
+its hide the huge club fell, making a loud sound; the war-shield
+doubled up like a raw skin, and he who bore it fell crushed to the
+earth.
+
+Now for a moment, the four who were left of the sons of Jikiza hovered
+round the pair, feinting at them from afar, but never coming within
+reach of axe or club. One threw a spear indeed, and though Umslopogaas
+leaped aside, and as it sped towards him smote the haft in two with the
+blade of Groan-Maker, yet its head flew on, wounding Galazi in the
+flank. Then he who had thrown the spear turned to fly, for his hands
+were empty, and the others followed swiftly, for the heart was out of
+them, and they dared to do battle with these two no more.
+
+Thus the fight was ended, and from its beginning till the finish was
+not longer than the time in which men might count a hundred slowly.
+
+“It seems that none are left for us to kill, Galazi,” said Umslopogaas,
+laughing aloud. “Ah, that was a cunning fight! Ho! you sons of the
+Unconquered, who run so fast, stay your feet. I give you peace; you
+shall live to sweep my huts and to plough my fields with the other
+women of my kraal. Now, councillors, the fighting is done, so let us to
+the chief’s hut, where Masilo waits us,” and he turned and went with
+Galazi, and after him followed all the people, wondering and in
+silence.
+
+When he reached the hut Umslopogaas sat himself down in the place where
+Jikiza had sat that morning, and the maid Zinita came to him with a wet
+cloth and washed the wound that the spear had made. He thanked her;
+then she would have washed Galazi’s wound also, and this was deeper,
+but Galazi bade her to let him be roughly, as he would have no woman
+meddling with his wounds. For neither then nor at any other time did
+Galazi turn to women, but he hated Zinita most of them all.
+
+Then Umslopogaas spoke to Masilo the Pig, who sat before him with a
+frightened face, saying, “It seems, O Masilo, that you have sought this
+maid Zinita in marriage, and against her will, persecuting her. Now I
+had intended to kill you as an offering to her anger, but there has
+been enough blood-letting to-day. Yet you shall have a marriage gift to
+this girl, whom I myself will take in marriage: you shall give a
+hundred head of cattle. Then get you gone from among the People of the
+Axe, lest a worse thing befall you, Masilo the Pig.”
+
+So Masilo rose up and went, and his face was green with fear, but he
+paid the hundred head of cattle and fled towards the kraal of Chaka.
+Zinita watched him go, and she was glad of it, and because the
+Slaughterer had named her for his wife.
+
+“I am well rid of Masilo,” she said aloud, in the hearing of Galazi,
+“but I had been better pleased to see him dead before me.”
+
+“This woman has a fierce heart,” thought Galazi, “and she will bring no
+good to Umslopogaas, my brother.”
+
+Now the councillors and the captains of the People of the Axe _konzaed_
+to him whom they named the Slaughterer, doing homage to him as chief
+and holder of the axe, and also they did homage to the axe itself. So
+Umslopogaas became chief over this people, and their number was many,
+and he grew great and fat in cattle and wives, and none dared to
+gainsay him. From time to time, indeed, a man ventured to stand up
+before him in fight, but none could conquer him, and in a little while
+no one sought to face Groan-Maker when he lifted himself to peck.
+
+Galazi also was great among the people, but dwelt with them little, for
+best he loved the wild woods and the mountain’s breast, and often, as
+of old, he swept at night across the forest and the plains, and the
+howling of the ghost-wolves went with him.
+
+But henceforth Umslopogaas the Slaughterer hunted very rarely with the
+wolves at night; he slept at the side of Zinita, and she loved him much
+and bore him children.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+THE CURSE OF BALEKA
+
+
+Now, my father, my story winds back again as the river bends towards
+its source, and I tell of those events which happened at the king’s
+kraal of Gibamaxegu, which you white people name Gibbeclack, the kraal
+that is called “Pick-out-the-old-men,” for it was there that Chaka
+murdered all the aged who were unfit for war.
+
+After I, Mopo, had stood before the king, and he had given me new wives
+and fat cattle and a kraal to dwell in, the bones of Unandi, the Great
+Mother Elephant, Mother of the Heavens, were gathered together from the
+ashes of my huts, and because all could not be found, some of the bones
+of my wives were collected also to make up the number. But Chaka never
+knew this. When all were brought together, a great pit was dug and the
+bones were set out in order in the pit and buried; but not alone, for
+round them were placed twelve maidens of the servants of Unandi, and
+these maidens were covered over with the earth, and left to die in the
+pit by the bones of Unandi, their mistress. Moreover, all those who
+were present at the burial were made into a regiment and commanded that
+they should dwell by the grave for the space of a year. They were many,
+my father, but I was not one of them. Also Chaka gave orders that no
+crops should be sown that year, that the milk of the cows should be
+spilled upon the ground, and that no woman should give birth to a child
+for a full year, and that if any should dare to bear children, then
+that they should be slain and their husbands with them. And for a space
+of some months these things were done, my father, and great sorrow came
+upon the land.
+
+Then for a little while there was quiet, and Chaka went about heavily,
+and he wept often, and we who waited on him wept also as we walked,
+till at length it came about by use that we could weep without ceasing
+for many hours. No angry woman can weep as we wept in those days; it
+was an art, my father, for the teaching of which I received many
+cattle, for woe to him who had no tears in those days. Then it was also
+that Chaka sent out the captain and fifty soldiers to search for
+Umslopogaas, for, though he said nothing more to me of this matter, he
+did not believe all the tale that I had told him of the death of
+Umslopogaas in the jaws of a lion and the tale of those who were with
+me. How that company fared at the hands of Umslopogaas and of Galazi
+the Wolf, and at the fangs of the people black and grey, I have told
+you, my father. None of them ever came back again. In after days it was
+reported to the king that these soldiers were missing, never having
+returned, but he only laughed, saying that the lion which ate
+Umslopogaas, son of Mopo, was a fierce one, and had eaten them also.
+
+At last came the night of the new moon, that dreadful night to be
+followed by a more dreadful morrow. I sat in the kraal of Chaka, and he
+put his arm about my neck and groaned and wept for his mother, whom he
+had murdered, and I groaned also, but I did not weep, because it was
+dark, and on the morrow I must weep much in the sight of king and men.
+Therefore, I spared my tears, lest they should fail me in my need.
+
+All night long the people drew on from every side towards the kraal,
+and, as they came in thousands and tens of thousands, they filled the
+night with their cries, till it seemed as though the whole world were
+mourning, and loudly. None might cease their crying, and none dared to
+drink so much as a cup of water. The daylight came, and Chaka rose,
+saying, “Come, let us go forth, Mopo, and look on those who mourn with
+us.” So we went out, and after us came men armed with clubs to do the
+bidding of the king.
+
+Outside the kraal the people were gathered, and their number was
+countless as the leaves upon the trees. On every side the land was
+black with them, as at times the veldt is black with game. When they
+saw the king they ceased from their howling and sang the war-song, then
+once again they howled, and Chaka walked among them weeping. Now, my
+father, the sight became dreadful, for, as the sun rose higher the day
+grew hot, and utter weariness came upon the people, who were packed
+together like herds of cattle, and, though oxen slain in sacrifice lay
+around, they might neither eat nor drink. Some fell to the ground, and
+were trampled to death, others took too much snuff to make them weep,
+others stained their eyes with saliva, others walked to and fro, their
+tongues hanging from their jaws, while groans broke from their parched
+throats.
+
+“Now, Mopo, we shall learn who are the wizards that have brought these
+ills upon us,” said the king, “and who are the true-hearted men.”
+
+As we spoke we came upon a man, a chief of renown. He was named
+Zwaumbana, chief of the Amabovus, and with him were his wives and
+followers. This man could weep no more; he gasped with thirst and heat.
+The king looked at him.
+
+“See, Mopo,” he said, “see that brute who has no tears for my mother
+who is dead! Oh, the monster without a heart! Shall such as he live to
+look upon the sun, while I and thou must weep, Mopo? Never! never! Take
+him away, and all those who are with him! Take them away, the people
+without hearts, who do not weep because my mother is dead by
+witchcraft!”
+
+And Chaka walked on weeping, and I followed also weeping, but the chief
+Zwaumbana and those with him were all slain by those who do the bidding
+of the king, and the slayers also must weep as they slew. Presently we
+came upon another man, who, seeing the king, took snuff secretly to
+bring tears to his eyes. But the glance of Chaka was quick, and he
+noted it.
+
+“Look at him, Mopo,” he said, “look at the wizard who has no tears,
+though my mother is dead by witchcraft. See, he takes snuff to bring
+tears to his eyes that are dry with wickedness. Take him away, the
+heartless brute! Oh, take him away!”
+
+So this one also was killed, and these were but the first of thousands,
+for presently Chaka grew mad with wickedness, with fury, and with the
+lust of blood. He walked to and fro, weeping, going now and again into
+his hut to drink beer, and I with him, for he said that we who sorrowed
+must have food. And ever as he walked he would wave his arm or his
+assegai, saying, “Take them away, the heartless brutes, who do not weep
+because my mother is dead,” and those who chanced to stand before his
+arm were killed, till at length the slayers could slay no more, and
+themselves were slain, because their strength had failed them, and they
+had no more tears. And I also, I must slay, lest if I slew not I should
+myself be slain.
+
+And now, at length, the people also went mad with their thirst and the
+fury of their fear. They fell upon each other, killing each other;
+every man who had a foe sought him out and killed him. None were
+spared, the place was but a shambles; there on that day died full seven
+thousand men, and still Chaka walked weeping among them, saying, “Take
+them away, the heartless brutes, take them away!” Yet, my father, there
+was cunning in his cruelty, for though he destroyed many for sport
+alone, also he slew on this day all those whom he hated or whom he
+feared.
+
+At length the night came down, the sun sank red that day, all the sky
+was like blood, and blood was all the earth beneath. Then the killing
+ceased, because none had now the strength to kill, and the people lay
+panting in heaps upon the ground, the living and the dead together. I
+looked at them, and saw that if they were not allowed to eat and drink,
+before day dawned again the most of them would be dead, and I spoke to
+the king, for I cared little in that hour if I lived or died; even my
+hope of vengeance was forgotten in the sickness of my heart.
+
+“A mourning indeed, O King,” I said, “a merry mourning for true-hearted
+men, but for wizards a mourning such as they do not love. I think that
+thy sorrows are avenged, O King, thy sorrows and mine also.”
+
+“Not so, Mopo,” answered the king, “this is but the beginning; our
+mourning was merry to-day, it shall be merrier to-morrow.”
+
+“To-morrow, O King, few will be left to mourn; for the land will be
+swept of men.”
+
+“Why, Mopo, son of Makedama? But a few have perished of all the
+thousands who are gathered together. Number the people and they will
+not be missed.”
+
+“But a few have died beneath the assegai and the kerrie, O King. Yet
+hunger and thirst shall finish the spear’s work. The people have
+neither eaten nor drunk for a day and a night, and for a day and a
+night they have wailed and moaned. Look without, Black One, there they
+lie in heaps with the dead. By to-morrow’s light they also will be dead
+or dying.”
+
+Now, Chaka thought awhile, and he saw that the work would go too far,
+leaving him but a small people over whom to rule.
+
+“It is hard, Mopo,” he said, “that thou and I must mourn alone over our
+woes while these dogs feast and make merry. Yet, because of the
+gentleness of my heart, I will deal gently with them. Go out, son of
+Makedama, and bid my children eat and drink if they have the heart, for
+this mourning is ended. Scarcely will Unandi, my mother, sleep well,
+seeing that so little blood has been shed on her grave—surely her
+spirit will haunt my dreams. Yet, because of the gentleness of my
+heart, I declare this mourning ended. Let my children eat and drink,
+if, indeed, they have the heart.”
+
+“Happy are the people over whom such a king is set,” I said in answer.
+Then I went out and told the words of Chaka to the chiefs and captains,
+and those of them who had the voice left to them praised the goodness
+of the king. But the most gave over sucking the dew from their sticks,
+and rushed to the water like cattle that have wandered five days in the
+desert, and drank their fill. Some of them were trampled to death in
+the water.
+
+Afterwards I slept as I might best; it was not well, my father, for I
+knew that Chaka was not yet gutted with slaughter.
+
+On the morrow many of the people went back to their homes, having
+sought leave from the king, others drew away the dead to the place of
+bones, and yet others were sent out in impis to kill such as had not
+come to the mourning of the king. When midday was past, Chaka said that
+he would walk, and ordered me and other of his indunas and servants to
+walk with him. We went on in silence, the king leaning on my shoulder
+as on a stick. “What of thy people, Mopo,” he said at length, “what of
+the Langeni tribe? Were they at my mourning? I did not see them.”
+
+Then I answered that I did not know, they had been summoned, but the
+way was long and the time short for so many to march so far.
+
+“Dogs should run swiftly when their master calls, Mopo, my servant,”
+said Chaka, and the dreadful light came into his eyes that never shone
+in the eyes of any other man. Then I grew sick at heart, my father—ay,
+though I loved my people little, and they had driven me away, I grew
+sick at heart. Now we had come to a spot where there is a great rift of
+black rock, and the name of that rift is U’Donga-lu-ka-Tatiyana. On
+either side of this donga the ground slopes steeply down towards its
+yawning lips, and from its end a man may see the open country. Here
+Chaka sat down at the end of the rift, pondering. Presently he looked
+up and saw a vast multitude of men, women, and children, who wound like
+a snake across the plain beneath towards the kraal Gibamaxegu.
+
+“I think, Mopo,” said the king, “that by the colour of their shields,
+yonder should be the Langeni tribe—thine own people, Mopo.”
+
+“It is my people, O King,” I answered.
+
+Then Chaka sent messengers, running swiftly, and bade them summon the
+Langeni people to him where he sat. Other messengers he sent also to
+the kraal, whispering in their ears, but what he said I did not know
+then.
+
+Now, for a while, Chaka watched the long black snake of men winding
+towards him across the plain till the messengers met them and the snake
+began to climb the slope of the hill.
+
+“How many are these people of thine, Mopo?” asked the king.
+
+“I know not, O Elephant,” I answered, “who have not seen them for many
+years. Perhaps they number three full regiments.”
+
+“Nay, more,” said the king; “what thinkest thou, Mopo, would this
+people of thine fill the rift behind us?” and he nodded at the gulf of
+stone.
+
+Now, my father, I trembled in all my flesh, seeing the purpose of
+Chaka; but I could find no words to say, for my tongue clave to the
+roof of my mouth.
+
+“The people are many,” said Chaka, “yet, Mopo, I bet thee fifty head of
+cattle that they will not fill the donga.”
+
+“The king is pleased to jest,” I said.
+
+“Yea, Mopo, I jest; yet as a jest take thou the bet.”
+
+“As the king wills,” I murmured—who could not refuse. Now the people of
+my tribe drew near: at their head was an old man, with white hair and
+beard, and, looking at him, I knew him for my father, Makedama. When he
+came within earshot of the king, he gave him the royal salute of
+_Bayéte_, and fell upon his hands and knees, crawling towards him, and
+_konzaed_ to the king, praising him as he came. All the thousands of
+the people also fell on their hands and knees, and praised the king
+aloud, and the sound of their praising was like the sound of a great
+thunder.
+
+At length Makedama, my father, writhing on his breast like a snake, lay
+before the majesty of the king. Chaka bade him rise, and greeted him
+kindly; but all the thousands of the people yet lay upon their breasts
+beating the dust with their heads.
+
+“Rise, Makedama, my child, father of the people of the Langeni,” said
+Chaka, “and tell me why art thou late in coming to my mourning?”
+
+“The way was far, O King,” answered Makedama, my father, who did not
+know me. “The way was far and the time short. Moreover, the women and
+the children grew weary and footsore, and they are weary in this hour.”
+
+“Speak not of it, Makedama, my child,” said the king. “Surely thy heart
+mourned and that of thy people, and soon they shall rest from their
+weariness. Say, are they here every one?”
+
+“Every one, O Elephant!—none are wanting. My kraals are desolate, the
+cattle wander untended on the hills, birds pick at the unguarded
+crops.”
+
+“It is well, Makedama, thou faithful servant! Yet thou wouldst mourn
+with me an hour—is it not so? Now, hearken! Bid thy people pass to the
+right and to the left of me, and stand in all their numbers upon the
+slopes of the grass that run down to the lips of the rift.”
+
+So Makedama, my father, bade the people do the bidding of the king, for
+neither he nor the indunas saw his purpose, but I, who knew his wicked
+heart, I saw it. Then the people filed past to the right and to the
+left by hundreds and by thousands, and presently the grass of the
+slopes could be seen no more, because of their number. When all had
+passed, Chaka spoke again to Makedama, my father, bidding him climb
+down to the bottom of the donga, and thence lift up his voice in
+mourning. The old man obeyed the king. Slowly, and with much pain, he
+clambered to the bottom of the rift and stood there. It was so deep and
+narrow that the light scarcely seemed to reach to where he stood, for I
+could only see the white of his hair gleaming far down in the shadows.
+
+Then, standing far beneath, he lifted up his voice, and it reached the
+thousands of those who clustered upon the slopes. It seemed still and
+small, yet it came to them faintly like the voice of one speaking from
+a mountain-top in a time of snow:—
+
+“_Mourn, children of Makedama!_”
+
+And all the thousands of the people—men, women, and children—echoed his
+words in a thunder of sound, crying:—
+
+“_Mourn, children of Makedama!_”
+
+Again he cried:—
+
+“_Mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with the whole world!_”
+
+And the thousands answered:—
+
+“_Mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with the whole world!_”
+
+A third time came his voice:—
+
+“_Mourn, children of Makedama, mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with
+the whole world!_
+
+“_Howl, ye warriors; weep, ye women; beat your breasts, ye maidens;
+sob, ye little children!_
+
+“_Drink of the water of tears, cover yourselves with the dust of
+affliction._
+
+“_Mourn, O tribe of the Langeni, because the Mother of the Heavens is
+no more._
+
+“_Mourn, children of Makedama, because the Spirit of Fruitfulness is no
+more._
+
+“_Mourn, O ye people, because the Lion of the Zulu is left so
+desolate._
+
+“_Let your tears fall as the rain falls, let your cries be as the cries
+of women who bring forth._
+
+“_For sorrow is fallen like the rain, the world has conceived and
+brought forth death._
+
+“_Great darkness is upon us, darkness and the shadow of death._
+
+“_The Lion of the Zulu wanders and wanders in desolation, because the
+Mother of the Heavens is no more._
+
+“_Who shall bring him comfort? There is comfort in the crying of his
+children._
+
+“_Mourn, people of the Langeni; let the voice of your mourning beat
+against the skies and rend them._
+
+“_Ou-ai! Ou-ai! Ou-ai!_”
+
+Thus sang the old man, my father Makedama, far down in the deeps of the
+cleft. He sang it in a still, small voice, but, line after line, his
+song was caught up by the thousands who stood on the slopes above, and
+thundered to the heavens till the mountains shook with its sound.
+Moreover, the noise of their crying opened the bosom of a heavy
+rain-cloud that had gathered as they mourned, and the rain fell in
+great slow drops, as though the sky also wept, and with the rain came
+lightning and the roll of thunder.
+
+Chaka listened, and large tears coursed down his cheeks, whose heart
+was easily stirred by the sound of song. Now the rain hissed fiercely,
+making as it were a curtain about the thousands of the people; but
+still their cry went up through the rain, and the roll of the thunder
+was lost in it. Presently there came a hush, and I looked to the right.
+There, above the heads of the people, coming over the brow of the hill,
+were the plumes of warriors, and in their hands gleamed a hedge of
+spears. I looked to the left; there also I saw the plumes of warriors
+dimly through the falling rain, and in their hands a hedge of spears. I
+looked before me, towards the end of the cleft; there also loomed the
+plumes of warriors, and in their hands was a hedge of spears.
+
+Then, from all the people there arose another cry, a cry of terror and
+of agony.
+
+“Ah! now they mourn indeed, Mopo,” said Chaka in my ear; “now thy
+people mourn from the heart and not with the lips alone.”
+
+As he spoke the multitude of the people on either side of the rift
+surged forward like a wave, surged back again, once more surged
+forward, then, with a dreadful crying, driven on by the merciless
+spears of the soldiers, they began to fall in a torrent of men, women,
+and children, far into the black depths below.
+
+
+My father, forgive me the tears that fall from these blind eyes of
+mine; I am very aged, I am but as a little child, and as a little child
+I weep. I cannot tell it. At last it was done, and all grew still.
+
+
+Thus was Makedama buried beneath the bodies of his people; thus was
+ended the tribe of the Langeni; as my mother had dreamed, so it came
+about; and thus did Chaka take vengeance for that cup of milk which was
+refused to him many a year before.
+
+“Thou hast not won thy bet, Mopo,” said the king presently. “See there
+is a little space where one more may find room to sleep. Full to the
+brim is this corn-chamber with the ears of death, in which no living
+grain is left. Yet there is one little space, and is there not one to
+fill it? Are all the tribe of the Langeni dead indeed?”
+
+“There is one, O King!” I answered. “I am of the tribe of the Langeni,
+let my carcase fill the place.”
+
+“Nay, Mopo, nay! Who then should take the bet? Moreover, I slay thee
+not, for it is against my oath. Also, do we not mourn together, thou
+and I?”
+
+“There is no other left living of the tribe of the Langeni, O King! The
+bet is lost; it shall be paid.”
+
+“I think that there is another,” said Chaka. “There is a sister to thee
+and me, Mopo. Ah, see, she comes!”
+
+I looked up, my father, and I saw this: I saw Baleka, my sister,
+walking towards us, and on her shoulders was a kaross of wild-cat
+skins, and behind her were two soldiers. She walked proudly, holding
+her head high, and her step was like the step of a queen. Now she saw
+the sight of death, for the dead lay before her like black water in a
+sunless pool. A moment she stood shivering, having guessed all, then
+walked on and stood before Chaka.
+
+“What is thy will with me, O King?” she said.
+
+“Thou art come in a good hour, sister,” said Chaka, turning his eyes
+from hers. “It is thus: Mopo, my servant and thy brother, made a bet
+with me, a bet of cattle. It was a little matter that we wagered on—as
+to whether the people of the Langeni tribe—thine own tribe, Baleka, my
+sister—would fill yonder place, U’Donga-lu-ka-Tatiyana. When they heard
+of the bet, my sister, the people of the Langeni hurled themselves into
+the rift by thousands, being eager to put the matter to the proof. And
+now it seems that thy brother has lost the bet, for there is yet place
+for one yonder ere the donga is full. Then, my sister, thy brother Mopo
+brought it to my mind that there was still one of the Langeni tribe
+left upon the earth, who, should she sleep in that place, would turn
+the bet in his favour, and prayed me to send for her. So, my sister, as
+I would not take that which I have not won, I have done so, and now do
+thou go apart and talk with Mopo, thy brother, alone upon this matter,
+_as once before thou didst talk when a child was born to thee, my
+sister!_”
+
+Now Baleka took no heed of the words of Chaka which he spoke of me, for
+she knew his meaning well. Only she looked him in the eyes and said:—
+
+“Ill shalt thou sleep from this night forth, Chaka, till thou comest to
+a land where no sleep is. I have spoken.”
+
+Chaka saw and heard, and of a sudden he quailed, growing afraid in his
+heart, and turned his head away.
+
+“Mopo, my brother,” said Baleka, “let us speak together for the last
+time; it is the king’s word.”
+
+So I drew apart with Baleka, my sister, and a spear was in my hand. We
+stood together alone by the people of the dead and Baleka threw the
+corner of the kaross about her brows and spoke to me swiftly from
+beneath its shadow.
+
+“What did I say to you a while ago, Mopo? It has come to pass. Swear to
+me that you will live on and that this same hand of yours shall take
+vengeance for me.”
+
+“I swear it, my sister.”
+
+“Swear to me that when the vengeance is done you will seek out my son
+Umslopogaas if he still lives, and bless him in my name.”
+
+“I swear it, my sister.”
+
+“Fare you well, Mopo! We have always loved each other much, and now all
+fades, and it seems to me that once more we are little children playing
+about the kraals of the Langeni. So may we play again in another land!
+Now, Mopo”—and she looked at me steadily, and with great eyes—“I am
+weary. I would join the spirits of my people. I hear them calling in my
+ears. It is finished.”
+
+
+For the rest, I will not tell it to you, my father.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+MASILO COMES TO THE KRAAL DUGUZA
+
+
+That night the curse of Baleka fell upon Chaka, and he slept ill. So
+ill did he sleep that he summoned me to him, bidding me walk abroad
+with him. I went, and we walked alone and in silence, Chaka leading the
+way and I following after him. Now I saw that his feet led him towards
+the U’Donga-lu-ka-Tatiyana, that place where all my people lay dead,
+and with them Baleka, my sister. We climbed the slope of the hill
+slowly, and came to the mouth of the cleft, to that same spot where
+Chaka had stood when the people fell over the lips of the rock like
+water. Then there had been noise and crying, now there was silence, for
+the night was very still. The moon was full also, and lighted up the
+dead who lay near to us, so that I could see them all; yes, I could see
+even the face of Baleka, my sister—they had thrown her into the midst
+of the dead. Never had it looked so beautiful as in this hour, and yet
+as I gazed I grew afraid. Only the far end of the donga was hid in
+shadow.
+
+“Thou wouldst not have won thy bet now, Mopo, my servant,” said Chaka.
+“See, they have sunk together! The donga is not full by the length of a
+stabbing-spear.”
+
+I did not answer, but at the sound of the king’s voice jackals stirred
+and slunk away.
+
+Presently he spoke again, laughing loudly as he spoke: “Thou shouldst
+sleep well this night, my mother, for I have sent many to hush thee to
+rest. Ah, people of the Langeni tribe, you forgot, but I remembered!
+You forgot how a woman and a boy came to you seeking food and shelter,
+and you would give them none—no, not a gourd of milk. What did I
+promise you on that day, people of the Langeni tribe? Did I not promise
+you that for every drop the gourd I craved would hold I would take the
+life of a man? And have I not kept my promise? Do not men lie here more
+in number than the drops of water in a gourd, and with them women and
+children countless as the leaves? O people of the Langeni tribe, who
+refused me milk when I was little, having grown great, I am avenged
+upon you! Having grown great! Ah! who is there so great as I? The earth
+shakes beneath my feet; when I speak the people tremble, when I frown
+they die—they die in thousands. I have grown great, and great I shall
+remain! The land is mine, far as the feet of man can travel the land is
+mine, and mine are those who dwell in it. And I shall grow greater
+yet—greater, ever greater. Is it thy face, Baleka, that stares upon me
+from among the faces of the thousands whom I have slain? Thou didst
+promise me that I should sleep ill henceforth. Baleka, I fear thee
+not—at the least, thou sleepest sound. Tell me, Baleka—rise from thy
+sleep and tell me whom there is that I should fear!”—and suddenly he
+ceased the ravings of his pride.
+
+Now, my father, while Chaka the king spoke thus, it came into my mind
+to make an end of things and kill him, for my heart was mad with rage
+and the thirst of vengeance. Already I stood behind him, already the
+stick in my hand was lifted to strike out his brains, when I stopped
+also, for I saw something. There, in the midst of the dead, I saw an
+arm stir. It stirred, it lifted itself, it beckoned towards the shadow
+which hid the head of the cleft and the piled-up corpses that lay
+there, and it seemed to me that the arm was the arm of Baleka.
+Perchance it was not her arm, perchance it was but the arm of one who
+yet lived among the thousands of the dead, say you, my father! At the
+least, the arm rose at her side, and was ringed with such bracelets as
+Baleka wore, and it beckoned from her side, though her cold face
+changed not at all. Thrice the arm rose, thrice it stood awhile in air,
+thrice it beckoned with crooked finger, as though it summoned something
+from the depths of the shadow, and from the multitudes of the dead.
+Then it fell down, and in the utter silence I heard its fall and a
+clank of brazen bracelets. And as it fell there rose from the shadow a
+sound of singing, of singing wild and sweet, such as I had never heard.
+The words of that song came to me then, my father; but afterwards they
+passed from me, and I remember them no more. Only I know this, that the
+song was of the making of Things, and of the beginning and the end of
+Peoples. It told of how the black folk grew, and of how the white folk
+should eat them up, and wherefore they were and wherefore they should
+cease to be. It told of Evil and of Good, of Woman and of Man, and of
+how these war against each other, and why it is that they war, and what
+are the ends of the struggle. It told also of the people of the Zulu,
+and it spoke of a place of a Little Hand where they should conquer, and
+of a place where a White Hand should prevail against them, and how they
+shall melt away beneath the shadow of the White Hand and be forgotten,
+passing to a land where things do not die, but live on forever, the
+Good with the Good, the Evil with the Evil. It told of Life and of
+Death, of Joy and of Sorrow, of Time and of that sea in which Time is
+but a floating leaf, and of why all these things are. Many names also
+came into the song, and I knew but a few of them, yet my own was there,
+and the name of Baleka and the name of Umslopogaas, and the name of
+Chaka the Lion. But a little while did the voice sing, yet all this was
+in the song—ay, and much more; but the meaning of the song is gone from
+me, though I knew it once, and shall know it again when all is done.
+The voice in the shadow sang on till the whole place was full of the
+sound of its singing, and even the dead seemed to listen. Chaka heard
+it and shook with fear, but his ears were deaf to its burden, though
+mine were open.
+
+The voice came nearer, and now in the shadow there was a faint glow of
+light, like the glow that gathers on the six-days’ dead. Slowly it drew
+nearer, through the shadow, and as it came I saw that the shape of the
+light was the shape of a woman. Now I could see it well, and I knew the
+face of glory. My father, it was the face of the Inkosazana-y-Zulu, the
+Queen of Heaven! She came towards us very slowly, gliding down the gulf
+that was full of dead, and the path she trod was paved with the dead;
+and as she came it seemed to me that shadows rose from the dead,
+following her, the Queen of the Dead—thousands upon thousands of them.
+And, ah! her glory, my father—the glory of her hair of molten gold—of
+her eyes, that were as the noonday sky—the flash of her arms and
+breast, that were like the driven snow, when it glows in the sunset.
+Her beauty was awful to look on, but I am glad to have lived to see it
+as it shone and changed in the shifting robe of light which was her
+garment.
+
+Now she drew near to us, and Chaka sank upon the earth, huddled up in
+fear, hiding his face in his hands; but I was not afraid, my
+father—only the wicked need fear to look on the Queen of Heaven. Nay, I
+was not afraid: I stood upright and gazed upon her glory face to face.
+In her hand she held a little spear hafted with the royal wood: it was
+the shadow of the spear that Chaka held in his hand, the same with
+which he had slain his mother and wherewith he should himself be slain.
+Now she ceased her singing, and stood before the crouching king and
+before me, who was behind the king, so that the light of her glory
+shone upon us. She lifted the little spear, and with it touched Chaka,
+son of Senzangacona, on the brow, giving him to doom. Then she spoke;
+but, though Chaka felt the touch, he did not hear the words, that were
+for my ears alone.
+
+“Mopo, son of Makedama,” said the low voice, “stay thy hand, the cup of
+Chaka is not full. When, for the third time, thou seest me riding down
+the storm, then _smite_, Mopo, my child.”
+
+Thus she spoke, and a cloud swept over the face of the moon. When it
+passed she was gone, and once more I was alone with Chaka, with the
+night and the dead.
+
+Chaka looked up, and his face was grey with the sweat of fear.
+
+“Who was this, Mopo?” he said in a hollow voice.
+
+“This was the Inkosazana of the Heavens, she who watches ever over the
+people of our race, O King, and who from time to time is seen of men
+ere great things shall befall.”
+
+“I have heard speak of this queen,” said Chaka. “Wherefore came she
+now, what was the song she sang, and why did she touch me with a
+spear?”
+
+“She came, O King, because the dead hand of Baleka summoned her, as
+thou sawest. The song she sang was of things too high for me; and why
+she touched thee on the forehead with the spear I do not know, O King!
+Perchance it was to crown thee chief of a yet greater realm.”
+
+“Yea, perchance to crown me chief of a realm of death.”
+
+“That thou art already, Black One,” I answered, glancing at the silent
+multitude before us and the cold shape of Baleka.
+
+Again Chaka shuddered. “Come, let us be going, Mopo,” he said; “now I
+have learnt what it is to be afraid.”
+
+“Early or late, Fear is a guest that all must feast, even kings, O
+Earth-Shaker!” I answered; and we turned and went homewards in silence.
+
+Now after this night Chaka gave it out that the kraal of Gibamaxegu was
+bewitched, and bewitched was the land of the Zulus, because he might
+sleep no more in peace, but woke ever crying out with fear, and
+muttering the name of Baleka. Therefore, in the end he moved his kraal
+far away, and built the great town of Duguza here in Natal.
+
+Look now, my father! There on the plain far away is a place of the
+white men—it is called Stanger. There, where is the white man’s town,
+stood the great kraal Duguza. I cannot see, for my eyes are dark; but
+you can see. Where the gate of the kraal was built there is a house; it
+is the place where the white man gives out justice; that is the place
+of the gate of the kraal, through which Justice never walked. Behind is
+another house, where the white men who have sinned against Him pray to
+the King of Heaven for forgiveness; there on that spot have I seen many
+a one who had done no wrong pray to a king of men for mercy, but I have
+never seen but one who found it. _Ou!_ the words of Chaka have come
+true: I will tell them to you presently, my father. The white man holds
+the land, he goes to and fro about his business of peace where impis
+ran forth to kill; his children laugh and gather flowers where men died
+in blood by hundreds; they bathe in the waters of the Imbozamo, where
+once the crocodiles were fed daily with human flesh; his young men woo
+the maidens where other maids have kissed the assegai. It is changed,
+nothing is the same, and of Chaka are left only a grave yonder and a
+name of fear.
+
+Now, after Chaka had come to the Duguza kraal, for a while he sat
+quiet, then the old thirst of blood came on him, and he sent his impis
+against the people of the Pondos, and they destroyed that people, and
+brought back their cattle. But the warriors might not rest; again they
+were doctored for war, and sent out by tens of thousands to conquer
+Sotyangana, chief of the people who live north of the Limpopo. They
+went singing, after the king had looked upon them and bidden them
+return victorious or not at all. Their number was so great that from
+the hour of dawn till the sun was high in the heavens they passed the
+gates of the kraal like countless herds of cattle—they the unconquered.
+Little did they know that victory smiled on them no more; that they
+must die by thousands of hunger and fever in the marshes of the
+Limpopo, and that those of them who returned should come with their
+shields in their bellies, having devoured their shields because of
+their ravenous hunger! But what of them? They were nothing. _Dust_ was
+the name of one of the great regiments that went out against
+Sotyangana, and dust they were—dust to be driven to death by the breath
+of Chaka, Lion of the Zulu.
+
+Now few men remained in the kraal Duguza, for nearly all had gone with
+the impi, and only women and aged people were left. Dingaan and
+Umhlangana, brothers of the king, were there, for Chaka would not
+suffer them to depart, fearing lest they should plot against him, and
+he looked on them always with an angry eye, so that they trembled for
+their lives, though they dared not show their fear lest fate should
+follow fear. But I guessed it, and like a snake I wound myself into
+their secrets, and we talked together darkly and in hints. But of that
+presently, my father, for I must tell of the coming of Masilo, he who
+would have wed Zinita, and whom Umslopogaas the Slaughterer had driven
+out from the kraals of the People of the Axe.
+
+It was on the day after the impi had left that Masilo came to the kraal
+Duguza, craving leave to speak with the king. Chaka sat before his hut,
+and with him were Dingaan and Umhlangana, his royal brothers. I was
+there also, and certain of the indunas, councillors of the king. Chaka
+was weary that morning, for he had slept badly, as now he always did.
+Therefore, when one told him that a certain wanderer named Masilo would
+speak with him, he did not command that the man should be killed, but
+bade them bring him before him. Presently there was a sound of
+praising, and I saw a fat man, much worn with travel, who crawled
+through the dust towards us giving the _sibonga_, that is, naming the
+king by his royal names. Chaka bade him cease from praising and tell
+his business. Then the man sat up and told all that tale which you have
+heard, my father, of how a young man, great and strong, came to the
+place of the People of the Axe and conquered Jikiza, the holder of the
+axe, and became chief of that people, and of how he had taken the
+cattle of Masilo and driven him away. Now Chaka knew nothing of this
+People of the Axe, for the land was great in those days, my father, and
+there were many little tribes in it, living far away, of whom the king
+had not even heard; so he questioned Masilo about them, and of the
+number of their fighting-men, of their wealth in cattle, of the name of
+the young man who ruled them, and especially as to the tribute which
+they paid to the king.
+
+Masilo answered, saying that the number of their fighting-men was
+perhaps the half of a full regiment, that their cattle were many, for
+they were rich, that they paid no tribute, and that the name of the
+young man was Bulalio the Slaughterer—at the least, he was known by
+that name, and he had heard no other.
+
+Then the king grew wroth. “Arise, Masilo,” he said, “and run to this
+people, and speak in the ear of the people, and of him who is named the
+Slaughterer, saying: ‘There is another Slaughterer, who sits in a kraal
+that is named Duguza, and this is his word to you, O People of the Axe,
+and to thee, thou who holdest the axe. Rise up with all the people, and
+with all the cattle of your people, and come before him who sits in the
+kraal Duguza, and lay in his hands the great axe Groan-Maker. Rise up
+swiftly and do this bidding, lest ye sit down shortly and for the last
+time of all.’”[1]
+
+ [1] The Zulu are buried sitting.—ED.
+
+Masilo heard, and said that it should be so, though the way was far,
+and he feared greatly to appear before him who was called the
+Slaughterer, and who sat twenty days’ journey to the north, beneath the
+shadow of the Witch Mountain.
+
+“Begone,” said the king, “and stand before me on the thirtieth day from
+now with the answer of this boy with an axe! If thou standest not
+before me, then some shall come to seek thee and the boy with an axe
+also.”
+
+So Masilo turned and fled swiftly to do the bidding of the king, and
+Chaka spoke no more of that matter. But I wondered in my heart who this
+young man with an axe might be; for I thought that he had dealt with
+Jikiza and with the sons of Jikiza as Umslopogaas would have dealt with
+them had he come to the years of his manhood. But I also said nothing
+of the matter.
+
+Now on this day also there came to me news that my wife Macropha and my
+daughter Nada were dead among their people in Swaziland. It was said
+that the men of the chief of the Halakazi tribe had fallen on their
+kraal and put all in it to the assegai, and among them Macropha and
+Nada. I heard the news, but I wept no tear, for, my father, I was so
+lost in sorrows that nothing could move me any more.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+MOPO BARGAINS WITH THE PRINCES
+
+
+Eight-and-twenty days went by, my father, and on the nine-and-twentieth
+it befell that Chaka, having dreamed a dream in his troubled sleep,
+summoned before him certain women of the kraal, to the number of a
+hundred or more. Some of these were his women, whom he named his
+“sisters,” and some were maidens not yet given in marriage; but all
+were young and fair. Now what this dream of Chaka may have been I do
+not know, or have forgotten, for in those days he dreamed many dreams,
+and all his dreams led to one end, the death of men. He sat in front of
+his hut scowling, and I was with him. To the left of him were gathered
+the girls and women, and their knees were weak with fear. One by one
+they were led before him, and stood before him with bowed heads. Then
+he would bid them be of good cheer, and speak softly to them, and in
+the end would ask them this question: “Hast thou, my sister, a cat in
+thy hut?”
+
+Now, some would say that they had a cat, and some would say that they
+had none, and some would stand still and make no answer, being dumb
+with fear. But, whatever they said, the end was the same, for the king
+would sigh gently and say: “Fare thee well, my sister; it is
+unfortunate for thee that there is a cat in thy hut,” or “that there is
+no cat in thy hut,” or “that thou canst not tell me whether there be a
+cat in thy hut or no.”
+
+Then the woman would be taken by the slayers, dragged without the
+kraal, and their end was swift. So it went on for the most part of that
+day, till sixty-and-two women and girls had been slaughtered. But at
+last a maiden was brought before the king, and to this one her snake
+had given a ready wit; for when Chaka asked her whether or no there was
+a cat in her hut, she answered, saying that she did not know, “but that
+there was a half a cat upon her,” and she pointed to a cat’s-skin which
+was bound about her loins.
+
+Then the king laughed, and clapped his hands, saying that at length his
+dream was answered; and he killed no more that day nor ever again—save
+once only.
+
+That evening my heart was heavy within me, and I cried in my heart,
+“How long?”—nor might I rest. So I wandered out from the kraal that was
+named Duguza to the great cleft in the mountains yonder, and sat down
+upon a rock high up in the cleft, so that I could see the wide lands
+rolling to the north and the south, to my right and to my left. Now,
+the day was drawing towards the night, and the air was very still, for
+the heat was great and a tempest was gathering, as I, who am a
+Heaven-Herd, knew well. The sun sank redly, flooding the land with
+blood; it was as though all the blood that Chaka had shed flowed about
+the land which Chaka ruled. Then from the womb of the night great
+shapes of cloud rose up and stood before the sun, and he crowned them
+with his glory, and in their hearts the lightning quivered like a blood
+of fire. The shadow of their wings fell upon the mountain and the
+plains, and beneath their wings was silence. Slowly the sun sank, and
+the shapes of cloud gathered together like a host at the word of its
+captain, and the flicker of the lightning was as the flash of the
+spears of a host. I looked, and my heart grew afraid. The lightning
+died away, the silence deepened and deepened till I could hear it, no
+leaf moved, no bird called, the world seemed dead—I alone lived in the
+dead world.
+
+Now, of a sudden, my father, a bright star fell from the height of
+heaven and lit upon the crest of the storm, and as it lit the storm
+burst. The grey air shivered, a moan ran about the rocks and died away,
+then an icy breath burst from the lips of the tempest and rushed across
+the earth. It caught the falling star and drove it on towards me, a
+rushing globe of fire, and as it came the star grew and took shape, and
+the shape it took was the shape of a woman. I knew her now, my father;
+while she was yet far off I knew her—the Inkosazana who came as she had
+promised, riding down the storm. On she swept, borne forward by the
+blast, and oh! she was terrible to see, for her garment was the
+lightning, lightnings shone from her wide eyes and lightnings were in
+her streaming hair, while in her hand was a spear of fire, and she
+shook it as she came. Now she was at the mouth of the pass; before her
+was stillness, behind her beat the wings of the storm, the thunder
+roared, the rain hissed like snakes; she rushed on past me, and as she
+passed she turned her awful eyes upon me, withering me. She was there!
+she was gone! but she spoke no word, only shook her flaming spear. Yet
+it seemed to me that the storm spoke, that the rocks cried aloud, that
+the rain hissed out a word in my ear, and the word was:—
+
+“_Smite, Mopo!_”
+
+I heard it in my heart, or with my ears, what does it matter? Then I
+turned to look; through the rush of the tempest and the reek of the
+rain, still I could see her sweeping forward high in air. Now the kraal
+Duguza was beneath her feet, and the flaming spear fell from her hand
+upon the kraal and fire leaped up in answer.
+
+Then she passed on over the edge of the world, seeking her own place.
+Thus, my father, for the third and last time did my eyes see the
+Inkosazana-y-Zulu, or mayhap my heart dreamed that I saw her. Soon I
+shall see her again, but it will not be here.
+
+For a while I sat there in the cleft, then I rose and fought my way
+through the fury of the storm back to the kraal Duguza. As I drew near
+the kraal I heard cries of fear coming through the roaring of the wind
+and the hiss of the rain. I entered and asked one of the matter, and it
+was told me that fire from above had fallen on the hut of the king as
+he lay sleeping, and all the roof of the hut was burned away, but that
+the rain had put out the fire.
+
+Then I went on till I came to the front of the great hut, and I saw by
+the light of the moon, which now shone out in the heavens, that there
+before it stood Chaka, shaking with fear, and the water of the rain was
+running down him, while he stared at the great hut, of which all the
+thatch was burned.
+
+I saluted the king, asking him what evil thing had happened. Seeing me,
+he seized me by the arm, and clung to me as, when the slayers are at
+hand, a child clings to his father, drawing me after him into a small
+hut that was near.
+
+“What evil thing has befallen, O King?” I said again, when light had
+been made.
+
+“Little have I known of fear, Mopo,” said Chaka, “yet I am afraid now;
+ay, as much afraid as when once on a bygone night the dead hand of
+Baleka summoned something that walked upon the faces of the dead.”
+
+“And what fearest thou, O King, who art the lord of all the earth?”
+
+Now Chaka leaned forward and whispered to me: “Hearken, Mopo, I have
+dreamed a dream. When the judgment of those witches was done with, I
+went and laid me down to sleep while it was yet light, for I can
+scarcely sleep at all when darkness has swallowed up the world. My
+sleep has gone from me—that sister of thine, Baleka, took my sleep with
+her to the place of death. I laid me down and I slept, but a dream
+arose and sat by me with a hooded face, and showed me a picture. It
+seemed to me that the wall of my hut fell down, and I saw an open
+place, and in the centre of the place I lay dead, covered with many
+wounds, while round my corpse my brothers Dingaan and Umhlangana
+stalked in pride like lions. On the shoulders of Umhlangana was my
+royal kaross, and there was blood on the kaross; and in the hand of
+Dingaan was my royal spear, and there was blood upon the spear. Then,
+in the vision of my dream, Mopo, thou didst draw near, and, lifting thy
+hand, didst give the royal salute of _Bayéte_ to these brothers of
+mine, and with thy foot didst spurn the carcase of me, thy king. Then
+the hooded Dream pointed upwards and was gone, and I awoke, and lo!
+fire burned in the roof of my hut. Thus I dreamed, Mopo, and now, my
+servant, say thou, wherefore should I not slay thee, thou who wouldst
+serve other kings than I, thou who wouldst give my royal salute to the
+princes, my brothers?” and he glared upon me fiercely.
+
+“As thou wilt, O King!” I answered gently. “Doubtless thy dream was
+evil, and yet more evil was the omen of the fire that fell upon thy
+hut. And yet—” and I ceased.
+
+“And yet—Mopo, thou faithless servant?”
+
+“And yet, O King, it seems to me in my folly that it were well to
+strike the head of the snake and not its tail, for without the tail the
+head may live, but not the tail without the head.”
+
+“Thou wouldst say, Mopo, that if these princes die never canst thou or
+any other man give them the royal names. Do I hear aright, Mopo?”
+
+“Who am I that I should lift up my voice asking for the blood of
+princes?” I answered. “Judge thou, O King!”
+
+Now, Chaka brooded awhile, then he spoke: “Say, Mopo, can it be done
+this night?”
+
+“There are but few men in the kraal, O King. All are gone out to war;
+and of those few many are the servants of the princes, and perhaps they
+might give blow for blow.”
+
+“How then, Mopo?”
+
+“Nay, I know not, O King; yet at the great kraal beyond the river sits
+that regiment which is named the Slayers. By midday to-morrow they
+might be here, and then—”
+
+“Thou speakest wisely, my child Mopo; it shall be for to-morrow. Go
+summon the regiment of the Slayers, and, Mopo, see that thou fail me
+not.”
+
+“If I fail thee, O King, then I fail myself, for it seems that my life
+hangs on this matter.”
+
+“If all the words that ever passed thy lips are lies, yet is that word
+true, Mopo,” said Chaka: “moreover, know this, my servant: if aught
+miscarries thou shalt die no common death. Begone!”
+
+“I hear the king,” I answered, and went out.
+
+Now, my father, I knew well that Chaka had doomed me to die, though
+first he would use me to destroy the princes. But I feared nothing, for
+I knew this also, that the hour of Chaka was come at last.
+
+For a while I sat in my hut pondering, then when all men slept I arose
+and crept like a snake by many paths to the hut of Dingaan the prince,
+who awaited me on that night. Following the shadow of the hut, I came
+to the door and scratched upon it after a certain fashion. Presently it
+was opened, and I crawled in, and the door was shut again. Now there
+was a little light in the hut, and by its flame I saw the two princes
+sitting side by side, wrapped about with blankets which hung before
+their brows.
+
+“Who is this that comes?” said the Prince Dingaan.
+
+Then I lifted the blanket from my head so that they might see my face,
+and they also drew the blankets from their brows. I spoke, saying:
+“Hail to you, Princes, who to-morrow shall be dust! Hail to you, sons
+of Senzangacona, who to-morrow shall be spirits!” and I pointed towards
+them with my withered hand.
+
+Now the princes were troubled, and shook with fear.
+
+“What meanest thou, thou dog, that thou dost speak to us words of such
+ill-omen?” said the Prince Dingaan in a low voice.
+
+“Where dost thou point at us with that white and withered hand of
+thine, Wizard?” hissed the Prince Umhlangana.
+
+“Have I not told you, O ye Princes!” I whispered, “that ye must strike
+or die, and has not your heart failed you? Now hearken! Chaka has
+dreamed another dream; now it is Chaka who strikes, and ye are already
+dead, ye children of Senzangacona.”
+
+“If the slayers of the king be without the gates, at least thou shalt
+die first, thou who hast betrayed us!” quoth the Prince Dingaan, and
+drew an assegai from under his kaross.
+
+“First hear the king’s dream, O Prince,” I said; “then, if thou wilt,
+kill me, and die. Chaka the king slept and dreamed that he lay dead,
+and that one of you, the princes, wore his royal kaross.”
+
+“Who wore the royal kaross?” asked Dingaan, eagerly; and both looked
+up, waiting on my words.
+
+“The Prince Umhlangana wore it—in the dream of Chaka—O Dingaan, shoot
+of a royal stock!” I answered slowly, taking snuff as I spoke, and
+watching the two of them over the edge of my snuff-spoon.
+
+Now Dingaan scowled heavily at Umhlangana; but the face of Umhlangana
+was as the morning sky.
+
+“Chaka dreamed this also,” I went on: “that one of you, the princes,
+held his royal spear.”
+
+“Who held the royal spear?” asked Umhlangana.
+
+“The Prince Dingaan held it—in the dream of Chaka—O Umhlangana, sprung
+from the root of kings!—and it dripped blood.”
+
+Now the face of Umhlangana grew dark as night, but that of Dingaan
+brightened like the dawn.
+
+“Chaka dreamed this also: that I, Mopo, your dog, who am not worthy to
+be mentioned with such names, came up and gave the royal salute, even
+the _Bayéte_.”
+
+“To whom didst thou give the _Bayéte_, O Mopo, son of Makedama?” asked
+both of the princes as with one breath, waiting on my words.
+
+“I gave it to both of you, O twin stars of the morning, princes of the
+Zulu—in the dream of Chaka I gave it to both of you.”
+
+Now the princes looked this way and that, and were silent, not knowing
+what to say, for these princes hated each other, though adversity and
+fear had brought them to one bed.
+
+“But what avails it to talk thus, ye lords of the land,” I went on,
+“seeing that, both of you, ye are already as dead men, and that
+vultures which are hungry to-night to-morrow shall be filled with meat
+of the best? Chaka the king is now a Doctor of Dreams, and to clear
+away such a dream as this he has a purging medicine.”
+
+Now the brows of these brothers grew black indeed, for they saw that
+their fate was on them.
+
+“These are the words of Chaka the king, O ye bulls who lead the herd!
+All are doomed, ye twain and I, and many another man who loves us. In
+the great kraal beyond the river there sits a regiment: it is
+summoned—and then—good-night! Have ye any words to say to those yet
+left upon the earth? Perhaps it will be given to me to live a little
+while after ye are gone, and I may bring them to their ears.”
+
+“Can we not rise up now and fall upon Chaka?” asked Dingaan.
+
+“It is not possible,” I said; “the king is guarded.”
+
+“Hast thou no plan, Mopo?” groaned Umhlangana. “Methinks thou hast a
+plan to save us.”
+
+“And if I have a plan, ye Princes, what shall be my reward? It must be
+great, for I am weary of life, and I will not use my wisdom for a
+little thing.”
+
+Now both the princes offered me good things, each of them promising
+more than the other, as two young men who are rivals promise to the
+father of a girl whom both would wed. I listened, saying always that it
+was not enough, till in the end both of them swore by their heads, and
+by the bones of Senzangacona, their father, and by many other things,
+that I should be the first man in the land, after them, its kings, and
+should command the impis of the land, if I would but show them a way to
+kill Chaka and become kings. Then, when they had done swearing, I
+spoke, weighing my words:—
+
+“In the great kraal beyond the river, O ye Princes, there sit, not one
+regiment but two. One is named the Slayers and loves Chaka the king,
+who has done well by them, giving them cattle and wives. The other is
+named the Bees, and that regiment is hungry and longs for cattle and
+girls; moreover, of that regiment the Prince Umhlangana is the general,
+and it loves him. Now this is my plan—to summon the Bees in the name of
+Umhlangana, not the Slayers in the name of Chaka. Bend forward, O
+Princes, that I may whisper in your ears.”
+
+So they bent forward, and I whispered awhile of the death of a king,
+and the sons of Senzangacona nodded their heads as one man in answer.
+Then I rose up, and crept from the hut as I had entered it, and rousing
+certain trusty messengers, I dispatched them, running swiftly through
+the night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+THE DEATH OF CHAKA
+
+
+Now, on the morrow, two hours before midday, Chaka came from the hut
+where he had sat through the night, and moved to a little kraal
+surrounded by a fence that was some fifty paces distant from the hut.
+For it was my duty, day by day, to choose that place where the king
+should sit to hear the counsel of his indunas, and give judgment on
+those whom he would kill, and to-day I had chosen this place. Chaka
+went alone from his hut to the kraal, and, for my own reasons, I
+accompanied him, walking after him. As we went the king glanced back at
+me over his shoulder, and said in a low voice:—
+
+“Is all prepared, Mopo?”
+
+“All is prepared, Black One,” I answered. “The regiment of the Slayers
+will be here by noon.”
+
+“Where are the princes, Mopo?” asked the king again.
+
+“The princes sit with their wives in the houses of their women, O
+King,” I answered; “they drink beer and sleep in the laps of their
+wives.”
+
+Chaka smiled grimly, “For the last time, Mopo!”
+
+“For the last time, O King.”
+
+We came to the kraal, and Chaka sat down in the shade of the reed
+fence, upon an ox-hide that was brayed soft. Near to him stood a girl
+holding a gourd of beer; there were also present the old chief
+Inguazonca, brother of Unandi, Mother of the Heavens, and the chief
+Umxamama, whom Chaka loved. When we had sat a little while in the
+kraal, certain men came in bearing cranes’ feathers, which the king had
+sent them to gather a month’s journey from the kraal Duguza, and they
+were admitted before the king. These men had been away long upon their
+errand, and Chaka was angry with them. Now the leader of the men was an
+old captain of Chaka’s, who had fought under him in many battles, but
+whose service was done, because his right hand had been shorn away by
+the blow of an axe. He was a great man and very brave.
+
+Chaka asked the man why he had been so long in finding the feathers,
+and he answered that the birds had flown from that part of the country
+whither he was sent, and he must wait there till they returned, that he
+might snare them.
+
+“Thou shouldst have followed the cranes, yes, if they flew through the
+sunset, thou disobedient dog!” said the king. “Let him be taken away,
+and all those who were with him.”
+
+Now some of the men prayed a little for mercy, but the captain did but
+salute the king, calling him “Father,” and craving a boon before he
+died.
+
+“What wouldst thou?” asked Chaka.
+
+“My father,” said the man, “I would ask thee two things. I have fought
+many times at thy side in battle while we both were young; nor did I
+ever turn my back upon the foe. The blow that shore the hand from off
+this arm was aimed at thy head, O King; I stayed it with my naked arm.
+It is nothing; at thy will I live, and at thy will I die. Who am I that
+I should question the word of the king? Yet I would ask this, that thou
+wilt withdraw the kaross from about thee, O King, that for the last
+time my eyes may feast themselves upon the body of him whom, above all
+men, I love.”
+
+“Thou art long-winded,” said the king, “what more?”
+
+“This, my father, that I may bid farewell to my son; he is a little
+child, so high, O King,” and he held his hand above his knee.
+
+“Thy first boon is granted,” said the king, slipping the kaross from
+his shoulders and showing the great breast beneath. “For the second it
+shall be granted also, for I will not willingly divide the father and
+the son. Bring the boy here; thou shalt bid him farewell, then thou
+shalt slay him with thine own hand ere thou thyself art slain; it will
+be good sport to see.”
+
+Now the man turned grey beneath the blackness of his skin, and trembled
+a little as he murmured, “The king’s will is the will of his servant;
+let the child be brought.”
+
+But I looked at Chaka and saw that the tears were running down his
+face, and that he only spoke thus to try the captain who loved him to
+the last.
+
+“Let the man go,” said the king, “him and those with him.”
+
+So they went glad at heart, and praising the king.
+
+I have told you this, my father, though it has not to do with my story,
+because then, and then only, did I ever see Chaka show mercy to one
+whom he had doomed to die.
+
+As the captain and his people left the gate of the kraal, it was spoken
+in the ear of the king that a man sought audience with him. He was
+admitted crawling on his knees. I looked and saw that this was that
+Masilo whom Chaka had charged with a message to him who was named
+Bulalio, or the Slaughterer, and who ruled over the People of the Axe.
+It was Masilo indeed, but he was no longer fat, for much travel had
+made him thin; moreover, on his back were the marks of rods, as yet
+scarcely healed over.
+
+“Who art thou?” said Chaka.
+
+“I am Masilo, of the People of the Axe, to whom command was given to
+run with a message to Bulalio the Slaughterer, their chief, and to
+return on the thirtieth day. Behold, O King, I have returned, though in
+a sorry plight!”
+
+“It seems so!” said the king, laughing aloud. “I remember now: speak
+on, Masilo the Thin, who wast Masilo the Fat; what of this Slaughterer?
+Does he come with his people to lay the axe Groan-Maker in my hands?”
+
+“Nay, O King, he comes not. He met me with scorn, and with scorn he
+drove me from his kraal. Moreover, as I went I was seized by the
+servants of Zinita, she whom I wooed, but who is now the wife of the
+Slaughterer, and laid on my face upon the ground and beaten cruelly
+while Zinita numbered the strokes.”
+
+“Hah!” said the king. “And what were the words of this puppy?”
+
+“These were his words, O King: ‘Bulalio the Slaughterer, who sits
+beneath the shadow of the Witch Mountain, to Bulalio the Slaughterer
+who sits in the kraal Duguza—To thee I pay no tribute; if thou wouldst
+have the axe Groan-Maker, come to the Ghost Mountain and take it. This
+I promise thee: thou shalt look on a face thou knowest, for there is
+one there who would be avenged for the blood of a certain Mopo.’”
+
+Now, while Masilo told this tale I had seen two things—first, that a
+little piece of stick was thrust through the straw of the fence, and,
+secondly, that the regiment of the Bees was swarming on the slope
+opposite to the kraal in obedience to the summons I had sent them in
+the name of Umhlangana. The stick told me that the princes were hidden
+behind the fence waiting the signal, and the coming of the regiment
+that it was time to do the deed.
+
+When Masilo had spoken Chaka sprang up in fury. His eyes rolled, his
+face worked, foam flew from his lips, for such words as these had never
+offended his ears since he was king, and Masilo knew him little, else
+he had not dared to utter them.
+
+For a while he gasped, shaking his small spear, for at first he could
+not speak. At length he found words:—
+
+“The dog,” he hissed, “the dog who dares thus to spit in my face!
+Hearken all! As with my last breath I command that this Slaughterer be
+torn limb from limb, he and all his tribe! And thou, thou darest to
+bring me this talk from a skunk of the mountains. And thou, too, Mopo,
+thy name is named in it. Well, of thee presently. Ho! Umxamama, my
+servant, slay me this slave of a messenger, beat out his brains with
+thy stick. Swift! swift!”
+
+Now, the old chief Umxamama sprang up to do the king’s bidding, but he
+was feeble with age, and the end of it was that Masilo, being mad with
+fear, killed Umxamama, not Umxamama Masilo. Then Inguazonca, brother of
+Unandi, Mother of the Heavens, fell upon Masilo and ended him, but was
+hurt himself in so doing. Now I looked at Chaka, who stood shaking the
+little red spear, and thought swiftly, for the hour had come.
+
+“Help!” I cried, “one is slaying the King!”
+
+As I spoke the reed fence burst asunder, and through it plunged the
+princes Umhlangana and Dingaan, as bulls plunge through a brake.
+
+Then I pointed to Chaka with my withered hand, saying, “Behold your
+king!”
+
+Now, from beneath the shelter of his kaross, each Prince drew out a
+short stabbing spear, and plunged it into the body of Chaka the king.
+Umhlangana smote him on the left shoulder, Dingaan struck him in the
+right side. Chaka dropped the little spear handled with the red wood
+and looked round, and so royally that the princes, his brothers, grew
+afraid and shrank away from him.
+
+Twice he looked on each; then he spoke, saying: “What! do you slay me,
+my brothers—dogs of mine own house, whom I have fed? Do you slay me,
+thinking to possess the land and to rule it? I tell you it shall not be
+for long. I hear a sound of running feet—the feet of a great white
+people. They shall stamp you flat, children of my father! They shall
+rule the land that I have won, and you and your people shall be their
+slaves!”
+
+Thus Chaka spoke while the blood ran down him to the ground, and again
+he looked on them royally, like a buck at gaze.
+
+“Make an end, O ye who would be kings!” I cried; but their hearts had
+turned to water and they could not. Then I, Mopo, sprang forward and
+picked from the ground that little assegai handled with the royal
+wood—the same assegai with which Chaka had murdered Unandi, his mother,
+and Moosa, my son, and lifted it on high, and while I lifted it, my
+father, once more, as when I was young, a red veil seemed to wave
+before my eyes.
+
+“Wherefore wouldst thou kill me, Mopo?” said the king.
+
+“For the sake of Baleka, my sister, to whom I swore the deed, and of
+all my kin,” I cried, and plunged the spear through him. He sank down
+upon the tanned ox-hide, and lay there dying. Once more he spoke, and
+once only, saying: “Would now that I had hearkened to the voice of
+Nobela, who warned me against thee, thou dog!”
+
+Then he was silent for ever. But I knelt over him and called in his ear
+the names of all those of my blood who had died at his hands—the names
+of Makedama, my father, of my mother, of Anadi my wife, of Moosa my
+son, and all my other wives and children, and of Baleka my sister. His
+eyes and ears were open, and I think, my father, that he saw and
+understood; I think also that the hate upon my face as I shook my
+withered hand before him was more fearful to him than the pain of
+death. At the least, he turned his head aside, shut his eyes, and
+groaned. Presently they opened again, and he was dead.
+
+Thus then, my father, did Chaka the King, the greatest man who has ever
+lived in Zululand, and the most evil, pass by my hand to those kraals
+of the Inkosazana where no sleep is. In blood he died as he had lived
+in blood, for the climber at last falls with the tree, and in the end
+the swimmer is borne away by the stream. Now he trod that path which
+had been beaten flat for him by the feet of people whom he had
+slaughtered, many as the blades of grass upon a mountain-side; but it
+is a lie to say, as some do, that he died a coward, praying for mercy.
+Chaka died, as he had lived, a brave man. _Ou!_ my father, I know it,
+for these eyes saw it and this hand let out his life.
+
+Now he was dead and the regiment of the Bees drew near, nor could I
+know how they would take this matter, for, though the Prince Umhlangana
+was their general, yet all the soldiers loved the king, because he had
+no equal in battle, and when he gave he gave with an open hand. I
+looked round; the princes stood like men amazed; the girl had fled; the
+chief Umxamama was dead at the hands of dead Masilo; and the old chief
+Inguazonca, who had killed Masilo, stood by, hurt and wondering; there
+were no others in the kraal.
+
+“Awake, ye kings,” I cried to the brothers, “the impi is at the gates!
+Swift, now stab that man!”—and I pointed to the old chief—“and leave
+the matter to my wit.”
+
+Then Dingaan roused himself, and springing upon Inguazonca, the brother
+of Unandi, smote him a great blow with his spear, so that he sank down
+dead without a word. Then again the princes stood silent and amazed.
+
+“This one will tell no tales,” I cried, pointing at the fallen chief.
+
+Now a rumour of the slaying had got abroad among the women, who had
+heard cries and seen the flashing of spears above the fence, and from
+the women it had come to the regiment of the Bees, who advanced to the
+gates of the kraal singing. Then of a sudden they ceased their singing
+and rushed towards the hut in front of which we stood.
+
+Then I ran to meet them, uttering cries of woe, holding in my hand the
+little assegai of the king red with the king’s blood, and spoke with
+the captains in the gate, saying:—
+
+“Lament, ye captains and ye soldiers, weep and lament, for your father
+is no more! He who nursed you is no more! The king is dead! now earth
+and heaven will come together, for the king is dead!”
+
+“How so, Mopo?” cried the leader of the Bees. “How is our father dead?”
+
+“He is dead by the hand of a wicked wanderer named Masilo, who, when he
+was doomed to die by the king, snatched this assegai from the king’s
+hand and stabbed him; and afterwards, before he could be cut down
+himself by us three, the princes and myself, he killed the chiefs
+Inguazonca and Umxamama also. Draw near and look on him who was the
+king; it is the command of Dingaan and Umhlangana, the kings, that you
+draw near and look on him who was the king, that his death at the hand
+of Masilo may be told through all the land.”
+
+“You are better at making of kings, Mopo, than at the saving of one who
+was your king from the stroke of a wanderer,” said the leader of the
+Bees, looking at me doubtfully.
+
+But his words passed unheeded, for some of the captains went forward to
+look on the Great One who was dead, and some, together with most of the
+soldiers, ran this way and that, crying in their fear that now the
+heaven and earth would come together, and the race of man would cease
+to be, because Chaka, the king, was dead.
+
+Now, my father, how shall I, whose days are few, tell you of all the
+matters that happened after the death of Chaka? Were I to speak of them
+all they would fill many books of the white men, and, perhaps, some of
+them are written down there. For this reason it is, that I may be
+brief, I have only spoken of a few of those events which befell in the
+reign of Chaka; for my tale is not of the reign of Chaka, but of the
+lives of a handful of people who lived in those days, and of whom I and
+Umslopogaas alone are left alive—if, indeed, Umslopogaas, the son of
+Chaka, is still living on the earth. Therefore, in a few words I will
+pass over all that came about after the fall of Chaka and till I was
+sent down by Dingaan, the king, to summon him to surrender to the king
+who was called the Slaughterer and who ruled the People of the Axe. Ah!
+would that I had known for certain that this was none other than
+Umslopogaas, for then had Dingaan gone the way that Chaka went and
+which Umhlangana followed, and Umslopogaas ruled the people of the
+Zulus as their king. But, alas! my wisdom failed me. I paid no heed to
+the voice of my heart which told me that this was Umslopogaas who sent
+the message to Chaka threatening vengeance for one Mopo, and I knew
+nothing till too late; surely, I thought, the man spoke of some other
+Mopo. For thus, my father, does destiny make fools of us men. We think
+that we can shape our fate, but it is fate that shapes us, and nothing
+befalls except fate will it. All things are a great pattern, my father,
+drawn by the hand of the Umkulunkulu upon the cup whence he drinks the
+water of his wisdom; and our lives, and what we do, and what we do not
+do, are but a little bit of the pattern, which is so big that only the
+eyes of Him who is above, the Umkulunkulu, can see it all. Even Chaka,
+the slayer of men, and all those he slew, are but as a tiny grain of
+dust in the greatness of that pattern. How, then, can we be wise, my
+father, who are but the tools of wisdom? how can we build who are but
+pebbles in a wall? how can we give life who are babes in the womb of
+fate? or how can we slay who are but spears in the hands of the slayer?
+
+This came about, my father. Matters were made straight in the land
+after the death of Chaka. At first people said that Masilo, the
+stranger, had stabbed the king; then it was known that Mopo, the wise
+man, the doctor and the body-servant of the king, had slain the king,
+and that the two great bulls, his brothers Umhlangana and Dingaan,
+children of Senzangacona, had also lifted spears against him. But he
+was dead, and earth and heaven had not come together, so what did it
+matter? Moreover, the two new kings promised to deal gently with the
+people, and to lighten the heavy yoke of Chaka, and men in a bad case
+are always ready to hope for a better. So it came about that the only
+enemies the princes found were each other and Engwade, the son of
+Unandi, Chaka’s half-brother. But I, Mopo, who was now the first man in
+the land after the kings, ceasing to be a doctor and becoming a
+general, went up against Engwade with the regiment of the Bees and the
+regiment of the Slayers and smote him in his kraals. It was a hard
+fight, but in the end I destroyed him and all his people: Engwade
+killed eight men with his own hand before I slew him. Then I came back
+to the kraal with the few that were left alive of the two regiments.
+
+After that the two kings quarrelled more and more, and I weighed them
+both in my balance, for I would know which was the most favourable to
+me. In the end I found that both feared me, but that Umhlangana would
+certainly put me to death if he gained the upper hand, whereas this was
+not yet in the mind of Dingaan. So I pressed down the balance of
+Umhlangana and raised that of Dingaan, sending the fears of Umhlangana
+to sleep till I could cause his hut to be surrounded. Then Umhlangana
+followed upon the road of Chaka his brother, the road of the assegai;
+and Dingaan ruled alone for awhile. Such are the things that befall
+princes of this earth, my father. See, I am but a little man, and my
+lot is humble at the last, yet I have brought about the death of three
+of them, and of these two died by my hand.
+
+It was fourteen days after the passing away of the Prince Umhlangana
+that the great army came back in a sorry plight from the marshes of the
+Limpopo, for half of them were left dead of fever and the might of the
+foe, and the rest were starving. It was well for them who yet lived
+that Chaka was no more, else they had joined their brethren who were
+dead on the way; since never before for many years had a Zulu impi
+returned unvictorious and without a single head of cattle. Thus it came
+about that they were glad enough to welcome a king who spared their
+lives, and thenceforth, till his fate found him, Dingaan reigned
+unquestioned.
+
+Now, Dingaan was a prince of the blood of Chaka indeed; for, like
+Chaka, he was great in presence and cruel at heart, but he had not the
+might and the mind of Chaka. Moreover, he was treacherous and a liar,
+and these Chaka was not. Also, he loved women much, and spent with them
+the time that he should have given to matters of the State. Yet he
+reigned awhile in the land. I must tell this also; that Dingaan would
+have killed Panda, his half-brother, so that the house of Senzangacona,
+his father, might be swept out clean. Now Panda was a man of gentle
+heart, who did not love war, and therefore it was thought that he was
+half-witted; and, because I loved Panda, when the question of his
+slaying came on, I and the chief Mapita spoke against it, and pleaded
+for him, saying that there was nothing to be feared at his hands who
+was a fool. So in the end Dingaan gave way, saying, “Well, you ask me
+to spare this dog, and I will spare him, but one day he will bite me.”
+
+So Panda was made governor of the king’s cattle. Yet in the end the
+words of Dingaan came true, for it was the grip of Panda’s teeth that
+pulled him from the throne; only, if Panda was the dog that bit, I,
+Mopo, was the man who set him on the hunt.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+MOPO GOES TO SEEK THE SLAUGHTERER
+
+
+Now Dingaan, deserting the kraal Duguza, moved back to Zululand, and
+built a great kraal by the Mahlabatine, which he named
+“Umgugundhlovu”—that is, “the rumbling of the elephant.” Also, he
+caused all the fairest girls in the land to be sought out as his wives,
+and though many were found yet he craved for more. And at this time a
+rumour came to the ears of the King Dingaan that there lived in
+Swaziland among the Halakazi tribe a girl of the most wonderful beauty,
+who was named the Lily, and whose skin was whiter than are the skins of
+our people, and he desired greatly to have this girl to wife. So
+Dingaan sent an embassy to the chief of the Halakazi, demanding that
+the girl should be given to him. At the end of a month the embassy
+returned again, and told the king that they had found nothing but hard
+words at the kraal of the Halakazi, and had been driven thence with
+scorn and blows.
+
+This was the message of the chief of the Halakazi to Dingaan, king of
+the Zulus: That the maid who was named the Lily, was, indeed, the
+wonder of the earth, and as yet unwed; for she had found no man upon
+whom she looked with favour, and she was held in such love by this
+people that it was not their wish to force any husband on her.
+Moreover, the chief said that he and his people defied Dingaan and the
+Zulus, as their fathers had defied Chaka before him, and spat upon his
+name, and that no maid of theirs should go to be the wife of a Zulu
+dog.
+
+Then the chief of the Halakazi caused the maid who was named the Lily
+to be led before the messengers of Dingaan, and they found her
+wonderfully fair, for so they said: she was tall as a reed, and her
+grace was the grace of a reed that is shaken in the wind. Moreover, her
+hair curled, and hung upon her shoulders, her eyes were large and
+brown, and soft as a buck’s, her colour was the colour of rich cream,
+her smile was like a ripple on the waters, and when she spoke her voice
+was low and sweeter than the sound of an instrument of music. They said
+also that the girl wished to speak with them, but the chief forbade it,
+and caused her to be led thence with all honour.
+
+Now, when Dingaan heard this message he grew mad as a lion in a net,
+for he desired this maid above everything, and yet he who had all
+things could not win the maid. This was his command, that a great impi
+should be gathered and sent to Swaziland against the Halakazi tribe, to
+destroy them and seize the maid. But when the matter came on to be
+discussed with the indunas in the presence of the king, at the
+_Amapakati_ or council, I, as chief of the indunas, spoke against it,
+saying that the tribe of the Halakazi were great and strong, and that
+war with them would mean war with the Swazis also; moreover, they had
+their dwelling in caves which were hard to win. Also, I said, that this
+was no time to send impis to seek a single girl, for few years had gone
+by since the Black One fell; and foes were many, and the soldiers of
+the land had waxed few with slaughter, half of them having perished in
+the marshes of the Limpopo. Now, time must be given them to grow up
+again, for to-day they were as a little child, or like a man wasted
+with hunger. Maids were many, let the king take them and satisfy his
+heart, but let him make no war for this one.
+
+Thus I spoke boldly in the face of the king, as none had dared to speak
+before Chaka; and courage passed from me to the hearts of the other
+indunas and generals, and they echoed my words, for they knew that, of
+all follies, to begin a new war with the Swazi people would be the
+greatest.
+
+Dingaan listened, and his brow grew dark, yet he was not so firmly
+seated on the throne that he dared put away our words, for still there
+were many in the land who loved the memory of Chaka, and remembered
+that Dingaan had murdered him and Umhlangana also. For now that Chaka
+was dead, people forgot how evilly he had dealt with them, and
+remembered only that he was a great man, who had made the Zulu people
+out of nothing, as a smith fashions a bright spear from a lump of iron.
+Also, though they had changed masters, yet their burden was not
+lessened, for, as Chaka slew, so Dingaan slew also, and as Chaka
+oppressed, so did Dingaan oppress. Therefore Dingaan yielded to the
+voice of his indunas and no impi was sent against the Halakazi to seek
+the maid that was named the Lily. But still he hankered for her in his
+heart, and from that hour he hated me because I had crossed his will
+and robbed him of his desire.
+
+Now, my father, there is this to be told: though I did not know it
+then, the maid who was named the Lily was no other than my daughter
+Nada. The thought, indeed, came into my mind, that none but Nada could
+be so fair. Yet I knew for certain that Nada and her mother Macropha
+were dead, for he who brought me the news of their death had seen their
+bodies locked in each other’s arms, killed, as it were, by the same
+spear. Yet, as it chanced, he was wrong; for though Macropha indeed was
+killed, it was another maid who lay in blood beside her; for the people
+whither I had sent Macropha and Nada were tributary to the Halakazi
+tribe, and that chief of the Halakazi who sat in the place of Galazi
+the Wolf had quarrelled with them, and fallen on them by night and
+eaten them up.
+
+As I learned afterwards, the cause of their destruction, as in later
+days it was the cause of the slaying of the Halakazi, was the beauty of
+Nada and nothing else, for the fame of her loveliness had gone about
+the land, and the old chief of the Halakazi had commanded that the girl
+should be sent to his kraal to live there, that her beauty might shine
+upon his place like the sun, and that, if so she willed, she should
+choose a husband from the great men of the Halakazi. But the headmen of
+the kraal refused, for none who had looked on her would suffer their
+eyes to lose sight of Nada the Lily, though there was this fate about
+the maid that none strove to wed her against her will. Many, indeed,
+asked her in marriage, both there and among the Halakazi people, but
+ever she shook her head and said, “Nay, I would wed no man,” and it was
+enough.
+
+For it was the saying among men, that it was better that she should
+remain unmarried, and all should look on her, than that she should pass
+from their sight into the house of a husband; since they held that her
+beauty was given to be a joy to all, like the beauty of the dawn and of
+the evening. Yet this beauty of Nada’s was a dreadful thing, and the
+mother of much death, as shall be told; and because of her beauty and
+the great love she bore, she, the Lily herself, must wither, and the
+cup of my sorrows must be filled to overflowing, and the heart of
+Umslopogaas the Slaughterer, son of Chaka the king, must become
+desolate as the black plain when fire has swept it. So it was ordained,
+my father, and so it befell, seeing that thus all men, white and black,
+seek that which is beautiful, and when at last they find it, then it
+passes swiftly away, or, perchance, it is their death. For great joy
+and great beauty are winged, nor will they sojourn long upon the earth.
+They come down like eagles out of the sky, and into the sky they return
+again swiftly.
+
+Thus then it came about, my father, that I, Mopo, believing my daughter
+Nada to be dead, little guessed that it was she who was named the Lily
+in the kraals of the Halakazi, and whom Dingaan the king desired for a
+wife.
+
+Now after I had thwarted him in this matter of the sending of an impi
+to pluck the Lily from the gardens of the Halakazi, Dingaan learned to
+hate me. Also I was in his secrets, and with me he had killed his
+brother Chaka and his brother Umhlangana, and it was I who held him
+back from the slaying of his brother Panda also; and, therefore, he
+hated me, as is the fashion of small-hearted men with those who have
+lifted them up. Yet he did not dare to do away with me, for my voice
+was loud in the land, and when I spoke the people listened. Therefore,
+in the end, he cast about for some way to be rid of me for a while,
+till he should grow strong enough to kill me.
+
+“Mopo,” said the king to me one day as I sat before him in council with
+others of the indunas and generals, “mindest thou of the last words of
+the Great Elephant, who is dead?” This he said meaning Chaka his
+brother, only he did not name him, for now the name of Chaka was
+_hlonipa_ in the land, as is the custom with the names of dead
+kings—that is, my father, it was not lawful that it should pass the
+lips.
+
+“I remember the words, O King,” I answered. “They were ominous words,
+for this was their burden: that you and your house should not sit long
+in the throne of kings, but that the white men should take away your
+royalty and divide your territories. Such was the prophecy of the Lion
+of the Zulu, why speak of it? Once before I heard him prophesy, and his
+words were fulfilled. May the omen be an egg without meat; may it never
+become fledged; may that bird never perch upon your roof, O King!”
+
+Now Dingaan trembled with fear, for the words of Chaka were in his mind
+by night and by day; then he grew angry and bit his lip, saying:—
+
+“Thou fool, Mopo! canst thou not hear a raven croak at the gates of a
+kraal but thou must needs go tell those who dwell within that he waits
+to pick their eyes? Such criers of ill to come may well find ill at
+hand, Mopo.” He ceased, looked on me threateningly awhile, and went on:
+“I did not speak of those words rolling by chance from a tongue half
+loosed by death, but of others that told of a certain Bulalio, of a
+Slaughterer who rules the People of the Axe and dwells beneath the
+shadow of the Ghost Mountain far away to the north yonder. Surely I
+heard them all as I sat beneath the shade of the reed-fence before ever
+I came to save him who was my brother from the spear of Masilo, the
+murderer, whose spear stole away the life of a king?”
+
+“I remember those words also, O King!” I said. “Is it the will of the
+king that an impi should be gathered to eat up this upstart? Such was
+the command of the one who is gone, given, as it were, with his last
+breath.”
+
+“Nay, Mopo, that is not my will. If no impi can be found by thee to
+wipe away the Halakazi and bring one whom I desire to delight my eyes,
+then surely none can be found to eat up this Slaughterer and his
+people. Moreover, Bulalio, chief of the People of the Axe, has not
+offended against me, but against an elephant whose trumpetings are
+done. Now this is my will, Mopo, my servant: that thou shouldst take
+with thee a few men only and go gently to this Bulalio, and say to him:
+‘A greater Elephant stalks through the land than he who has gone to
+sleep, and it has come to his ears—that thou, Chief of the People of
+the Axe, dost pay no tribute, and hast said that, because of the death
+of a certain Mopo, thou wilt have nothing to do with him whose shadow
+lies upon the land. Now one Mopo is sent to thee, Slaughterer, to know
+if this tale is true, for, if it be true, then shalt thou learn the
+weight of the hoof of that Elephant who trumpets in the kraal of
+Umgugundhlovu. Think, then, and weigh thy words before thou dost
+answer, Slaughterer.’”
+
+Now I, Mopo, heard the commands of the king and pondered them in my
+mind, for I knew well that it was the design of Dingaan to be rid of me
+for a space that he might find time to plot my overthrow, and that he
+cared little for this matter of a petty chief, who, living far away,
+had dared to defy Chaka. Yet I wished to go, for there had arisen in me
+a great desire to see this Bulalio, who spoke of vengeance to be taken
+for one Mopo, and whose deeds were such as the deeds of Umslopogaas
+would have been, had Umslopogaas lived to look upon the light.
+Therefore I answered:—
+
+“I hear the king. The king’s word shall be done, though, O King, thou
+sendest a big man upon a little errand.”
+
+“Not so, Mopo,” answered Dingaan. “My heart tells me that this chicken
+of a Slaughterer will grow to a great cock if his comb is not cut
+presently; and thou, Mopo, art versed in cutting combs, even of the
+tallest.”
+
+“I hear the king,” I answered again.
+
+So, my father, it came about that on the morrow, taking with me but ten
+chosen men, I, Mopo, started on my journey towards the Ghost Mountain,
+and as I journeyed I thought much of how I had trod that path in bygone
+days. Then, Macropha, my wife, and Nada, my daughter, and Umslopogaas,
+the son of Chaka, who was thought to be my son, walked at my side. Now,
+as I imagined, all were dead and I walked alone; doubtless I also
+should soon be dead. Well, people lived few days and evil in those
+times, and what did it matter? At the least I had wreaked vengeance on
+Chaka and satisfied my heart.
+
+At length I came one night to that lonely spot where we had camped in
+the evil hour when Umslopogaas was borne away by the lioness, and once
+more I looked upon the cave whence he had dragged the cub, and upon the
+awful face of the stone Witch who sits aloft upon the Ghost Mountain
+forever and forever. I could sleep little that night, because of the
+sorrow at my heart, but sat awake looking, in the brightness of the
+moon, upon the grey face of the stone Witch, and on the depths of the
+forest that grew about her knees, wondering the while if the bones of
+Umslopogaas lay broken in that forest. Now as I journeyed, many tales
+had been told to me of this Ghost Mountain, which all swore was
+haunted, so said some, by men in the shape of wolves; and so said some,
+by the _Esemkofu_—that is, by men who have died and who have been
+brought back again by magic. They have no tongues, the _Esemkofu_, for
+had they tongues they would cry aloud to mortals the awful secrets of
+the dead, therefore, they can but utter a wailing like that of a babe.
+Surely one may hear them in the forests at night as they wail “_Ai!—ah!
+Ai—ah!_” among the silent trees!
+
+You laugh, my father, but I did not laugh as I thought of these tales;
+for, if men have spirits, where do the spirits go when the body is
+dead? They must go somewhere, and would it be strange that they should
+return to look upon the lands where they were born? Yet I never thought
+much of such matters, though I am a doctor, and know something of the
+ways of the _Amatongo_, the people of the ghosts. To speak truth, my
+father, I have had so much to do with the loosing of the spirits of men
+that I never troubled myself overmuch with them after they were loosed;
+there will be time to do this when I myself am of their number.
+
+So I sat and gazed on the mountain and the forest that grew over it
+like hair on the head of a woman, and as I gazed I heard a sound that
+came from far away, out of the heart of the forest as it seemed. At
+first it was faint and far off, a distant thing like the cry of
+children in a kraal across a valley; then it grew louder, but still I
+could not say what it might be; now it swelled and swelled, and I knew
+it—it was the sound of wild beats at chase. Nearer came the music, the
+rocks rang with it, and its voice set the blood beating but to hearken
+to it. That pack was great which ran a-hunting through the silent
+night; and now it was night, on the other side of the slope only, and
+the sound swelled so loud that those who were with me awoke also and
+looked forth. Now of a sudden a great koodoo bull appeared for an
+instant standing out against the sky on the crest of the ridge, then
+vanished in the shadow. He was running towards us; presently we saw him
+again speeding on his path with great bounds. We saw this also—forms
+grey and gaunt and galloping, in number countless, that leaped along
+his path, appearing on the crest of the rise, disappearing into the
+shadow, seen again on the slope, lost in the valley; and with them two
+other shapes, the shapes of men.
+
+Now the big buck bounded past us not half a spear’s throw away, and
+behind him streamed the countless wolves, and from the throats of the
+wolves went up that awful music. And who were these two that came with
+the wolves, shapes of men great and strong? They ran silently and
+swift, wolves’ teeth gleamed upon their heads, wolves’ hides hung about
+their shoulders. In the hands of one was an axe—the moonlight shone
+upon it—in the hand of the other a heavy club. Neck and neck they ran;
+never before had we seen men travel so fast. See! they sped down the
+slope towards us; the wolves were left behind, all except four of them;
+we heard the beating of their feet; they came, they passed, they were
+gone, and with them their unnumbered company. The music grew faint, it
+died, it was dead; the hunt was far away, and the night was still
+again!
+
+“Now, my brethren,” I asked of those who were with me, “what is this
+that we have seen?”
+
+Then one answered, “We have seen the Ghosts who live in the lap of the
+old Witch, and those men are the Wolf-Brethren, the wizards who are
+kings of the Ghosts.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+MOPO REVEALS HIMSELF TO THE SLAUGHTERER
+
+
+All that night we watched, but we neither saw nor heard any more of the
+wolves, nor of the men who hunted with them. On the morrow, at dawn, I
+sent a runner to Bulalio, chief of the People of the Axe, saying that a
+messenger came to him from Dingaan, the king, who desired to speak with
+him in peace within the gates of his kraal. I charged the messenger,
+however, that he should not tell my name, but should say only that it
+was “Mouth of Dingaan.” Then I and those with me followed slowly on the
+path of the man whom I sent forward, for the way was still far, and I
+had bidden him return and meet me bearing the words of the Slaughterer,
+Holder of the Axe.
+
+All that day till the sun grew low we walked round the base of the
+great Ghost Mountain, following the line of the river. We met no one,
+but once we came to the ruins of a kraal, and in it lay the broken
+bones of many men, and with the bones rusty assegais and the remains of
+ox-hide shields, black and white in colour. Now I examined the shields,
+and knew from their colour that they had been carried in the hands of
+those soldiers who, years ago, were sent out by Chaka to seek for
+Umslopogaas, but who had returned no more.
+
+“Now,” I said, “it has fared ill with those soldiers of the Black One
+who is gone, for I think that these are the shields they bore, and that
+their eyes once looked upon the world through the holes in yonder
+skulls.”
+
+“These are the shields they bore, and those are the skulls they wore,”
+answered one. “See, Mopo, son of Makedama, this is no man’s work that
+has brought them to their death. Men do not break the bones of their
+foes in pieces as these bones are broken. _Wow!_ men do not break them,
+but wolves do, and last night we saw wolves a-hunting; nor did they
+hunt alone, Mopo. _Wow!_ this is a haunted land!”
+
+Then we went on in silence, and all the way the stone face of the Witch
+who sits aloft forever stared down on us from the mountain top. At
+length, an hour before sundown, we came to the open lands, and there,
+on the crest of a rise beyond the river, we saw the kraal of the People
+of the Axe. It was a great kraal and well built, and their cattle were
+spread about the plains like to herds of game for number. We went to
+the river and passed it by the ford, then sat down and waited, till
+presently I saw the man whom I had sent forward returning towards us.
+He came and saluted me, and I asked him for news.
+
+“This is my news, Mopo,” he said: “I have seen him who is named
+Bulalio, and he is a great man—long and lean, with a fierce face, and
+carrying a mighty axe, such an axe as he bore last night who hunted
+with the wolves. When I had been led before the chief I saluted him and
+spoke to him—the words you laid upon my tongue I told to him. He
+listened, then laughed aloud, and said: ‘Tell him who sent you that the
+mouth of Dingaan shall be welcome, and shall speak the words of Dingaan
+in peace; yet I would that it were the head of Dingaan that came and
+not his mouth only, for then Axe Groan-Maker would join in our talk—ay,
+because of one Mopo, whom his brother Chaka murdered, it would also
+speak with Dingaan. Still, the mouth is not the head, so the mouth may
+come in peace.’”
+
+Now I started when for the second time I heard talk of one Mopo, whose
+name had been on the lips of Bulalio the Slaughterer. Who was there
+that would thus have loved Mopo except one who was long dead? And yet,
+perhaps the chief spoke of some other Mopo, for the name was not my own
+only—in truth, Chaka had killed a chief of that name at the great
+mourning, because he said that two Mopos in the land were one too many,
+and that though this Mopo wept sorely when the tears of others were
+dry. So I said only that this Bulalio had a high stomach, and we went
+on to the gates of the kraal.
+
+There were none to meet us at the gates, and none stood by the doors of
+the huts within them, but beyond, from the cattle kraal that was in the
+centre of the huts, rose a dust and a din as of men gathering for war.
+Now some of those with me were afraid, and would have turned back,
+fearing treachery, and they were yet more afraid when, on coming to the
+inner entrance of the cattle kraal, we saw some five hundred soldiers
+being mustered there company by company, by two great men, who ran up
+and down the ranks shouting.
+
+But I cried, “Nay! nay! Turn not back! Bold looks melt the hearts of
+foes. Moreover, if this Bulalio would have murdered us, there was no
+need for him to call up so many of his warriors. He is a proud chief,
+and would show his might, not knowing that the king we serve can muster
+a company for every man he has. Let us go on boldly.”
+
+So we walked forward towards the impi that was gathered on the further
+side of the kraal. Now the two great men who were marshalling the
+soldiers saw us, and came to meet us, one following the other. He who
+came first bore the axe upon his shoulder, and he who followed swung a
+huge club. I looked upon the foremost of them, and ah! my father, my
+heart grew faint with joy, for I knew him across the years. It was
+Umslopogaas! my fosterling, Umslopogaas! and none other, now grown into
+manhood—ay, into such a man as was not to be found beside him in
+Zululand. He was great and fierce, somewhat spare in frame, but wide
+shouldered and shallow flanked. His arms were long and not over big,
+but the muscles stood out on them like knots in a rope; his legs were
+long also, and very thick beneath the knee. His eye was like an
+eagle’s, his nose somewhat hooked, and he held his head a little
+forward, as a man who searches continually for a hidden foe. He seemed
+to walk slowly, and yet he came swiftly, but with a gliding movement
+like that of a wolf or a lion, and always his fingers played round the
+horn handle of the axe Groan-Maker. As for him who followed, he was
+great also, shorter than Umslopogaas by the half of a head, but of a
+sturdier build. His eyes were small, and twinkled unceasingly like
+little stars, and his look was very wild, for now and again he grinned,
+showing his white teeth.
+
+When I saw Umslopogaas, my father, my bowels melted within me, and I
+longed to run to him and throw myself upon his neck. Yet I took council
+with myself and did not—nay, I dropped the corner of the kaross I wore
+over my eyes, hiding my face lest he should know me. Presently he stood
+before me, searching me out with his keen eyes, for I drew forward to
+greet him.
+
+“Greeting, Mouth of Dingaan!” he said in a loud voice. “You are a
+little man to be the mouth of so big a chief.”
+
+“The mouth is a little member, even of the body of a great king, O
+Chief Bulalio, ruler of the People of the Axe, wizard of the wolves
+that are upon the Ghost Mountain, who aforetime was named Umslopogaas,
+son of Mopo, son of Makedama.”
+
+Now when Umslopogaas heard these words he started like a child at a
+rustling in the dark and stared hard at me.
+
+“You are well instructed,” he said.
+
+“The ears of the king are large, if his mouth be small, O Chief
+Bulalio,” I answered, “and I, who am but the mouth, speak what the ears
+have heard.”
+
+“How know you that I have dwelt with the wolves upon the Ghost
+Mountain, O Mouth?” he asked.
+
+“The eyes of the king see far, O Chief Bulalio. Thus last night they
+saw a great chase and a merry. It seems that they saw a koodoo bull
+running at speed, and after him countless wolves making their music,
+and with the wolves two men clad in wolves’ skins, such men as you,
+Bulalio, and he with the club who follows you.”
+
+Now Umslopogaas lifted the axe Groan-Maker as though he would cut me
+down, then let it fall again, while Galazi the Wolf glared at me with
+wide-opened eyes.
+
+“How know you that once I was named Umslopogaas, who have lost that
+name these many days? Speak, O Mouth, lest I kill you.”
+
+“Slay if you will, Umslopogaas,” I answered, “but know that when the
+brains are scattered the mouth is dumb. He who scatters brains loses
+wisdom.”
+
+“Answer!” he said.
+
+“I answer not. Who are you that I should answer you? I know; it is
+enough. To my business.”
+
+Now Umslopogaas ground his teeth in anger. “I am not wont to be
+thwarted here in my own kraal,” he said; “but do your business. Speak
+it, little Mouth.”
+
+“This is my business, little Chief. When the Black One who is gone yet
+lived, you sent him a message by one Masilo—such a message as his ears
+had never heard, and that had been your death, O fool puffed up with
+pride, but death came first upon the Black One, and his hand was
+stayed. Now Dingaan, whose shadow lies upon the land, the king whom I
+serve, and who sits in the place of the Black One who is gone, speaks
+to you by me, his mouth. He would know this: if it is true that you
+refuse to own his sovereignty, to pay tribute to him in men and maids
+and cattle, and to serve him in his wars? Answer, you little
+headman!—answer in few words and short!”
+
+Now Umslopogaas gasped for breath in his rage, and again he fingered
+the great axe. “It is well for you, O Mouth,” he said, “that I swore
+safe conduct to you, else you had not gone hence—else you had been
+served as I served certain soldiers who in bygone years were sent to
+search out one Umslopogaas. Yet I answer you in few words and short.
+Look on those spears—they are but a fourth part of the number I can
+muster: that is my answer. Look now on yonder mountain, the mountain of
+ghosts and wolves—unknown, impassable, save to me and one other: that
+is my answer. Spears and mountains shall come together—the mountain
+shall be alive with spears and with the fangs of beasts. Let Dingaan
+seek his tribute there! I have spoken!”
+
+Now I laughed shrilly, desiring to try the heart of Umslopogaas, my
+fosterling, yet further.
+
+“Fool!” I said. “Boy with the brain of a monkey, for every spear you
+have Dingaan, whom I serve, can send a hundred, and your mountain shall
+be stamped flat; and for your ghosts and wolves, see, with the mouth of
+Dingaan I spit upon them!” and I spat upon the ground.
+
+Now Umslopogaas shook in his rage, and the great axe glimmered as he
+shook. He turned to the captain who was behind him, and said: “Say,
+Galazi the Wolf, shall we kill this man and those with him?”
+
+“Nay,” answered the Wolf, grinning, “do not kill them; you have given
+them safe conduct. Moreover, let them go back to their dog of a king,
+that he may send out his puppies to do battle with our wolves. It will
+be a pretty fight.”
+
+“Get you gone, O Mouth,” said Umslopogaas; “get you gone swiftly, lest
+mischief befall you! Without my gates you shall find food to satisfy
+your hunger. Eat of it and begone, for if to-morrow at the noon you are
+found within a spear’s throw of this kraal, you and those with you
+shall bide there forever, O Mouth of Dingaan the king!”
+
+Now I made as though I would depart, then, turning suddenly, I spoke
+once more, saying:—
+
+“There were words in your message to the Black One who is dead of a
+certain man—nay, how was he named?—of a certain Mopo.”
+
+Now Umslopogaas started as one starts who is wounded by a spear, and
+stared at me.
+
+“Mopo! What of Mopo, O Mouth, whose eyes are veiled? Mopo is dead,
+whose son I was!”
+
+“Ah!” I said, “yes, Mopo is dead—that is, the Black One who is gone
+killed a certain Mopo. How came it, O Bulalio, that you were his son?”
+
+“Mopo is dead,” quoth Umslopogaas again; “he is dead with all his
+house, his kraal is stamped flat, and that is why I hated the Black
+One, and therefore I hate Dingaan, his brother, and will be as are Mopo
+and the house of Mopo before I pay him tribute of a single ox.”
+
+All this while I had spoken to Umslopogaas in a feigned voice, my
+father, but now I spoke again and in my own voice, saying:—
+
+“So! Now you speak from your heart, young man, and by digging I have
+reached the root of the matter. It is because of this dead dog of a
+Mopo that you defy the king.”
+
+Umslopogaas heard the voice, and trembled no more with anger, but
+rather with fear and wonder. He looked at me hard, answering nothing.
+
+“Have you a hut near by, O Chief Bulalio, foe of Dingaan the king,
+where I, the mouth of the king, may speak with you a while apart, for I
+would learn your message word by word that I may deliver it without
+fault. Fear not, Slaughterer, to sit alone with me in an empty hut! I
+am unarmed and old, and there is that in your hand which I should
+fear,” and I pointed to the axe.
+
+Now Umslopogaas, still shaking in his limbs, answered “Follow me, O
+Mouth, and you, Galazi, stay with these men.”
+
+So I followed Umslopogaas, and presently we came to a large hut. He
+pointed to the doorway, and I crept through it and he followed after
+me. Now for a while it seemed dark in the hut, for the sun was sinking
+without and the place was full of shadow; so I waited while a man might
+count fifty, till our eyes could search the darkness. Then of a sudden
+I threw the blanket from my face and looked into the eyes of
+Umslopogaas.
+
+“Look on me now, O Chief Bulalio, O Slaughterer, who once was named
+Umslopogaas—look on me and say who am I?” Then he looked at me and his
+jaw fell.
+
+“Either you are Mopo my father grown old—Mopo, who is dead, or the
+Ghost of Mopo,” he answered in a low voice.
+
+“I am Mopo, your father, Umslopogaas,” I said. “You have been long in
+knowing me, who knew you from the first.”
+
+Then Umslopogaas cried aloud, but yet softly, and letting fall the axe
+Groan-Maker, he flung himself upon my breast and wept there. And I wept
+also.
+
+“Oh! my father,” he said, “I thought that you were dead with the
+others, and now you have come back to me, and I, I would have lifted
+the axe against you in my folly. Oh, it is well that I have lived, and
+not died, since once more I look upon your face—the face that I thought
+dead, but which yet lives, though it be sorely changed, as though by
+grief and years.”
+
+“Peace, Umslopogaas, my son,” I said. “I also deemed you dead in the
+lion’s mouth, though in truth it seemed strange to me that any other
+man than Umslopogaas could have wrought the deeds which I have heard of
+as done by Bulalio, Chief of the People of the Axe—ay, and thrown
+defiance in the teeth of Chaka. But you are not dead, and I, I am not
+dead. It was another Mopo whom Chaka killed; I slew Chaka, Chaka did
+not slay me.”
+
+“And of Nada, what of Nada, my sister?” he said.
+
+“Macropha, your mother, and Nada, your sister, are dead, Umslopogaas.
+They are dead at the hands of the people of the Halakazi, who dwell in
+Swaziland.”
+
+“I have heard of that people,” he answered presently, “and so has
+Galazi the Wolf, yonder. He has a hate to satisfy against them—they
+murdered his father; now I have two, for they have murdered my mother
+and my sister. Ah, Nada, my sister! Nada, my sister!” and the great man
+covered his face with his hands, and rocked himself to and fro in his
+grief.
+
+Now, my father, it came into my thoughts to make the truth plain to
+Umslopogaas, and tell him that Nada was no sister of his, and that he
+was no son of mine, but rather of that Chaka whom my hand had finished.
+And yet I did not, though now I would that I had done so. For I saw
+well how great was the pride and how high was the heart of Umslopogaas,
+and I saw also that if once he should learn that the throne of Zululand
+was his by right, nothing could hold him back, for he would swiftly
+break into open rebellion against Dingaan the king, and in my judgment
+the time was not ripe for that. Had I known, indeed, but one short year
+before that Umslopogaas still lived, he had sat where Dingaan sat this
+day; but I did not know it, and the chance had gone by for a while. Now
+Dingaan was king and mustered many regiments about him, for I had held
+him back from war, as in the case of the raid that he wished to make
+upon the Swazis. The chance had gone by, but it would come again, and
+till it came I must say nothing. I would do this rather, I would bring
+Dingaan and Umslopogaas together, that Umslopogaas might become known
+in the land as a great chief and the first of warriors. Then I would
+cause him to be advanced to be an induna, and a general ready to lead
+the impis of the king, for he who leads the impis is already half a
+king.
+
+So I held my peace upon this matter, but till the dawn was grey
+Umslopogaas and I sat together and talked, each telling the tale of
+those years that had gone since he was borne from me in the lion’s
+mouth. I told him how all my wives and children had been killed, how I
+had been put to the torment, and showed him my white and withered hand.
+I told him also of the death of Baleka, my sister, and of all my people
+of the Langeni, and of how I had revenged my wrongs upon Chaka, and
+made Dingaan to be king in his place, and was now the first man in the
+land under the king, though the king feared me much and loved me
+little. But I did not tell him that Baleka, my sister, was his own
+mother.
+
+When I had done my tale, Umslopogaas told me his: how Galazi had
+rescued him from the lioness; how he became one of the Wolf-Brethren;
+how he had conquered Jikiza and the sons of Jikiza, and become chief of
+the People of the Axe, and taken Zinita to wife, and grown great in the
+land.
+
+I asked him how it came about that he still hunted with the wolves as
+he had done last night. He answered that now he was great and there was
+nothing more to win, and at times a weariness of life came upon him,
+and then he must up, and together with Galazi hunt and harry with the
+wolves, for thus only could he find rest.
+
+I said that I would show him better game to hunt before all was done,
+and asked him further if he loved his wife, Zinita. Umslopogaas
+answered that he would love her better if she loved him not so much,
+for she was jealous and quick to anger, and that was a sorrow to him.
+Then, when he had slept awhile, he led me from the hut, and I and my
+people were feasted with the best, and I spoke with Zinita and with
+Galazi the Wolf. For the last, I liked him well. This was a good man to
+have at one’s back in battle; but my heart spoke to me against Zinita.
+She was handsome and tall, but with fierce eyes which always watched
+Umslopogaas, my fosterling; and I noted that he who was fearless of all
+other things yet seemed to fear Zinita. Neither did she love me, for
+when she saw how the Slaughterer clung to me, as it were, instantly she
+grew jealous—as already she was jealous of Galazi—and would have been
+rid of me if she might. Thus it came about that my heart spoke against
+Zinita; nor did it tell me worse things of her than those which she was
+to do.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+THE SLAYING OF THE BOERS
+
+
+On the morrow I led Umslopogaas apart, and spoke to him thus:— “My son,
+yesterday, when you did not know me except as the Mouth of Dingaan, you
+charged me with a certain message for Dingaan the king, that, had it
+been delivered into the ears of the king, had surely brought death upon
+you and all your people. The tree that stands by itself on a plain,
+Umslopogaas, thinks itself tall and that there is no shade to equal its
+shade. Yet are there other and bigger trees. You are such a solitary
+tree, Umslopogaas, but the topmost branches of him whom I serve are
+thicker than your trunk, and beneath his shadow live many woodcutters,
+who go out to lop those that would grow too high. You are no match for
+Dingaan, though, dwelling here alone in an empty land, you have grown
+great in your own eyes and in the eyes of those about you. Moreover,
+Umslopogaas, know this: Dingaan already hates you because of the words
+which in bygone years you sent by Masilo the fool to the Black One who
+is dead, for he heard those words, and it is his will to eat you up. He
+has sent me hither for one reason only, to be rid of me awhile, and,
+whatever the words I bring back to him, the end will be the same—that
+night shall come when you will find an impi at your gates.”
+
+“Then what need to talk more of the matter, my father?” asked
+Umslopogaas. “That will come which must come. Let me wait here for the
+impi of Dingaan, and fight till I die.”
+
+“Not so, Umslopogaas, my son; there are more ways of killing a man than
+by the assegai, and a crooked stick can still be bent straight in the
+stream. It is my desire, Umslopogaas, that instead of hate Dingaan
+should give you love; instead of death, advancement; and that you shall
+grow great in his shadow. Listen! Dingaan is not what Chaka was,
+though, like Chaka, he is cruel. This Dingaan is a fool, and it may
+well come about that a man can be found who, growing up in his shadow,
+in the end shall overshadow him. I might do it—I myself; but I am old,
+and, being worn with sorrow, have no longing to rule. But you are
+young, Umslopogaas, and there is no man like you in the land. Moreover,
+there are other matters of which it is not well to speak, that shall
+serve you as a raft whereon to swim to power.”
+
+Now Umslopogaas glanced up sharply, for in those days he was ambitious,
+and desired to be first among the people. Indeed, having the blood of
+Chaka in his veins, how could it be otherwise?
+
+“What is your plan, my father?” he asked. “Say how can this be brought
+about?”
+
+“This and thus, Umslopogaas. Among the tribe of the Halakazi in
+Swaziland there dwells a maid who is named the Lily. She is a girl of
+the most wonderful beauty, and Dingaan is afire with longing to have
+her to wife. Now, awhile since Dingaan dispatched an embassy to the
+chief of the Halakazi asking the Lily in marriage, and the chief of the
+Halakazi sent back insolent words, saying that the Beauty of the Earth
+should be given to no Zulu dog as a wife. Then Dingaan was angry, and
+he would have gathered his impis and sent them against the Halakazi to
+destroy them, and bring him the maid, but I held him back from it,
+saying that now was no time to begin a new war; and it is for this
+cause that Dingaan hates me, he is so set upon the plucking of the
+Swazi Lily. Do you understand now, Umslopogaas?”
+
+“Something,” he answered. “But speak clearly.”
+
+“Wow, Umslopogaas! Half words are better than whole ones in this land
+of ours. Listen, then! This is my plan: that you should fall upon the
+Halakazi tribe, destroy it, and bring back the maid as a peace-offering
+to Dingaan.”
+
+“That is a good plan, my father,” he answered. “At the least, maid or
+no maid, there will be fighting in it, and cattle to divide when the
+fighting is done.”
+
+“First conquer, then reckon up the spoils, Umslopogaas.”
+
+Now he thought awhile, then said, “Suffer that I summon Galazi the
+Wolf, my captain. Do not fear, he is trusty and a man of few words.”
+
+Presently Galazi came and sat down before us. Then I put the matter to
+him thus: that Umslopogaas would fall upon the Halakazi and bring to
+Dingaan the maid he longed for as a peace-offering, but that I wished
+to hold him back from the venture because the Halakazi people were
+great and strong. I spoke in this sense so that I might have a door to
+creep out should Galazi betray the plot; and Umslopogaas read my
+purpose, though my craft was needless, for Galazi was a true man.
+
+Galazi the Wolf listened in silence till I had finished, then he
+answered quietly, but it seemed to me that a fire shone in his eyes as
+he spoke:—
+
+“I am chief by right of the Halakazi, O Mouth of Dingaan, and know them
+well. They are a strong people, and can put two full regiments under
+arms, whereas Bulalio here can muster but one regiment, and that a
+small one. Moreover, they have watchmen out by night and day, and spies
+scattered through the land, so that it will be hard to take them
+unawares; also their stronghold is a vast cave open to the sky in the
+middle, and none have won that stronghold yet, nor could it be found
+except by those who know its secret. They are few, yet I am one of
+them, for my father showed it to me when I was a lad. Therefore, Mouth
+of Dingaan, you will know that this is no easy task which Bulalio would
+set himself and us—to conquer the Halakazi. That is the face of the
+matter so far as it concerns Bulalio, but for me, O Mouth, it has
+another face. Know that, long years ago, I swore to my father as he lay
+dying by the poison of a witch of this people that I would not rest
+till I had avenged him—ay, till I had stamped out the Halakazi, and
+slain their men, and brought their women to the houses of strangers,
+and their children to bonds! Year by year and month by month, and night
+by night, as I have lain alone upon the Ghost Mountain yonder, I have
+wondered how I might bring my oath to pass, and found no way. Now it
+seems that there is a way, and I am glad. Yet this is a great
+adventure, and perhaps before it is done with the People of the Axe
+will be no more.” And he ceased and took snuff, watching our faces over
+the spoon.
+
+“Galazi the Wolf,” said Umslopogaas, “for me also the matter has
+another face. You have lost your father at the hands of these Halakazi
+dogs, and, though till last night I did not know it, I have lost my
+mother by their spears, and with her one whom I loved above all in the
+world, my sister Nada, who loved me also. Both are dead and the
+Halakazi have killed them. This man, the mouth of Dingaan,” and he
+pointed to me, Mopo, “this man says that if I can stamp out the
+Halakazi and make captive of the Lily maid, I shall win the heart of
+Dingaan. Little do I care for Dingaan, I who would go my way alone, and
+live while I may live, and die when I must, by the hands of Dingaan as
+by those of another—what does it matter? Yet, for this reason, because
+of the death of Macropha, my mother, and Nada, the sister who was dear
+to me, I will make war upon these Halakazi and conquer them, or be
+conquered by them. Perhaps, O Mouth of Dingaan, you will see me soon at
+the king’s kraal on the Mahlabatine, and with me the Lily maid and the
+cattle of the Halakazi; or perhaps you shall not see me, and then you
+will know that I am dead, and the Warriors of the Axe are no more.”
+
+So Umslopogaas spoke to me before Galazi the Wolf, but afterwards he
+embraced me and bade me farewell, for he had no great hope that we
+should meet again. And I also doubted it; for, as Galazi said, the
+adventure was great; yet, as I had seen many times, it is the bold
+thrower who oftenest wins. So we parted—I to return to Dingaan and tell
+him that Bulalio, Chief of the People of the Axe, had gone up against
+the Halakazi to win the Lily maid and bring her to him in atonement;
+while Umslopogaas remained to make ready his impi for war.
+
+I went swiftly from the Ghost Mountain back to the kraal Umgugundhlovu,
+and presented myself before Dingaan, who at first looked on me coldly.
+But when I told him my message, and how that the Chief Bulalio the
+Slaughterer had taken the war-path to win him the Lily, his manner
+changed. He took me by the hand and said that I had done well, and he
+had been foolish to doubt me when I lifted up my voice to persuade him
+from sending an impi against the Halakazi. Now he saw that it was my
+purpose to rake this Halakazi fire with another hand than his, and to
+save his hand from the burning, and he thanked me.
+
+Moreover, he said, that if this Chief of the People of the Axe brought
+him the maid his heart desired, not only would he forgive him the words
+he had spoken by the mouth of Masilo to the Black One who was dead, but
+also all the cattle of the Halakazi should be his, and he would make
+him great in the land. I answered that all this was as the king willed.
+I had but done my duty by the king and worked so that, whatever befell,
+a proud chief should be weakened and a foe should be attacked at no
+cost to the king, in such fashion also that perhaps it might come about
+that the king would shortly have the Lily at his side.
+
+Then I sat down to wait what might befall.
+
+Now it is, my father, that the white men come into my story, whom we
+named the Amaboona, but you call the Boers. _Ou!_ I think ill of those
+Amaboona, though it was I who gave them the victory over Dingaan—I and
+Umslopogaas.
+
+Before this time, indeed, a few white men had come to and fro to the
+kraals of Chaka and Dingaan, but these came to pray and not to fight.
+Now the Boers both fight and pray, also they steal, or used to steal,
+which I do not understand, for the prayers of you white men say that
+these things should not be done.
+
+Well, when I had been back from the Ghost Mountain something less than
+a moon, the Boers came, sixty of them commanded by a captain named
+Retief, a big man, and armed with _roers_—the long guns they had in
+those days—or, perhaps they numbered a hundred in all, counting their
+servants and after-riders. This was their purpose: to get a grant of
+the land in Natal that lies between the Tugela and the Umzimoubu
+rivers. But, by my counsel and that of other indunas, Dingaan bargained
+with the Boers that first they should attack a certain chief named
+Sigomyela, who had stolen some of the king’s cattle, and who lived near
+the Quathlamba Mountains, and bring back those cattle. This the Boers
+agreed to, and went to attack the chief, and in a little while they
+came back again, having destroyed the people of Sigomyela, and driving
+his cattle before them as well as those which had been stolen from the
+king.
+
+The face of Dingaan shone when he saw the cattle, and that night he
+called us, the council of the _Amapakati_, together, and asked us as to
+the granting of the country. I spoke the first, and said that it
+mattered little if he granted it, seeing that the Black One who was
+dead had already given it to the English, the People of George, and the
+end of the matter would be that the Amaboona and the People of George
+would fight for the land. Yet the words of the Black One were coming to
+pass, for already it seemed we could hear the sound of the running of a
+white folk who should eat up the kingdom.
+
+Now when I had spoken thus the heart of Dingaan grew heavy and his face
+dark, for my words stuck in his breast like a barbed spear. Still, he
+made no answer, but dismissed the council.
+
+On the morrow the king promised to sign the paper giving the lands they
+asked for to the Boers, and all was smooth as water when there is no
+wind. Before the paper was signed the king gave a great dance, for
+there were many regiments gathered at the kraal, and for three days
+this dance went on, but on the third day he dismissed the regiments,
+all except one, an impi of lads, who were commanded to stay. Now all
+this while I wondered what was in the mind of Dingaan and was afraid
+for the Amaboona. But he was secret, and told nothing except to the
+captains of the regiment alone—no, not even to one of his council. Yet
+I knew that he planned evil, and was half inclined to warn the Captain
+Retief, but did not, fearing to make myself foolish. Ah! my father, if
+I had spoken, how many would have lived who were soon dead! But what
+does it matter? In any case most of them would have been dead by now.
+
+On the fourth morning, early, Dingaan sent a messenger to the Boers,
+bidding them meet him in the cattle kraal, for there he would mark the
+paper. So they came, stacking their guns at the gate of the kraal, for
+it was death for any man, white or black, to come armed before the
+presence of the king. Now, my father, the kraal Umgugundhlovu was built
+in a great circle, after the fashion of royal kraals. First came the
+high outer fence, then the thousands of huts that ran three parts round
+between the great fence and the inner one. Within this inner fence was
+the large open space, big enough to hold five regiments, and at the top
+of it—opposite the entrance—stood the cattle kraal itself, that cut off
+a piece of the open space by another fence bent like a bow. Behind this
+again were the _Emposeni_, the place of the king’s women, the
+guard-house, the labyrinth, and the _Intunkulu_, the house of the king.
+Dingaan came out on that day and sat on a stool in front of the cattle
+kraal, and by him stood a man holding a shield over his head to keep
+the sun from him. Also we of the _Amapakati_, the council, were there,
+and ranged round the fence of the space, armed with short sticks
+only—not with kerries, my father—was that regiment of young men which
+Dingaan had not sent away, the captain of the regiment being stationed
+near to the king, on the right.
+
+Presently the Boers came in on foot and walked up to the king in a
+body, and Dingaan greeted them kindly and shook hands with Retief,
+their captain. Then Retief drew the paper from a leather pouch, which
+set out the boundaries of the grant of land, and it was translated to
+the king by an interpreter. Dingaan said that it was good, and put his
+mark upon it, and Retief and all the Boers were pleased, and smiled
+across their faces. Now they would have said farewell, but Dingaan
+forbade them, saying that they must not go yet: first they must eat and
+see the soldiers dance a little, and he commanded dishes of boiled
+flesh which had been made ready and bowls of milk to be brought to
+them. The Boers said that they had already eaten; still, they drank the
+milk, passing the bowls from hand to hand.
+
+Now the regiment began to dance, singing the _Ingomo_, that is the war
+chant of us Zulus, my father, and the Boers drew back towards the
+centre of the space to give the soldiers room to dance in. It was at
+this moment that I heard Dingaan give an order to a messenger to run
+swiftly to the white Doctor of Prayers, who was staying without the
+kraal, telling him not to be afraid, and I wondered what this might
+mean; for why should the Prayer Doctor fear a dance such as he had
+often seen before? Presently Dingaan rose, and, followed by all, walked
+through the press to where the Captain Retief stood, and bade him
+good-bye, shaking him by the hand and bidding him _hambla gachle_, to
+go in peace. Then he turned and walked back again towards the gateway
+which led to his royal house, and I saw that near this entrance stood
+the captain of the regiments, as one stands by who waits for orders.
+
+Now, of a sudden, my father, Dingaan stopped and cried with a loud
+voice, “_Bulalani Abatakati!_” (slay the wizards), and having cried it,
+he covered his face with the corner of his blanket, and passed behind
+the fence.
+
+We, the councillors, stood astounded, like men who had become stone;
+but before we could speak or act the captain of the regiment had also
+cried aloud, “_Bulalani Abatakati!_” and the signal was caught up from
+every side. Then, my father, came a yell and a rush of thousands of
+feet, and through the clouds of dust we saw the soldiers hurl
+themselves upon the Amaboona, and above the shouting we heard the sound
+of falling sticks. The Amaboona drew their knives and fought bravely,
+but before a man could count a hundred twice it was done, and they were
+being dragged, some few dead, but the most yet living, towards the
+gates of the kraal and out on to the Hill of Slaughter, and there, on
+the Hill of Slaughter, they were massacred, every one of them. How? Ah!
+I will not tell you—they were massacred and piled in a heap, and that
+was the end of their story, my father.
+
+Now I and the other councillors turned away and walked silently towards
+the house of the king. We found him standing before his great hut, and,
+lifting our hands, we saluted him silently, saying no word. It was
+Dingaan who spoke, laughing a little as he spoke, like a man who is
+uneasy in his mind.
+
+“Ah, my captains,” he said, “when the vultures plumed themselves this
+morning, and shrieked to the sky for blood, they did not look for such
+a feast as I have given them. And you, my captains, you little guessed
+how great a king the Heavens have set to rule over you, nor how deep is
+the mind of the king that watches ever over his people’s welfare. Now
+the land is free from the White Wizards of whose footsteps the Black
+One croaked as he gave up his life, or soon shall be, for this is but a
+beginning. Ho! Messengers!” and he turned to some men who stood behind
+him, “away swiftly to the regiments that are gathered behind the
+mountains, away to them, bearing the king’s words to the captains. This
+is the king’s word: that the impi shall run to the land of Natal and
+slay the Boers there, wiping them out, man, woman, and child. Away!”
+
+Now the messengers cried out the royal salute of _Bayéte_, and, leaping
+forward like spears from the hand of the thrower, were gone at once.
+But we, the councillors, the members of the _Amapakati_, still stood
+silent.
+
+Then Dingaan spoke again, addressing me:—
+
+“Is thy heart at rest now, Mopo, son of Makedama? Ever hast thou
+bleated in my ear of this white people and of the deeds that they shall
+do, and lo! I have blown upon them with my breath and they are gone.
+Say, Mopo, are the Amaboona wizards yonder all dead? If any be left
+alive, I desire to speak with one of them.”
+
+Then I looked Dingaan in the face and spoke.
+
+“They are all dead, and thou, O King, thou also art dead.”
+
+“It were well for thee, thou dog,” said Dingaan, “that thou shouldst
+make thy meaning plain.”
+
+“Let the king pardon me,” I answered; “this is my meaning. Thou canst
+not kill this white men, for they are not of one race, but of many
+races, and the sea is their home; they rise out of the black water.
+Destroy those that are here, and others shall come to avenge them, more
+and more and more! Now thou hast smitten in thy hour; in theirs they
+shall smite in turn. Now _they_ lie low in blood at thy hand; in a day
+to come, O King, _thou_ shalt lie low in blood at theirs. Madness has
+taken hold of thee, O King, that thou hast done this thing, and the
+fruit of thy madness shall be thy death. I have spoken, I, who am the
+king’s servant. Let the will of the king be done.”
+
+Then I stood still waiting to be killed, for, my father, in the fury of
+my heart at the wickedness which had been worked I could not hold back
+my words. Thrice Dingaan looked on me with a terrible face, and yet
+there was fear in his face striving with its rage, and I waited calmly
+to see which would conquer, the fear or the rage. When at last he
+spoke, it was one word, “_Go!_” not three words, “_Take him away._” So
+I went yet living, and with me the councillors, leaving the king alone.
+
+I went with a heavy heart, my father, for of all the evil sights that I
+have seen it seemed to me that this was the most evil—that the Amaboona
+should be slaughtered thus treacherously, and that the impis should be
+sent out treacherously to murder those who were left of them, together
+with their women and children. Ay, and they slew—six hundred of them
+did they slay—yonder in Weenen, the land of weeping.
+
+Say, my father, why does the Umkulunkulu who sits in the Heavens above
+allow such things to be done on the earth beneath? I have heard the
+preaching of the white men, and they say that they know all about
+Him—that His names are Power and Mercy and Love. Why, then, does He
+suffer these things to be done—why does He suffer such men as Chaka and
+Dingaan to torment the people of the earth, and in the end pay them but
+one death for all the thousands that they have given to others? Because
+of the wickedness of the peoples, you say; but no, no, that cannot be,
+for do not the guiltless go with the guilty—ay, do not the innocent
+children perish by the hundred? Perchance there is another answer,
+though who am I, my father, that I, in my folly, should strive to
+search out the way of the Unsearchable? Perchance it is but a part of
+the great plan, a little piece of that pattern of which I spoke—the
+pattern on the cup that holds the waters of His wisdom. _Wow!_ I do not
+understand, who am but a wild man, nor have I found more knowledge in
+the hearts of you tamed white people. You know many things, but of
+these you do not know: you cannot tell us what we were an hour before
+birth, nor what we shall be an hour after death, nor why we were born,
+nor why we die. You can only hope and believe—that is all, and perhaps,
+my father, before many days are sped I shall be wiser than all of you.
+For I am very aged, the fire of my life sinks low—it burns in my brain
+alone; there it is still bright, but soon that will go out also, and
+then perhaps I shall understand.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+THE WAR WITH THE HALAKAZI PEOPLE
+
+
+Now, my father, I must tell of how Umslopogaas the Slaughterer and
+Galazi the Wolf fared in their war against the People of the Halakazi.
+When I had gone from the shadow of the Ghost Mountain, Umslopogaas
+summoned a gathering of all his headmen, and told them it was his
+desire that the People of the Axe should no longer be a little people;
+that they should grow great and number their cattle by tens of
+thousands.
+
+The headmen asked how this might be brought about—would he then make
+war on Dingaan the King? Umslopogaas answered no, he would win the
+favour of the king thus: and he told them of the Lily maid and of the
+Halakazi tribe in Swaziland, and of how he would go up against that
+tribe. Now some of the headmen said yea to this and some said nay, and
+the talk ran high and lasted till the evening. But when the evening was
+come Umslopogaas rose and said that he was chief under the Axe, and
+none other, and it was his will that they should go up against the
+Halakazi. If there was any man there who would gainsay his will, let
+him stand forward and do battle with him, and he who conquered should
+order all things. To this there was no answer, for there were few who
+cared to face the beak of Groan-Maker, and so it came about that it was
+agreed that the People of the Axe should make war upon the Halakazi,
+and Umslopogaas sent out messengers to summon every fighting-man to his
+side.
+
+But when Zinita, his head wife, came to hear of the matter she was
+angry, and upbraided Umslopogaas, and heaped curses on me, Mopo, whom
+she knew only as the mouth of Dingaan, because, as she said truly, I
+had put this scheme into the mind of the Slaughterer. “What!” she went
+on, “do you not live here in peace and plenty, and must you go to make
+war on those who have not harmed you; there, perhaps, to perish or to
+come to other ill? You say you do this to win a girl for Dingaan and to
+find favour in his sight. Has not Dingaan girls more than he can count?
+It is more likely that, wearying of us, your wives, you go to get girls
+for yourself, Bulalio; and as for finding favour, rest quiet, so shall
+you find most favour. If the king sends his impis against you, then it
+will be time to fight, O fool with little wit!”
+
+Thus Zinita spoke to him, very roughly—for she always blurted out what
+was in her mind, and Umslopogaas could not challenge her to battle. So
+he must bear her talk as best he might, for it is often thus, my
+father, that the greatest of men grow small enough in their own huts.
+Moreover, he knew that it was because Zinita loved him that she spoke
+so bitterly.
+
+Now on the third day all the fighting-men were gathered, and there
+might have been two thousand of them, good men and brave. Then
+Umslopogaas went out and spoke to them, telling them of this adventure,
+and Galazi the Wolf was with him. They listened silently, and it was
+plain to see that, as in the case of the headmen, some of them thought
+one thing and some another. Then Galazi spoke to them briefly, telling
+them that he knew the roads and the caves and the number of the
+Halakazi cattle; but still they doubted. Thereon Umslopogaas added
+these words:—
+
+“To-morrow, at the dawn, I, Bulalio, Holder of the Axe, Chief of the
+People of the Axe, go up against the Halakazi, with Galazi the Wolf, my
+brother. If but ten men follow us, yet we will go. Now, choose, you
+soldiers! Let those come who will, and let those who will stop at home
+with the women and the little children.”
+
+Now a great shout rose from every throat.
+
+“We will go with you, Bulalio, to victory or death!”
+
+So on the morrow they marched, and there was wailing among the women of
+the People of the Axe. Only Zinita did not wail, but stood by in wrath,
+foreboding evil; nor would she bid her lord farewell, yet when he was
+gone she wept also.
+
+Now Umslopogaas and his impi travelled fast and far, hungering and
+thirsting, till at length they came to the land of the Umswazi, and
+after a while entered the territory of the Halakazi by a high and
+narrow pass. The fear of Galazi the Wolf was that they should find this
+pass held, for though they had harmed none in the kraals as they went,
+and taken only enough cattle to feed themselves, yet he knew well that
+messengers had sped by day and night to warn the people of the
+Halakazi. But they found no man in the pass, and on the other side of
+it they rested, for the night was far spent. At dawn Umslopogaas looked
+out over the wide plains beyond, and Galazi showed him a long low hill,
+two hours’ march away.
+
+“There, my brother,” he said, “lies the head kraal of the Halakazi,
+where I was born, and in that hill is the great cave.”
+
+Then they went on, and before the sun was high they came to the crest
+of a rise, and heard the sound of horns on its farther side. They stood
+upon the rise, and looked, and lo! yet far off, but running towards
+them, was the whole impi of the Halakazi, and it was a great impi.
+
+“They have gathered their strength indeed,” said Galazi. “For every man
+of ours there are three of these Swazis!”
+
+The soldiers saw also, and the courage of some of them sank low. Then
+Umslopogaas spoke to them:—
+
+“Yonder are the Swazi dogs, my children; they are many and we are few.
+Yet, shall it be told at home that we, men of the Zulu blood, were
+hunted by a pack of Swazi dogs? Shall our women and children sing
+_that_ song in our ears, O Soldiers of the Axe?”
+
+Now some cried “Never!” but some were silent; so Umslopogaas spoke
+again:—
+
+“Turn back all who will: there is yet time. Turn back all who will, but
+ye who are men come forward with me. Or if ye will, go back all of you,
+and leave Axe Groan-Maker and Club Watcher to see this matter out
+alone.”
+
+Now there arose a mighty shout of “We will die together who have lived
+together!”
+
+“Do you swear it?” cried Umslopogaas, holding Groan-Maker on high.
+
+“We swear it by the Axe,” they answered.
+
+Then Umslopogaas and Galazi made ready for the battle. They posted all
+the young men in the broken ground above the bottom of the slope, for
+these could best be spared to the spear, and Galazi the Wolf took
+command of them; but the veterans stayed upon the hillside, and with
+them Umslopogaas.
+
+Now the Halakazi came on, and there were four full regiments of them.
+The plain was black with them, the air was rent with their shoutings,
+and their spears flashed like lightnings. On the farther side of the
+slope they halted and sent a herald forward to demand what the People
+of the Axe would have from them. The Slaughterer answered that they
+would have three things: First, the head of their chief, whose place
+Galazi should fill henceforth; secondly, that fair maid whom men named
+the Lily; thirdly, a thousand head of cattle. If these demands were
+granted, then he would spare them, the Halakazi; if not, he would stamp
+them out and take all.
+
+So the herald returned, and when he reached the ranks of the Halakazi
+he called aloud his answer. Then a great roar of laughter went up from
+the Halakazi regiments, a roar that shook the earth. The brow of
+Umslopogaas the Slaughterer burned red beneath the black when he heard
+it, and he shook Groan-Maker towards their host.
+
+“Ye shall sing another song before this sun is set,” he cried, and
+strode along the ranks speaking to this man and that by name, and
+lifting up their hearts with great words.
+
+Now the Halakazi raised a shout, and charged to come at the young men
+led by Galazi the Wolf; but beyond the foot of the slope was peaty
+ground, and they came through it heavily, and as they came Galazi and
+the young men fell upon them and slew them; still, they could not hold
+them back for long, because of their great numbers, and presently the
+battle ranged all along the slope. But so well did Galazi handle the
+young men, and so fiercely did they fight beneath his eye, that before
+they could be killed or driven back all the force of the Halakazi was
+doing battle with them. Ay, and twice Galazi charged with such as he
+could gather, and twice he checked the Halakazi rush, throwing them
+into confusion, till at length company was mixed with company and
+regiment with regiment. But it might not endure, for now more than half
+the young men were down, and the rest were being pushed back up the
+hill, fighting madly.
+
+But all this while Umslopogaas and the veterans sat in their ranks upon
+the brow of the slope and watched. “Those Swazi dogs have a fool for
+their general,” quoth Umslopogaas. “He has no men left to fall back on,
+and Galazi has broken his array and mixed his regiments as milk and
+cream are mixed in a bowl. They are no longer an impi, they are a mob.”
+
+Now the veterans moved restlessly on their haunches, pushing their legs
+out and drawing them in again. They glanced at the fray, they looked
+into each other’s eyes and spoke a word here, a word there, “Well
+smitten, Galazi! _Wow!_ that one is down! A brave lad! Ho! a good club
+is the Watcher! The fight draws near, my brother!” And ever as they
+spoke their faces grew fiercer and their fingers played with their
+spears.
+
+At length a captain called aloud to Umslopogaas:—
+
+“Say, Slaughterer, is it not time to be up and doing? The grass is wet
+to sit on, and our limbs grow cramped.”
+
+“Wait awhile,” answered Umslopogaas. “Let them weary of their play. Let
+them weary, I tell you.”
+
+As he spoke the Halakazi huddled themselves together, and with a rush
+drove back Galazi and those who were left of the young men. Yes, at
+last they were forced to flee, and after them came the Swazis, and in
+the forefront of the pursuit was their chief, ringed round with a
+circle of his bravest.
+
+Umslopogaas saw it and bounded to his feet, roaring like a bull. “At
+them now, wolves!” he shouted.
+
+Then the lines of warriors sprang up as a wave springs, and their
+crests were like foam upon the wave. As a wave that swells to break
+they rose suddenly, like a breaking wave they poured down the slope. In
+front of them was the Slaughterer, holding Groan-Maker aloft, and oh!
+his feet were swift. So swift were his feet that, strive as they would,
+he outran them by the quarter of a spear’s throw. Galazi heard the
+thunder of their rush; he looked round, and as he looked, lo! the
+Slaughterer swept past him, running like a buck. Then Galazi, too,
+bounded forward, and the Wolf-Brethren sped down the hill, the length
+of four spears between them.
+
+The Halakazi also saw and heard, and strove to gather themselves
+together to meet the rush. In front of Umslopogaas was their chief, a
+tall man hedged about with assegais. Straight at the shield-hedge drove
+Umslopogaas, and a score of spears were lifted to greet him, a score of
+shields heaved into the air—this was a fence that none might pass
+alive. Yet would the Slaughterer pass it—not alone! See! he steadies
+his pace, he gathers himself together, and now he leaps! High into the
+air he leaps; his feet knock the heads of the warriors and rattle
+against the crowns of their shields. They smite upwards with the spear,
+but he has swept over them like a swooping bird. He has cleared them—he
+has lit—and now the shield-hedge guards two chiefs. But not for long.
+_Ou!_ Groan-Maker is aloft, he falls—and neither shield nor axe may
+stay his stroke, both are cleft through, and the Halakazi lack a
+leader.
+
+The shield-ring wheels in upon itself. Fools! Galazi is upon you! What
+was that? Look, now! see how many bones are left unbroken in him whom
+the Watcher falls on full! What!—another down! Close up,
+shield-men—close up! _Ai!_ are you fled?
+
+Ah! the wave has fallen on the beach. Listen to its roaring—listen to
+the roaring of the shields! Stand, you men of the Halakazi—stand!
+Surely they are but a few. So! it is done! By the head of Chaka! they
+break—they are pushed back—now the wave of slaughter seethes along the
+sands—now the foe is swept like floating weed, and from all the line
+there comes a hissing like the hissing of thin waters. “_S’gee!_” says
+the hiss. “_S’gee! S’gee!_”
+
+There, my father, I am old. What have I to do with the battle any more,
+with the battle and its joy? Yet it is better to die in such a fight as
+that than to live any other way. I have seen such—I have seen many
+such. Oh! we could fight when I was a man, my father, but none that I
+knew could ever fight like Umslopogaas the Slaughterer, son of Chaka,
+and his blood-brother Galazi the Wolf! So, so! they swept them away,
+those Halakazi; they swept them as a maid sweeps the dust of a hut, as
+the wind sweeps the withered leaves. It was soon done when once it was
+begun. Some were fled and some were dead, and this was the end of that
+fight. No, no, not of all the war. The Halakazi were worsted in the
+field, but many lived to win the great cave, and there the work must be
+finished. Thither, then, went the Slaughterer presently, with such of
+his impi as was left to him. Alas! many were killed; but how could they
+have died better than in that fight? Also those who were left were as
+good as all, for now they knew that they should not be overcome easily
+while Axe and Club still led the way.
+
+Now they stood before a hill, measuring, perhaps, three thousand paces
+round its base. It was of no great height, and yet unclimbable, for,
+after a man had gone up a little way, the sides of it were sheer,
+offering no foothold except to the rock-rabbits and the lizards. No one
+was to be seen without this hill, nor in the great kraal of the
+Halakazi that lay to the east of it, and yet the ground about was
+trampled with the hoofs of oxen and the feet of men, and from within
+the mountain came a sound of lowing cattle.
+
+“Here is the nest of Halakazi,” quoth Galazi the Wolf.
+
+“Here is the nest indeed,” said Umslopogaas; “but how shall we come at
+the eggs to suck them? There are no branches on this tree.”
+
+“But there is a hole in the trunk,” answered the Wolf.
+
+Now he led them a little way till they came to a place where the soil
+was trampled as it is at the entrance to a cattle kraal, and they saw
+that there was a low cave which led into the cliff, like an archway
+such as you white men build. But this archway was filled up with great
+blocks of stone placed upon each other in such a fashion that it could
+not be forced from without. After the cattle were driven in it had been
+filled up.
+
+“We cannot enter here,” said Galazi. “Follow me.”
+
+So they followed him, and came to the north side of the mountain, and
+there, two spear-casts away, a soldier was standing. But when he saw
+them he vanished suddenly.
+
+“There is the place,” said Galazi, “and the fox has gone to earth in
+it.”
+
+Now they ran to the spot and saw a little hole in the rock, scarcely
+bigger than an ant-bear’s burrow, and through the hole came sounds and
+some light.
+
+“Now where is the hyena who will try a new burrow?” cried Umslopogaas.
+“A hundred head of cattle to the man who wins through and clears the
+way!”
+
+Then two young men sprang forward who were flushed with victory and
+desired nothing more than to make a great name and win cattle, crying:—
+
+“Here are hyenas, Bulalio.”
+
+“To earth, then!” said Umslopogaas, “and let him who wins through hold
+the path awhile till others follow.”
+
+The two young men sprang at the hole, and he who reached it first went
+down upon his hands and knees and crawled in, lying on his shield and
+holding his spear before him. For a little while the light in the
+burrow vanished, and they heard the sound of his crawling. Then came
+the noise of blows, and once more light crept through the hole. The man
+was dead.
+
+“This one had a bad snake,” said the second soldier; “his snake
+deserted him. Let me see if mine is better.”
+
+So down he went on his hands and knees, and crawled as the first had
+done, only he put his shield over his head. For awhile they heard him
+crawling, then once more came the sound of blows echoing on the ox-hide
+shield, and after the blows groans. He was dead also, yet it seemed
+that they had left his body in the hole, for now no light came through.
+This was the cause, my father: when they struck the man he had wriggled
+back a little way and died there, and none had entered from the farther
+side to drag him out.
+
+Now the soldiers stared at the mouth of the passage and none seemed to
+love the look of it, for this was but a poor way to die. Umslopogaas
+and Galazi also looked at it, thinking.
+
+“Now I am named Wolf,” said Galazi, “and a wolf should not fear the
+dark; also, these are my people, and I must be the first to visit
+them,” and he went down on his hands and knees without more ado. But
+Umslopogaas, having peered once more down the burrow, said: “Hold,
+Galazi; I will go first! I have a plan. Do you follow me. And you, my
+children, shout loudly, so that none may hear us move; and, if we win
+through, follow swiftly, for we cannot hold the mouth of that place for
+long. Hearken, also! this is my counsel to you: if I fall choose
+another chief—Galazi the Wolf, if he is still living.”
+
+“Nay, Slaughterer, do not name me,” said the Wolf, “for together we
+live or die.”
+
+“So let it be, Galazi. Then choose you some other man and try this road
+no more, for if we cannot pass it none can, but seek food and sit down
+here till those jackals bolt; then be ready. Farewell, my children!”
+
+“Farewell, father,” they answered, “go warily, lest we be left like
+cattle without a herdsman, wandering and desolate.”
+
+Then Umslopogaas crept into the hole, taking no shield, but holding
+Groan-Maker before him, and at his heels crept Galazi. When he had
+covered the length of six spears he stretched out his hand, and, as he
+trusted to do, he found the feet of that man who had gone before and
+died in the place. Then Umslopogaas the wary did this: he put his head
+beneath the dead man’s legs and thrust himself onward till all the body
+was on his back, and there he held it with one hand, gripping its two
+wrists in his hand. Then he crawled forward a little space and saw that
+he was coming to the inner mouth of the burrow, but that the shadow was
+deep there because of a great mass of rock which lay before the burrow
+shutting out the light. “This is well for me,” thought Umslopogaas,
+“for now they will not know the dead from the living. I may yet look
+upon the sun again.” Now he heard the Halakazi soldiers talking
+without.
+
+“The Zulu rats do not love this run,” said one, “they fear the
+rat-catcher’s stick. This is good sport,” and a man laughed.
+
+Then Umslopogaas pushed himself forward as swiftly as he could, holding
+the dead man on his back, and suddenly came out of the hole into the
+open place in the dark shadow of the great rock.
+
+“By the Lily,” cried a soldier, “here’s a third! Take this, Zulu rat!”
+And he struck the dead man heavily with a kerrie. “And that!” cried
+another, driving his spear through him so that it pricked Umslopogaas
+beneath. “And that! and this! and that!” said others, as they smote and
+stabbed.
+
+Now Umslopogaas groaned heavily in the deep shadow and lay still. “No
+need to waste more blows,” said the man who had struck first. “This one
+will never go back to Zululand, and I think that few will care to
+follow him. Let us make an end: run, some of you, and find stones to
+stop the burrow, for now the sport is done.”
+
+He turned as he spoke and so did the others, and this was what the
+Slaughter sought. With a swift movement, he freed himself from the dead
+man and sprang to his feet. They heard the sound and turned again, but
+as they turned Groan-Maker pecked softly, and that man who had sworn by
+the Lily was no more a man. Then Umslopogaas leaped forwards, and,
+bounding on to the great rock, stood there like a buck against the sky.
+
+“A Zulu rat is not so easily slain, O ye weasels!” he cried, as they
+came at him from all sides at once with a roar. He smote to the right
+and the left, and so swiftly that men could scarcely see the blows
+fall, for he struck with Groan-Maker’s beak. But though men scarcely
+saw the blows, yet, my father, men fell beneath them. Now foes were all
+around, leaping up at the Slaughterer as rushing water leaps to hide a
+rock—everywhere shone spears, thrusting at him from this side and from
+that. Those in front and to the side Groan-Maker served to stay, but
+one wounded Umslopogaas in the neck, and another was lifted to pierce
+his back when the strength of its holder was bowed to the dust—to the
+dust, to become of the dust.
+
+For now the Wolf was through the hole also, and the Watcher grew very
+busy; he was so busy that soon the back of the Slaughterer had nothing
+to fear—yet those had much to fear who stood behind his back. The pair
+fought bravely, making a great slaughter, and presently, one by one,
+plumed heads of the People of the Axe showed through the burrow and
+strong arms mingled in the fray. Swiftly they came, leaping into battle
+as otters leap to the water—now there were ten of them, now there were
+twenty—and now the Halakazi broke and fled, since they did not bargain
+for this. Then the rest of the Men of the Axe came through in peace,
+and the evening grew towards the dark before all had passed the hole.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+THE FINDING OF NADA
+
+
+Umslopogaas marshalled his companies.
+
+“There is little light left,” he said, “but it must serve us to start
+these conies from their burrows. Come, my brother Galazi, you know
+where the conies hide, take my place and lead us.”
+
+So Galazi led the impi. Turning a corner of the glen, he came with them
+to a large open space that had a fountain in its midst, and this place
+was full of thousands of cattle. Then he turned again to the left, and
+brought them to the inner side of the mountain, where the cliff hung
+over, and here was the mouth of a great cave. Now the cave was dark,
+but by its door was stacked a pile of resinous wood to serve as
+torches.
+
+“Here is that which will give us light,” said Galazi, and one man of
+every two took a torch and lit it at a fire that burned near the mouth
+of the cave. Then they rushed in, waving the flaring torches and with
+assegais aloft. Here for the last time the Halakazi stood against them,
+and the torches floated up and down upon the wave of war. But they did
+not stand for very long, for all the heart was out of them. _Wow!_ yes,
+many were killed—I do not know how many. I know this only, that the
+Halakazi are no more a tribe since Umslopogaas, who is named Bulalio,
+stamped them with his feet—they are nothing but a name now. The People
+of the Axe drove them out into the open and finished the fight by
+starlight among the cattle.
+
+In one corner of the cave Umslopogaas saw a knot of men clustering
+round something as though to guard it. He rushed at the men, and with
+him went Galazi and others. But when Umslopogaas was through, by the
+light of his torch he perceived a tall and slender man, who leaned
+against the wall of the cave and held a shield before his face.
+
+“You are a coward!” he cried, and smote with Groan-Maker. The great axe
+pierced the hide, but, missing the head behind, rang loudly against the
+rock, and as it struck a sweet voice said:—
+
+“Ah! soldier, do not kill me! Why are you angry with me?”
+
+Now the shield had come away from its holder’s hands upon the blade of
+the axe, and there was something in the notes of the voice that caused
+Umslopogaas to smite no more: it was as though a memory of childhood
+had come to him in a dream. His torch was burning low, but he thrust it
+forward to look at him who crouched against the rock. The dress was the
+dress of a man, but this was no man’s form—nay, rather that of a lovely
+woman, well-nigh white in colour. She dropped her hands from before her
+face, and now he could see her well. He saw eyes that shone like stars,
+hair that curled and fell upon the shoulders, and such beauty as was
+not known among our people. And as the voice had spoken to him of
+something that was lost, so did the eyes seem to shine across the
+blackness of many years, and the beauty to bring back he knew not what.
+
+He looked at the girl in all her loveliness, and she looked at him in
+his fierceness and his might, red with war and wounds. They both looked
+long, while the torchlight flared on them, on the walls of the cave,
+and the broad blade of Groan-Maker, and from around rose the sounds of
+the fray.
+
+“How are you named, who are so fair to see?” he asked at length.
+
+“I am named the Lily now: once I had another name. Nada, daughter of
+Mopo, I was once; but name and all else are dead, and I go to join
+them. Kill me and make an end. I will shut my eyes, that I may not see
+the great axe flash.”
+
+Now Umslopogaas gazed upon her again, and Groan-Maker fell from his
+hand.
+
+“Look on me, Nada, daughter of Mopo,” he said in a low voice; “look at
+me and say who am I.”
+
+She looked once more and yet again. Now her face was thrust forward as
+one who gazes over the edge of the world; it grew fixed and strange.
+“By my heart,” she said, “by my heart, you are Umslopogaas, my brother
+who is dead, and whom dead as living I have loved ever and alone.”
+
+Then the torch flared out, but Umslopogaas took hold of her in the
+darkness and pressed her to him and kissed her, the sister whom he
+found after many years, and she kissed him.
+
+“You kiss me now,” she said, “yet not long ago that great axe shore my
+locks, missing me but by a finger’s-breadth—and still the sound of
+fighting rings in my ears! Ah! a boon of you, my brother—a boon: let
+there be no more death since we are met once more. The people of the
+Halakazi are conquered, and it is their just doom, for thus, in this
+same way, they killed those with whom I lived before. Yet they have
+treated me well, not forcing me into wedlock, and protecting me from
+Dingaan; so spare them, my brother, if you may.”
+
+Then Umslopogaas lifted up his voice, commanding that the killing
+should cease, and sent messengers running swiftly with these words:
+“This is the command of Bulalio: that he who lifts hand against one
+more of the people of the Halakazi shall be killed himself”; and the
+soldiers obeyed him, though the order came somewhat late, and no more
+of the Halakazi were brought to doom. They were suffered to escape,
+except those of the women and children who were kept to be led away as
+captives. And they ran far that night. Nor did they come together again
+to be a people, for they feared Galazi the Wolf, who would be chief
+over them, but they were scattered wide in the world, to sojourn among
+strangers.
+
+Now when the soldiers had eaten abundantly of the store of the
+Halakazi, and guards had been sent to ward the cattle and watch against
+surprise, Umslopogaas spoke long with Nada the Lily, taking her apart,
+and he told her all his story. She told him also the tale which you
+know, my father, of how she had lived with the little people that were
+subject to the Halakazi, she and her mother Macropha, and how the fame
+of her beauty had spread about the land. Then she told him how the
+Halakazi had claimed her, and of how, in the end, they had taken her by
+force of arms, killing the people of that kraal, and among them her own
+mother. Thereafter, she had dwelt among the Halakazi, who named her
+anew, calling her the Lily, and they had treated her kindly, giving her
+reverence because of her sweetness and beauty, and not forcing her into
+marriage.
+
+“And why would you not wed, Nada, my sister?” asked Umslopogaas, “you
+who are far past the age of marriage?”
+
+“I cannot tell you,” she answered, hanging her head; “but I have no
+heart that way. I only seek to be left alone.”
+
+Now Umslopogaas thought awhile and spoke. “Do you not know then, Nada,
+why it is that I have made this war, and why the people of the Halakazi
+are dead and scattered and their cattle the prize of my arm? I will
+tell you: I am come here to win you, whom I knew only by report as the
+Lily maid, the fairest of women, to be a wife to Dingaan. The reason
+that I began this war was to win you and make my peace with Dingaan,
+and now I have carried it through to the end.”
+
+Now when she heard these words, Nada the Lily trembled and wept, and,
+sinking to the earth, she clasped the knees of Umslopogaas in
+supplication: “Oh, do not this cruel thing by me, your sister,” she
+prayed; “take rather that great axe and make an end of me, and of the
+beauty which has wrought so much woe, and most of all to me who wear
+it! Would that I had not moved my head behind the shield, but had
+suffered the axe to fall upon it. To this end I was dressed as a man,
+that I might meet the fate of a man. Ah! a curse be on my woman’s
+weakness that snatched me from death to give me up to shame!”
+
+Thus she prayed to Umslopogaas in her low sweet voice, and his heart
+was shaken in him, though, indeed, he did not now purpose to give Nada
+to Dingaan, as Baleka was given to Chaka, perhaps in the end to meet
+the fate of Baleka.
+
+“There are many, Nada,” he said, “who would think it no misfortune that
+they should be given as a wife to the first of chiefs.”
+
+“Then I am not of their number,” she answered; “nay, I will die first,
+by my own hand if need be.”
+
+Now Umslopogaas wondered how it came about that Nada looked upon
+marriage thus, but he did not speak of the matter; he said only, “Tell
+me then, Nada, how I can deliver myself of this charge. I must go to
+Dingaan as I promised our father Mopo, and what shall I say to Dingaan
+when he asks for the Lily whom I went out to pluck and whom his heart
+desires? What shall I say to save myself alive from the wrath of
+Dingaan?”
+
+Then Nada thought and answered, “You shall say this, my brother. You
+shall tell him that the Lily, being clothed in the war-dress of a
+warrior, fell by chance in the fray. See, now, none of your people know
+that you have found me; they are thinking of other things than maids in
+the hour of their victory. This, then, is my plan: we will search now
+by the starlight till we find the body of a fair maid, for, doubtless,
+some were killed by hazard in the fight, and on her we will set a
+warrior’s dress, and lay by her the corpse of one of your own men.
+To-morrow, at the light, you shall take the captains of your soldiers
+and, having laid the body of the girl in the dark of the cave, you
+shall show it to them hurriedly, and tell them that this was the Lily,
+slain by one of your own people, whom in your wrath you slew also. They
+will not look long on so common a sight, and if by hazard they see the
+maid, and think her not so very fair, they will deem that it is death
+which has robbed her of her comeliness. So the tale which you must tell
+to Dingaan shall be built up firmly, and Dingaan shall believe it to be
+true.”
+
+“And how shall this be, Nada?” asked Umslopogaas. “How shall this be
+when men see you among the captives and know you by your beauty? Are
+there, then, two such Lilies in the land?”
+
+“I shall not be known, for I shall not be seen, Umslopogaas. You must
+set me free to-night. I will wander hence disguised as a youth and
+covered with a blanket, and if any meet me, who shall say that I am the
+Lily?”
+
+“And where will you wander, Nada? to your death? Must we, then, meet
+after so many years to part again for ever?”
+
+“Where was it that you said you lived, my brother? Beneath the shade of
+a Ghost Mountain, that men may know by a shape of stone which is
+fashioned like an old woman frozen into stone, was it not? Tell me of
+the road thither.”
+
+So Umslopogaas told her the road, and she listened silently.
+
+“Good,” she said. “I am strong and my feet are swift; perhaps they may
+serve to bring me so far, and perhaps, if I win the shadow of that
+mountain, you will find me a hut to hide in, Umslopogaas, my brother.”
+
+“Surely it shall be so, my sister,” answered Umslopogaas, “and yet the
+way is long and many dangers lie in the path of a maid journeying
+alone, without food or shelter,” and as he spoke Umslopogaas thought of
+Zinita his wife, for he guessed that she would not love Nada, although
+she was only his sister.
+
+“Still, it must be travelled, and the dangers must be braved,” she
+answered, smiling. “Alas! there is no other way.”
+
+Then Umslopogaas summoned Galazi the Wolf and told him all this story,
+for Galazi was the only man whom he could trust. The Wolf listened in
+silence, marvelling the while at the beauty of Nada, as the starlight
+showed it. When everything was told, he said only that he no longer
+wondered that the people of the Halakazi had defied Dingaan and brought
+death upon themselves for the sake of this maid. Still, to be plain,
+his heart thought ill of the matter, for death was not done with yet:
+there before them shone the Star of Death, and he pointed to the Lily.
+
+Now Nada trembled at his words of evil omen, and the Slaughterer grew
+angry, but Galazi would neither add to them nor take away from them. “I
+have spoken that which my heart hears,” he answered.
+
+Then they rose and went to search among the dead for a girl who would
+suit their purpose; soon they found one, a tall and fair maiden, and
+Galazi bore her in his arms to the great cave. Here in the cave were
+none but the dead, and, tossed hither and thither in their last sleep,
+they looked awful in the glare of the torches.
+
+“They sleep sound,” said the Lily, gazing on them; “rest is sweet.”
+
+“We shall soon win it, maiden,” answered Galazi, and again Nada
+trembled.
+
+Then, having arrayed her in the dress of a warrior, and put a shield
+and spear by her, they laid down the body of the girl in a dark place
+in the cave, and, finding a dead warrior of the People of the Axe,
+placed him beside her. Now they left the cave, and, pretending that
+they visited the sentries, Umslopogaas and Galazi passed from spot to
+spot, while the Lily walked after them like a guard, hiding her face
+with a shield, holding a spear in her hand, and having with her a bag
+of corn and dried flesh.
+
+So they passed on, till at length they came to the entrance in the
+mountain side. The stones that had blocked it were pulled down so as to
+allow those of the Halakazi to fly who had been spared at the entreaty
+of Nada, but there were guards by the entrance to watch that none came
+back. Umslopogaas challenged them, and they saluted him, but he saw
+that they were worn out with battle and journeying, and knew little of
+what they saw or said. Then he, Galazi, and Nada passed through the
+opening on to the plain beyond.
+
+Here the Slaughterer and the Lily bade each other farewell, while
+Galazi watched, and presently the Wolf saw Umslopogaas return as one
+who is heavy at heart, and caught sight of the Lily skimming across the
+plain lightly like a swallow.
+
+“I do not know when we two shall meet again,” said Umslopogaas so soon
+as she had melted into the shadows of the night.
+
+“May you never meet,” answered Galazi, “for I am sure that if you meet
+that sister of yours will bring death on many more than those who now
+lie low because of her loveliness. She is a Star of Death, and when she
+sets the sky shall be blood red.”
+
+Umslopogaas did not answer, but walked slowly through the archway in
+the mountain side.
+
+“How is this, chief?” said he who was captain of the guard. “Three went
+out, but only two return.”
+
+“Fool!” answered Umslopogaas. “Are you drunk with Halakazi beer, or
+blind with sleep? Two went out, and two return. I sent him who was with
+us back to the camp.”
+
+“So be it, father,” said the captain. “Two went out, and two return.
+All is well!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+THE STAMPING OF THE FIRE
+
+
+On the morrow the impi awoke refreshed with sleep, and, after they had
+eaten, Umslopogaas mustered them. Alas! nearly half of those who had
+seen the sun of yesterday would wake no more forever. The Slaughterer
+mustered them and thanked them for that which they had done, winning
+fame and cattle. They were merry, recking little of those who were
+dead, and sang his praises and the praises of Galazi in a loud song.
+When the song was ended Umslopogaas spoke to them again, saying that
+the victory was great, and the cattle they had won were countless. Yet
+something was lacking—she was lacking whom he came to seek to be a gift
+to Dingaan the king, and for whose sake this war was made. Where now
+was the Lily? Yesterday she had been here, clad in a moocha like a man
+and bearing a shield; this he knew from the captives. Where, then, was
+she now?
+
+Then all the soldiers said that they had seen nothing of her. When they
+had done, Galazi spoke a word, as was agreed between him and
+Umslopogaas. He said that when they stormed the cave he had seen a man
+run at a warrior in the cave to kill him. Then as he came, he who was
+about to be slain threw down the shield and cried for mercy, and Galazi
+knew that this was no warrior of the Halakazi, but a very beautiful
+girl. So he called to the man to let her alone and not to touch her,
+for the order was that no women should be killed. But the soldier,
+being mad with the lust of fight, shouted that maid or man she should
+die, and slew her. Thereon, he—Galazi—in his wrath ran up and smote the
+man with the Watcher and killed him also, and he prayed that he had
+done no wrong.
+
+“You have done well, my brother,” said Umslopogaas. “Come now, some of
+you, and let us look at this dead girl. Perhaps it is the Lily, and if
+so that is unlucky for us, for I do not know what tale we shall tell to
+Dingaan of the matter.”
+
+So the captains went with Umslopogaas and Galazi, and came to the spot
+where the girl had been laid, and by her the man of the People of the
+Axe.
+
+“All is as the Wolf, my brother, has told,” said Umslopogaas, waving
+the torch in his hand over the two who lay dead. “Here, without a
+doubt, lies she who was named the Lily, whom we came to win, and by her
+that fool who slew her, slain himself by the blow of the Watcher. An
+ill sight to see, and an ill tale for me to tell at the kraal of
+Dingaan. Still, what is is, and cannot be altered; and this maid who
+was the fairest of the fair is now none too lovely to look on. Let us
+away!” And he turned swiftly, then spoke again, saying:—
+
+“Bind up this dead girl in ox hides, cover her with salt, and let her
+be brought with us.” And they did so.
+
+Then the captains said: “Surely it is so, my father; now it cannot be
+altered, and Dingaan must miss his bride.” So said they all except that
+man who had been captain of the guard when Umslopogaas and Galazi and
+another passed through the archway. This man, indeed, said nothing, yet
+he was not without his thoughts. For it seemed to him that he had seen
+three pass through the archway, and not two. It seemed to him,
+moreover, that the kaross which the third wore had slipped aside as she
+pressed past him, and that beneath it he had seen the shape of a
+beautiful woman, and above it had caught the glint of a woman’s eye—an
+eye full and dark, like a buck’s.
+
+Also, this captain noted that Bulalio called none of the captives to
+swear to the body of the Lily maid, and that he shook the torch to and
+fro as he held it over her—he whose hand was of the steadiest. All of
+this he kept in his mind, forgetting nothing.
+
+Now it chanced afterwards, on the homeward march, my father, that
+Umslopogaas had cause to speak angrily to this man, because he tried to
+rob another of his share of the spoil of the Halakazi. He spoke sharply
+to him, degrading him from his rank, and setting another over him. Also
+he took cattle from the man, and gave them to him whom he would have
+robbed.
+
+And thereafter, though he was justly served, this man thought more and
+more of the third who had passed through the arch of the cave and had
+not returned, and who seemed to him to have a fair woman’s shape, and
+eyes which gleamed like those of a woman.
+
+On that day, then, Umslopogaas began his march to the kraal
+Umgugundhlovu, where Dingaan sat. But before he set his face homewards,
+in the presence of the soldiers, he asked Galazi the Wolf if he would
+come back with him, or if he desired to stay to be chief of the
+Halakazi, as he was by right of birth and war. Then the Wolf laughed,
+and answered that he had come out to seek for vengeance, and not for
+the place of a chief, also that there were few of the Halakazi people
+left over whom he might rule if he wished. Moreover, he added this:
+that, like twin trees, they two blood-brethren had grown up side by
+side till their roots were matted together, and that, were one of them
+dug up and planted in Swazi soil, he feared lest both should wither,
+or, at the least, that he, Galazi, would wither, who loved but one man
+and certain wolves.
+
+So Umslopogaas said no more of the chieftainship, but began his
+journey. With him he brought a great number of cattle, to be a gift for
+Dingaan, and a multitude of captives, young women and children, for he
+would appease the heart of Dingaan, because he did not bring her whom
+he sought—the Lily, flower of flowers. Yet, because he was cautious and
+put little faith in the kindness of kings, Umslopogaas, so soon as he
+reached the borders of Zululand, sent the best of the cattle and the
+fairest of the maids and children on to the kraal of the People of the
+Axe by the Ghost Mountain. And he who had been captain of the guard but
+now was a common soldier noticed this also.
+
+Now it chanced that on a certain morning I, Mopo, sat in the kraal
+Umgugundhlovu in attendance on Dingaan. For still I waited on the king,
+though he had spoken no word to me, good or bad, since the yesterday,
+when I foretold to him that in the blood of the white men whom he had
+betrayed grew the flower of his own death. For, my father, it was on
+the morrow of the slaying of the Amaboona that Umslopogaas came to the
+kraal Umgugundhlovu.
+
+Now the mind of Dingaan was heavy, and he sought something to lighten
+it. Presently he bethought himself of the white praying man, who had
+come to the kraal seeking to teach us people of the Zulu to worship
+other gods than the assegai and the king. Now this was a good man, but
+no luck went with his teaching, which was hard to understand; and,
+moreover, the indunas did not like it, because it seemed to set a
+master over the master, and a king over the king, and to preach of
+peace to those whose trade was war. Still, Dingaan sent for the white
+man that he might dispute with him, for Dingaan thought that he himself
+was the cleverest of all men.
+
+Now the white man came, but his face was pale, because of that which he
+had seen befall the Boers, for he was gentle and hated such sights. The
+king bade him be seated and spoke to him saying:—
+
+“The other day, O White Man, thou toldest me of a place of fire whither
+those go after death who have done wickedly in life. Tell me now of thy
+wisdom, do my fathers lie in that place?”
+
+“How can I know, King,” answered the prayer-doctor, “who may not judge
+of the deeds of men? This I say only: that those who murder and rob and
+oppress the innocent and bear false witness shall lie in that place of
+fire.”
+
+“It seems that my fathers have done all these things, and if they are
+in this place I would go there also, for I am minded to be with my
+fathers at the last. Yet I think that I should find a way to escape if
+ever I came there.”
+
+“How, King?”
+
+Now Dingaan had set this trap for the prayer-doctor. In the centre of
+that open space where he had caused the Boers to be fallen upon he had
+built up a great pyre of wood—brushwood beneath, and on top of the
+brushwood logs, and even whole trees. Perhaps, my father, there were
+sixty full wagonloads of dry wood piled together there in the centre of
+the place.
+
+“Thou shalt see with thine eyes, White Man,” he answered, and bidding
+attendants set fire to the pile all round, he summoned that regiment of
+young men which was left in the kraal. Maybe there were a thousand and
+half a thousand of them—not more—the same that had slain the Boers.
+
+Now the fire began to burn fiercely, and the regiment filed in and took
+its place in ranks. By the time that all had come, the pyre was
+everywhere a sheet of raging flame, and, though we sat a hundred paces
+from it, its heat was great when the wind turned our way.
+
+“Now, Doctor of Prayers, is thy hot place hotter than yonder fire?”
+said the king.
+
+He answered that he did not know, but the fire was certainly hot.
+
+“Then I will show thee how I will come out of it if ever I go to lie in
+such a fire—ay, though it be ten times as big and fierce. Ho! my
+children!” he cried to the soldiers, and, springing up, “You see yonder
+fire. Run swiftly and stamp it flat with your feet. Where there was
+fire let there be blackness and ashes.”
+
+Now the White Man lifted his hands and prayed Dingaan not to do this
+thing that should be the death of many, but the king bade him be
+silent. Then he turned his eyes upward and prayed to his gods. For a
+moment also the soldiers looked on each other in doubt, for the fire
+raged furiously, and spouts of flame shot high toward the heaven, and
+above it and about it the hot air danced. But their captain called to
+them loudly: “Great is the king! Hear the words of the king, who
+honours you! Yesterday we ate up the Amaboona—it was nothing, they were
+unarmed. There is a foe more worthy of our valour. Come, my children,
+let us wash in the fire—we who are fiercer than the fire! Great is the
+king who honours us!”
+
+Thus he spoke and ran forward, and, with a roar, after him sprang the
+soldiers, rank by rank. They were brave men indeed; moreover, they knew
+that if death lay before them death also awaited him who lagged behind,
+and it is far better to die with honour than ashamed. On they went, as
+to the joy of battle, their captain leading them, and as they went they
+sang the Ingomo, the war-chant of the Zulu. Now the captain neared the
+raging fire; we saw him lift his shield to keep off its heat. Then he
+was gone—he had sprung into the heart of the furnace, and but little of
+him was ever found again. After him went the first company. In they
+went, beating at the flames with their ox-hide shields, stamping them
+out with their naked feet, tearing down the burning logs and casting
+them aside. Not one man of that company lived, my father; they fell
+down like moths which flutter through a candle, and where they fell
+they perished. But after them came other companies, and it was well for
+those in this fight who were last to grapple with the foe. Now a great
+smoke was mixed with the flame, now the flame grew less and less, and
+the smoke more and more; and now blackened men, hairless, naked, and
+blistered, white with the scorching of the fire, staggered out on the
+farther side of the flames, falling to earth here and there. After them
+came others; now there was no flame, only a great smoke in which men
+moved dimly; and presently, my father, it was done: they had conquered
+the fire, and that with but very little hurt to the last seven
+companies, though every man had trodden it. How many perished?—nay, I
+know not, they were never counted; but what between the dead and the
+injured that regiment was at half strength till the king drafted more
+men into it.
+
+“See, Doctor of Prayers,” said Dingaan, with a laugh, “thus shall I
+escape the fires of that land of which thou tellest, if such there be
+indeed: I will bid my impis stamp them out.”
+
+Then the praying man went from the kraal saying that he would teach no
+more among the Zulus, and afterwards he left the land. When he had gone
+the burnt wood and the dead were cleared away, the injured were
+doctored or killed according to their hurts, and those who had little
+harm came before the king and praised him.
+
+“New shields and headdresses must be found for you, my children,” said
+Dingaan, for the shields were black and shrivelled, and of heads of
+hair and plumes there were but few left among that regiment.
+
+“_Wow!_” said Dingaan again, looking at the soldiers who still lived:
+“shaving will be easy and cheap in that place of fire of which the
+white man speaks.”
+
+Then he ordered beer to be brought to the men, for the heat had made
+them thirsty.
+
+Now though you may not guess it, my father, I have told you this tale
+because it has something to do with my story; for scarcely had the
+matter been ended when messengers came, saying that Bulalio, chief of
+the People of the Axe, and his impi were without, having returned with
+much spoil from the slaying of the Halakazi in Swaziland. Now when I
+heard this my heart leapt for joy, seeing that I had feared greatly for
+the fate of Umslopogaas, my fosterling. Dingaan also was very glad,
+and, springing up, danced to and fro like a child.
+
+“Now at last we have good tidings,” he said, at once forgetting the
+stamping of the fire, “and now shall my eyes behold that Lily whom my
+hand has longed to pluck. Let Bulalio and his people enter swiftly.”
+
+For awhile there was silence; then from far away, without the high
+fence of the great place, there came a sound of singing, and through
+the gates of the kraal rushed two great men, wearing black plumes upon
+their heads, having black shields in their left hands, and in their
+right, one an axe and one a club; while about their shoulders were
+bound wolf-skins. They ran low, neck and neck, with outstretched
+shields and heads held forward, as a buck runs when he is hard pressed
+by dogs, and no such running had been seen in the kraal Umgugundhlovu
+as the running of the Wolf-Brethren. Half across the space they ran,
+and halted suddenly, and, as they halted, the dead ashes of the fire
+flew up before their feet in a little cloud.
+
+“By my head! look, these come armed before me!” said Dingaan, frowning,
+“and to do this is death. Now say who is that man, great and fierce,
+who bears an axe aloft? Did I not know him dead I should say it was the
+Black One, my brother, as he was in the days of the smiting of Zwide:
+so was his head set on his shoulders and so he was wont to look round,
+like a lion.”
+
+“I think that is Bulalio the Slaughterer, chief of the People of the
+Axe, O King,” I answered.
+
+“And who is the other with him? He is a great man also. Never have I
+seen such a pair!”
+
+“I think that is Galazi the Wolf, he who is blood-brother to the
+Slaughterer, and his general,” I said again.
+
+Now after these two came the soldiers of the People of the Axe, armed
+with short sticks alone. Four by four they came, all holding their
+heads low, and with black shields outstretched, and formed themselves
+into companies behind the Wolf-Brethren, till all were there. Then,
+after them, the crowd of the Halakazi slaves were driven in,—women,
+boys, and maids, a great number—and they stood behind the ranks huddled
+together like frightened calves.
+
+“A gallant sight, truly!” said Dingaan, as he looked upon the companies
+of black-plumed and shielded warriors. “I have no better soldiers in my
+impis, and yet my eyes behold these for the first time,” and again he
+frowned.
+
+Now suddenly Umslopogaas lifted his axe and started forward at full
+speed, and after him thundered the companies. On they rushed, and their
+plumes lay back upon the wind, till it seemed as though they must stamp
+us flat. But when he was within ten paces of the king Umslopogaas
+lifted Groan-Maker again, and Galazi held the Watcher on high, and
+every man halted where he was, while once more the dust flew up in
+clouds. They halted in long, unbroken lines, with outstretched shields
+and heads held low; no man’s head rose more than the length of a dance
+kerrie from the earth. So they stood one minute, then, for the third
+time, Umslopogaas lifted Groan-Maker, and in an instant every man
+straightened himself, each shield was tossed on high, and from every
+throat was roared the royal salute, “_Bayéte!_”
+
+“A pretty sight forsooth,” quoth Dingaan; “but these soldiers are too
+well drilled who have never done me service nor the Black One who was
+before me, and this Slaughterer is too good a captain, I say. Come
+hither, ye twain!” he cried aloud.
+
+Then the Wolf-Brethren strode forward and stood before the king, and
+for awhile they looked upon each other.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+THE LILY IS BROUGHT TO DINGAAN
+
+
+“How are you named?” said Dingaan.
+
+“We are named Bulalio the Slaughterer and Galazi the Wolf, O King,”
+answered Umslopogaas.
+
+“Was it thou who didst send a certain message to the Black One who is
+dead, Bulalio?”
+
+“Yea, O King, I sent a message, but from all I have heard, Masilo, my
+messenger, gave more than the message, for he stabbed the Black One.
+Masilo had an evil heart.”
+
+Now Dingaan winced, for he knew well that he himself and one Mopo had
+stabbed the Black One, but he thought that this outland chief had not
+heard the tale, so he said no more of the message.
+
+“How is it that ye dare to come before me armed? Know ye not the rule
+that he who appears armed before the king dies?”
+
+“We have not heard that law, O King,” said Umslopogaas. “Moreover,
+there is this to be told: by virtue of the axe I bear I rule alone. If
+I am seen without the axe, then any man may take my place who can, for
+the axe is chieftainess of the People of the Axe, and he who holds it
+is its servant.”
+
+“A strange custom,” said Dingaan, “but let it pass. And thou, Wolf,
+what hast thou to say of that great club of thine?”
+
+“There is this to be told of the club, O King,” answered Galazi: “by
+virtue of the club I guard my life. If I am seen without the club, then
+may any man take my life who can, for the club is my Watcher, not I
+Watcher of the club.”
+
+“Never wast thou nearer to the losing of both club and life,” said
+Dingaan, angrily.
+
+“It may be so, O King,” answered the Wolf. “When the hour is, then,
+without a doubt, the Watcher shall cease from his watching.”
+
+“Ye are a strange pair,” quoth Dingaan. “Where have you been now, and
+what is your business at the Place of the Elephant?”
+
+“We have been in a far country, O King!” answered Umslopogaas. “We have
+wandered in a distant land to search for a Flower to be a gift to a
+king, and in our searching we have trampled down a Swazi garden, and
+yonder are some of those who tended it”—and he pointed to the
+captives—“and without are the cattle that ploughed it.”
+
+“Good, Slaughterer! I see the gardeners, and I hear the lowing of the
+cattle, but what of the Flower? Where is this Flower ye went so far to
+dig in Swazi soil? Was it a Lily-bloom, perchance?”
+
+“It was a Lily-bloom, O King! and yet, alas! the Lily has withered.
+Nothing is left but the stalk, white and withered as are the bones of
+men.”
+
+“What meanest thou?” said Dingaan, starting to his feet.
+
+“That the king shall learn,” answered Umslopogaas; and, turning, he
+spoke a word to the captains who were behind him. Presently the ranks
+opened up, and four men ran forward from the rear of the companies. On
+their shoulders they bore a stretcher, and upon the stretcher lay
+something wrapped about with raw ox-hides, and bound round with rimpis.
+The men saluted, and laid their burden down before the king.
+
+“Open!” said the Slaughterer; and they opened, and there within the
+hides, packed in salt, lay the body of a girl who once was tall and
+fair.
+
+“Here lies the Lily’s stalk, O King!” said Umslopogaas, pointing with
+the axe, “but if her flower blooms on any air, it is not here.”
+
+Now Dingaan stared at the sight of death, and bitterness of heart took
+hold of him, since he desired above all things to win the beauty of the
+Lily for himself.
+
+“Bear away this carrion and cast it to the dogs!” he cried, for thus he
+could speak of her whom he would have taken to wife, when once he
+deemed her dead. “Take it away, and thou, Slaughterer, tell me how it
+came about that the maid was slain. It will be well for thee if thou
+hast a good answer, for know thy life hangs on the words.”
+
+So Umslopogaas told the king all that tale which had been made ready
+against the wrath of Dingaan. And when he had finished Galazi told his
+story, of how he had seen the soldier kill the maid, and in his wrath
+had killed the soldier. Then certain of the captains who had seen the
+soldier and the maid lying in one death came forward and spoke to it.
+
+Now Dingaan was very angry, and yet there was nothing to be done. The
+Lily was dead, and by no fault of any except of one, who was also dead
+and beyond his reach.
+
+“Get you hence, you and your people,” he said to the Wolf-Brethren. “I
+take the cattle and the captives. Be thankful that I do not take all
+your lives also—first, because ye have dared to make war without my
+word, and secondly, because, having made war, ye have so brought it
+about that, though ye bring me the body of her I sought, ye do not
+bring the life.”
+
+Now when the king spoke of taking the lives of all the People of the
+Axe, Umslopogaas smiled grimly and glanced at his companies. Then
+saluting the king, he turned to go. But as he turned a man sprang
+forwards from the ranks and called to Dingaan, saying:—
+
+“Is it granted that I may speak truth before the king, and afterwards
+sleep in the king’s shadow?”
+
+Now this was that man who had been captain of the guard on the night
+when three passed out through the archway and two returned, that same
+man whom Umslopogaas had degraded from his rank.
+
+“Speak on, thou art safe,” answered Dingaan.
+
+“O King, thy ears have been filled with lies,” said the soldier.
+“Hearken, O King! I was captain of the guard of the gate on that night
+of the slaying of the Halakazi. Three came to the gate of the
+mountain—they were Bulalio, the Wolf Galazi, and another. That other
+was tall and slim, bearing a shield high—so. As the third passed the
+gate, the kaross he wore brushed against me and slipped aside. Beneath
+that kaross was no man’s breast, O King, but the shape of a woman,
+almost white in colour, and very fair. In drawing back the kaross this
+third one moved the shield. Behind that shield was no man’s face, O
+King, but the face of a girl, lovelier than the moon, and having eyes
+brighter than the stars. Three went out at the mountain gate, O King,
+only two returned, and, peeping after them, it seemed that I saw the
+third running swiftly across the plains, as a young maid runs, O King.
+This also, Elephant, Bulalio yonder denied me when, as captain of the
+guard, I asked for the third who had passed the gate, saying that only
+two had passed. Further, none of the captives were called to swear to
+the body of the maid, and now it is too late, and that man who lay
+beside her was not killed by Galazi in the cave. He was killed outside
+the cave by a blow of a Halakazi kerrie. I saw him fall with my own
+eyes, and slew the man who smote him. One thing more, King of the
+World, the best of the captives and the cattle are not here for a gift
+to thee—they are at the kraal of Bulalio, Chief of the People of the
+Axe. I have spoken, O King, yes, because my heart loves not lies. I
+have spoken the truth, and now do thou protect me from these
+Wolf-Brethren, O King, for they are very fierce.”
+
+Now all this while that the traitor told his tale Umslopogaas, inch by
+inch, was edging near to him and yet nearer, till at length he might
+have touched him with an outstretched spear. None noted him except I,
+Mopo, alone, and perhaps Galazi, for all were watching the face of
+Dingaan as men watch a storm that is about to burst.
+
+“Fear thou not the Wolf-Brethren, soldier,” gasped Dingaan, rolling his
+red eyes; “the paw of the Lion guards thee, my servant.”
+
+Ere the words had left the king’s lips the Slaughterer leapt. He leaped
+full on to the traitor, speaking never a word, and oh! his eyes were
+awful. He leaped upon him, he seized him with his hands, lifting no
+weapon, and in his terrible might he broke him as a child breaks a
+stick—nay, I know not how, it was too swift to see. He broke him, and,
+hurling him on high, cast him dead at the feet of Dingaan, crying in a
+great voice:—
+
+“Take thy servant, King! Surely he ‘sleeps in thy shadow’!”
+
+Then there was silence, only through the silence was heard a gasp of
+fear and wonder, for no such deed as this had been wrought in the
+presence of the king—no, not since the day of Senzangacona the Root.
+
+Now Dingaan spoke, and his voice came thick with rage, and his limbs
+trembled.
+
+“Slay him!” he hissed. “Slay the dog and all those with him!”
+
+“Now we come to a game which I can play,” answered Umslopogaas. “Ho,
+People of the Axe! Will you stand to be slaughtered by these singed
+rats?” and he pointed with Groan-Maker at those warriors who had
+escaped without hurt in the fire, but whose faces the fire had
+scorched.
+
+Then for answer a great shout went up, a shout and a roar of laughter.
+And this was the shout:—
+
+“No, Slaughterer, not so are we minded!” and right and left they faced
+to meet the foe, while from all along the companies came the crackling
+of the shaken shields.
+
+Back sprang Umslopogaas to head his men; forward leaped the soldiers of
+the king to work the king’s will, if so they might. And Galazi the Wolf
+also sprang forward, towards Dingaan, and, as he sprang, swung up the
+Watcher, crying in a great voice:—
+
+“Hold!”
+
+Again there was silence, for men saw that the shadow of the Watcher lay
+dark upon the head of Dingaan.
+
+“It is a pity that many should die when one will suffice,” cried the
+Wolf again. “Let a blow be struck, and where his shadow lies there
+shall the Watcher be, and lo! the world will lack a king. A word,
+King!”
+
+Now Dingaan looked up at the great man who stood above him, and felt
+the shadow of the shining club lie cold upon his brow, and again he
+shook—this time it was with fear.
+
+“Begone in peace!” he said.
+
+“A good word for thee, King,” said the Wolf, grinning, and slowly he
+drew himself backwards towards the companies, saying, “Praise the king!
+The king bids his children go in peace.”
+
+But when Dingaan felt that his brow was no longer cold with the shadow
+of death his rage came back to him, and he would have called to the
+soldiers to fall upon the People of the Axe, only I stayed him,
+saying:—
+
+“Thy death is in it, O King; the Slaughterer will grind such men as
+thou hast here beneath his feet, and then once more shall the Watcher
+look upon thee.”
+
+Now Dingaan saw that this was true, and gave no command, for he had
+only those men with him whom the fire had left. All the rest were gone
+to slaughter the Boers in Natal. Still, he must have blood, so he
+turned on me.
+
+“Thou art a traitor, Mopo, as I have known for long, and I will serve
+thee as yonder dog served his faithless servant!” and he thrust at me
+with the assegai in his hand.
+
+But I saw the stroke, and, springing high into the air, avoided it.
+Then I turned and fled very swiftly, and after me came certain of the
+soldiers. The way was not far to the last company of the People of the
+Axe; moreover, it saw me coming, and, headed by Umslopogaas, who walked
+behind them all, ran to meet me. Then the soldiers who followed to kill
+me hung back out of reach of the axe.
+
+“Here with the king is no place for me any more, my son,” I said to
+Umslopogaas.
+
+“Fear not, my father, I will find you a place,” he answered.
+
+Then I called a message to the soldiers who followed me, saying:—
+
+“Tell this to the king: that he has done ill to drive me from him, for
+I, Mopo, set him on the throne and I alone can hold him there. Tell him
+this also, that he will do yet worse to seek me where I am, for that
+day when we are once more face to face shall be his day of death. Thus
+speaks Mopo the _inyanga_, Mopo the doctor, who never yet prophesied
+that which should not be.”
+
+Then we marched from the kraal Umgugundhlovu, and when next I saw that
+kraal it was to burn all of it which Dingaan had left unburnt, and when
+next I saw Dingaan—ah! that is to be told of, my father.
+
+We marched from the kraal, none hindering us, for there were none to
+hinder, and after we had gone a little way Umslopogaas halted and
+said:—
+
+“Now it is in my mind to return whence we came and slay this Dingaan,
+ere he slay me.”
+
+“Yet it is well to leave a frightened lion in his thicket, my son, for
+a lion at bay is hard to handle. Doubt not that every man, young and
+old, in Umgugundhlovu now stands armed about the gates, lest such a
+thought should take you, my son; and though just now he was afraid, yet
+Dingaan will strike for his life. When you might have killed you did
+not kill; now the hour has gone.”
+
+“Wise words!” said Galazi. “I would that the Watcher had fallen where
+his shadow fell.”
+
+“What is your counsel now, father?” asked Umslopogaas.
+
+“This, then: that you two should abide no more beneath the shadow of
+the Ghost Mountain, but should gather your people and your cattle, and
+pass to the north on the track of Mosilikatze the Lion, who broke away
+from Chaka. There you may rule apart or together, and never dream of
+Dingaan.”
+
+“I will not do that, father,” he answered. “I will dwell beneath the
+shadow of the Ghost Mountain while I may.”
+
+“And so will I,” said Galazi, “or rather among its rocks. What! shall
+my wolves lack a master when they would go a-hunting? Shall Greysnout
+and Blackfang, Blood and Deathgrip, and their company black and grey,
+howl for me in vain?”
+
+“So be it, children. Ye are young and will not listen to the counsel of
+the old. Let it befall as it chances.”
+
+I spoke thus, for I did not know then why Umslopogaas would not leave
+his kraals. It was for this reason: because he had bidden Nada to meet
+him there.
+
+Afterwards, when he found her he would have gone, but then the sky was
+clear, the danger-clouds had melted for awhile.
+
+Oh! that Umslopogaas my fosterling had listened to me! Now he would
+have reigned as a king, not wandered an outcast in strange lands I know
+not where; and Nada should have lived, not died, nor would the People
+of the Axe have ceased to be a people.
+
+This of Dingaan. When he heard my message he grew afraid once more, for
+he knew me to be no liar.
+
+Therefore he held his hand for awhile, sending no impi to smite
+Umslopogaas, lest it might come about that I should bring him his death
+as I had promised. And before the fear had worn away, it happened that
+Dingaan’s hands were full with the war against the Amaboona, because of
+his slaughter of the white people, and he had no soldiers to spare with
+whom to wreak vengeance on a petty chief living far away.
+
+Yet his rage was great because of what had chanced, and, after his
+custom, he murdered many innocent people to satisfy it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+MOPO TELLS HIS TALE
+
+
+Now afterwards, as we went upon our road, Umslopogaas told me all there
+was to tell of the slaying of the Halakazi and of the finding of Nada.
+
+When I heard that Nada, my daughter, still lived, I wept for joy,
+though like Umslopogaas I was torn by doubt and fear, for it is far for
+an unaided maid to travel from Swaziland to the Ghost Mountain. Yet all
+this while I said nothing to Umslopogaas of the truth as to his birth,
+because on the journey there were many around us, and the very trees
+have ears, and the same wind to which we whispered might whisper to the
+king. Still I knew that the hour had come now when I must speak, for it
+was in my mind to bring it about that Umslopogaas should be proclaimed
+the son of Chaka, and be made king of the Zulus in the place of
+Dingaan, his uncle. Yet all these things had gone cross for us, because
+it was fated so, my father. Had I known that Umslopogaas still lived
+when I slew Chaka, then I think that I could have brought it about that
+he should be king. Or had things fallen out as I planned, and the Lily
+maid been brought to Dingaan, and Umslopogaas grew great in his sight,
+then, perhaps, I could have brought it about. But all things had gone
+wrong. The Lily was none other than Nada; and how could Umslopogaas
+give Nada, whom he thought his sister, and who was my daughter, to
+Dingaan against her will? Also, because of Nada, Dingaan and
+Umslopogaas were now at bitter enmity, and for this same cause I was
+disgraced and a fugitive, and my counsels would no longer be heard in
+the ear of the king.
+
+So everything must be begun afresh: and as I walked with the impi
+towards the Ghost Mountain, I thought much and often of the manner in
+which this might be done. But as yet I said nothing.
+
+Now at last we were beneath the Ghost Mountain, and looked upon the
+face of the old Witch who sits there aloft forever waiting for the
+world to die; and that same night we came to the kraal of the People of
+the Axe, and entered it with a great singing. But Galazi did not enter
+at that time; he was away to the mountain to call his flock of wolves,
+and as we passed its foot we heard the welcome that the wolves howled
+in greeting to him.
+
+Now as we drew near the kraal, all the women and children came out to
+meet us, headed by Zinita, the head wife of Umslopogaas. They came
+joyfully, but when they found how many were wanting who a moon before
+had gone thence to fight, their joy was turned to mourning, and the
+voice of their weeping went up to heaven.
+
+Umslopogaas greeted Zinita kindly; and yet I thought that there was
+something lacking. At first she spoke to him softly, but when she
+learned all that had come to pass, her words were not soft, for she
+reviled me and sang a loud song at Umslopogaas.
+
+“See now, Slaughterer,” she said, “see now what has come about because
+you listened to this aged fool!”—that was I, my father—“this fool who
+calls himself ‘Mouth’! Ay, a mouth he is, a mouth out of which proceed
+folly and lies! What did he counsel you to do?—to go up against these
+Halakazi and win a girl for Dingaan! And what have you done?—you have
+fallen upon the Halakazi, and doubtless have killed many innocent
+people with that great axe of yours, also you have left nearly half of
+the soldiers of the Axe to whiten in the Swazi caves, and in exchange
+have brought back certain cattle of a small breed, and girls and
+children whom we must nourish!
+
+“Nor does the matter end here. You went, it seems, to win a girl whom
+Dingaan desired, yet when you find that girl you let her go, because,
+indeed, you say she was your sister and would not wed Dingaan.
+Forsooth, is not the king good enough for this sister of yours? Now
+what is the end of the tale? You try to play tricks on the king,
+because of your sister, and are found out. Then you kill a man before
+Dingaan and escape, bringing this fool of an aged Mouth with you, that
+he may teach you his own folly. So you have lost half of your men, and
+you have gained the king for a foe who shall bring about the death of
+all of us, and a fool for a councillor. _Wow!_ Slaughterer, keep to
+your trade and let others find you wit.”
+
+Thus she spoke without ceasing, and there was some truth in her words.
+Zinita had a bitter tongue. I sat silent till she had finished, and
+Umslopogaas also remained silent, though his anger was great, because
+there was no crack in her talk through which a man might thrust a word.
+
+“Peace, woman!” I said at length, “do not speak ill of those who are
+wise and who had seen much before you were born.”
+
+“Speak no ill of him who is my father,” growled Umslopogaas. “Ay!
+though you do not know it, this Mouth whom you revile is Mopo, my
+father.”
+
+“Then there is a man among the People of the Axe who has a fool for a
+father. Of all tidings this is the worst.”
+
+“There is a man among the People of the Axe who has a jade and a scold
+for a wife,” said Umslopogaas, springing up. “Begone, Zinita!—and know
+this, that if I hear you snarl such words of him who is my father, you
+shall go further than your own hut, for I will put you away and drive
+you from my kraal. I have suffered you too long.”
+
+“I go,” said Zinita. “Oh! I am well served! I made you chief, and now
+you threaten to put me away.”
+
+“My own hands made me chief,” said Umslopogaas, and, springing up, he
+thrust her from the hut.
+
+“It is a poor thing to be wedded to such a woman, my father,” he said
+presently.
+
+“Yes, a poor thing, Umslopogaas, yet these are the burdens that men
+must bear. Learn wisdom from it, Umslopogaas, and have as little to do
+with women as may be; at the least, do not love them overmuch, so shall
+you find the more peace.” Thus I spoke, smiling, and would that he had
+listened to my counsel, for it is the love of women which has brought
+ruin on Umslopogaas!
+
+All this was many years ago, and but lately I have heard that
+Umslopogaas is fled into the North, and become a wanderer to his death
+because of the matter of a woman who had betrayed him, making it seem
+that he had murdered one Loustra, who was his blood brother, just as
+Galazi had been. I do not know how it came about, but he who was so
+fierce and strong had that weakness like his uncle Dingaan, and it has
+destroyed him at the last, and for this cause I shall behold him no
+more.
+
+Now, my father, for awhile we were silent and alone in the hut, and as
+we sat I thought I heard a rat stir in the thatch.
+
+Then I spoke. “Umslopogaas, at length the hour has come that I should
+whisper something into your ear, a word which I have held secret ever
+since you were born.”
+
+“Speak on, my father,” he said, wondering.
+
+I crept to the door of the hut and looked out. The night was dark and I
+could see none about, and could hear no one move, yet, being cautious,
+I walked round the hut. Ah, my father, when you have a secret to tell,
+be not so easily deceived. It is not enough to look forth and to peer
+round. Dig beneath the floor, and search the roof also; then, having
+done all this, go elsewhere and tell your tale. The woman was right: I
+was but a fool, for all my wisdom and my white hairs. Had I not been a
+fool I would have smoked out that rat in the thatch before ever I
+opened my lips. For the rat was Zinita, my father—Zinita, who had
+climbed the hut, and now lay there in the dark, her ear upon the
+smoke-hole, listening to every word that passed. It was a wicked thing
+to do, and, moreover, the worst of omens, but there is little honour
+among women when they learn that which others wish to hide away from
+them, nor, indeed, do they then weight omens.
+
+So having searched and found nothing, I spoke to Umslopogaas, my
+fosterling, not knowing that death in a woman’s shape lay on the hut
+above us. “Hearken,” I said, “you are no son of mine, Umslopogaas,
+though you have called me father from a babe. You spring from a loftier
+stock, Slaughterer.”
+
+“Yet I was well pleased with my fathering, old man,” said Umslopogaas.
+“The breed is good enough for me. Say, then, whose son am I?”
+
+Now I bent forward and whispered to him, yet, alas! not low enough.
+“You are the son of the Black One who is dead, yea, sprung from the
+blood of Chaka and of Baleka, my sister.”
+
+“I still have some kinship with you then, Mopo, and that I am glad of.
+_Wow!_ who would have guessed that I was the son of the _Silwana_, of
+that hyena man? Perhaps it is for this reason that, like Galazi, I love
+the company of the wolves, though no love grows in my heart for my
+father or any of his house.”
+
+“You have little cause to love him, Umslopogaas, for he murdered your
+mother, Baleka, and would have slain you also. But you are the son of
+Chaka and of no other man.”
+
+“Well, his eyes must be keen indeed, my uncle, who can pick his own
+father out of a crowd. And yet I once heard this tale before, though I
+had long forgotten it.”
+
+“From whom did you hear it, Umslopogaas? An hour since, it was known to
+one alone, the others are dead who knew it. Now it is known to two”—ah!
+my father, I did not guess of the third;—“from whom, then, did you hear
+it?”
+
+“It was from the dead; at least, Galazi the Wolf heard it from the dead
+One who sat in the cave on Ghost Mountain, for the dead One told him
+that a man would come to be his brother who should be named Umslopogaas
+Bulalio, son of Chaka, and Galazi repeated it to me, but I had long
+forgotten it.”
+
+“It seems that there is wisdom among the dead,” I answered, “for lo!
+to-day you are named Umslopogaas Bulalio, and to-day I declare you the
+son of Chaka. But listen to my tale.”
+
+Then I told him all the story from the hour of his birth onwards, and
+when I spoke of the words of his mother, Baleka, after I had told my
+dream to her, and of the manner of her death by the command of Chaka,
+and of the great fashion in which she had died, then, I say,
+Umslopogaas wept, who, I think, seldom wept before or after. But as my
+tale drew it its end I saw that he listened ill, as a man listens who
+has a weightier matter pressing on his heart, and before it was well
+done he broke in:—
+
+“So, Mopo, my uncle, if I am the son of Chaka and Baleka, Nada the Lily
+is no sister to me.”
+
+“Nay, Umslopogaas, she is only your cousin.”
+
+“Over near of blood,” he said; “yet that shall not stand between us,”
+and his face grew glad.
+
+I looked at him in question.
+
+“You grow dull, my uncle. This is my meaning: that I will marry Nada if
+she still lives, for it comes upon me now that I have never loved any
+woman as I love Nada the Lily,” and while he spoke, I heard the rat
+stir in the thatch of the hut.
+
+“Wed her if you will, Umslopogaas,” I answered, “yet I think that one
+Zinita, your _Inkosikasi_, will find words to say in the matter.”
+
+“Zinita is my head wife indeed, but shall she hold me back from taking
+other wives, after the lawful custom of our people?” he asked angrily,
+and his anger showed that he feared the wrath of Zinita.
+
+“The custom is lawful and good,” I said, “but it has bred trouble at
+times. Zinita can have little to say if she continues in her place and
+you still love her as of old. But enough of her. Nada is not yet at
+your gates, and perhaps she will never find them. See, Umslopogaas, it
+is my desire that you should rule in Zululand by right of blood, and,
+though things point otherwise, yet I think a way can be found to bring
+it about.”
+
+“How so?” he asked.
+
+“Thus: Many of the great chiefs who are friends to me hate Dingaan and
+fear him, and did they know that a son of Chaka lived, and that son the
+Slaughterer, he well might climb to the throne upon their shoulders.
+Also the soldiers love the name of Chaka, though he dealt cruelly with
+them, because at least he was brave and generous. But they do not love
+Dingaan, for his burdens are the burdens of Chaka but his gifts are the
+gifts of Dingaan; therefore they would welcome Chaka’s son if once they
+knew him for certain. But it is here that the necklet chafes, for there
+is but my word to prove it. Yet I will try.”
+
+“Perhaps it is worth trying and perhaps it is not, my uncle,” answered
+Umslopogaas. “One thing I know: I had rather see Nada at my gates
+to-night than hear all the chiefs in the land crying ‘Hail, O King!’”
+
+“You will live to think otherwise, Umslopogaas; and now spies must be
+set at the kraal Umgugundhlovu to give us warning of the mind of the
+king, lest he should send an impi suddenly to eat you up. Perhaps his
+hands may be too full for that ere long, for those white Amaboona will
+answer his assegais with bullets. And one more word: let nothing be
+said of this matter of your birth, least of all to Zinita your wife, or
+to any other woman.”
+
+“Fear not, uncle,” he answered; “I know how to be silent.”
+
+Now after awhile Umslopogaas left me and went to the hut of Zinita, his
+_Inkosikasi_, where she lay wrapped in her blankets, and, as it seemed,
+asleep.
+
+“Greeting, my husband,” she said slowly, like one who wakens. “I have
+dreamed a strange dream of you. I dreamed that you were called a king,
+and that all the regiments of the Zulus filed past giving you the royal
+salute, _Bayéte_.”
+
+Umslopogaas looked at her wondering, for he did not know if she had
+learned something or if this was an omen. “Such dreams are dangerous,”
+he said, “and he who dreams them does well to lock them fast till they
+be forgotten.”
+
+“Or fulfilled,” said Zinita, and again Umslopogaas looked at her
+wondering.
+
+Now after this night I began my work, for I established spies at the
+kraal of Dingaan, and from them I learned all that passed with the
+king.
+
+At first he gave orders that an impi should be summoned to eat up the
+People of the Axe, but afterwards came tidings that the Boers, to the
+number of five hundred mounted men, were marching on the kraal
+Umgugundhlovu. So Dingaan had no impi to spare to send to the Ghost
+Mountain, and we who were beneath its shadow dwelt there in peace.
+
+This time the Boers were beaten, for Bogoza, the spy, led them into an
+ambush; still few were killed, and they did but draw back that they
+might jump the further, and Dingaan knew this. At this time also the
+English white men of Natal, the people of George, who attacked Dingaan
+by the Lower Tugela, were slain by our soldiers, and those with them.
+
+Also, by the help of certain witch-doctors, I filled the land with
+rumours, prophecies, and dark sayings, and I worked cunningly on the
+minds of many chiefs that were known to me, sending them messages
+hardly to be understood, such as should prepare their thoughts for the
+coming of one who should be declared to them. They listened, but the
+task was long, for the men dwelt far apart, and some of them were away
+with the regiments.
+
+So the time went by, till many days had passed since we reached the
+Ghost Mountain. Umslopogaas had no more words with Zinita, but she
+always watched him, and he went heavily. For he awaited Nada, and Nada
+did not come.
+
+But at length Nada came.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+THE COMING OF NADA
+
+
+One night—it was a night of full moon—I sat alone with Umslopogaas in
+my hut, and we spoke of the matter of our plots; then, when we had
+finished that talk, we spoke of Nada the Lily.
+
+“Alas! my uncle,” said Umslopogaas sadly, “we shall never look more on
+Nada; she is surely dead or in bonds, otherwise she had been here long
+ago. I have sought far and wide, and can hear no tidings and find
+nothing.”
+
+“All that is hidden is not lost,” I answered, yet I myself believed
+that there was an end of Nada.
+
+Then we were silent awhile, and presently, in the silence, a dog
+barked. We rose, and crept out of the hut to see what it might be that
+stirred, for the night drew on, and it was needful to be wary, since a
+dog might bark at the stirring of a leaf, or perhaps it might be the
+distant footfall of an impi that it heard.
+
+We had not far to look, for standing gazing at the huts, like one who
+is afraid to call, was a tall slim man, holding an assegai in one hand
+and a little shield in the other. We could not see the face of the man,
+because the light was behind him, and a ragged blanket hung about his
+shoulders. Also, he was footsore, for he rested on one leg. Now we were
+peering round the hut, and its shadow hid us, so that the man saw
+nothing. For awhile he stood still, then he spoke to himself, and his
+voice was strangely soft.
+
+“Here are many huts,” said the voice, “now how may I know which is the
+house of my brother? Perhaps if I call I shall bring soldiers to me,
+and be forced to play the man before them, and I am weary of that.
+Well, I will lie here under the fence till morning; it is a softer bed
+than some I have found, and I am worn out with travel—sleep I must,”
+and the figure sighed and turned so that the light of the moon fell
+full upon its face.
+
+My father, it was the face of Nada, my daughter, whom I had not seen
+for so many years, yet across the years I knew it at once; yes, though
+the bud had become a flower I knew it. The face was weary and worn, but
+ah! it was beautiful, never before nor since have I seen such beauty,
+for there was this about the loveliness of my daughter, the Lily: it
+seemed to flow from within—yes, as light will flow through the thin
+rind of a gourd, and in that she differed from the other women of our
+people, who, when they are fair are fair with the flesh alone.
+
+Now my heart went out to Nada as she stood in the moonlight, one
+forsaken, not having where to lay her head, Nada, who alone was left
+alive of all my children. I motioned to Umslopogaas to hide himself in
+the shadow, and stepped forward.
+
+“Ho!” I said roughly, “who are you, wanderer, and what do you here?”
+
+Now Nada started like a frightened bird, but quickly gathered up her
+thoughts, and turned upon me in a lordly way.
+
+“Who are you that ask me?” she said, feigning a man’s voice.
+
+“One who can use a stick upon thieves and night-prowlers, boy. Come,
+show your business or be moving. You are not of this people; surely
+that moocha is of a Swazi make, and here we do not love Swazis.”
+
+“Were you not old, I would beat you for your insolence,” said Nada,
+striving to look brave and all the while searching a way to escape.
+“Also, I have no stick, only a spear, and that is for warriors, not for
+an old _umfagozan_ like you.” Ay, my father, I lived to hear my
+daughter name me an _umfagozan_—a low fellow!
+
+Now making pretence to be angry, I leaped at her with my kerrie up,
+and, forgetting her courage, she dropped her spear, and uttered a
+little scream. But she still held the shield before her face. I seized
+her by the arm, and struck a blow upon the shield with my kerrie—it
+would scarcely have crushed a fly, but this brave warrior trembled
+sorely.
+
+“Where now is your valour, you who name me _umfagozan?_” I said: “you
+who cry like a maid and whose arm is soft as a maid’s.”
+
+She made no answer, but hugged her tattered blanket round her, and
+shifting my grip from her arm, I seized it and rent it, showing her
+breast and shoulder; then I let her go, laughing, and said:—
+
+“Lo! here is the warrior that would beat an old _umfagozan_ for his
+insolence, a warrior well shaped for war! Now, my pretty maid who
+wander at night in the garment of a man, what tale have you to tell?
+Swift with it, lest I drag you to the chief as his prize! The old man
+seeks a new wife, they tell me?”
+
+Now when Nada saw that I had discovered her she threw down the shield
+after the spear, as a thing that was of no more use, and hung her head
+sullenly. But when I spoke of dragging her to the chief then she flung
+herself upon the ground, and clasped my knees, for since I called him
+old, she thought that this chief could not be Umslopogaas.
+
+“Oh, my father,” said the Lily, “oh, my father, have pity on me! Yes,
+yes! I am a girl, a maid—no wife—and you who are old, you, perchance
+have daughters such as I, and in their name I ask for pity. My father,
+I have journeyed far, I have endured many things, to find my way to a
+kraal where my brother rules, and now it seems I have come to the wrong
+kraal. Forgive me that I spoke to you so, my father; it was but a
+woman’s feint, and I was hard pressed to hide my sex, for my father,
+you know it is ill to be a lonely girl among strange men.”
+
+Now I said nothing in answer, for this reason only: that when I heard
+Nada call me father, not knowing me, and saw her clasp my knees and
+pray to me in my daughter’s name, I, who was childless save for her,
+went nigh to weeping. But she thought that I did not answer her because
+I was angry, and about to drag her to this unknown chief, and implored
+me the more even with tears.
+
+“My father,” she said, “do not this wicked thing by me. Let me go and
+show me the path that I shall ask: you who are old, you know that I am
+too fair to be dragged before this chief of yours. Hearken! All I knew
+are dead, I am alone except for this brother I seek. Oh! if you betray
+me may such a fate fall upon your own daughter also! May she also know
+the day of slavery, and the love that she wills not!” and she ceased,
+sobbing.
+
+Now I turned my head and spoke towards the hut, “Chief,” I said, “your
+_Ehlosé_ is kind to you to-night, for he has given you a maid fair as
+the Lily of the Halakazi”—here Nada glanced up wildly. “Come, then, and
+take the girl.”
+
+Now Nada turned to snatch up the assegai from the ground, but whether
+to kill me, or the chief she feared so much, or herself, I do not know,
+and as she turned, in her woe she called upon the name of Umslopogaas.
+She found the assegai, and straightened herself again. And lo! there
+before her stood a tall chief leaning on an axe; but the old man who
+threatened her was gone—not very far, in truth, but round the corner of
+the hut.
+
+Now Nada the Lily looked, then rubbed her eyes, and looked again.
+
+“Surely I dream?” she said at last. “But now I spoke to an old man, and
+in his place there stands before me the shape of one whom I desire to
+see.”
+
+“I thought, Maiden, that the voice of a certain Nada called upon one
+Umslopogaas,” said he who leaned upon the axe.
+
+“Ay, I called: but where is the old man who treated me so scurvily?
+Nay, what does it matter?—where he is, there let him stop. At least,
+you are Umslopogaas, my brother, or should be by your greatness and the
+axe. To the man I cannot altogether swear in this light; but to the axe
+I can swear, for once it passed so very near my eyes.”
+
+Thus she spoke on, gaining time, and all the while she watched
+Umslopogaas till she was sure that it was he and no other. Then she
+ceased talking, and, flinging herself on him, she kissed him.
+
+“Now I trust that Zinita sleeps sound,” murmured Umslopogaas, for
+suddenly he remembered that Nada was no sister of his, as she thought.
+
+Nevertheless, he took her by the hand and said, “Enter, sister. Of all
+maidens in the world you are the most welcome here, for know I believed
+you dead.”
+
+But I, Mopo, ran into the hut before her, and when she entered she
+found me sitting by the fire.
+
+“Now, here, my brother,” said Nada, pointing at me with her finger,
+“here is that old _umfagozan_, that low fellow, who, unless I dream,
+but a very little while ago brought shame upon me—ay, my brother, he
+struck me, a maid, with his kerrie, and that only because I said that I
+would stab him for his insolence, and he did worse: he swore that he
+would drag me to some old chief of his to be a gift to him, and this he
+was about to do, had you not come. Will you suffer these things to go
+unpunished, my brother?”
+
+Now Umslopogaas smiled grimly, and I answered:—
+
+“What was it that you called me just now, Nada, when you prayed me to
+protect you? Father, was it not?” and I turned my face towards the
+blaze of the fire, so that the full light fell upon it.
+
+“Yes, I called you father, old man. It is not strange, for a homeless
+wanderer must find fathers where she can—and yet! no, it cannot be—so
+changed—and that white hand? And yet, oh! who are you? Once there was a
+man named Mopo, and he had a little daughter, and she was called
+Nada—Oh! my father, my father, I know you now!”
+
+“Ay, Nada, and I knew you from the first; through all your man’s
+wrappings I knew you after these many years.”
+
+So the Lily fell upon my neck and sobbed there, and I remember that I
+also wept.
+
+Now when she had sobbed her fill of joy, Umslopogaas brought Nada the
+Lily _maas_ to eat and mealie porridge. She ate the curdled milk, but
+the porridge she would not eat, saying that she was too weary.
+
+Then she told us all the tale of her wanderings since she had fled away
+from the side of Umslopogaas at the stronghold of the Halakazi, and it
+was long, so long that I will not repeat it, for it is a story by
+itself. This I will say only: that Nada was captured by robbers, and
+for awhile passed herself off among them as a youth. But, in the end,
+they found her out and would have given her as a wife to their chief,
+only she persuaded them to kill the chief and make her their ruler.
+They did this because of that medicine of the eyes which Nada had only
+among women, for as she ruled the Halakazi so she ruled the robbers.
+But, at the last, they all loved her, and she gave it out that she
+would wed the strongest. Then some of them fell to fighting, and while
+they killed each other—for it came about that Nada brought death upon
+the robbers as on all others—she escaped, for she said that she did not
+wish to look upon their struggle but would await the upshot in a place
+apart.
+
+After that she had many further adventures, but at length she met an
+old woman who guided her on her way to the Ghost Mountain. And who this
+old woman was none could discover, but Galazi swore afterwards that she
+was the Stone Witch of the mountain, who put on the shape of an aged
+woman to guide Nada to Umslopogaas, to be the sorrow and the joy of the
+People of the Axe. I do not know, my father, yet it seems to me that
+the old witch would scarcely have put off her stone for so small a
+matter.
+
+Now, when Nada had made an end of her tale, Umslopogaas told his, of
+how things had gone with Dingaan. When he told her how he had given the
+body of the girl to the king, saying that it was the Lily’s stalk, she
+said it had been well done; and when he spoke of the slaying of the
+traitor she clapped her hands, though Nada, whose heart was gentle, did
+not love to hear of deeds of death. At last he finished, and she was
+somewhat sad, and said it seemed that her fate followed her, and that
+now the People of the Axe were in danger at the hands of Dingaan
+because of her.
+
+“Ah! my brother,” she cried, taking Umslopogaas by the hand, “it were
+better I should die than that I should bring evil upon you also.”
+
+“That would not mend matters, Nada,” he answered. “For whether you be
+dead or alive, the hate of Dingaan is already earned. Also, Nada, know
+this: _I am not your brother_.”
+
+When the Lily heard these words she uttered a little cry, and, letting
+fall the hand of Umslopogaas, clasped mine, shrinking up against me.
+
+“What is this tale, father?” she asked. “He who was my twin, he with
+whom I have been bred up, says that he has deceived me these many
+years, that he is not my brother; who, then, is he, father?”
+
+“He is your cousin, Nada.”
+
+“Ah,” she answered, “I am glad. It would have grieved me had he whom I
+loved been shown to be but a stranger in whom I have no part,” and she
+smiled a little in the eyes and at the corners of her mouth. “But tell
+me this tale also.”
+
+So I told her the tale of the birth of Umslopogaas, for I trusted her.
+
+“Ah,” she said, when I had finished, “ah! you come of a bad stock,
+Umslopogaas, though it is a kingly one. I shall love you little
+henceforth, child of the hyena man.”
+
+“Then that is bad news,” said Umslopogaas, “for know, Nada, I desire
+now that you should love me more than ever—that you should be my wife
+and love me as your husband!”
+
+Now the Lily’s face grew sad and sweet, and all the hidden mockery went
+out of her talk—for Nada loved to mock.
+
+“Did you not speak to me on that night in the Halakazi caves,
+Umslopogaas, of one Zinita, who is your wife, and _Inkosikaas_ of the
+People of the Axe?”
+
+Then the brow of Umslopogaas darkened: “What of Zinita?” he said. “It
+is true she is my chieftainess; is it not allowed a man to take more
+than one wife?”
+
+“So I trust,” answered Nada, smiling, “else men would go unwed for
+long, for few maids would marry them who then must labour alone all
+their days. But, Umslopogaas, if there are twenty wives, yet one must
+be first. Now this has come about hitherto: that wherever I have been
+it has been thrust upon me to be first, and perhaps it might be thus
+once more—what then, Umslopogaas?”
+
+“Let the fruit ripen before you pluck it, Nada,” he answered. “If you
+love me and will wed me, it is enough.”
+
+“I pray that it may not be more than enough,” she said, stretching out
+her hand to him. “Listen, Umslopogaas: ask my father here what were the
+words I spoke to him many years ago, before I was a woman, when, with
+my mother, Macropha, I left him to go among the Swazi people. It was
+after you had been borne away by the lion, Umslopogaas, I told my
+father that I would marry no man all my life, because I loved only you,
+who were dead. My father reproached me, saying that I must not speak
+thus of my brother, but it was my heart which spoke, and it spoke
+truly; for see, Umslopogaas, you are no brother to me! I have kept that
+vow. How many men have sought me in wedlock since I became a woman,
+Umslopogaas? I tell you that they are as the leaves upon a tree. Yet I
+have given myself to none, and this has been my fortune: that none have
+sought to constrain me to marriage. Now I have my reward, for he whom I
+lost is found again, and to him alone I give my love. Yet, Umslopogaas,
+beware! Little luck has come to those who have loved me in the past;
+no, not even to those who have but sought to look on me.”
+
+“I will bear the risk, Nada,” the Slaughterer answered, and gathering
+her to his great breast he kissed her.
+
+Presently she slipped from his arms and bade him begone, for she was
+weary and would rest.
+
+So he went.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+THE WAR OF THE WOMEN
+
+
+Now on the morrow at daybreak, leaving his wolves, Galazi came down
+from the Ghost Mountain and passed through the gates of the kraal.
+
+In front of my hut he saw Nada the Lily and saluted her, for each
+remembered the other. Then he walked on to the place of assembly and
+spoke to me.
+
+“So the Star of Death has risen on the People of the Axe, Mopo,” he
+said. “Was it because of her coming that my grey people howled so
+strangely last night? I cannot tell, but I know this, the Star shone
+first on me this morning, and that is my doom. Well, she is fair enough
+to be the doom of many, Mopo,” and he laughed and passed on, swinging
+the Watcher. But his words troubled me, though they were foolish; for I
+could not but remember that wherever the beauty of Nada had pleased the
+sight of men, there men had been given to death.
+
+Then I went to lead Nada to the place of assembly and found her
+awaiting me. She was dressed now in some woman’s garments that I had
+brought her; her curling hair fell upon her shoulders; on her wrist and
+neck and knee were bracelets of ivory, and in her hand she bore a lily
+bloom which she had gathered as she went to bathe in the river. Perhaps
+she did this, my father, because she wished here, as elsewhere, to be
+known as the Lily, and it is the Zulu fashion to name people from some
+such trifle. But who can know a woman’s reason, or whether a thing is
+by chance alone, my father? Also she had begged me of a cape I had; it
+was cunningly made by Basutus, of the whitest feathers of the ostrich;
+this she put about her shoulders, and it hung down to her middle. It
+had been a custom with Nada from childhood not to go about as do other
+girls, naked except for their girdles, for she would always find some
+rag or skin to lie upon her breast. Perhaps it was because her skin was
+fairer than that of other women, or perhaps because she knew that she
+who hides her beauty often seems the loveliest, or because there was
+truth in the tale of her white blood and the fashion came to her with
+the blood. I do not know, my father; at the least she did so.
+
+Now I took Nada by the hand and led her through the morning air to the
+place of assembly, and ah! she was sweeter than the air and fairer than
+the dawn.
+
+There were many people in the place of assembly, for it was the day of
+the monthly meeting of the council of the headmen, and there also were
+all the women of the kraal, and at their head stood Zinita. Now it had
+got about that the girl whom the Slaughterer went to seek in the caves
+of the Halakazi had come to the kraal of the People of the Axe, and all
+eyes watched for her.
+
+“_Wow!_” said the men as she passed smiling, looking neither to the
+right nor to the left, yet seeing all—“_Wow!_ but this flower is fair!
+Little wonder that the Halakazi died for her!”
+
+The women looked also, but they said nothing of the beauty of Nada;
+they scarcely seemed to see it.
+
+“That is she for whose sake so many of our people lie unburied,” said
+one.
+
+“Where, then, does she find her fine clothes?” quoth another, “she who
+came here last night a footsore wanderer?”
+
+“Feathers are not enough for her: look! she must bear flowers also.
+Surely they are fitter to her hands than the handle of a hoe,” said a
+third.
+
+“Now I think that the chief of the People of the Axe will find one to
+worship above the axe, and that some will be left mourning,” put in a
+fourth, glancing at Zinita and the other women of the household of the
+Slaughterer.
+
+Thus they spoke, throwing words like assegais, and Nada heard them all,
+and knew their meaning, but she never ceased from smiling. Only Zinita
+said nothing, but stood looking at Nada from beneath her bent brows,
+while by one hand she held the little daughter of Umslopogaas, her
+child, and with the other played with the beads about her neck.
+Presently, we passed her, and Nada, knowing well who this must be,
+turned her eyes full upon the angry eyes of Zinita, and held them there
+awhile. Now what there was in the glance of Nada I cannot say, but I
+know that Zinita, who was afraid of few things, found something to fear
+in it. At the least, it was she who turned her head away, and the Lily
+passed on smiling, and greeted Umslopogaas with a little nod.
+
+“Hail, Nada!” said the Slaughterer. Then he turned to his headmen and
+spoke: “This is she whom we went to the caves of the Halakazi to seek
+for Dingaan. _Ou!_ the story is known now; one told it up at the kraal
+Umgugundhlovu who shall tell it no more. She prayed me to save her from
+Dingaan, and so I did, and all would have gone well had it not been for
+a certain traitor who is done with, for I took another to Dingaan. Look
+on her now, my friends, and say if I did not well to win her—the Lily
+flower, such as there is no other in the world, to be the joy of the
+People of the Axe and a wife to me.”
+
+With one accord the headmen answered: “Indeed you did well,
+Slaughterer,” for the glamour of Nada was upon them and they would
+cherish her as others had cherished her. Only Galazi the Wolf shook his
+head. But he said nothing, for words do not avail against fate. Now as
+I found afterwards, since Zinita, the head wife of Umslopogaas, had
+learned of what stock he was, she had known that Nada was no sister to
+him. Yet when she heard him declare that he was about to take the Lily
+to wife she turned upon him, saying:—
+
+“How can this be, Lord?”
+
+“Why do you ask, Zinita?” he answered. “Is it not allowed to a man to
+take another wife if he will?”
+
+“Surely, Lord,” she said; “but men do not wed their sisters, and I have
+heard that it was because this Nada was your sister that you saved her
+from Dingaan, and brought the wrath of Dingaan upon the People of the
+Axe, the wrath that shall destroy them.”
+
+“So I thought then, Zinita,” he answered; “now I know otherwise. Nada
+is daughter to Mopo yonder indeed, but he is no father to me, though he
+has been named so, nor was the mother of Nada my mother. That is so,
+Councillors.”
+
+Then Zinita looked at me and muttered, “O fool of a Mouth, not for
+nothing did I fear evil at your hands.”
+
+I heard the words and took no note, and she spoke again to Umslopogaas,
+saying: “Here is a mystery, O Lord Bulalio. Will it then please you to
+declare to us who is your father?”
+
+“I have no father,” he answered, waxing wroth; “the heavens above are
+my father. I am born of Blood and Fire, and she, the Lily, is born of
+Beauty to be my mate. Now, woman, be silent.” He thought awhile, and
+added, “Nay, if you will know, my father was Indabazimbi the
+Witch-finder, the smeller-out of the king, the son of Arpi.” This
+Umslopogaas said at a hazard, since, having denied me, he must declare
+a father, and dared not name the Black One who was gone. But in after
+years the saying was taken up in the land, and it was told that
+Umslopogaas was the son of Indabazimbi the Witch-finder, who had long
+ago fled the land; nor did he deny it. For when all this game had been
+played out he would not have it known that he was the son of Chaka, he
+who no longer sought to be a king, lest he should bring down the wrath
+of Panda upon him.
+
+When the people heard this they thought that Umslopogaas mocked Zinita,
+and yet in his anger he spoke truth when he said first that he was born
+of the “heavens above,” for so we Zulus name the king, and so the
+witch-doctor Indabazimbi named Chaka on the day of the great smelling
+out. But they did not take it in this sense. They held that he spoke
+truly when he gave it out that he was born of Indabazimbi the
+Witch-doctor, who had fled the land, whither I do not know.
+
+Then Nada turned to Zinita and spoke to her in a sweet and gentle
+voice: “If I am not sister to Bulalio, yet I shall soon be sister to
+you who are the Chief’s _Inkosikaas_, Zinita. Shall that not satisfy
+you, and will you not greet me kindly and with a kiss of peace, who
+have come from far to be your sister, Zinita?” and Nada held out her
+hands towards her, though whether she did this from the heart or
+because she would put herself in the right before the people I do not
+know. But Zinita scowled, and jerked at her necklace of beads, breaking
+the string on which they were threaded, so that the beads rolled upon
+the black earthen floor this way and that.
+
+“Keep your kisses for our lord, girl,” Zinita said roughly. “As my
+beads are scattered so shall you scatter this People of the Axe.”
+
+Now Nada turned away with a little sigh, and the people murmured, for
+they thought that Zinita had treated her badly. Then she stretched out
+her hand again, and gave the lily in it to Umslopogaas, saying:—
+
+“Here is a token of our betrothal, Lord, for never a head of cattle
+have my father and I to send—we who are outcasts; and, indeed, the
+bridegroom must pay the cattle. May I bring you peace and love, my
+Lord!”
+
+Umslopogaas took the flower, and looked somewhat foolish with it—he who
+was wont to carry the axe, and not a flower; and so that talk was
+ended.
+
+Now as it chanced, this was that day of the year when, according to
+ancient custom, the Holder of the Axe must challenge all and sundry to
+come up against him to fight in single combat for Groan-Maker and the
+chieftainship of the people. Therefore, when the talk was done,
+Umslopogaas rose and went through the challenge, not thinking that any
+would answer him, since for some years none had dared to stand before
+his might. Yet three men stepped forward, and of these two were
+captains, and men whom the Slaughterer loved. With all the people, he
+looked at them astonished.
+
+“How is this?” he said in a low voice to that captain who was nearest
+and who would do battle with him.
+
+For answer the man pointed to the Lily, who stood by. Then Umslopogaas
+understood that because of the medicine of Nada’s beauty all men
+desired to win her, and, since he who could win the axe would take her
+also, he must look to fight with many. Well, fight he must or be
+shamed.
+
+Of the fray there is little to tell. Umslopogaas killed first one man
+and then the other, and swiftly, for, growing fearful, the third did
+not come up against him.
+
+“Ah!” said Galazi, who watched, “what did I tell you, Mopo? The curse
+begins to work. Death walks ever with that daughter of yours, old man.”
+
+“I fear so,” I answered, “and yet the maiden is fair and good and
+sweet.”
+
+“That will not mend matters,” said Galazi.
+
+Now on that day Umslopogaas took Nada the Lily to wife, and for awhile
+there was peace and quiet. But this evil thing came upon Umslopogaas,
+that, from the day when he wedded Nada, he hated even to look upon
+Zinita, and not at her alone, but on all his other wives also. Galazi
+said it was because Nada had bewitched him, but I know well that the
+only witcheries she used were the medicine of her eyes, her beauty, and
+her love. Still, it came to pass that henceforward, and until she had
+long been dead, the Slaughterer loved her, and her alone, and that is a
+strange sickness to come upon a man.
+
+As may be guessed, my father, Zinita and the other women took this ill.
+They waited awhile, indeed, thinking that it would wear away, then they
+began to murmur, both to their husband and in the ears of other people,
+till at length there were two parties in the town, the party of Zinita
+and the party of Nada.
+
+The party of Zinita was made up of women and of certain men who loved
+and feared their wives, but that of Nada was the greatest, and it was
+all of men, with Umslopogaas at the head of them, and from this
+division came much bitterness abroad, and quarrelling in the huts. Yet
+neither the Lily nor Umslopogaas heeded it greatly, nor indeed,
+anything, so lost and well content were they in each other’s love.
+
+Now on a certain morning, after they had been married three full moons,
+Nada came from her husband’s hut when the sun was already high, and
+went down through the rock gully to the river to bathe. On the right of
+the path to the river lay the mealie-fields of the chief, and in them
+laboured Zinita and the other women of Umslopogaas, weeding the
+mealie-plants. They looked up and saw Nada pass, then worked on
+sullenly. After awhile they saw her come again fresh from the bath,
+very fair to see, and having flowers twined among her hair, and as she
+walked she sang a song of love. Now Zinita cast down her hoe.
+
+“Is this to be borne, my sisters?” she said.
+
+“No,” answered another, “it is not to be borne. What shall we do—shall
+we fall upon her and kill her now?”
+
+“It would be more just to kill Bulalio, our lord,” answered Zinita.
+“Nada is but a woman, and, after the fashion of us women, takes all
+that she can gather. But he is a man and a chief, and should know
+wisdom and justice.”
+
+“She has bewitched him with her beauty. Let us kill her,” said the
+other women.
+
+“Nay,” answered Zinita, “I will speak with her,” and she went and stood
+in the path along which the Lily walked singing, her arms folded across
+her breast.
+
+Now Nada saw her and, ceasing her song, stretched out her hand to
+welcome her, saying, “Greeting, sister.” But Zinita did not take it.
+“It is not fitting, sister,” she said, “that my hand, stained with
+toil, should defile yours, fresh with the scent of flowers. But I am
+charged with a message, on my own behalf and the behalf of the other
+wives of our Lord Bulalio; the weeds grow thick in yonder corn, and we
+women are few; now that your love days are over, will not you come and
+help us? If you brought no hoe from your Swazi home, surely we will buy
+you one.”
+
+Now Nada saw what was meant, and the blood poured to her head. Yet she
+answered calmly:—
+
+“I would willingly do this, my sister, though I have never laboured in
+the fields, for wherever I have dwelt the men have kept me back from
+all work, save such as the weaving of flowers or the stringing of
+beads. But there is this against it—Umslopogaas, my husband, charged me
+that I should not toil with my hands, and I may not disobey my
+husband.”
+
+“Our husband charged you so, Nada? Nay, then it is strange. See, now, I
+am his head wife, his _Inkosikaas_—it was I who taught him how to win
+the axe. Yet he has laid no command on me that I should not labour in
+the fields after the fashion of women, I who have borne him children;
+nor, indeed, has he laid such a command upon any of our sisters, his
+other wives. Can it then be that Bulalio loves you better than us,
+Nada?”
+
+Now the Lily was in a trap, and she knew it. So she grew bold.
+
+“One must be most loved, Zinita,” she said, “as one must be most fair.
+You have had your hour, leave me mine; perhaps it will be short.
+Moreover this: Umslopogaas and I loved each other much long years
+before you or any of his wives saw him, and we love each other to the
+end. There is no more to say.”
+
+“Nay, Nada, there is still something to say; there is this to say:
+Choose one of two things. Go and leave us to be happy with our lord, or
+stay and bring death on all.”
+
+Now Nada thought awhile, and answered: “Did I believe that my love
+would bring death on him I love, it might well chance that I would go
+and leave him, though to do so would be to die. But, Zinita, I do not
+believe it. Death chiefly loves the weak, and if he falls it will be on
+the Flower, not on the Slayer of Men,” and she slipped past Zinita and
+went on, singing no more.
+
+Zinita watched her till she was over the ridge, and her face grew evil
+as she watched. Then she returned to the women.
+
+“The Lily flouts us all, my sisters,” she said. “Now listen: my counsel
+is that we declare a feast of women to be held at the new moon in a
+secret place far away. All the women and the children shall come to it
+except Nada, who will not leave her lover, and if there be any man whom
+a woman loves, perhaps, my sisters, that man would do well to go on a
+journey about the time of the new moon, for evil things may happen at
+the town of the People of the Axe while we are away celebrating our
+feast.”
+
+“What, then, shall befall, my sister?” asked one.
+
+“Nay, how can I tell?” she answered. “I only know that we are minded to
+be rid of Nada, and thus to be avenged on a man who has scorned our
+love—ay, and on those men who follow after the beauty of Nada. Is it
+not so, my sisters?”
+
+“It is so,” they answered.
+
+“Then be silent on the matter, and let us give out our feast.”
+
+Now Nada told Umslopogaas of those words which she had bandied with
+Zinita, and the Slaughterer was troubled. Yet, because of his
+foolishness and of the medicine of Nada’s eyes, he would not turn from
+his way, and was ever at her side, thinking of little else except of
+her. Thus, when Zinita came to him, and asked leave to declare a feast
+of women that should be held far away, he consented, and gladly, for,
+above all things, he desired to be free from Zinita and her angry looks
+for awhile; nor did he suspect a plot. Only he told her that Nada
+should not go to the feast; and in a breath both Zinita and Nada
+answered that his word was their will, as indeed it was, in this
+matter.
+
+Now I, Mopo, saw the glamour that had fallen upon my fosterling, and
+spoke of it with Galazi, saying that a means must be found to wake him.
+Then I took Galazi fully into my mind, and told him all that he did not
+know of Umslopogaas, and that was little. Also, I told him of my plans
+to bring the Slaughterer to the throne, and of what I had done to that
+end, and of what I proposed to do, and this was to go in person on a
+journey to certain of the great chiefs and win them over.
+
+Galazi listened, and said that it was well or ill, as the chance might
+be. For his part, he believed that the daughter would pull down faster
+than I, the father, could build up, and he pointed to Nada, who walked
+past us, following Umslopogaas.
+
+Yet I determined to go, and that was on the day before Zinita won leave
+to celebrate the feast of women. So I sought Umslopogaas and told him,
+and he listened indifferently, for he would be going after Nada, and
+wearied of my talk of policy. I bade him farewell and left him; to Nada
+also I bade farewell. She kissed me, yet the name of her husband was
+mingled with her good-bye.
+
+“Now madness has come upon these two,” I said to myself. “Well, it will
+wear off, they will be changed before I come again.”
+
+I guessed little, my father, how changed they would be.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+ZINITA COMES TO THE KING
+
+
+Dingaan the king sat upon a day in the kraal Umgugundhlovu, waiting
+till his impis should return from the Income that is now named the
+Blood River. He had sent them thither to destroy the laager of the
+Boers, and thence, as he thought, they would presently return with
+victory. Idly he sat in the kraal, watching the vultures wheel above
+the Hill of Slaughter, and round him stood a regiment.
+
+“My birds are hungry,” he said to a councillor.
+
+“Doubtless there shall soon be meat to feed them, O King!” the
+councillor answered.
+
+As he spoke one came near, saying that a woman sought leave to speak to
+the king upon some great matter.
+
+“Let her come,” he answered; “I am sick for tidings, perhaps she can
+tell of the impi.”
+
+Presently the woman was led in. She was tall and fair, and she held two
+children by the hand.
+
+“What is thine errand?” asked Dingaan.
+
+“Justice, O King,” she answered.
+
+“Ask for blood, it shall be easier to find.”
+
+“I ask blood, O King.”
+
+“The blood of whom?”
+
+“The blood of Bulalio the Slaughterer, Chief of the People of the Axe,
+the blood of Nada the Lily, and of all those who cling to her.”
+
+Now Dingaan sprang up and swore an oath by the head of the Black One
+who was gone.
+
+“What?” he cried, “does the Lily, then, live as the soldier thought?”
+
+“She lives, O King. She is wife to the Slaughterer, and because of her
+witchcraft he has put me, his first wife, away against all law and
+honour. Therefore I ask vengeance on the witch and vengeance also on
+him who was my husband.”
+
+“Thou art a good wife,” said the king. “May my watching spirit save me
+from such a one. Hearken! I would gladly grant thy desire, for I, too,
+hate this Slaughterer, and I, too, would crush this Lily. Yet, woman,
+thou comest in a bad hour. Here I have but one regiment, and I think
+that the Slaughterer may take some killing. Wait till my impis return
+from wiping out the white Amaboona, and it shall be as thou dost
+desire. Whose are those children?”
+
+“They are my children and the children of Bulalio, who was my husband.”
+
+“The children of him whom thou wouldst cause to be slain.”
+
+“Yea, King.”
+
+“Surely, woman, thou art as good a mother as wife!” said Dingaan. “Now
+I have spoken—begone!”
+
+But the heart of Zinita was hungry for vengeance, vengeance swift and
+terrible, on the Lily, who lay in her place, and on her husband, who
+had thrust her aside for the Lily’s sake. She did not desire to
+wait—no, not even for an hour.
+
+“Hearken, O King!” she cried, “the tale is not yet all told. This man,
+Bulalio, plots against thy throne with Mopo, son of Makedama, who was
+thy councillor.”
+
+“He plots against my throne, woman? The lizard plots against the cliff
+on which it suns itself? Then let him plot; and as for Mopo, I will
+catch him yet!”
+
+“Yes, O King! but that is not all the tale. This man has another
+name—he is named Umslopogaas, son of Mopo. But he is no son of Mopo: he
+is son to the Black One who is dead, the mighty king who was thy
+brother, by Baleka, sister to Mopo. Yes, I know it from the lips of
+Mopo. I know all the tale. He is heir to thy throne by blood, O King,
+and thou sittest in his place.”
+
+For a little while Dingaan sat astounded. Then he commanded Zinita to
+draw near and tell him that tale.
+
+Now behind the stool on which he sat stood two councillors, nobles whom
+Dingaan loved, and these alone had heard the last words of Zinita. He
+bade these nobles stand in front of him, out of earshot and away from
+every other man. Then Zinita drew near, and told Dingaan the tale of
+the birth of Umslopogaas and all that followed, and, by many a token
+and many a deed of Chaka’s which he remembered, Dingaan the king knew
+that it was a true story.
+
+When at length she had done, he summoned the captain of the regiment
+that stood around: he was a great man named Faku, and he also summoned
+certain men who do the king’s bidding. To the captain of the impi he
+spoke sharply, saying:—
+
+“Take three companies and guides, and come by night to the town of the
+People of the Axe, that is by Ghost Mountain, and burn it, and slay all
+the wizards who sleep therein. Most of all, slay the Chief of the
+People, who is named Bulalio the Slaughterer or Umslopogaas. Kill him
+by torture if you may, but kill him and bring his head to me. Take that
+wife of his, who is known as Nada the Lily, alive if ye can, and bring
+her to me, for I would cause her to be slain here. Bring the cattle
+also. Now go, and go swiftly, this hour. If ye return having failed in
+one jot of my command, ye die, every one of you—ye die, and slowly.
+Begone!”
+
+The captain saluted, and, running to his regiment, issued a command.
+Three full companies leapt forward at his word, and ran after him
+through the gates of the kraal Umgugundhlovu, heading for the Ghost
+Mountain.
+
+Then Dingaan called to those who do the king’s bidding, and, pointing
+to the two nobles, his councillors, who had heard the words of Zinita,
+commanded that they should be killed.
+
+The nobles heard, and, having saluted the king, covered their faces,
+knowing that they must die because they had learned too much. So they
+were killed. Now it was one of these councillors who had said that
+doubtless meat would soon be found to feed the king’s birds.
+
+Then the king commanded those who do his bidding that they should take
+the children of Zinita and make away with them.
+
+But when Zinita heard this she cried aloud, for she loved her children.
+Then Dingaan mocked her.
+
+“What?” he said, “art thou a fool as well as wicked? Thou sayest that
+thy husband, whom thou hast given to death, is born of one who is dead,
+and is heir to my throne. Thou sayest also that these children are born
+of him; therefore, when he is dead, they will be heirs to my throne. Am
+I then mad that I should suffer them to live? Woman, thou hast fallen
+into thine own trap. Take them away!”
+
+Now Zinita tasted of the cup which she had brewed for other lips, and
+grew distraught in her misery, and wrung her hands, crying that she
+repented her of the evil and would warn Umslopogaas and the Lily of
+that which awaited them. And she turned to run towards the gates. But
+the king laughed and nodded, and they brought her back, and presently
+she was dead also.
+
+Thus, then, my father, prospered the wickedness of Zinita, the head
+wife of Umslopogaas, my fosterling.
+
+Now these were the last slayings that were wrought at the kraal
+Umgugundhlovu, for just as Dingaan had made an end of them and once
+more grew weary, he lifted his eyes and saw the hillsides black with
+men, who by their dress were of his own impi—men whom he had sent out
+against the Boers.
+
+And yet where was the proud array, where the plumes and shields, where
+the song of victory? Here, indeed, were soldiers, but they walked in
+groups like women and hung their heads like chidden children.
+
+Then he learned the truth. The impi had been defeated by the banks of
+the Income; thousands had perished at the laager, mowed down by the
+guns of the Boers, thousands more had been drowned in the Income, till
+the waters were red and the bodies of the slain pushed each other
+under, and those who still lived walked upon them.
+
+Dingaan heard, and was seized with fear, for it was said that the
+Amaboona followed fast on the track of the conquered.
+
+That day he fled to the bush on the Black Umfolozi river, and that
+night the sky was crimson with the burning of the kraal Umgugundhlovu,
+where the Elephant should trumpet no more, and the vultures were scared
+from the Hill of Slaughter by the roaring of the flames.
+
+
+Galazi sat on the lap of the stone Witch, gazing towards the wide
+plains below, that were yet white with the moon, though the night grew
+towards the morning. Greysnout whined at his side, and Deathgrip thrust
+his muzzle into his hand; but Galazi took no heed, for he was brooding
+on the fall of Umslopogaas from the man that he had been to the level
+of a woman’s slave, and on the breaking up of the People of the Axe,
+because of the coming of Nada. For all the women and the children were
+gone to this Feast of Women, and would not return for long, and it
+seemed to Galazi that many of the men had slipped away also, as though
+they smelt some danger from afar.
+
+“Ah, Deathgrip,” said Galazi aloud to the wild brute at his side,
+“changed is the Wolf King my brother, all changed because of a woman’s
+kiss. Now he hunts no more, no more shall Groan-Maker be aloft; it is a
+woman’s kiss he craves, not the touch of your rough tongue, it is a
+woman’s hand he holds, not the smooth haft of horn, he, who of all men,
+was the fiercest and the first; for this last shame has overtaken him.
+Surely Chaka was a great king though an evil, and he showed his
+greatness when he forbade marriage to the warriors, marriage that makes
+the heart soft and turns blood to water.”
+
+Now Galazi ceased, and gazed idly towards the kraal of the People of
+the Axe, and as he looked his eyes caught a gleam of light that seemed
+to travel in and out of the edge of the shadow of Ghost Mountain as a
+woman’s needle travels through a skin, now seen and now lost in the
+skin.
+
+He started and watched. Ah! there the light came out from the shadow.
+Now, by Chaka’s head, it was the light of spears!
+
+One moment more Galazi watched. It was a little impi, perhaps they
+numbered two hundred men, running silently, but not to battle, for they
+wore no plumes. Yet they went out to kill, for they ran in companies,
+and each man carried assegais and a shield.
+
+Now Galazi had heard tell of such impis that hunt by night, and he knew
+well that these were the king’s dogs, and their game was men, a big
+kraal of sleeping men, otherwise there had been fewer dogs. Is a whole
+pack sent out to catch an antelope on its form? Galazi wondered whom
+they sought. Ah! now they turned to the ford, and he knew. It was his
+brother Umslopogaas and Nada the Lily and the People of the Axe. These
+were the king’s dogs, and Zinita had let them slip. For this reason she
+had called a feast of women, and taken the children with her; for this
+reason so many had been summoned from the kraal by one means or
+another: it was that they might escape the slaughter.
+
+Galazi bounded to his feet. For one moment he thought. Might not these
+hunters be hunted? Could he not destroy them by the jaws of the wolves
+as once before they had destroyed a certain impi of the king’s? Ay, if
+he had seen them but one hour before, then scarcely a man of them
+should have lived to reach the stream, for he would have waylaid them
+with his wolves. But now it might not be; the soldiers neared the ford,
+and Galazi knew well that his grey people would not hunt on the further
+plain, though for this he had heard one reason only, that which was
+given him by the lips of the dead in a dream.
+
+What, then, might be done? One thing alone: warn Umslopogaas. Yet how?
+For him who could swim a rushing river, there was, indeed, a swifter
+way to the place of the People of the Axe—a way that was to the path of
+the impi as is the bow-string to the strung bow. And yet they had
+travelled well-nigh half the length of the bow. Still, he might do it,
+he whose feet were the swiftest in the land, except those of
+Umslopogaas. At the least, he would try. Mayhap, the impi would tarry
+to drink at the ford.
+
+So Galazi thought in his heart, and his thought was swift as the light.
+Then with a bound he was away down the mountain side. From boulder to
+boulder he leapt like a buck, he crashed through the brake like a bull,
+he skimmed the level like a swallow. The mountain was travelled now;
+there in front of him lay the yellow river foaming in its flood, so he
+had swum it before when he went to see the dead. Ah! a good leap far
+out into the torrent; it was strong, but he breasted it. He was
+through, he stood upon the bank shaking the water from him like a dog,
+and now he was away up the narrow gorge of stones to the long slope,
+running low as his wolves ran.
+
+Before him lay the town—one side shone silver with the sinking moon,
+one was grey with the breaking dawn. Ah! they were there, he saw them
+moving through the grass by the eastern gate; he saw the long lines of
+slayers creep to the left and the right.
+
+How could he pass them before the circle of death was drawn? Six
+spear-throws to run, and they had but such a little way! The
+mealie-plants were tall, and at a spot they almost touched the fence.
+Up the path! Could Umslopogaas, his brother, move more fast, he
+wondered, than the Wolf who sped to save him? He was there, hidden by
+the mealie stalks, and there, along the fence to the right and to the
+left, the slayers crept!
+
+“_Wow!_ What was that?” said one soldier of the king to another man as
+they joined their guard completing the death circle. “_Wow!_ something
+great and black crashed through the fence before me.”
+
+“I heard it, brother,” answered the other man. “I heard it, but I saw
+nothing. It must have been a dog: no man could leap so high.”
+
+“More like a wolf,” said the first; “at the least, let us pray that it
+was not an _Esedowan_[1] who will put us into the hole in its back. Is
+your fire ready, brother? _Wow!_ these wizards shall wake warm; the
+signal should be soon.”
+
+ [1] A fabulous animal, reported by the Zulus to carry off human beings
+ in a hole in its back.
+
+
+Then arose the sound of a great voice crying, “Awake, ye sleepers, the
+foe is at your gates!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+THE END OF THE PEOPLE, BLACK AND GREY
+
+
+Galazi rushed through the town crying aloud, and behind him rose a stir
+of men. All slept and no sentinels were set, for Umslopogaas was so
+lost in his love for the Lily that he forgot his wisdom, and thought no
+more of war or death or of the hate of Dingaan. Presently the Wolf came
+to the large new hut which Umslopogaas had caused to be built for Nada
+the Lily, and entered it, for there he knew that he should find his
+brother Bulalio. On the far side of the hut the two lay sleeping, and
+the head of Umslopogaas rested on the Lily’s breast, and by his side
+gleamed the great axe Groan-Maker.
+
+“Awake!” cried the Wolf.
+
+Now Umslopogaas sprang to his feet grasping at his axe, but Nada threw
+her arms wide, murmuring; “Let me sleep on, sweet is sleep.”
+
+“Sound shall ye sleep, anon!” gasped Galazi. “Swift, brother, bind on
+the wolf’s hide, take shield! Swift, I say—for the Slayers of the king
+are at your gates!”
+
+Now Nada sprang up also, and they did his bidding like people in a
+dream; and, while they found their garments and a shield, Galazi took
+beer and drank it, and got his breath again. They stood without the
+hut. Now the heaven was grey, and east and west and north and south
+tongues of flame shot up against the sky, for the town had been fired
+by the Slayers.
+
+Umslopogaas looked and his sense came back to him: he understood.
+“Which way, brother?” he said.
+
+“Through the fire and the impi to our Grey People on the mountain,”
+said Galazi. “There, if we can win it, we shall find succour.”
+
+“What of my people in the kraal,” asked Umslopogaas.
+
+“They are not many, brother; the women and the children are gone. I
+have roused the men—most will escape. Hence, ere we burn!”
+
+Now they ran towards the fence, and as they went men joined them to the
+number of ten, half awakened, fear-stricken, armed—some with spears,
+some with clubs—and for the most part naked. They sped on together
+towards the fence of the town that was now but a ring of fire,
+Umslopogaas and Galazi in front, each holding the Lily by a hand. They
+neared the fence—from without came the shouts of the Slayers—lo! it was
+afire. Nada shrank back in fear, but Umslopogaas and Galazi dragged her
+on. They rushed at the blazing fence, smiting with axe and club. It
+broke before them, they were through but little harmed. Without were a
+knot of the Slayers, standing back a small space because of the heat of
+the flames. The Slayers saw them, and crying, “This is Bulalio, kill
+the wizard!” sprang towards them with uplifted spears. Now the People
+of the Axe made a ring round Nada, and in the front of it were
+Umslopogaas and Galazi. Then they rushed on and met those of the
+Slayers who stood before them, and the men of Dingaan were swept away
+and scattered by Groan-Maker and the Watcher, as dust is swept of a
+wind, as grass is swept by a sickle.
+
+They were through with only one man slain, but the cry went up that the
+chief of the wizards and the Lily, his wife, had fled. Then, as it was
+these whom he was chiefly charged to kill, the captain called off the
+impi from watching for the dwellers in the town, and started in pursuit
+of Umslopogaas. Now, at this time nearly a hundred men of the People of
+the Axe had been killed and of the Slayers some fifty men, for, having
+been awakened by the crying of Galazi, the soldiers of the axe fought
+bravely, though none saw where his brother stood, and none knew whither
+their chief had fled except those ten who went with the brethren.
+
+Meanwhile, the Wolf-Brethren and those with them were well away, and it
+had been easy for them to escape, who were the swiftest-footed of any
+in the land. But the pace of a regiment is the pace of its
+slowest-footed soldier, and Nada could not run with the Wolf-Brethren.
+Yet they made good speed, and were halfway down the gorge that led to
+the river before the companies of Dingaan poured into it. Now they came
+to the end of it, and the foe was near—this end of the gorge is narrow,
+my father, like the neck of a gourd—then Galazi stopped and spoke:—
+
+“Halt! ye People of the Axe,” he said, “and let us talk awhile with
+these who follow till we get our breath again. But you, my brother,
+pass the river with the Lily in your hand. We will join you in the
+forest; but if perchance we cannot find you, you know what must be
+done: set the Lily in the cave, then return and call up the grey impi.
+Wow! my brother, I must find you if I may, for if these men of Dingaan
+have a mind for sport there shall be such a hunting on the Ghost
+Mountain as the old Witch has not seen. Go now, my brother!”
+
+“It is not my way to turn and run while others stand and fight,”
+growled Umslopogaas; “yet, because of Nada, it seems that I must.”
+
+“Oh! heed me not, my love,” said Nada, “I have brought thee sorrow—I am
+weary, let me die; kill me and save yourselves!”
+
+For answer, Umslopogaas took her by the hand and fled towards the
+river; but before he reached it he heard the sounds of the fray, the
+war-cry of the Slayers as they poured upon the People of the Axe, the
+howl of his brother, the Wolf, when the battle joined—ay, and the crash
+of the Watcher as the blow went home.
+
+“Well bitten, Wolf!” he said, stopping; “that one shall need no more;
+oh! that I might”—but again he looked at Nada, and sped on.
+
+Now they had leaped into the foaming river, and here it was well that
+the Lily could swim, else both had been lost. But they won through and
+passed forward to the mountain’s flank. Here they walked on among the
+trees till the forest was almost passed, and at length Umslopogaas
+heard the howling of a wolf.
+
+Then he must set Nada on his shoulders and carry her as once Galazi had
+carried another, for it was death for any except the Wolf-Brethren to
+walk on the Ghost Mountain when the wolves were awake.
+
+Presently the wolves flocked around him, and leaped upon him in joy,
+glaring with fierce eyes at her who sat upon his shoulders. Nada saw
+them, and almost fell from her seat, fainting with fear, for they were
+many and dreadful, and when they howled her blood turned to ice.
+
+But Umslopogaas cheered her, telling her that these were his dogs with
+whom he went out hunting, and with whom he should hunt presently. At
+length they came to the knees of the Old Witch and the entrance to the
+cave. It was empty except for a wolf or two, for Galazi abode here
+seldom now; but when he was on the mountain would sleep in the forest,
+which was nearer the kraal of his brother the Slaughterer.
+
+“Here you must stay, sweet,” said Umslopogaas when he had driven out
+the wolves. “Here you must rest till this little matter of the Slayers
+is finished. Would that we had brought food, but we had little time to
+seek it! See, now I will show you the secret of the stone; thus far I
+will push it, no farther. Now a touch only is needed to send it over
+the socket and home; but then they must be two strong men who can pull
+it back again. Therefore push it no farther except in the utmost need,
+lest it remain where it fall, whether you will it or not. Have no fear,
+you are safe here; none know of this place except Galazi, myself and
+the wolves, and none shall find it. Now I must be going to find Galazi,
+if he still lives; if not, to make what play I can against the Slayers,
+alone with the wolves.”
+
+Now Nada wept, saying that she feared to be left, and that she should
+never see him more, and her grief wrung his heart. Nevertheless,
+Umslopogaas kissed her and went, closing the stone after him in that
+fashion of which he had spoken. When the stone was shut the cave was
+almost dark, except for a ray of light that entered by a hole little
+larger than a man’s hand, that, looked at from within, was on the right
+of the stone. Nada sat herself so that this ray struck full on her, for
+she loved light, and without it she would pine as flowers do. There she
+sat and thought in the darksome cave, and was filled with fear and
+sorrow. And while she brooded thus, suddenly the ray went out, and she
+heard a noise as of some beast that smells at prey. She looked, and in
+the gloom she saw the sharp nose and grinning fangs of a wolf that were
+thrust towards her through the little hole.
+
+Nada cried aloud in fear, and the fangs were snatched back, but
+presently she heard a scratching without the cave, and saw the stone
+shake. Then she thought in her foolishness that the wolf knew how to
+open the stone, and that he would do this, and devour her, for she had
+heard the tale that all these wolves were the ghosts of evil men,
+having the understanding of men. So, in her fear and folly, she seized
+the rock and dragged on it as Umslopogaas had shown her how to do. It
+shook, it slipped over the socket ledge, and rolled home like a pebble
+down the mouth of a gourd.
+
+“Now I am safe from the wolves,” said Nada. “See, I cannot so much as
+stir the stone from within.” And she laughed a little, then ceased from
+laughing and spoke again. “Yet it would be ill if Umslopogaas came back
+no more to roll away that rock, for then I should be like one in a
+grave—as one who is placed in a grave being yet strong and quick.” She
+shuddered as she thought of it, but presently started up and set her
+ear to the hole to listen, for from far down the mountain there rose a
+mighty howling and a din of men.
+
+When Umslopogaas had shut the cave, he moved swiftly down the mountain,
+and with him went certain of the wolves; not all, for he had not
+summoned them. His heart was heavy, for he feared that Galazi was no
+more. Also he was mad with rage, and plotted in himself to destroy the
+Slayers of the king, every man of them; but first he must learn what
+they would do. Presently, as he wended, he heard a long, low howl far
+away in the forest; then he rejoiced, for he knew the call—it was the
+call of Galazi, who had escaped the spears of the Slayers.
+
+Swiftly he ran, calling in answer. He won the place. There, seated on a
+stone, resting himself, was Galazi, and round him surged the numbers of
+the Grey People. Umslopogaas came to him and looked at him, for he
+seemed somewhat weary. There were flesh wounds on his great breast and
+arms, the little shield was well-nigh hewn to strips, and the Watcher
+showed signs of war.
+
+“How went it, brother?” asked Umslopogaas.
+
+“Not so ill, but all those who stood with me in the way are dead, and
+with them a few of the foe. I alone am fled like a coward. They came on
+us thrice, but we held them back till the Lily was safe; then, all our
+men being down, I ran, Umslopogaas, and swam the torrent, for I was
+minded to die here in my own place.”
+
+Now, though he said little of it, I must tell you, my father, that
+Galazi had made a great slaughter there in the neck of the donga.
+Afterwards I counted the slain, and they were many; the nine men of the
+People of the Axe were hidden in them.
+
+“Perhaps it shall be the Slayers who die, brother.”
+
+“Perhaps, at least, there shall be death for some. Still it is in my
+mind, Slaughterer, that our brotherhood draws to an end, for the fate
+of him who bears the Watcher, and which my father foretold, is upon me.
+If so, farewell. While it lasted our friendship has been good, and its
+ending shall be good. Moreover, it would have endured for many a year
+to come had you not sought, Slaughterer, to make good better, and to
+complete our joy of fellowship and war with the love of women. From
+that source flow these ills, as a river from a spring; but so it was
+fated. If I fall in this fray may you yet live on to fight in many
+another, and at the last to die gloriously with axe aloft; and may you
+find a brisker man and a better Watcher to serve you in your need.
+Should you fall and I live on, I promise this: I will avenge you to the
+last and guard the Lily whom you love, offering her comfort, but no
+more. Now the foe draws on, they have travelled round about by the
+ford, for they dared not face the torrent, and they cried to me that
+they are sworn to slay us or be slain, as Dingaan, the king, commanded.
+So the fighting will be of the best, if, indeed, they do not run before
+the fangs of the Grey People. Now, Chief, speak your word that I may
+obey it.”
+
+Thus Galazi spoke in the circle of the wolves, while Umslopogaas leaned
+upon his Axe Groan-Maker, and listened to him, ay, and wept as he
+listened, for after the Lily and me, Mopo, he loved Galazi most dearly
+of all who lived. Then he answered:—
+
+“Were it not for one in the cave above, who is helpless and tender, I
+would swear to you, Wolf, that if you fall, on your carcase I will die;
+and I do swear that, should you fall, while I live Groan-Maker shall be
+busy from year to year till every man of yonder impi is as you are.
+Perchance I did ill, Galazi, when first I hearkened to the words of
+Zinita and suffered women to come between us. May we one day find a
+land where there are no women, and war only, for in that land we shall
+grow great. But now, at the least, we will make a good end to this
+fellowship, and the Grey People shall fight their fill, and the old
+Witch who sits aloft waiting for the world to die shall smile to see
+that fight, if she never smiled before. This is my word: that we fall
+upon the men of Dingaan twice, once in the glade of the forest whither
+they will come presently, and, if we are beaten back, then we must
+stand for the last time on the knees of the Witch in front of the cave
+where Nada is. Say, Wolf, will the Grey Folk fight?”
+
+“To the last, brother, so long as one is left to lead them, after that
+I do not know! Still they have only fangs to set against spears.
+Slaughterer, your plan is good. Come, I am rested.”
+
+So they rose and numbered their flock, and all were there, though it
+was not as it had been years ago when first the Wolf-Brethren hunted on
+Ghost Mountain; for many of the wolves had died by men’s spears when
+they harried the kraals of men, and no young were born to them. Then,
+as once before, the pack was halved, and half, the she-wolves, went
+with Umslopogaas, and half, the dog-wolves, went with Galazi.
+
+Now they passed down the forest paths and hid in the tangle of the
+thickets at the head of the darksome glen, one on each side of the
+glen. Here they waited till they heard the footfall of the impi of the
+king’s Slayers, as it came slowly along seeking them. In front of the
+impi went two soldiers watching for an ambush, and these two men were
+the same who had talked together that dawn when Galazi sprang between
+them. Now also they spoke as they peered this way and that; then,
+seeing nothing, stood awhile in the mouth of the glen waiting the
+coming of their company; and their words came to the ears of
+Umslopogaas.
+
+“An awful place this, my brother,” said one. “A place full of ghosts
+and strange sounds, of hands that seem to press us back, and whinings
+as of invisible wolves. It is named Ghost Mountain, and well named.
+Would that the king had found other business for us than the slaying of
+these sorcerers—for they are sorcerers indeed, and this is the home of
+their sorceries. Tell me, brother, what was that which leaped between
+us this morning in the dark! I say it was a wizard. _Wow!_ they are all
+wizards. Could any who was but a man have done the deeds which he who
+is named the Wolf wrought down by the river yonder, and then have
+escaped? Had the Axe but stayed with the Club they would have eaten up
+our impi.”
+
+“The Axe had a woman to watch,” laughed the other. “Yes, it is true
+this is a place of wizards and evil things. Methinks I see the red eyes
+of the _Esedowana_ glaring at us through the dark of the trees and
+smell their smell. Yet these wizards must be caught, for know this, my
+brother: if we return to Umgugundhlovu with the king’s command undone,
+then there are stakes hardening in the fire of which we shall taste the
+point. If we are all killed in the catching, and some, it seems, are
+missing already, yet they must be caught. Say, my brother, shall we
+draw on? The impi is nigh. Would that Faku, our captain yonder, might
+find two others to take our place, for in this thicket I had rather run
+last than first. Well, here leads the spoor—a wondrous mass of
+wolf-spoor mixed with the footprints of men; perhaps they are sometimes
+the one and sometimes the other—who knows, my brother? It is a land of
+ghosts and wizards. Let us on! Let us on!”
+
+Now all this while the Wolf-Brethren had much ado to keep their people
+quiet, for their mouths watered and their eyes shone at the sight of
+the men, and at length it could be done no more, for with a howl a
+single she-wolf rushed from her lair and leapt at the throat of the man
+who spoke, nor did she miss her grip. Down went wolf and man, rolling
+together on the ground, and there they killed each other.
+
+“The _Esedowana!_ the _Esedowana_ are upon us!” cried the other scout,
+and, turning, fled towards the impi. But he never reached it, for with
+fearful howlings the ghost-wolves broke their cover and rushed on him
+from the right and the left, and lo! there was nothing of him left
+except his spear alone.
+
+Now a low cry of fear rose from the impi, and some turned to fly, but
+Faku, the captain, a great and brave man, shouted to them, “Stand firm,
+children of the king, stand firm, these are no _Esedowana_, these are
+but the Wolf-Brethren and their pack. What! will ye run from dogs, ye
+who have laughed at the spears of men? Ring round! Stand fast!”
+
+The soldiers heard the voice of their captain, and they obeyed his
+voice, forming a double circle, a ring within a ring. They looked to
+the right, there, Groan-Maker aloft, the wolf fangs on his brow, the
+worn wolf-hide streaming on the wind, Bulalio rushed upon them like a
+storm, and with him came his red-eyed company. They looked to the
+left—ah, well they know that mighty Watcher! Have they not heard his
+strokes down by the river, and well they know the giant who wields it
+like a wand, the Wolf King, with the strength of ten! _Wow!_ They are
+here! See the people black and grey, hear them howl their war-chant!
+Look how they leap like water—leap in a foam of fangs against the hedge
+of spears! The circle is broken; Groan-Maker has broken it! Ha! Galazi
+also is through the double ring; now must men stand back to back or
+perish!
+
+How long did it last? Who can say? Time flies fast when blows fall
+thick. At length the brethren are beaten back; they break out as they
+broke in, and are gone, with such of their wolf-folk as were left
+alive. Yet that impi was somewhat the worse, but one-third of those
+lived who looked on the sun without the forest; the rest lay smitten,
+torn, mangled, dead, hidden under the heaps of bodies of wild beasts.
+
+“Now this is a battle of evil spirits that live in the shapes of
+wolves, and as for the Wolf-Brethren, they are sorcerers of the
+rarest,” said Faku the captain, “and such sorcerers I love, for they
+fight furiously. Yet I will slay them or be slain. At the least, if
+there be few of us left, the most of the wolves are dead also, and the
+arms of the wizards grow weary.”
+
+So he moved forward up the mountain with those of the soldiers who
+remained, and all the way the wolves harried them, pulling down a man
+here and a man there; but though they heard and saw them cheering on
+their pack the Wolf-Brethren attacked them no more, for they saved
+their strength for the last fight of all.
+
+The road was long up the mountain, and the soldiers knew little of the
+path, and ever the ghost-wolves harried on their flanks. So it was
+evening before they came to the feet of the stone Witch, and began to
+climb to the platform of her knees. There, on her knees as it were,
+they saw the Wolf-Brethren standing side by side, such a pair as were
+not elsewhere in the world, and they seemed afire, for the sunset beat
+upon them, and the wolves crept round their feet, red with blood and
+fire.
+
+“A glorious pair!” quoth great Faku; “would that I fought with them
+rather than against them! Yet, they must die!” Then he began to climb
+to the knees of the Witch.
+
+Now Umslopogaas glanced up at the stone face of her who sat aloft, and
+it was alight with the sunset.
+
+“Said I not that the old Witch should smile at this fray?” he cried.
+“Lo! she smiles! Up, Galazi, let us spend the remnant of our people on
+the foe, and fight this fight out, man to man, with no beast to spoil
+it! Ho! Blood and Greysnout! ho! Deathgrip! ho! wood-dwellers grey and
+black, at them, my children!”
+
+The wolves heard; they were few and they were sorry to see, with
+weariness and wounds, but still they were fierce. With a howl, for the
+last time they leaped down upon the foe, tearing, harrying, and killing
+till they themselves were dead by the spear, every one of them except
+Deathgrip, who crept back sorely wounded to die with Galazi.
+
+“Now I am a chief without a people,” cried Galazi. “Well, it has been
+my lot in life. So it was in the Halakazi kraals, so it is on Ghost
+Mountain at the last, and so also shall it be even for the greatest
+kings when they come to their ends, seeing that they, too, must die
+alone. Say, Slaughterer, choose where you will stand, to the left or to
+the right.”
+
+Now, my father, the track below separated, because of a boulder, and
+there were two little paths which led to the platform of the Witch’s
+knees with, perhaps, ten paces between them. Umslopogaas guarded the
+left-hand path and Galazi took the right. Then they waited, having
+spears in their hands. Presently the soldiers came round the rock and
+rushed up against them, some on one path and some on the other.
+
+Then the brethren hurled their spears at them and killed three men. Now
+the assegais were done, and the foe was on them. Umslopogaas bends
+forward, his long arm shoots out, the axe gleams, and a man who came on
+falls back.
+
+“One!” cries Umslopogaas.
+
+“One, my brother!” answers Galazi, as he draws back the Watcher from
+his blow.
+
+A soldier rushes forward, singing. To and fro he moves in front of
+Umslopogaas, his spear poised to strike. Groan-Maker swoops down, but
+the man leaps back, the blow misses, and the Slaughterer’s guard is
+down.
+
+“A poor stroke, Sorcerer!” cries the man as he rushes in to stab him.
+Lo! the axe wheels in the air, it circles swiftly low down by the
+ground; it smites upward. Before the spearsman can strike the horn of
+Groan-Maker has sped from chin to brain.
+
+“But a good return, fool!” says Umslopogaas.
+
+“Two!” cries Galazi, from the right.
+
+“Two! my brother,” answers Umslopogaas.
+
+Again two men come on, one against each, to find no better luck. The
+cry of “_Three!_” passes from brother to brother, and after it rises
+the cry of “_Four!_”
+
+Now Faku bids the men who are left to hold their shields together and
+push the two from the mouths of the paths, and this they do, losing
+four more men at the hands of the brethren before it is done.
+
+“Now we are on the open! Ring them round and down with them!” cries
+Faku.
+
+But who shall ring round Groan-Maker that shines on all sides at once,
+Groan-Maker who falls heavily no more, but pecks and pecks and pecks
+like a wood-bird on a tree, and never pecks in vain? Who shall ring
+round those feet swifter than the Sassaby of the plains? _Wow!_ He is
+here! He is there! He is a sorcerer! Death is in his hand, and death
+looks out of his eyes!
+
+Galazi lives yet, for still there comes the sound of the Watcher as it
+thunders on the shields, and the Wolf’s hoarse cry of the number of the
+slain. He has a score of wounds, yet he fights on! his leg is almost
+hewn from him with an axe, yet he fights on! His back is pierced again
+and again, yet he fights on! But two are left alive before him, one
+twists round and spears him from behind. He heeds it not, but smites
+down the foe in front. Then he turns and, whirling the Watcher on high,
+brings him down for the last time, and so mightily that the man before
+him is crushed like an egg.
+
+Galazi brushes the blood from his eyes and glares round on the dead.
+“_All!_ Slaughterer,” he cries.
+
+“All save two, my brother,” comes the answer, sounding above the clash
+of steel and the sound of smitten shields.
+
+Now the Wolf would come to him, but cannot, for his life ebbs.
+
+“Fare you well, my brother! Death is good! Thus, indeed, I would die,
+for I have made me a mat of men to lie on,” he cried with a great
+voice.
+
+“Fare you well! Sleep softly, Wolf!” came the answer. “All save one!”
+
+Now Galazi fell dying on the dead, but he was not altogether gone, for
+he still spoke. “All save one! Ha! ha! ill for that one then when
+Groan-Maker yet is up. It is well to have lived so to die. _Victory!
+Victory!_”
+
+And Galazi the Wolf struggled to his knees and for the last time shook
+the Watcher about his head, then fell again and died.
+
+Umslopogaas, the son of Chaka, and Faku, the captain of Dingaan, gazed
+on each other. They alone were left standing upon the mountain, for the
+rest were all down. Umslopogaas had many wounds. Faku was unhurt; he
+was a strong man, also armed with an axe.
+
+Faku laughed aloud. “So it has come to this, Slaughterer,” he said,
+“that you and I must settle whether the king’s word be done or no.
+Well, I will say that however it should fall out, I count it a great
+fortune to have seen this fight, and the highest of honours to have had
+to do with two such warriors. Rest you a little, Slaughterer, before we
+close. That wolf-brother of yours died well, and if it is given me to
+conquer in this bout, I will tell the tale of his end from kraal to
+kraal throughout the land, and it shall be a tale forever.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+THE LILY’S FAREWELL
+
+
+Umslopogaas listened, but he made no answer to the words of Faku the
+captain, though he liked them well, for he would not waste his breath
+in talking, and the light grew low.
+
+“I am ready, Man of Dingaan,” he said, and lifted his axe.
+
+Now for awhile the two circled round and round, each waiting for a
+chance to strike. Presently Faku smote at the head of Umslopogaas, but
+the Slaughterer lifted Groan-Maker to ward the blow. Faku crooked his
+arm and let the axe curl downwards, so that its keen edge smote
+Umslopogaas upon the head, severing his man’s ring and the scalp
+beneath.
+
+Made mad with the pain, the Slaughterer awoke, as it were. He grasped
+Groan-maker with both hands and struck thrice. The first blow hewed
+away the plumes and shield of Faku, and drove him back a spear’s
+length, the second missed its aim, the third and mightiest twisted in
+his wet hands, so that the axe smote sideways. Nevertheless, it fell
+full on the breast of the captain Faku, shattering his bones, and
+sweeping him from the ledge of rock on to the slope beneath, where he
+lay still.
+
+“It is finished with the daylight,” said Umslopogaas, smiling grimly.
+“Now, Dingaan, send more Slayers to seek your slain,” and he turned to
+find Nada in the cave.
+
+But Faku the captain was not yet dead, though he was hurt to death. He
+sat up, and with his last strength he hurled the axe in his hand at him
+whose might had prevailed against him. The axe sped true, and
+Umslopogaas did not see it fly. It sped true, and its point struck him
+on the left temple, driving in the bone and making a great hole. Then
+Faku fell back dying, and Umslopogaas threw up his arms and dropped
+like an ox drops beneath the blow of the butcher, and lay as one dead,
+under the shadow of a stone.
+
+All day long Nada crouched in the cave listening to the sounds of war
+that crept faintly up the mountain side; howling of wolves, shouting of
+men, and the clamour of iron on iron. All day long she sat, and now
+evening came apace, and the noise of battle drew near, swelled, and
+sank, and died away. She heard the voices of the Wolf-Brethren as they
+called to each other like bucks, naming the number of the slain. She
+heard Galazi’s cry of “_Victory!_” and her heart leapt to it, though
+she knew that there was death in the cry. Then for the last time she
+heard the faint ringing of iron on iron, and the light went out and all
+grew still.
+
+All grew still as the night. There came no more shouting of men and no
+more clash of arms, no howlings of wolves, no cries of pain or
+triumph—all was quiet as death, for death had taken all.
+
+For awhile Nada the Lily sat in the dark of the cave, saying to
+herself, “Presently he will come, my husband, he will surely come; the
+Slayers are slain—he does not but tarry to bind his wounds; a scratch,
+perchance, here and there. Yes, he will come, and it is well, for I am
+weary of my loneliness, and this place is grim and evil.”
+
+Thus she spoke to herself in hope, but nothing came except the silence.
+Then she spoke again, and her voice echoed in the hollow cave. “Now I
+will be bold, I will fear nothing, I will push aside the stone and go
+out to find him. I know well he does but linger to tend some who are
+wounded, perhaps Galazi. Doubtless Galazi is wounded. I must go and
+nurse him, though he never loved me, and I do not love him overmuch who
+would stand between me and my husband. This wild wolf-man is a foe to
+women, and, most of all, a foe to me; yet I will be kind to him. Come,
+I will go at once,” and she rose and pushed at the rock.
+
+Why, what was this? It did not stir. Then she remembered that she had
+pulled it beyond the socket because of her fear of the wolf, and that
+the rock had slipped a little way down the neck of the cave.
+Umslopogaas had told her that she must not do this, and she had
+forgotten his words in her foolishness. Perhaps she could move the
+stone; no, not by the breadth of a grain of corn. She was shut in,
+without food or water, and here she must bide till Umslopogaas came.
+And if he did not come? Then she must surely die.
+
+Now she shrieked aloud in her fear, calling on the name of Umslopogaas.
+The walls of the cave answered “_Umslopogaas! Umslopogaas!_” and that
+was all.
+
+Afterwards madness fell upon Nada, my daughter, and she lay in the cave
+for days and nights, nor knew ever how long she lay. And with her
+madness came visions, for she dreamed that the dead One whom Galazi had
+told her of sat once more aloft in his niche at the end of the cave and
+spoke to her, saying:—
+
+“Galazi is dead! The fate of him who bears the Watcher has fallen on
+him. Dead are the ghost-wolves; I also am dead of hunger in this cave,
+and as I died so shall you die, Nada the Lily! Nada, Star of Death!
+because of whose beauty and foolishness all this death has come about.”
+
+This is seemed to Nada, in her madness, that the shadow of him who had
+sat in the niche spoke to her from hour to hour.
+
+It seemed to Nada, in her madness, that twice the light shone through
+the hole by the rock, and that was day, and twice it went out, and that
+was night. A third time the ray shone and died away, and lo! her
+madness left her, and she awoke to know that she was dying, and that a
+voice she loved spoke without the hole, saying in hollow accents:—
+
+“Nada? Do you still live, Nada?”
+
+“Yea,” she answered hoarsely. “Water! give me water!”
+
+Next she heard a sound as of a great snake dragging itself along
+painfully. A while passed, then a trembling hand thrust a little gourd
+of water through the hole. She drank, and now she could speak, though
+the water seemed to flow through her veins like fire.
+
+“Is it indeed you, Umslopogaas?” she said, “or are you dead, and do I
+dream of you?”
+
+“It is I, Nada,” said the voice. “Hearken! have you drawn the rock
+home?”
+
+“Alas! yes,” she answered. “Perhaps, if the two of us strive at it, it
+will move.”
+
+“Ay, if our strength were what it was—but now! Still, let us try.”
+
+So they strove with a rock, but the two of them together had not the
+strength of a girl, and it would not stir.
+
+“Give over, Umslopogaas,” said Nada; “we do but waste the time that is
+left to me. Let us talk!”
+
+For awhile there was no answer, for Umslopogaas had fainted, and Nada
+beat her breast, thinking that he was dead.
+
+Presently he spoke, however, saying, “It may not be; we must perish
+here, one on each side of the stone, not seeing the other’s face, for
+my might is as water; nor can I stand upon my feet to go and seek for
+food.”
+
+“Are you wounded, Umslopogaas?” asked Nada.
+
+“Ay, Nada, I am pierced to the brain with the point of an axe; no fair
+stroke, the captain of Dingaan hurled it at me when I thought him dead,
+and I fell. I do not know how long I have lain yonder under the shadow
+of the rock, but it must be long, for my limbs are wasted, and those
+who fell in the fray are picked clean by the vultures, all except
+Galazi, for the old wolf Deathgrip lies on his breast dying, but not
+dead, licking my brother’s wounds, and scares the fowls away. It was
+the beak of a vulture, who had smelt me out at last, that woke me from
+my sleep beneath the stone, Nada, and I crept hither. Would that he had
+not awakened me, would that I had died as I lay, rather than lived a
+little while till you perish thus, like a trapped fox, Nada, and
+presently I follow you.”
+
+“It is hard to die so, Umslopogaas,” she answered, “I who am yet young
+and fair, who love you, and hoped to give you children; but so it has
+come about, and it may not be put away. I am well-nigh sped, husband;
+horror and fear have conquered me, my strength fails, but I suffer
+little. Let us talk no more of death, let us rather speak of our
+childhood, when we wandered hand in hand; let us talk also of our love,
+and of the happy hours that we have spent since your great axe rang
+upon the rock in the Halakazi caves, and my fear told you the secret of
+my womanhood. See, I thrust my hand through the hole; can you not kiss
+it, Umslopogaas?”
+
+Now Umslopogaas stooped his shattered head, and kissed the Lily’s
+little hand, then he held it in his own, and so they sat till the
+end—he without, resting his back against the rock, she within, lying on
+her side, her arm stretched through the little hole. They spoke of
+their love, and tried to forget their sorrow in it; he told her also of
+the fray which had been and how it went.
+
+“Ah!” she said, “that was Zinita’s work, Zinita who hated me, and
+justly. Doubtless she set Dingaan on this path.”
+
+“A little while gone,” quoth Umslopogaas; “and I hoped that your last
+breath and mine might pass together, Nada, and that we might go
+together to seek great Galazi, my brother, where he is. Now I hope that
+help will find me, and that I may live a little while, because of a
+certain vengeance which I would wreak.”
+
+“Speak not of vengeance, husband,” she answered, “I, too, am near to
+that land where the Slayer and the Slain, the Shedder of Blood and the
+Avenger of Blood are lost in the same darkness. I would die with love,
+and love only, in my heart, and your name, and yours only, on my lips,
+so that if anywhere we live again it shall be ready to spring forth to
+greet you. Yet, husband, it is in my heart that you will not go with
+me, but that you shall live on to die the greatest of deaths far away
+from here, and because of another woman. It seems that, as I lay in the
+dark of this cave, I saw you, Umslopogaas, a great man, gaunt and grey,
+stricken to the death, and the axe Groan-maker wavering aloft, and many
+a man dead upon a white and shimmering way, and about you the fair
+faces of white women; and you had a hole in your forehead, husband, on
+the left side.”
+
+“That is like to be true, if I live,” he answered, “for the bone of my
+temple is shattered.”
+
+Now Nada ceased speaking, and for a long while was silent; Umslopogaas
+was also silent and torn with pain and sorrow because he must lose the
+Lily thus, and she must die so wretchedly, for one reason only, that
+the cast of Faku had robbed him of his strength. Alas! he who had done
+many deeds might not save her now; he could scarcely hold himself
+upright against the rock. He thought of it, and the tears flowed down
+his face and fell on to the hand of the Lily. She felt them fall and
+spoke.
+
+“Weep not, my husband,” she said, “I have been all too ill a wife to
+you. Do not mourn for me, yet remember that I loved you well.” And
+again she was silent for a long space.
+
+Then she spoke and for the last time of all, and her voice came in a
+gasping whisper through the hole in the rock:—
+
+“Farewell, Umslopogaas, my husband and my brother, I thank you for your
+love, Umslopogaas. Ah! I die!”
+
+Umslopogaas could make no answer, only he watched the little hand he
+held. Twice it opened, twice it closed upon his own, then it opened for
+the third time, turned grey, quivered, and was still forever!
+
+Now it was at the hour of dawn that Nada died.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+THE VENGEANCE OF MOPO AND HIS FOSTERLING
+
+
+It chanced that on this day of Nada’s death and at that same hour of
+dawn I, Mopo, came from my mission back to the kraal of the People of
+the Axe, having succeeded in my end, for that great chief whom I had
+gone out to visit had hearkened to my words. As the light broke I
+reached the town, and lo! it was a blackness and a desolation.
+
+“Here is the footmark of Dingaan,” I said to myself, and walked to and
+fro, groaning heavily. Presently I found a knot of men who were of the
+people that had escaped the slaughter, hiding in the mealie-fields lest
+the Slayers should return, and from them I drew the story. I listened
+in silence, for, my father, I was grown old in misfortune; then I asked
+where were the Slayers of the king? They replied that they did not
+know; the soldiers had gone up the Ghost Mountain after the
+Wolf-Brethren and Nada the Lily, and from the forest had come a howling
+of beasts and sounds of war; then there was silence, and none had been
+seen to return from the mountain, only all day long the vultures hung
+over it.
+
+“Let us go up the mountain,” I said.
+
+At first they feared, because of the evil name of the place; but in the
+end they came with me, and we followed on the path of the impi of the
+Slayers and guessed all that had befallen it. At length we reached the
+knees of stone, and saw the place of the great fight of the
+Wolf-Brethren. All those who had taken part in that fight were now but
+bones, because the vultures had picked them every one, except Galazi,
+for on the breast of Galazi lay the old wolf Deathgrip, that was yet
+alive. I drew near the body, and the great wolf struggled to his feet
+and ran at me with bristling hair and open jaws, from which no sound
+came. Then, being spent, he rolled over dead.
+
+Now I looked round seeking the axe Groan-Maker among the bones of the
+slain, and did not find it and the hope came into my heart that
+Umslopogaas had escaped the slaughter. Then we went on in silence to
+where I knew the cave must be, and there by its mouth lay the body of a
+man. I ran to it—it was Umslopogaas, wasted with hunger, and in his
+temple was a great wound and on his breast and limbs were many other
+wounds. Moreover, in his hand he held another hand—a dead hand, that
+was thrust through a hole in the rock. I knew its shape well—it was the
+little hand of my child, Nada the Lily.
+
+Now I understood, and, bending down, I felt the heart of Umslopogaas,
+and laid the down of an eagle upon his lips. His heart still stirred
+and the down was lifted gently.
+
+I bade those with me drag the stone, and they did so with toil. Now the
+light flowed into the cave, and by it we saw the shape of Nada my
+daughter. She was somewhat wasted, but still very beautiful in her
+death. I felt her heart also: it was still, and her breast grew cold.
+
+Then I spoke: “The dead to the dead. Let us tend the living.”
+
+So we bore in Umslopogaas, and I caused broth to be made and poured it
+down his throat; also I cleansed his great wound and bound healing
+herbs upon it, plying all my skill. Well I knew the arts of healing, my
+father; I who was the first of the _izinyanga_ of medicine, and, had it
+not been for my craft, Umslopogaas had never lived, for he was very
+near his end. Still, there where he had once been nursed by Galazi the
+Wolf, I brought him back to life. It was three days till he spoke, and,
+before his sense returned to him, I caused a great hole to be dug in
+the floor of the cave. And there, in the hole, I buried Nada my
+daughter, and we heaped lily blooms upon her to keep the earth from
+her, and then closed in her grave, for I was not minded that
+Umslopogaas should look upon her dead, lest he also should die from the
+sight, and because of his desire to follow her. Also I buried Galazi
+the Wolf in the cave, and set the Watcher in his hand, and there they
+both sleep who are friends at last, the Lily and the Wolf together. Ah!
+when shall there be such another man and such another maid?
+
+At length on the third day Umslopogaas spoke, asking for Nada. I
+pointed to the earth, and he remembered and understood. Thereafter the
+strength of Umslopogaas gathered on him slowly, and the hole in his
+skull skinned over. But now his hair was grizzled, and he scarcely
+smiled again, but grew even more grim and stern than he had been
+before.
+
+Soon we learned all the truth about Zinita, for the women and children
+came back to the town of the People of the Axe, only Zinita and the
+children of Umslopogaas did not come back. Also a spy reached me from
+the Mahlabatine and told me of the end of Zinita and of the flight of
+Dingaan before the Boers.
+
+Now when Umslopogaas had recovered, I asked him what he would do, and
+whether or not I should pursue my plots to make him king of the land.
+
+But Umslopogaas shook his head, saying that he had no heart that way.
+He would destroy a king indeed, but now he no longer desired to be a
+king. He sought revenge alone. I said that it was well, I also sought
+vengeance, and seeking together we would find it.
+
+Now, my father, there is much more to tell, but shall I tell it? The
+snow has melted, your cattle have been found where I told you they
+should be, and you wish to be gone. And I also, I would be gone upon a
+longer journey.
+
+Listen, my father, I will be short. This came into my mind: to play off
+Panda against Dingaan; it was for such an hour of need that I had saved
+Panda alive. After the battle of the Blood River, Dingaan summoned
+Panda to a hunt. Then it was that I journeyed to the kraal of Panda on
+the Lower Tugela, and with me Umslopogaas. I warned Panda that he
+should not go to this hunt, for he was the game himself, but that he
+should rather fly into Natal with all his people. He did so, and then I
+opened talk with the Boers, and more especially with that Boer who was
+named Ungalunkulu, or Great Arm. I showed the Boer that Dingaan was
+wicked and not to be believed, but Panda was faithful and good. The end
+of it was that the Boers and Panda made war together on Dingaan. Yes, I
+made that war that we might be revenged on Dingaan. Thus, my father, do
+little things lead to great.
+
+Were we at the big fight, the battle of Magongo? Yes, my father; we
+were there. When Dingaan’s people drove us back, and all seemed lost,
+it was I who put into the mind of Nongalaza, the general, to pretend to
+direct the Boers where to attack, for the Amaboona stood out of that
+fight, leaving it to us black people. It was Umslopogaas who cut his
+way with Groan-Maker through a wing of one of Dingaan’s regiments till
+he came to the Boer captain Ungalunkulu, and shouted to him to turn the
+flank of Dingaan. That finished it, my father, for they feared to stand
+against us both, the white and the black together. They fled, and we
+followed and slew, and Dingaan ceased to be a king.
+
+He ceased to be a king, but he still lived, and while he lived our
+vengeance was hungry. So we went to the Boer captain and to Panda, and
+spoke to them nicely, saying, “We have served you well, we have fought
+for you, and so ordered things that victory is yours. Now grant us this
+request, that we may follow Dingaan, who has fled into hiding, and kill
+him wherever we find him, for he has worked us wrong, and we would
+avenge it.”
+
+Then the white captain and Panda smiled and said, “Go children, and
+prosper in your search. No one thing shall please us more than to know
+that Dingaan is dead.” And they gave us men to go with us.
+
+Then we hunted that king week by week as men hunt a wounded buffalo. We
+hunted him to the jungles of the Umfalozi and through them. But he fled
+ever, for he knew that the avengers of blood were on his spoor. After
+that for awhile we lost him. Then we heard that he had crossed the
+Pongolo with some of the people who still clung to him. We followed him
+to the place Kwa Myawo, and there we lay hid in the bush watching. At
+last our chance came. Dingaan walked in the bush and with him two men
+only. We stabbed the men and seized him.
+
+Dingaan looked at us and knew us, and his knees trembled with fear.
+Then I spoke:—
+
+“What was that message which I sent thee, O Dingaan, who art no more a
+king—that thou didst evil to drive me away, was it not? because I set
+thee on thy throne and I alone could hold thee there?”
+
+He made no answer, and I went on:—
+
+“I, Mopo, son of Makedama, set thee on thy throne, O Dingaan, who wast
+a king, and I, Mopo, have pulled thee down from thy throne. But my
+message did not end there. It said that, ill as thou hadst done to
+drive me away, yet worse shouldst thou do to look upon my face again,
+for that day should be thy day of doom.”
+
+Still he made no answer. Then Umslopogaas spoke:—
+
+“I am that Slaughterer, O Dingaan, no more a king, whom thou didst send
+Slayers many and fierce to eat up at the kraal of the People of the
+Axe. Where are thy Slayers now, O Dingaan? Before all is done thou
+shalt look upon them.”
+
+“Kill me and make an end; it is your hour,” said Dingaan.
+
+“Not yet awhile, O son of Senzangacona,” answered Umslopogaas, “and not
+here. There lived a certain woman and she was named Nada the Lily. I
+was her husband, O Dingaan, and Mopo here, he was her father. But,
+alas! she died, and sadly—she lingered three days and nights before she
+died. Thou shalt see the spot and hear the tale, O Dingaan. It will
+wring thy heart, which was ever tender. There lived certain children,
+born of another woman named Zinita, little children, sweet and loving.
+I was their father, O Elephant in a pit, and one Dingaan slew them. Of
+them thou shalt hear also. Now away, for the path is far!”
+
+Two days went by, my father, and Dingaan sat bound and alone in the
+cave on Ghost Mountain. We had dragged him slowly up the mountain, for
+he was heavy as an ox. Three men pushing at him and three others
+pulling on a cord about his middle, we dragged him up, staying now and
+again to show him the bones of those whom he had sent out to kill us,
+and telling him the tale of that fight.
+
+Now at length we were in the cave, and I sent away those who were with
+us, for we wished to be alone with Dingaan at the last. He sat down on
+the floor of the cave, and I told him that beneath the earth on which
+he sat lay the bones of that Nada whom he had murdered and the bones of
+Galazi the Wolf.
+
+On the third day before the dawn we came again and looked upon him.
+
+“Slay me,” he said, “for the Ghosts torment me!”
+
+“No longer art thou great, O shadow of a king,” I said, “who now dost
+tremble before two Ghosts out of all the thousands that thou hast made.
+Say, then, how shall it fare with thee presently when thou art of their
+number?”
+
+Now Dingaan prayed for mercy.
+
+“Mercy, thou hyena!” I answered, “thou prayest for mercy who showed
+none to any! Give me back my daughter. Give this man back his wife and
+children; then we will talk of mercy. Come forth, coward, and die the
+death of cowards.”
+
+So, my father, we dragged him out, groaning, to the cleft that is above
+in the breast of the old Stone Witch, that same cleft where Galazi had
+found the bones. There we stood, waiting for the moment of the dawn,
+that hour when Nada had died. Then we cried her name into his ears and
+the names of the children of Umslopogaas, and cast him into the cleft.
+
+This was the end of Dingaan, my father—Dingaan, who had the fierce
+heart of Chaka without its greatness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+MOPO ENDS HIS TALE
+
+
+That is the tale of Nada the Lily, my father, and of how we avenged
+her. A sad tale—yes, a sad tale; but all was sad in those days. It was
+otherwise afterwards, when Panda reigned, for Panda was a man of peace.
+
+There is little more to tell. I left the land where I could stay no
+longer who had brought about the deaths of two kings, and came here to
+Natal to live near where the kraal Duguza once had stood.
+
+The bones of Dingaan as they lay in the cleft were the last things my
+eyes beheld, for after that I became blind, and saw the sun no more,
+nor any light—why I do not know, perhaps from too much weeping, my
+father. So I changed my name, lest a spear might reach the heart that
+had planned the death of two kings and a prince—Chaka, Dingaan, and
+Umhlangana of the blood royal. Silently and by night Umslopogaas, my
+fosterling, led me across the border, and brought me here to Stanger;
+and here as an old witch-doctor I have lived for many, many years. I am
+rich. Umslopogaas craved back from Panda the cattle of which Dingaan
+had robbed me, and drove them hither. But none were here who had lived
+in the kraal Duguza, none knew, in Zweete the blind old witch-doctor,
+that Mopo who stabbed Chaka, the Lion of the Zulu. None know it now.
+You have heard the tale, and you alone, my father. Do not tell it again
+till I am dead.
+
+Umslopogaas? Yes, he went back to the People of the Axe and ruled them,
+but they were never so strong again as they had been before they smote
+the Halakazi in their caves, and Dingaan ate them up. Panda let him be
+and liked him well, for Panda did not know that the Slaughterer was son
+to Chaka his brother, and Umslopogaas let that dog lie, for when Nada
+died he lost his desire to be great. Yet he became captain of the
+Nkomabakosi regiment, and fought in many battles, doing mighty deeds,
+and stood by Umbulazi, son of Panda, in the great fray on the Tugela,
+when Cetywayo slew his brother Umbulazi.
+
+After that also he plotted against Cetywayo, whom he hated, and had it
+not been for a certain white man, a hunter named Macumazahn,
+Umslopogaas would have been killed. But the white man saved him by his
+wit. Yes, and at times he came to visit me, for he still loved me as of
+old; but now he has fled north, and I shall hear his voice no more.
+Nay, I do not know all the tale; there was a woman in it. Women were
+ever the bane of Umslopogaas, my fostering. I forget the story of that
+woman, for I remember only these things that happened long ago, before
+I grew very old.
+
+Look on this right hand of mine, my father! I cannot see it now; and
+yet I, Mopo, son of Makedama, seem to see it as once I saw, red with
+the blood of two kings. Look on—
+
+Suddenly the old man ceased, his head fell forward upon his withered
+breast. When the White Man to whom he told this story lifted it and
+looked at him, he was dead!
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1207 ***