Nada the Lily
by H. Rider Haggard
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman

BY

H. RIDER HAGGARD

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 Bayete, 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:--

    Bayete! 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!
    Bayete, 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] Bayete, 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!
    Bayete, 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 Tiberiius 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.

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.

[1] I grieve to state that I must now say the late Mr. F. B. Fynney.

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 reims. 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, thought 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 lies 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 Ehlose[3] told her so. Ah! my father, her Ehlose
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 Ehlose 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 Ehlose 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 my 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
ehre. 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 Ehlose, 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 cal 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,
thought 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 good 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 took
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 shadows, 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 day 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 this: 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 burnt 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 they 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 they 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 to 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 born 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,
Bayete, 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? My
myself I swear, though she is my mother--if I thought"--and he ceased.

Thee 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 by 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 bade 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 the 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, sot hat 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 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 Bayete 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 these 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 Bayete. 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 hears 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!"

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-fingers 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
prophecy 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
as 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 carcass 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 this, 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
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 by son. But he commanded the messengers that
they should not slay me, but bring me living before them.

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 they huts."

"I have heard it, I 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 Ehlose 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 their 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 Ehlose, 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
wee 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, as 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 jar 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, drive 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 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 know, 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 think 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 by
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 say, 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 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, of 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 for
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 three--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 Watch 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 Ehlose 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 headmen. "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 top 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 doorposts, 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 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 made 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
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 this, 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 cam 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 Bayete, 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
taken 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
woman 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 made 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 become 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.

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 Bayete 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 Bayete."

"To whom didst thou give the Bayete, 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
afrai