“Will the chief ask them,” he said, cunningly, “why they had to leave Majendwa’s country in a hurry, and why they are bringing back about half their trade goods?”
“We did not leave in a hurry,” I answered, “and as for trade goods, the people seemed not willing to trade. For the rest, we have plenty of cattle, which are even now crossing Inncome, driven by boys whom Muntisi the son of Majendwa sent with us.”
“That is a lie,” responded Norbury. “They had too many eyes, and looked too closely into what did not concern them. They had to fly, and now they will carry strange stories to the English about the doings on the Zulu side.”
This, I could see, made some impression upon the warriors. However, I confined myself simply to contradicting it. Then Norbury asked the chief to order the return of his weapons.
“I need no such order,” I said. “I am willing to return them, but—I must have all the cartridges in exchange.”
He was obliged to agree, which he did sullenly. As he threw down the bandolier and emptied his pockets of his pistol cartridges he said:
“Glanton, my good friend—if you value your life I warn you not to come to this section of the Zulu country any more. If it hadn’t been for this crowd happening up, you’d both have been dead meat by now. You can take my word for that.”
“Oh no, I don’t,” I answered. “I’ve always been able to take care of myself, and I fancy I’ll go on doing it. So don’t you bother about that. Here are your shooting-irons.”
“What about my horse? You’ve shot my horse you know. What are you going to stand for him?”
“Oh blazes take you and your impudence,” struck in Falkner. “I’m only sorry it wasn’t you I pinked instead of the gee. Outside British jurisdiction, you know,” he added with an aggravating grin. “Stand? Stand you another hammering if you like to stand up and take it. You won’t? All right. Good-bye. We’ve no time to waste jawing with any blighted dog-stealer like you.”