“Since you have been at your present outspan, Nkose. He said he would shoot me, and he meant it.”
“And you, Mtezani,” said Wyvern, turning to the latter. “Said I not that you must not leave U’ Joe, or the camp until my return? Why then are you here?”
“Nkose! I have smelt this dog prowling about for two days following you. That is why I am here.”
Wyvern could hardly find further fault, so he only said:
“Let him up.”
“Nkose! I will let him up—I—Ijjí!”
The last came out in a strident ferocious gasp, as its utterer drove the broad blade of his assegai down between the shoulders of his helpless captive. The limbs contracted convulsively, and the slayer, maddened by a sudden access of ferocity, drove in his spear-head again and again.
“That dog will yelp no more,” he growled, rising erect.
Wyvern felt absolutely sick.
“What have you done, Mtezani?” he said, sternly. “You have killed an utterly defenceless man. That is not the act of a warrior but of a coward.”