The young Zulu looked more than sulky.
“That was not a man but a dog,” he said. “And he would have taken your life, Nkose.”
This was undeniable. Wyvern felt he could hardly quarrel with a man who had just saved his life; further he recognised that one of those irresistible impulses to shed blood common to most savages had come upon Mtezani. Moreover the thing was done, and no amount of objection on his part could undo it. So he rejoined:
“And you have saved it, Mtezani. Good. I will not forget.”
“Nkose is my father and saved mine,” was the reply. “Now we are a life for a life.”
The speaker had quite regained his good-humour. The paroxysm of savagery had passed, and his pleasant, intelligent face was as usual.
“Whau ’Nkose! What is one dog more or less?” he went on, with a careless laugh. “And—that one knew too much.”
“Knew too much?”
“Eh-hé! He was sent by Inxele to find out what you were here for, and to-day he knew. Now he knows no more.”
Wyvern stopped short and fixed his eyes on the other’s face.