“This way. I have a red cap, given me by one of them when last I was at Buluwayo. It will I throw up. The Amakiwa do not wear red caps.”
“But—if the time is not ripe?” struck in a voice which the listener thought not to have heard yet. “If, by chance, the Amakiwa are suspicious and are all armed—what then?”
“Au! That is not likely. But I will wear two caps—a white one under the red. If the time is ripe, the red one goes into the air—then those who are elsewhere will receive news by swift signal that all the Amakiwa in their part of the country be at once and immediately slain. If I see that the time is not yet, then I throw the white signal in the air. So must we sit still and deliberate further. It is the red signal or the white.”
“The red signal or the white!” echoed his hearers. “Ah! ah! The red signal or the white!”
“That is understood,” said Qubani. “The red signal or the white.”
“Eh! hé! Siyavuma!” hummed the others.
Now the listener thought to detect signs that the deliberations had come to an end, and if so, some, at any rate, of those within would be coming forth. Two courses suggested themselves to him. He lay between the hut and the outer stockade. The chances were that anyone coming out would take the other side, between the huts, to make their way to their respective quarters. But chances, unless one is driven to take them, are uncertain props, wherefore he decided to beat a retreat while there was yet time. Accordingly he crawled backwards a little, then stood upright, and, keeping against the dark background of the outer stockade, was lounging at unconcerned pace back in the direction of his hut, when—
“Sleep well, brother. Au! I think we need it.”
He had nearly cannoned against a tall figure which appeared round the side of a hut. The deep tones he recognised as those of Zwabeka. Clearly the chief mistook him in the darkness for one of those who had taken part in the indaba. He drawled an assent in a sleepy voice, and fervently blessed the unknown influence which had caused him to leave his large-brimmed hat in the hut when he had come forth on his midnight wandering, and now, with his blanket over his head, he might pass very well in the darkness for one of themselves, and, indeed, had so passed. But his trial was not over yet.
As the chief passed on there stepped forth two more figures, lazily chatting; this time behind him. The thing was too risky. In front of him yawned the black hole of the doorway of one of the huts, left open, perhaps, on account of the heat—only it was not hot. Through this he crept, without a moment’s hesitation, as though it were his own dwelling. Hardly was he within than the two who had been behind him likewise entered.