“I saw you ride, Lamonti,” he said. “Whau! but you did pick up the little bits of wood with the long spear. That was great—great. But the other Inkosi was greater.”
“Yes, the other was greater, Qubani, but what made me miss that stroke was joy at seeing my father, the greatest of all izanusi in our midst.”
“Whau!”
“Mr Lamont, do come and help us with the prizes. They balloted for who should distribute them, and Lucy was chosen. Do come and stand by us and help. They are going to begin now.”
“I’m most awfully sorry, Miss Vidal, but I can’t just now.”
“You won’t?” said Clare curtly, for she was not accustomed to be refused.
“I can’t,” he repeated. “Do believe I have a good reason—and don’t direct any attention to me just now. Believe me, a great deal hangs upon it.”
“Very well,” she said, and left him, marvelling. It must be as he had said—still that he should refuse to do something for her and prefer to talk to this squalid old savage instead—why, it was incomprehensible.
“What is covered up on that waggon, Nkose!” said the witch-doctor, pointing to a waggon which stood just inside the fence. Its position, perhaps, directly facing the Ehlatini ridge, suggested an inspiration to Lamont. He answered—
“Izikwa-kwa.” (Maxim guns.)