At first Dingane seemed to arouse himself but slowly. Then he sprang up, gripping his shield and spears.
“Who art thou?” he cried, darting upon me his lion-like glance. “Ha! Untúswa, is it? Another traitor perhaps. How sayest thou, Untúswa? All, all are traitors.”
“No traitor am I, Black Elephant,” I answered. “It is safer, however, for the lion of Zulu to make his lair elsewhere.”
In the glance which Dingane bent upon me was distrust, suspicion, contempt by turns, but no sign of fear.
“What, Untúswa, and art thou faithful to me—thou, the wanderer—thou who art not of us, while they whom my hand has fed have deserted me—have turned their spears against me? Whau! It cannot be.”
“Who am I to fill the ears of the Great Great One with words,” I answered. “Yet, my father—wanderer or no wanderer—I know of no man whom the Lion of Zulu may more safely trust.”
“What, then, are thy counsels, Untúswa?” said the King.
“This, Lion. Hard by is a place known to none, where thou canst sit still in safety until the army is collected again. It was badly routed in the more open plain, yet here in these fastnesses none will dare venture—not even the Amabuna—until the trumpeting of the Elephant shall scatter the traitors and rebels once more. Such is my counsel, Ruler of the Great.”
“I will even trust thee, Untúswa,” said the King. “And now let us go forth.”
I picked up my shield and weapons, which, of course, I had let fall, being in the royal presence, and we took our way thence, I walking in advance and spying carefully around to guard against possible surprise.