They were our own people. I knew most of them by sight. But one among them was not armed, and at that moment several of them were engaged in binding the wrists of this one, far apart, to the ends of a pole. Then the man was stretched upon his back, two or three of them grasping the centre of the pole, and thus drawing his arms high above his head. His feet had already been treated in like fashion. And in this man, thus made ready for I knew too well what, I recognised my slave and faithful follower, Jambúla.
Over him now was bending the leader of the impi, speaking in a stern, decisive tone.
“Say now, thou dog, where lies hidden thy master, or I rip thee as thou liest.” And the broad assegai quivered in the speaker’s hand.
“Does ever a dog betray his master?” was the sullen reply. “A man may, but a dog, never.”
“How does that feel, and that, and that?” snarled the leader, bringing his blade down to the broad breast of the Xosa, and inflicting two or three deep gashes. “Ha! It will be through thee directly.”
I knew this man well. He was a brave enough fighter, but a sub-chief of small account, and not one of my own following. Could he capture me his fame would be assured. But he had that yet to do.
“Oh, good for thee, Sivuma,” I growled to myself. “Thou shalt feed the alligators for this when my day comes.”
Seeing that Jambúla was not to be frightened thus, Sivuma signed to the others. Well I knew what should follow. From a small fire which had been kindled among the stones they brought an assegai, whose blade had been heated red-hot. This was placed against the inner part of Jambúla’s thigh. I could hear the hiss of the burning flesh, but the brave Xosa never winced.
For long was the hot iron thus held, and when it began to cool another was brought from the fire. The perspiration poured from Jambúla’s face, and his teeth were set with agony; but beyond a quiver of the limbs, which he could not control, he quailed not, nor did he speak.
“Well, dog?” at last cried Sivuma furiously. “Where is thy master?”