“Standing thus behind Umzilikazi, I was able to command the fullest view of the old witch-doctor, and as they brought him along I noticed that he showed no sign of fear. His, eyes were as bright and piercing as before; and his old body, bowed and wrinkled with age, looked hardly human, so shrunken and withered was it.
“‘Are the ghosts of those slain yonder come to life again in this old man?’ I heard the King mutter as he signed the Mosutu to rise up from the prostration he had made. ‘What is thy name, old man?’
“‘I am called Masuka, lord. The guardian spirits of the Bapedi tribe whisper in my ears.’
“‘Ha, the Bapedi! So that is the name of those we swept out of our path yesterday.’
“‘It is, lord. Yet there are more of them left; but they dwell in the mountains.’
“‘Then fortunate are they, for so far as I care they can stay there,’ said the King. ‘It is only those lying in my path whom I sweep aside. But, old man, thy serpents (A favourite form of tutelary deity among Zulus is the serpent) must have been powerful yesterday, in that thou art the only one who has escaped with life from the fangs of my hunting dogs. Yet am I not sorry, for I have heard much of the powers of the Basutu izanusi, and would fain see some proof of them.’
“‘The hour is not propitious, King,’ replied the old man in a wearied sort of tone, with a glance at the heavens.
“A great growl of astonishment went up from all who heard this answer. The indunas sat open-mouthed with amazement. This wretched, shrivelled little old monkey, whose life had been spared by the merest chance, instead of being all eagerness to meet the King’s wishes, had returned a curt, almost contemptuous refusal.
“‘Atyi! Was ever such a thing heard of?’ they cried. ‘He is mad! He is tired of life!’
“But Umzilikazi made no reply. He whispered a word to one of the indunas, who rose and went away. In a few moments the sound of singing was heard, and a band of about twenty men and as many women was seen approaching. Battling with bones and bladders, bristling with porcupine quills and feathers, some of them crowned with dry and fleshless skulls, others twining snakes about their necks and arms, in them we recognised our own mystic circle—the witch-doctors who had accompanied us on our migration.