“‘Now, Masuka,’ said the King, as he signed to the izanusi to desist, ‘show thyself a greater magician than these, and thou shalt have thy life. Thou must show me something I have never seen before. If thou failest in this, I swear that thou shalt be eaten alive by these. I am bent upon seeing something new this day, and the spectacle of a man eaten alive by men will be a new one indeed. So pray for success upon thy magic.’
“The furious bowlings of our own magicians were renewed. There was an awesome, uneasy expression upon the faces of the lookers-on. Never was Umzilikazi known to depart from his word. Unless, therefore, the old Mosutu should show us some very strange and startling thing, he would certainly meet with a fate which to us Zulus—accustomed as we were to bloodshed in the ordinary way—seemed in the last degree horrible. Again, if he fulfilled his undertaking, we might look for some very terrifying exhibition of magic. Wherefore, the awe which rested upon every face is beyond words.
“‘Begin,’ said the King. ‘Begin, old man. We wait.’
“Masuka stared in front of him for a few moments, his lips moving. Suddenly he gave a convulsive start and fell over motionless. Time went by, yet no sign of life did he show. At last the King, tired of waiting, rose and went over to look at the apparently lifeless body.
“‘He is as cold as a stone,’ he said.
“‘I think he is really dead, Great Great One!’ I whispered, for, as the King’s shield-bearer, I alone had accompanied him from his place. ‘See he does not even breathe.’
“‘He is not dead, Untúswa,’ answered the King. ‘Whau! I have seen this trick before, but never better done. Yet he must show us something more than this if he is to keep his life. See; place snuff in his nostrils.’
“I hastened to obey, and as I bent over the set, rigid face, a glance into the wide-open but apparently sightless eyes all but unnerved me. Lustreless and filmy, there yet seemed such a demon-like power lying beneath their black depths. It made me feel as though I were looking into a dark and terrible pit, with some monster of unimaginable hideousness and cruelty lurking at the bottom. The hand which held the snuff spoon shook, and I could hardly carry out the King’s command.
“But with his nostrils well filled with snuff—and, indeed, there must have been a good deal in his throat, for my unsteady hand had spilt some—the old Mosutu never sneezed, never choked. He was not emitting the very faintest breath.
“‘He is dead!’ said Umzilikazi at last. ‘Remove him.’