“‘I was but angry, Untúswa. Thou art young, and hast fought right well. I will name thee to the King, and will “point at” thee in the next Tyay’igama dance.’
“‘Not so, my father. It is Kalipe who will do that—Kalipe, who will now be in chief command of the King’s troops; Kalipe, who does not try and rob one of the King’s brave soldiers of more than half the praise due to him; Kalipe, who does not rob the soldier of the chance of obtaining his head-ring, who does not lobola for the girl that soldier wants. So now, Gungana, I will promote Kalipe to command the King’s army—I, Untúswa the inceku; I, Untúswa the umfane—and I will do this by making the post vacant.’
“‘Thou jackal whelp!’ he snarled, disdaining further to ask for mercy, realising, too, that it was useless, for he knew he had intended my death, and that I was fully aware he had. ‘Thou jackal whelp! I would that I had not spared thee all this while!’
“‘It has been a day too long, my father,’ I jeered. ‘Now I shall go back, and the King will allow me to tunga, for he has promised it. I will lobola for Nangeza, and soon I shall be an induna, and she shall be my “great wife.” Then, O Gungana, I will not rest until I have all your sons and kindred “smelt out” as abatagati, and “eaten up.” Old Masuka will see to that; so you may soon expect them in the world of shades.’
“Whau, Nkose! It was not well done, thus to mock and taunt a brave man and an induna of the King, being helpless. But I was young then, and I hated Gungana beyond describing. I thought of Nangeza, and how he would have robbed me of her; I thought of his continual designs to compass my ruin and death, and I knew there was not room in this world for him and myself together, and my heart became hard and ferocious as that of a wild beast.
“‘Is it comfortable down there, induna of the King?’ I jeered. ‘Ha! It is not much of a death for a warrior, for a brave commander of the King’s armies, to die like an ant-bear in a dark hole. Oh no, it is not much of a death!’
“‘Yet shalt thou die a worse one, O dog-whelp!’ he answered. ‘A worse one—forget not that!’
“‘Ha-ha!’ I laughed. Then I arose and went a little way, and soon returned with some large stones. Bending over the hole, as soon as my eyes became accustomed to the blackness of its depths, I could just make out the shimmer of Gungana’s head-ring some way down. I took the largest of the stones in both hands, and, poising it over this, I let it fall. There was a crunching sound, and a deep, convulsive groan; then the noise of a heavy body rolling and sliding further and further.
“‘Hlala gahle, Gungana!’ I shouted mockingly. ‘Hlala gahle!’ (‘Rest in peace.’ Zulu form of farewell from a person going away.) Then I got up to go away.
“But as I rose from the spot, I did not feel glad. The sound of the stone as it struck Gungana’s head, that quavering groan which shot upward into outer air, seemed to awaken other feelings within me but those of rejoicing. No, it was not well done, Nkose—yet it was to be my death or his. Still—it was not well done.