“I am very hungry, Sobuza,” said Gerard.
The chief started. Zulus on a war expedition seldom eat more than once a day, and that in the morning. Then he laughed, and gave orders accordingly.
“It is war rations,” he said, as some dried meat and mealies stamped to a kind of flaky paste were produced.
The first was rather “high,” but Gerard was, as he had said, very hungry, and fell to, untroubled by overmuch fastidiousness. While thus engaged he heard a voice say in a jaunty, bantering tone—
“Saku bona, ’mlúngu! Surely we have met before.”
The group of chiefs had temporarily left him, to supervise the few simple preparations for their march. Looking up he saw a young Zulu, unringed, who stood there, laughing all over his face. The features were familiar, but Gerard, who had seen so many natives of late, could not quite locate them.
“Have you any more guns to sell, Umlúngu?” said the young fellow, roguishly.
And then Gerard knew him in a moment.
“Nkumbi-ka-zulu,” he said, holding out his hand to show that he bore no ill-will from their previous very decided misunderstanding. “Why, how is it that you are here?”
“Há!” said the other, with a laugh, “I am in the Ngobamakosi regiment. I am going to help ‘eat up’ the Igazipuza.”