“Há!” said the latter. “I am not sure it will be a lucky deal for me. The lion is my ‘ghost,’ Umlúngu, and see! this one has a ball between the eyes—between the eyes has its life been let out.”
“May that never be your own lot, Ingonyama,” said Dawes. And as he uttered the words some strange instinct moved him to fix his eyes full upon those of the chief. Under the circumstances the look was a significant one.
“Hau! This begins to look like tagati,” (witchcraft) muttered Vunawayo, scowlingly. “And ‘The Tooth’ is near.”
“Take ten cows then,” said Ingonyama with a sigh. And he stretched forth his hand to take the skin. But Dawes did not tender it.
“Where are the cows?” he said. “May I not see them?”
“They are out grazing now, Umlúngu. At milking-time they will be here. Then they shall be driven to your herd.”
“Quite so. And then the skin shall be carried to your hut, O chief,” returned Dawes, coolly. “And now I will drive my waggons hence and outspan them outside the kraal.” Then he proceeded to give orders to his native servants as unconcernedly as though he were starting from Maritzburg instead of moving through the armed ranks of hundreds of lawless and turbulent savages.
In the evening the ten head of cattle were duly delivered. They were indifferent-looking beasts for the most part. Dawes surveyed them critically.
“I don’t know that old Ingonyama hasn’t done us now, Ridgeley,” he said. “These are weedy looking brutes, but three, or perhaps four of them, ain’t bad; and I suppose we must take what we can get. I shall be glad enough to say good-bye to this place, and as soon as the stock and things are rested, we will try our hand at trekking away. And now let’s take the skin over.”
Followed by Sintoba, bearing the lion’s skin, the two proceeded to Ingonyama’s hut. As before, the chief was seated outside on a bullock-hide, with Vunawayo and half a dozen other amakehla, or ringed men, around him. This time he waxed quite friendly and conversational, and invited his involuntary visitors to sit down and drink tywala. This liquor, which is a species of beer brewed from maize or millet, was brought in huge bowls of baked clay. A gourd was apportioned to the two white men, but the Zulus contented themselves with the simple process of picking up the clay bowl and drinking therefrom; and Gerard, who had seen some beer-drinking among natives, still found room for astonishment over the enormous quantities which his present entertainers were able to absorb.