With a desperate effort the prisoner had managed to slip his gag.
“The Amangisi have many ropes,” he said. “Even chiefs will hang by some of them before long.” Nteseni laughed.
“I think not,” he answered. “Will yonder moon tell what it has seen? Well, a high leap in the air is before thee, Teliso. Now—take it.”
The unfortunate man hesitated. Those who held him stood aside.
“What? Is it then better to be slaughtered like a goat,” said the chief jeeringly. “Well then, Isazi,” to one of the young men, “thy knife.”
But the threat was enough. The doomed man closed his eyes, tottered, then flung himself forward. A crash and a thud came up to the ears of the listeners.
“You two,” went on the chief, “go down yonder and take off the thongs; his clothing was thick so they will leave no trace. And—I think Ntwezi will need a new dog.”
The redness of the blood moon lightened. Its globe grew golden.