“Yet it seems I have seen him before. No matter. For the rest, amadoda, the house is very near and contains that which is good to eat and drink. The Inkosazana (lit. Little Chieftainess) is there, and will see to that. I return soon myself. Hambani gahle!”
They were delighted, and chorussed a sonorous farewell. Thornhill made it a rule to treat his native neighbours on liberal and friendly terms, consequently the relations between them were of the best. None of his stock was ever missing nor did he ever lack farm servants. Incidentally, some of his white neighbours disagreed with him on the point. They said he was spoiling the natives. But, out of the plenitude of his experience he had found it a policy that paid.
Now, when after a few minutes’ ride along the bush track he overtook the stranger, that worthy’s demeanour towards himself constituted quite an unusual experience. It was off-hand, to say the least of it, almost offensive.
“May I not have first right to ride along the paths on my own farm?” began Thornhill, banteringly. For the path here was exceedingly narrow with high thick bush on either hand, and the other showed not the least anxiety to make way for him, but strode on as though there was no one within a hundred miles. It was all Thornhill could do to restrain himself from bringing down the butt of his gun hard and violently between the broad, shining shoulders. It was, if possible, more difficult still, as the stranger replied, without halting or even looking back:
“Patience, Inqoto. The path is not wide enough for two.”
This gazula—or addressing a white man familiarly by his native name, even though that name in this instance was a complimentary one, referring to decisiveness of character—would have led then and there to a breach of the peace on the part of most white men, especially as the tone of the speaker bordered on the contemptuous. This one only waxed coldly sarcastic.
“I see you, King. Bayéte, King of the Heavens and the world! Elephant! Lion! Divider of the Sun! Shaker of the Earth!” he went on, giving the other half a dozen more titles of royal sibongo. “Whau! It is truly the Great Great One come to life again, for who else in these times would walk about my farm armed with assegais?”
The path had now widened out. The savage halted and stepped aside.
“Do you know me, Inqoto?” he said. “Have you ever seen me before?”
“Surely. O Elephant. In another world,” came the ready and sarcastic reply.