“I think that is even so, Silwane,” I said grimly, my meaning not being his.
The steep slope along which we were proceeding was thickly sprinkled with growths of bush, and here and there great formations of boulders and stones, which rendered the way difficult and toilsome. And now a bit of the moon began to reappear. At all risks I must slip away, even if it aroused suspicion.
I had already drawn back somewhat, falling farther and farther into the rear. Already I judged the distance between myself and the warriors great enough, and the spot favourable, for it was rugged and rock-strewn, and overgrown with bush. Already I had turned the darker side of my shield towards them, and in a moment more would have dropped into concealment, and glided away with the silence and rapidity of a serpent, when, Nkose, the strangest of strange things happened.
Between myself and the warriors in front there was a shape. It seemed to appear out of empty air, for assuredly I had seen it spring out of nowhere. It was the shape of a man, tall and broad. Unlike the warriors in front, he was not adorned as for war, but like myself, though wearing only the mútya as usual, he was fully armed. His back was towards me, and, as I stared wildly at him in the now fast lightening darkness, a movement he made brought full into my view the large war-shield which he carried. Hau! The shield was pure white, like my own—a royal shield. This, then, must be the real Mhlangana.
The time had come, Nkose—had fully come—to take leave of that party, for assuredly had Mhlangana looked back he would have taken me for his ghost, stalking behind him, and who would wish to frighten any so great as one of the brother Kings of Zululand? Whau! So I dropped quietly behind a bush to wait until the party were out of hearing. But before it was so I could hear Mhlangana talking to the warriors; but his words were few, and their tones were even and showed no suspicion that they had been receiving their orders and plan of battle from Umzilikazi’s second fighting induna. And, indeed, as I thought of it, I laughed so to myself that I was forced to sit down upon the ground and take snuff. For these skilled warriors and captains had cried the Bayéte and bent low and uttered bonga to me, Untúswa, who was but yesterday, it seemed, a boy in Zululand; and from me had they taken their orders, which would be for their own destruction. Whau! Nkose! The world may have contained more ridiculous positions, but somehow I hardly think it possible.
“Hamba gahle, Mhlangana! Hambani gahle, warriors of Dingane!” I murmured in scornful farewell.
It did not take me long to reach the entrance of the pass. The wizard beast was no longer there, but even had a hundred such been waiting to bar my way, they would have delayed me no longer than the time it would take to fight my way through them. No fears had I now of ghosts, or shapes of tagati, or any such thing. All such fears had disappeared in the face of this real peril which threatened us as a nation. I laughed at such fears as I sped through that grim pass, its gloomy depths rendered still blacker by the bright moon rays—for the moon was light again now—striking upon the tall cliffs high overhead. And I could hear stones falling among the rocks as though ghosts were at play, and weird wailing voices with shrill, sharp screams of fear, or savage snarls, and indeed, many sounds issuing from the shadows; but of such I took no heed—but, indeed, nothing—neither ghosts nor animals—could, I think, have a wilder, fiercer appearance than mine, as, with head bent forward, and gripping my shield and weapons, I sped through that grim, black defile which was at one moment in shadow, then in moonlight, bearing with me that which was of all things the most portentous—the fate of a nation.