“In truth, Untúswa, thou art a wise man as well as a brave one, though young in years,” he said one day, as we sat beneath the shade of a great tree, taking snuff; for Umzilikazi, with a number of his body-guard, and three or four izinceku, had gone on in advance of the remainder of the nation, intending to hunt before the game was scared out of our path. But the game we sought was fierce and dangerous game—the lion, and the elephant, and the buffalo—and in the slaying of such none was bolder or more skilful than the King himself. I was the only induna of the party, and, indeed, it seemed to me that Umzilikazi liked to find some reason for keeping me about him, even as when I was a boy and unringed.
“It seems to me,” he went on, after I had uttered my thanks for his word of approval, “it seems to me that we are drawing near to the country of the Chief of the Blue Cattle, yet the choicest of those cattle have not travelled our way, nor have their owners sent to beg to be allowed to live. How do you explain this, Untúswa?”
“The Bakoni are a nation of fools, Great Great One. Their warriors are numerous, but they do not look much of warriors. They, in their ignorance, fear not the might of the all-devouring Amazula. Give but the word, Father, and the day we sight their town, there shall not be a man left.”
“Thou art a lion-cub, indeed, Untúswa,” said the King, with a laugh. “No. I have another mind in this matter. I will not destroy these people, for I think to make use of them—that is, I will give them one more chance. I will send to their chief, that he delay not to come in and place his neck beneath my foot. But who to send? None but these slaves speak with the tongue of those people—and who can trust a slave?—and Masuka is too old, and to me too valuable.”
This last the King said rather to himself than to me, yet I understood his meaning.
“Send me, Father,” I said. “I am able to converse with these people, and who better can explain the mind of the King in such a matter?”
“That is so, Untúswa. But it is like sending thee to thy death; for, if these people are wallowing in their folly to the extent of refusing to konza to me, it is as likely as not they will slay my messenger. And it is not a very great death for a fighting captain.”
“When a man dies in the service of the King, any death is a great death,” I answered. “Send me, Black Elephant.”
Umzilikazi took snuff a moment and pondered.
“I will send thee, son of Ntelani,” he said. “Who now is there to bear thee company, for thou must go alone, with one other, and four slaves to carry thy game. I will not that an induna of the King go before the chief of a numerous nation unattended.”