Morning dawned. We stepped outside our hut, and, lo! all things looked as usual. Women were passing to their ordinary work. Cattle were being milked—those fine blue cattle of which these people were so fond. Young men lounged about, scarcely armed, laughing with the girls, and old men sat taking snuff and chattering. As we stood before our door, their attention was drawn to us, though their remarks were uttered too low for us to catch.
“Of a truth, some of these Bakoni maidens are good to look upon!” murmured my brother, as a string of girls, calabash on head, stepped by.
“Peace, boy,” I answered sternly. “What have we to do with such, we who bear the ‘word’ of the King?”
Taking a rod, I planted it upright in the earth. We stood watching it; but no message came from the Chief of the Blue Cattle. The shadow thrown out by the rod was now scarcely twice the length of a man’s finger. Then I directed Mgwali to cause our four slaves to gather together their loads, for the time for departure had arrived. Only three, however, appeared. The fourth was not to be found. Clearly he had deserted. This looked badly.
The sun had reached his highest. The rod which I had planted in the earth cast no shadow now.
At a word from me we stepped forth, my brother and I together, the three remaining slaves but a few paces behind. As we passed through the town we noticed some of those strange-looking stone walls we had seen on our first arrival. These were about the height of a man’s head—though, in places, higher—and were built in a round formation, seeming to encircle a second enclosure. We noticed just then that the outer wall was entered by a narrow opening just wide enough to admit the body of a man.
But now all our attention was turned upon ourselves, for we were suddenly encompassed by a crowd of armed Bakoni. These, flourishing their weapons, ordered us, in angry and jeering tones, to return to the hut we had occupied. Oh, those fools, who thought to dictate orders to the second induna of the army of the Great King!
We did not even halt; but, instead of assailing us, a number of them rushed upon our slaves, and speared them under our eyes. Haul they fell, those unfortunate Amaholi, simply cut into strips. What happened then, Nkose, I scarcely knew. I saw red. We both “saw red.” The thunder of our fierce war shout frightened them as though it was the roar of a lion in their midst. I heard and felt the hiss of the King’s Assegai as it rushed through the body of the warrior nearest to me, splitting it nigh in twain. Then, as a buffet from my great shield sent another staggering, he, too, was devoured by the dark-handled spear. Whau, Nkose! I know not how many we slew. Leaping hither and thither, roaring like lions, we hewed our way; yet we were but two, and they were hundreds. They yielded before us, only to close up again immediately. Au! they had never seen Zulus in battle before. But even Zulus, being but two, cannot go on fighting all day against the might of a whole nation, and surrounded on all sides. We might kill a number, but our death was certain at last.
Now, of death we thought not at all, for in battle it is not our custom to think of aught beyond how many enemies we could kill. But to me came the thought that I would like to live, if only to assist in destroying the whole of this den of jackals. And I saw the means of attaining to that purpose.
“The wall, Mgwali!” I cried. “Through them—to the wall! We can hold that. It is our only chance.”