“Now, my children!” I cried. “Behold your bridge! These shall carry us over the spike-studded ground!”
A roar of delight, of admiration, went up from the impi as my plan became clear. Forced onward, the exhausted groans and despairing shrieks of the driven herd, the human herd, mingled with the loud yells of their drivers. As the foremost of them swept past us a shower of rocks from above crashed down upon them, splattering us with their blood, yet even then they dared not waver, for the spears of the breast of the impi had now closed up behind them, goading them on, ruthlessly slaying those who fell exhausted. On they rushed, several hundreds of them, surging over the wall.
But the frantic shrieks of those who fell first upon the spikes availed nothing. The remainder poured over them, for they had to do it—being there for that purpose—and fell in their turn, and others behind them, and so on, until not one of the sharp blades which so thickly studded the ground was visible. All were buried within and beneath the bodies of those we had driven over them. Then, as I gave the signal, the whole impi charged forward, trampling over this shrieking mangled mass of human beings. But we were on clear ground again. My plan had succeeded. I had thrown a bridge over that terrible gulf of spear points—a bridge built of the living bodies of our captives!
As we sprang to the clear summit of the mountain we beheld outstretched before us a broad table-land, grassy and level, and at the further end a rocky cone. This space was alive with cattle and fleeing groups of fugitives, striving to gain that end, for the mountain was only to be gained by two sides. We did not shout now. With heads bent and eyes glowing, each warrior grasping his spear in readiness, we swept across that level summit. Wildly those doomed ones fled—fled for the only side still open; but here they rushed upon the spears of Kalipe, and were driven back, so that they were now hemmed in with blades. Au! then we began to kill! We slew and slew until we could hardly raise our arms; but what I was keenly on the alert for was the chief, Tauane; for Umzilikazi had specially ordered that, if possible, this man should be taken alive.
Wearied with killing, I shouted to the groups of screaming Bakoni still alive, both men and women, who now lay upon the ground, begging hard for their lives:
“Where is Tauane? Where is the Chief of the Blue Cattle?”
They hesitate to reply. Immediately our assegais set to work again. Then some of the women screamed out:
“Yonder he is, Lion. There, among those.”
I followed their glance. A group of men, terror-stricken, sat huddled together, their looks wildly imploring that mercy they knew it would be useless to ask. Already our warriors were bounding upon them with uplifted spears. But I ran forward and ordered them to forbear.
“Greeting, Chief of the Blue Cattle!” I cried aloud in a great mocking voice. “Greeting, young lion, lord of thousands and thousands of spears. What was my ‘word’ but this day? That the next time the Chief of the Bakoni saw my face it would be in the forefront of the destroyers; and it is so. But how do I again behold the chief of so many spears and shields? Is it armed and fighting to the death? Not so. It is crouching low, and weeping even as these miserable women!”