Now I saw myself again undone, Nkose, for in turning that language into our own I thought not to render it all, and therein lay safety. But the old Masuka would certainly render it word for word. Still, my snake was watching over me then, for a message came from the old isanusi that he was making múti, as befitted so serious a time. This answer, which no other man among us would have dared to send, unless he were more than tired of his life, seemed to satisfy the King.
“No matter,” he said. “Thou wert my tongue before, Untúswa, when I despatched thee to offer favour to this dog who calls himself a lion Thou shalt be my tongue now.”
Chapter Eleven.
The End of Tauane.
As the King thus spoke, Nkose, I felt safe again, for old Masuka might not arrive before I had finished interpreting, and when that time had come I felt sure that the moments left to the captive chief of the Blue Cattle would be few indeed.
“So, brother!” said the Great Great One, speaking in that soft and pleasant voice which was the most terrible of all, “so, brother—who thought to rule the world? What bad dreams disturbed thy night’s rest to cause thee to make a mock of my messengers?”
This I put to Tauane. But he made no reply save a murmur, waiting for the King to continue.
“I offered thee life, and thou didst choose death; death for thyself and thy people. Go, ask such as remain of the tribes and peoples which have lain in and around our path—ask if the son of Matyobane was ever known to send forth his ‘word’ twice?”