“No hurt lurks beneath such múti, son of my father: of that I feel sure,” I answered. “But I think it is time to have speech with these.”
“Yeh-bo,” assented Mgwali, grinning. “And I think that quarter of meat roasting yonder seems too large for only two men. Au! but the smell of it is good.”
We went forward, and as we discovered ourselves but small was the surprise shown by these two strangers. The head-ringed man, who was attending to the fire and the roast, returned our salutation in the usual form, not heeding us much. But the other, speaking with our tongue, though haltingly, said:
“Welcome, my sons! Draw near, and seat yourselves; for our morning meal is nearly ready, and there is enough for all.”
Mgwali’s eyes glistened, and his mouth broadened into a grin; for he was younger than I, and hungry; and, in truth, the meat smelt good. He uttered a word or two of emphatic assent, and made a movement to comply. But I, remembering my dignity as an induna of the King, still stood. Then I said:
“First tell me, O white stranger, by whose leave you have entered this country, and made múti in the land of the Great Great One by whose light we live?”
“By whose leave?” he echoed; his face brightening up. “Ha! By the leave—nay, by the order—of the Great Great One in whose light we live.” Then, seeing that I frowned, and looked suspicious, he explained. “I will not pretend to misunderstand you; but I came into the country of your King by favour of even a greater than he.”
“Hau! You are joking, my father!” I answered, with a sneer, though my first thought was that he was speaking of Dingane. “Yet such words uttered here are dangerous, and would mean death to him who uttered them. Where, now, is he who is greater than Umzilikazi, the Mighty Elephant? Our young regiments are consumed with a longing to wet their spears; and there, I think, is the chance. Where is he who is greater than our king?”
“Pezulu!” (up above) replied the stranger, simply, pointing upward to the heavens.
Then I partly understood. I had heard strange tales of certain men among the whites who taught that a great, though invisible, King sat above the blue of the sky, and caused the sun to shine and the rain to fall; whose might was such that beside it the might of Tshaka himself was less than the might of a child. This, then, must be one of them. Yet—the strange ceremonies we had witnessed?