"Ngonyama, great white one, I am but a woman, and ye are too strong for me."
Mr. Hume nodded.
"I am a woman; only a woman."
"Was it a woman's task to set those ravens upon me and the young chief?"
"I am a mother, Indhlovu, and a mother's heart is strong for her child. I feared you because of my son. You were strong, and he trusted you. He was away, and you were left to do as you wished—to take his place, to destroy him. It is the way of men to use power for themselves."
"It is not my way."
"O great white one, give me counsel. The Arab thief has truly stopped the river, and the waters rise in the valley—rise among the gardens; and when Muata returns he will see water where there was grass."
"Ay, Muata will ask how this thing happened. And they will answer, because a woman interfered with his plans. The son will know that it was his mother who brought this evil on the place because she thought she could do better than Ngonyama."
"It is true; it is true," she wailed, beating her breast. "So tell me, great one, how this evil may be put right, but it must be done quickly, for the Arab has brought canoes up, and his men are in the valley ready to seize the women and children."
This was startling news indeed. "Canoes in the valley?"