The Gaika’s blood was up, and flinging the venison down in the ashes, he ran for his sticks, while the young Zulu, with a jeering laugh, rose to his feet.
“Drop those sticks, Klaas,” shouted Hume angrily.
Klaas hesitated, then sullenly replaced his kerries and turned away, whereat the Zulus laughed again.
“It is not fitting that we should serve ourselves,” said the Induna; “let this servant wait on us.”
Hume called to the Gaika to attend to the guests, but he clicked his tongue and would not move.
“Come,” said Miss Anstrade gently; “do as you are told, Klaas.”
Thereupon Klaas moved slowly to the fire, placed the kettle on to boil, and made coffee, while all the time a running fire of chaff was turned on him.
“It seems they want to provoke him,” muttered Webster, with an unfriendly glance at the arrogant natives.
“Yes,” said Hume, “and it is contrary to their custom, for Zulus are aristocrats.”
When the visitors had fed, Hume brought out from the waggon a roll of coloured print, a railway rug, and a few knives, which he laid on the ground.