The Induna regarded them contemptuously, and, after a long argument, Hume added a couple of blankets and a roll of brass wire to the articles. At a shout from the Induna, four other men appeared, gathered up the presents, and departed. Then the Induna demanded something for himself, and receiving a quarter of what he asked, presently rose, whereupon the young Zulu, a tall and powerful savage, deliberately emptied the steaming contents of his pannikin over Klaas’ bare feet. With a bound Klaas reached his sticks, and this time Hume did not interfere.
“You will not let them fight,” implored Miss Anstrade.
“Yes,” said Hume; “Klaas comes of a tribe who have no equals in the use of sticks, and he will teach this young brute a lesson. Now,” he continued, turning to the Induna, “you wish these men to fight. Let them; but if one of you raises a hand to help I will shoot him.”
The Induna smiled contemptuously.
“A Zulu is better than three slaves and sons of slaves. My man will beat him; but you must not help either. Let them battle in the open, and we will stand here.”
Miss Anstrade cast one shuddering look at the two men; then, suddenly running forward, she dipped her handkerchief in the water, bade Klaas lift his foot, and made a bandage round the inflamed ankle. Then she climbed into the waggon and stopped her ears to the fierce sound of the strife.
Klaas threw his head back and shouted the Gaika war-cry, then rolled a blanket about his left arm, and moved forward with his long iron-wood kerrie outstretched. He was an older man than the Zulu, shorter, and thinner, and his much-patched clothes made his movements appear awkward when compared with the agile grace of the almost naked Zulu, whose smooth skin shone like satin. In his left hand the Zulu held a long shield, while he twirled in his left hand a short but heavily-knobbed kerrie.
“They are not fairly matched,” growled Webster; “and that fellow has a further advantage in his shield and heavy stick.”
“The Gaika does not think so. Look at his face.”
The small eyes of the Kaffir glistened like those of an animal, and he followed every movement of the Zulu, who was going through a performance by which he meant to strike his opponent with terror at his prowess. He leaped into the air, bounded from side to side, danced on his toes, twisted, turned, struck at the ground—all the time accompanying these antics with shouts and deep grunts.