“Enough,” said the Gaika; “these are for children. Stand still and fight.”
The Zulu paused, astonished, then, with his shield before him, he advanced, crouching to the attack, and springing suddenly into the air struck swiftly a blow that would have settled the fate of Klaas had he not been prepared, but springing lightly to one side, he rapped his enemy across his broad back.
The Zulu bounded forward out of reach, turned, and again advanced impetuously, his glaring eyeballs showing above the feathered tuft at the end of his shield.
This time Klaas did not wait, but swinging his five feet of tough kerrie, he delivered, in rapid succession, three sweeping blows, one at the head, the next at the body, and the last at the bare toes, and then sprang back to keep the proper distance for a telling blow. The Zulu rushed in again, to be again beaten back by blows delivered with lightning rapidity, one of which drew the blood from his forehead; then he sprang from side to side, advanced, retreated, and feinted, until his movements were almost too rapid to follow, and at last bounded forward with stick uplifted.
“By Jove!” muttered Webster, “he will kill him.”
The Gaika had his kerrie trailing from his side, and as the Zulu bounded through the air he made a sweeping blow upwards, which, falling full on the Zulu’s elbow, made him drop his stick. As it fell, Klaas knocked it away with a backhanded blow, and sprang between it and his foe.
There was a fierce cry from the Induna, a triumphant shout from the two white men, and the tall Zulu, standing with his arm at his side, looked with bloodshot eyes and curling lips at the despised Kaffir. A minute he stood panting heavily, then his hand stole behind his shield, and he drew forth a short-hafted, long-bladed stabbing assegai.
“Stop!” thundered Hume.
“It is a fight,” said the Induna, sullenly fingering his assegai.
“All right, my baas,” said Klaas, and, with his left arm across his body, he shook his stick.