The Zulu threw forward his shield at full length, and walked forward warily, determined to get in one stab, his right arm held back out of reach of that whirling stick.
“It is murder,” said Webster hoarsely.
Twice the long blade darted out like the tongue of a snake, and the second time it pierced the Gaika’s thigh; but the Gaika was not idle, and the air whistled to his rushing blows, and the drumming on the hard shield was continuous. Still the Zulu pressed relentlessly, though the blood trickled over his face, and his shoulders showed the marks of angry blows. At last he gave his war-cry, “Zu-tu,” and throwing his shield above his head, made one fierce thrust. The blade was caught, however, in the folds of the blanket, and the kerrie came with a sounding crack across the unprotected shins, bringing the Zulu to the ground. Klaas picked up the assegai, and threw his hand back to stab, but Hume, expecting this, reached his side and seized his wrist. Then the prostrate Zulu bounded to his feet, and ran to his friends for another assegai.
“Enough!” cried Hume sternly. “Go!”
In five minutes the little party were left alone, the Induna and his followers having moved off without a word.
“Are you hurt, Klaas?” said Hume, while Webster shook the Kaffir by his bruised and bleeding hand.
“Neh, baas; the Zulu is no good with kerrie. Will baas give me supje brandy?”
The baas gave him two, which Klaas drank with a smack of his lips, then with his eyes still glowing, he swelled out his chest and sang his song of victory.
An hour afterwards, when his wounds had been looked to, the order was given to inspan.
The oxen were grazing near the waggon when the Zulus appeared; but now they were missing. A few minutes’ search showed them far down the plain, being driven away, while the sun shone on the spears of a large number of blacks seated in a circle behind them.