“We know not,” said a boy’s clear voice; “but our mothers cried that the Zulus were upon us. Give me an assegai. I will fight, too.”
“Run, my child, run!” called out a woman’s voice.
“Stand where you are, and I will do you no harm;” and as the deep voice rolled above the noise there was immediate silence. “Soh! Let your chief Induna come forward; I have a message.”
“Do not heed him,” cried the woman; “he will slay you.”
“There is but one,” cried another, “kill him; nay, let us tear him to pieces.”
“Stop, or by the bones of Chaka I will beat you till you cry for mercy. Let the boy who spoke advance. Come.”
“My son, my son, do not heed.”
“Nay, I will go, since I am chief;” and there came to the great Zulu a stripling, with his eyes gleaming, and the hand that held the assegai thrown back. “You speak to us as though we were dogs! Who are you?”
Sirayo’s eyes rested on the boy, then glanced around.
“Tell your men to keep back. I hear them stealing through the grass like snakes.”