“Yes.”
“It is a fight, then;” and the big Zulu, throwing back his head, began to shout of his deeds, while he stamped on the rock in a sort of dance, a dance that grew quicker, winding up with a terrific bound in the direction of the men. They did not wait for him, but turned and fled, and Sirayo stood looking after them in amazement.
“You frightened them,” said Hume with a laugh.
The chief shook his head, took a pinch of snuff, and smiled grimly.
“Ay,” he said; “they will have some lies to tell the council. You see it was as I said: they would like us better if we went away. I cannot frighten them with words when they come again. Why stay, since they don’t want us, and you cannot carry that rock away with you?”
Hume laid his hand on the carved head of the serpent, and looked gloomily across the river, then at the deserted stretch of the valley on the near side. Its desolation struck him, and he called his companion’s attention to it.
“How is it that this side of the valley is deserted, while beyond there are so many? The ground looks rich, and the grass is good.”
“It is some folly of the witch-doctors, from what I have heard.”
Under cover of the night they went back to the ruins, and there they found the old witch-woman alone, sitting smoking over the fire.
“I thought,” she said, “you would have been crow’s meat before this. The witch-doctors smelt you out last night. They doctored some warriors; how is it you escaped?”