“Because we shall take many of those down into the darkness with us, Macumazahn,” and he pointed to the dense masses of the Usutu. “Yet,” he added, with a touch of compunction, “this is not your quarrel. You and your servant have horses. Slip out, if you will, and gallop hard to the lower drift. You may get away with your lives.”
Then my white man’s pride came to my aid.
“Nay,” I answered, “I will not run while others stay to fight.”
“I never thought you would, Macumazahn, who, I am sure, do not wish to earn a new and ugly name. Well, neither will the Amawombe run to become a mock among their people. The King’s orders were that we should try to help Umbelazi, if the battle went against him. We obey the King’s orders by dying where we stand. Macumazahn, do you think that you could hit that big fellow who is shouting insults at us there? If so, I should be obliged to you, as I dislike him very much,” and he showed me a captain who was swaggering about in front of the lines of the first of the Usutu regiments, about six hundred yards away.
“I will try,” I answered, “but it’s a long shot.” Dismounting, I climbed a pile of stones and, resting my rifle on the topmost of them, took a very full sight, aimed, held my breath, and pressed the trigger. A second afterwards the shouter of insults threw his arms wide, letting fall his spear, and pitched forward on to his face.
A roar of delight rose from the watching Amawombe, while old Maputa clapped his thin brown hands and grinned from ear to ear.
“Thank you, Macumazahn. A very good omen! Now I am sure that, whatever those Isigqosa dogs of Umbelazi’s may do, we King’s men shall make an excellent end, which is all that we can hope. Oh, what a beautiful shot! It will be something to think of when I am an idhlozi, a spirit-snake, crawling about my own kraal. Farewell, Macumazahn,” and he took my hand and pressed it. “The time has come. I go to lead the charge. The Amawombe have orders to defend you to the last, for I wish you to see the finish of this fight. Farewell.”
Then off he hurried, followed by his orderlies and staff-officers.
I never saw him again alive, though I think that once in after years I did meet his idhlozi in his kraal under strange circumstances. But that has nothing to do with this history.
As for me, having reloaded, I mounted my horse again, being afraid lest, if I went on shooting, I should miss and spoil my reputation. Besides, what was the use of killing more men unless I was obliged? There were plenty ready to do that.