“I acknowledge Saduko as my chief, and so do we all,” went on Tshoza.
“So do we all,” echoed the ranks.
“Since Matiwane died we have lived as we could, O Macumazana; like baboons among the rocks, without cattle, often without a hut to shelter us; here one, there one. Still, we have lived, awaiting the hour of vengeance upon Bangu, that hour which Zikali the Wise, who is of our blood, has promised to us. Now we believe that it has come, and one and all, from here, from there, from everywhere, we have gathered at the summons of Saduko to be led against Bangu and to conquer him or to die. Is it not so, Amangwane?”
“It is, it is so!” came the deep, unanimous answer, that caused the stirless leaves to shake in the still air.
“I understand, O Tshoza, brother of Matiwane and uncle of Saduko the chief,” I replied. “But Bangu is a strong man, living, I am told, in a strong place. Still, let that go; for have you not said that you come out to conquer or to die, you who have nothing to lose; and if you conquer, you conquer; and if you die, you die and the tale is told. But supposing that you conquer. What will Panda, King of the Zulus, say to you, and to me also, who stir up war in his country?”
Now the Amangwane looked behind them, and Saduko cried out:
“Appear, messenger from Panda the King!”
Before his words had ceased to echo I saw a little, withered man threading his way between the tall, gaunt forms of the Amangwane. He came and stood before me, saying:
“Hail, Macumazahn. Do you remember me?”
“Aye,” I answered, “I remember you as Maputa, one of Panda’s indunas.”