“Be careful what you are doing,” I called to them. “These are envoys,” and they hung back a little while Marais went on with his haranguing.
The Zulus looked at them and at me, then Kambula said:
“Are you leading us into a trap, Son of George?”
“Not so,” I answered; “but the Boers are afraid of you and think to take you prisoners.”
“Tell them,” said Kambula quietly, “that if they kill us or lay a hand on us, as no doubt they can do, very soon every one of them will be dead and their women with them.”
I repeated this ultimatum energetically enough, but Marais shouted:
“The Englishman is betraying us to the Zulus! Do not trust him; seize them as I tell you.”
What would have happened I am sure I do not know; but just then the Vrouw Prinsloo came up and caught her husband by the arm, exclaiming:
“You shall have no part in this fool’s business. If Marais wishes to seize the Zulus, let him do so himself. Are you mad or drunk that you should think that Allan would wish to betray Marie to the Kaffirs, to say nothing of the rest of us?” and she began to wave an extremely dirty vatdoek, or dishcloth, which she always carried about with her and used for every purpose, towards Kambula as a sign of peace.
Now the Boers gave way, and Marais, seeing himself in a minority, glowered at me in silence.