“So I caught those gentry well in the middle,” thought I to myself, “and with soft-nosed bullets!”
“Therefore I, Simba the King, make you an offer. Yield yourselves and I swear that no spear shall be driven through your hearts and no knife come near your throats. You shall only be taken to my town and there be fed on the best and kept as prisoners, till once more there is peace between the Black Kendah and the White. If you refuse, then I will ring you round and perhaps in the dark rush on you and kill you all. Or perhaps I will watch you from day to day till you, who have no water, die of thirst in the heat of the sun. These are my words to which nothing may be added and from which nothing shall be taken away.”
Having finished this speech he rode back a few yards out of earshot, and waited.
“What will you answer, Lord Macumazana?” asked Marût.
I replied by another question. “Is there any chance of our being rescued by your people?”
He shook his head. “None. What we have seen to-day is but a small part of the army of the Black Kendah, one regiment of foot and one of horse, that are always ready. By to-morrow thousands will be gathered, many more than we can hope to deal with in the open and still less in their strongholds, also Harût will believe that we are dead. Unless the Child saves us we shall be left to our fate.”
“Then it seems that we are indeed in a pit, as that black brute of a king puts it, Marût, and if he does what he says and rushes us at sundown, everyone of us will be killed. Also I am thirsty already and there is nothing to drink. But will this king keep his word? There are other ways of dying besides by steel.”
“I think that he will keep his word, but as that messenger said, he will not add to his word. Choose now, for see, they are beginning to hedge us round.”
“What do you say, men?” I asked of the three who had remained with us.
“We say, Lord, that we are in the hands of the Child, though we wish now that we had died with our brothers,” answered their spokesman fatalistically.