“What good will it do? Haven’t you seen enough of these natives to know that you can’t reason with them any more than you can reason with a stone?”
“What made the Griquas run so,” asked Bob.
“Oh, these Zulus are a fierce and warlike race, and the Griquas are afraid of them. But they are after us now. If their leader has orders to take us back with him, he’ll have to do it or lose his head when he gets home.”
This was a most alarming piece of news. The driver had said so much about the wild Bushmen and their poisoned arrows, and had given so graphic a description of the desert they lived in, where there was no game to be found, and no grass or water for the stock, that the boys were frightened whenever they thought of the dangers that must attend every step of the journey to the Zulu country. While they were turning the matter over in their minds, the warriors marched through the principal street of the village, which was by this time entirely deserted, and stopped in front of Uncle Dick’s tent. There were probably a hundred and fifty of them in the band. They were fine-looking men physically, and all except two were armed with spears and war-clubs, and carried shields of elephant’s hide. Those who were not armed followed close behind the leader, and carried two elephants’ tusks upon their shoulders.
The leader of the warriors stopped in front of Uncle Dick, and after laying down his shield and weapons began a speech, which would no doubt have proved very entertaining to the travellers if they could have understood it; but as the chief spoke in his native tongue his words did not make much of an impression upon them. The speech occupied the best part of ten minutes, and when it was concluded the men with the elephants’ tusks stepped up and laid them on the ground in front of Uncle Dick, and when they straightened up again one of them began to interpret the speech in Dutch. Then the boys listened with some interest. They had learned enough of this language during their intercourse with Mack and the Griquas, to carry on quite a lengthy conversation with any one who spoke slowly and distinctly. The native did neither, but still the Club caught enough of his speech to satisfy them that Uncle Dick had not been mistaken in regard to the object the Zulus had in view in visiting his camp. The speaker said that his king, who lived on the other side of the desert, was a very powerful monarch, and having heard that there was an English trader in the neighborhood (the natives seemed to think that every white man who came into their country to hunt and trade must of necessity be an Englishman), he had sent him and his companions to conduct him to their principal town, where there was ivory enough to fill a dozen wagons. To prove it the king had sent the trader two elephants’ teeth, in exchange for which he expected to receive the best double-barrel there was in the party. The faithful warriors who brought these teeth were hungry and thirsty, for they had travelled far and rapidly, and the Englishman must furnish them with meat to eat and tea to drink.
Uncle Dick’s reply to this insolent demand was short and to the point. There was not meat enough in his wagon to feed so large a party, he said, and he could not spend time to hunt for it, for having sold all his guns he had made ready to start for Grahamstown early the next morning; so the warriors might take their elephant’s teeth and go back as they came. The interpreter seemed to be greatly shocked at this reply, and tried to remonstrate with Uncle Dick, telling him that he was running a great risk in defying his king in that way. But the old sailor repeated what he had said, adding that as he was a licensed trader, he was free to go and come when he pleased, and he intended to exercise the privilege.
The chief listened impatiently while this conversation was going on, and when it was ended turned to the interpreter to hear Uncle Dick’s reply. It threw him into an awful rage at once. He stamped his feet on the ground, caught up handfuls of dust and threw them into the air above his head, swung his arms wildly about, and shouted at the top of his voice. The longer he talked the angrier he seemed to grow; and what he might have been led to do had he been allowed to go on until his rage boiled over, it is hard to tell; but just as he was working himself up to the fighting-point, he was interrupted most unexpectedly. A series of terrific Indian yells, so loud and piercing that they completely drowned the chief’s voice, suddenly arose on the air, causing the warrior to drop his arms and stand motionless with amazement. Of course the yells came from Dick Lewis. He thought from the looks of things that a fight would soon be in progress, and began preparing for it in a manner peculiar to himself. He dashed his hat upon the ground, pulled off his hunting shirt and sent it after the hat, and began to loosen his joints by making the most extraordinary leaps and contortions, yelling the while with all the power of his lungs. The chief looked at him for a few seconds, and then hastily gathering up his weapons, made off, followed by his men, who fled in such haste that they never thought to take the elephants’ teeth with them. In two minutes from the time Dick began his leaping and shouting there was not one of them in sight.
CHAPTER XVII.
CONCLUSION.
The Club stood speechless with astonishment, and so did the trapper. Uncle Dick was the first to break the silence, which he did by laughing long and heartily. “You have made a reputation now, Lewis,” said he. “These natives are all firm believers in witchcraft, and they think you are a medicine-man.”
This was the reason why the Zulus had fled in such hot haste. They had never seen a white man dressed as Dick was, and neither had they ever seen one act so strangely. It struck them at once that he was a conjuror, and that he was going through some sort of an incantation for the purpose of bringing some dire calamity upon his foes.