Chapter Six.
Moshesh, the King of the Basutos.
A minute later the curtain of reed matting that hung in the doorway of the itunkulu was thrust aside, and a man came forth. He was slightly above medium stature, and a trifle lighter in colour than the average Basuto; he was much more simply attired than the officer of the guard, his clothing consisting simply of a leopard-skin mucha and a lion-skin mantle: but the assured dignity of his carriage and the expression of arrogant pride upon his well-formed features would of themselves have sufficed to tell me that the man was none other than Moshesh, the king of the Basuto nation, even had the guard not given him the royal salute by raising their stabbing assagais aloft in their right hands as they thundered out the word “Bayete!” As for me, I had not the remotest notion of the kind of salutation which His Majesty would expect from me; I therefore contented myself by standing at attention in military fashion and giving him a military salute. The action, which is certainly a very expressive one, seemed to meet with the royal approval, for the king acknowledged it by the slightest possible uplifting of the right hand as he seated himself in his chair and the guard formed up behind him. Then, gazing at me steadfastly for a moment, he said:
“S’a bon’, umulungu!” Then, without allowing me time to make the stereotyped reply, he continued: “For what purpose have ye come hither into my country?”
“I have business in the far north,” said I; “and to reach my destination it is necessary for me to pass through thy country. Therefore have I come hither to offer presents, and to ask thy permission to pass through thy country and hunt therein.”
“Au!” commented the king in a tone of displeasure; “I like it not. If I give thee leave to travel and hunt in Basutoland, others of thy countrymen will claim the same privilege, and it will end in so many coming that there will be no room left for me and my people. Was it not this same apprehension that caused the Tembu, the Pondos, and the Griquas to arise and unite in an attempt to drive the white man into the sea?”
“It was,” I said. “But the apprehension was quite unjustified: the English had no thought, no desire, no intention to steal the land of the black man; their own land is amply large enough for all their needs. But the Kafirs would not believe it, therefore they treacherously arose and swept down upon the white man’s land, attacking isolated farms and murdering their inhabitants—my own parents died upon the spears of the Griquas. And what have the black men gained by their treachery? Nothing! And what have they lost? Everything! Thousands of them have perished in the war of retribution which they have provoked; and the end of it all is that, by way of further punishment—and as a warning to others—the white man has seized their land and driven them out of it.”
“Au!” ejaculated the king again. “So have I heard. And I tell thee again, white man, that I like it not. If it be as thou sayest, that thine own land is large enough for thy need, why hast thou not remained there? Why comest thou to my country?”