Now, however, this extraordinary and unexplained return penetrated the reserve of even the well-trained Myzukulwa, who, after waiting in a state of suppressed excitement for some moments to give his brother time to speak, at length burst out with a torrent of questions.
“Since when has a child of the Undi learned to desert his chief? Thou didst go out into the dark night but a few short hours ago with my father, the great and mighty warrior; where is my father now? Myzukulwa asks thee. Is he perchance dead? Then will I, Myzukulwa, the son of Isanusi, follow on after the spirit of my father, and cry, ‘Behold, my father, thy faithful war-dog of the race of Undi. Turn thine eyes, my father, towards Zululand, and wait for thy son Myzukulwa, who follows after thee, and is thy man to the death, ay, and ever after.’”
And the splendid fellow sprang to his feet, took his spears in hand as if ready to set out, and fixed his eyes, glowing with inquiry and fierce determination, full upon his brother.
For a short space Amaxosa answered not, then his words came low and sadly:—
“The great white chief my father has chased away from his side his faithful dog, and the heart of Amaxosa is sad, my brother, and his breast heavy with fear that the evil men, the witch-finders, being so many, will overcome my father and prevail against him.”
Then he broke out into a sort of funereal wail which made Leigh’s blood run cold, it sounded so like ill-omened prophecy.
“Ow, my father, why hast thou left me? The stormy night is wet and cold, but the hand of death is colder—colder, and the mists of the grave are still more wet and deadly. Let my father call his sons to him, and they will follow along the dark and fearsome path that leads to the hereafter. Inkoos, the heart of Amaxosa is split in twain, and he fears the unknown evil which will befall the mighty chief he loves.”
Leigh was about to answer the Zulu, when all of a sudden the heavens and earth seemed to meet in one vivid blinding sheet of flame, and as the astonished watchers held their breath, the very, mountains were shaken to their pro-Adamite foundations, by the explosion of the magazines in East Utah.
For a moment the countenance of Amaxosa brightened, and turning to Myzukulwa, as the flames in the Mormon town shot up towards the sky, “See, my brother,” he cried, “the great chief our father has destroyed the wicked witch-finders, and set fire to their kraals. Oh that we, his sons, might be at his side to slay the evil ones who yet are left alive! Great is the chief, our father; let us also die the deaths of mighty warriors, and let our last end be even as his.”
The girls now rushed in, affrighted by the explosion, and asked if the thunder had torn the mountain in two.