I met him and we shook hands. 'Umkopo, you are a wonderful fellow,' I said, most sincerely; 'how did you do it?—what did you say?—what is the meaning of it?'
'The meaning?' he repeated. 'The meaning is that I am Umkopo; let him disobey me who dares. There are few of the Matabeles who dare. One there was; I knew him before, the induna Gongula: he was jealous of Umkopo; he dared not once, not twice, only to speak in my face—see where he lies; the rest have gone; they will not return.'
'But why do they obey—what is your power over them?' I asked, in genuine surprise; 'I do not understand.'
'Bah!' he said, 'what matters? You are alive and not dead; that is better than to understand. I am the White Witch—it is enough!'
'No, it is not enough,' said I. 'You have saved our lives, Umkopo; you have saved mine a second time to-day; how shall I repay you?'
'Bah! we are friends, that is enough. Where do you go? To your death, that is certain, unless I know in time.'
'I go to Gadsby's farm—a day's journey north and west,' said I. 'Is the country clear between?'
'It is clear to-day. I know Gadsby's farm. It will be attacked presently, like others. If he has not yet gone when you get up there, tell him not to go until Umkopo comes. I cannot be everywhere. Where I am, they dare not touch the men of my race.'
'Have you now discovered for certain that you are English?' I asked.
'Since we met I have learned many things,' he said. Then, before I knew that he meant to leave us, he was in the river and half-way across.