“Siyavuma.”
“The wicked ones have called themselves the friends of the chief, and they were trusted by him; one of them is present, but the other has feared to come before my face.”
There was no shout of “Siyavuma” at this, but a deep and confused murmur arose among the men. It seemed to swell and break and shrink, and then to wander backwards and forwards and up and down the curving lines of the crescent, as if endowed with volition. It was like an evil spirit seeking a victim to destroy. Each man looked at his neighbour with shrinking distrust, and tried to draw away from contact with a possible wizard. At length the shuddering sound died, and a tense and terrible silence reigned.
Nomaduma stamped with her foot on the ground, and a girl who looked to be about twelve or thirteen years of age ran out of the hut carrying a heavy stabbing spear with a broad and gleaming blade. This she handed to the witch-doctor, and then she ran back to the hut. Nomaduma took the spear and advanced slowly to where Makanda and his councillors were sitting. She paused when close before the chief, and said:
“At your right hand sits your councillor Rolobani; he and Matshaka, who has joined the Christians, are the guilty men.”
Rolobani started to his feet, his eye-balls starting from his head, and his face ashen-grey. He tried to speak, but could only gasp for breath. His companions fell away in every direction to avoid the contamination of his touch.
The crescent broke up in disorder, the men surrounding the doomed wretch in a furious, surging crowd. Nomaduma held up the spear, its head glinting brightly in the sunshine, and again dead silence fell on the throng. She then walked up to Rolobani and seized the necklet of charms which he wore, after the manner of most natives. This she dragged from his neck, and held out at arm’s length.
“In the pot of medicines prepared by the war-doctor for the chief, was the dried head of a water-snake; the war-doctor is present; let him declare if I speak the truth or not.”
The war-doctor called out from amongst the crowd that this statement was true.
“Look. I open this bag which I have taken from Rolobanis neck, and in it find the thing I have named. He stole it out of the pot which he sold to the Cwera chief.”