killed him who favoured Cetewayo with his kerry.  Thereon the comrades of the slain man, raising a shout of “Usutu,” which became the war-cry of Cetewayo’s party, fell upon the others, and a dreadful combat ensued.  Fortunately the soldiers were only armed with sticks, or the slaughter would have been very great; but as it was, after an indecisive engagement, about fifty men were killed and many more injured.

Now, with my usual bad luck, I, who had gone out to shoot a few birds for the pot—­pauw, or bustard, I think they were—­was returning across this very plain to my old encampment in the kloof where Masapo had been executed, and so ran into the fight just as it was beginning.  I saw the captain killed and the subsequent engagement.  Indeed, as it happened, I did more.  Not knowing where to go or what to do, for I was quite alone, I pulled up my horse behind a tree and waited till I could escape the horrors about me; for I can assure anyone who may ever read these words that it is a very horrible sight to see a thousand men engaged in fierce and deadly combat.  In truth, the fact that they had no spears, and could only batter each other to death with their heavy kerries, made it worse, since the duels were more desperate and prolonged.

Everywhere men were rolling on the ground, hitting at each other’s heads, until at last some blow went home and one of them threw out his arms and lay still, either dead or senseless.  Well, there I sat watching all this shocking business from the saddle of my trained shooting pony, which stood like a stone, till presently I became aware of two great fellows rushing at me with their eyes starting out of their heads and shouting as they came: 

“Kill Umbelazi’s white man!  Kill!  Kill!”

Then, seeing that the matter was urgent and that it was a question of my life or theirs, I came into action.

In my hand I held a double-barrelled shotgun loaded with what we used to call “loopers,” or B.B. shot, of which but a few went to each charge, for I had hoped to meet with a small buck on my way to camp.  So, as these soldiers came, I lifted the gun and fired, the right barrel at one of them and the left barrel at the other, aiming in each case at the centre of the small dancing shields, which from force of habit they held stretched out to protect their throats and breasts.  At that distance, of course, the loopers sank through the soft hide of the shields and deep into the bodies of those who carried them, so that both of them dropped dead, the left-hand man being so close that he fell against my pony, his uplifted kerry striking me upon the thigh and bruising me.

When I saw what I had done, and that my danger was over for the moment, without waiting to reload I dug the spurs into my horse’s sides and galloped off to Nodwengu, passing between the groups of struggling men.  On arriving unharmed at the town, I went instantly to the royal huts and demanded to see the King, who sent word that I was to be admitted.  On coming before him I told him exactly what had happened—­that I had killed two of Cetewayo’s men in order to save my own life, and on that account submitted myself to his justice.