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Child of Storm ebook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 275 pages of information about Child of Storm.

So I and that old humbug, Umbezi, “Eater-up-of-Elephants,” parted for a while, and never did I know him in a more chastened frame of mind, except once, as I shall tell.

CHAPTER VIII

THE KING’S DAUGHTER

When I got back to my wagons after this semi-tragical interview with that bombastic and self-seeking old windbag, Umbezi, it was to find that Saduko and his warriors had already marched for the King’s kraal, Nodwengu.  A message awaited me, however, to the effect that it was hoped that I would follow, in order to make report of the affair of the destruction of the Amakoba.  This, after reflection, I determined to do, really, I think, because of the intense human interest of the whole business.  I wanted to see how it would work out.

Also, in a way, I read Saduko’s mind and understood that at the moment he did not wish to discuss the matter of his hideous disappointment.  Whatever else may have been false in this man’s nature, one thing rang true, namely, his love or his infatuation for the girl Mameena.  Throughout his life she was his guiding star—­about as evil a star as could have arisen upon any man’s horizon; the fatal star that was to light him down to doom.  Let me thank Providence, as I do, that I was so fortunate as to escape its baneful influences, although I admit that they attracted me not a little.

So, seduced thither by my curiosity, which has so often led me into trouble, I trekked to Nodwengu, full of many doubts not unmingled with amusement, for I could not rid my mind of recollections of the utter terror of the “Eater-up-of-Elephants” when he was brought face to face with the dreadful and concentrated rage of the robbed Saduko and the promise of his vengeance.  Ultimately I arrived at the Great Place without experiencing any adventure that is worthy of record, and camped in a spot that was appointed to me by some induna whose name I forget, but who evidently knew of my approach, for I found him awaiting me at some distance from the town.  Here I sat for quite a long while, two or three days, if I remember right, amusing myself with killing or missing turtle-doves with a shotgun, and similar pastimes, until something should happen, or I grew tired and started for Natal.

In the end, just as I was about to trek seawards, an old friend, Maputa, turned up at my wagons—­that same man who had brought me the message from Panda before we started to attack Bangu.

“Greeting, Macumazahn,” he said.  “What of the Amakoba?  I see they did not kill you.”

“No,” I answered, handing him some snuff, “they did not quite kill me, for here I am.  What is your pleasure with me?”

“O Macumazana, only that the King wishes to know whether you have any of those little balls left in the box which I brought back to you, since, if so, he thinks he would like to swallow one of them in this hot weather.”

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