“White people,” he said, “it passes
in my mind to kill you. Gagool has spoken strange
words. What say ye?”
I laughed. “Be careful, O king, we are
not easy to slay. Thou hast seen the fate of
the ox; wouldst thou be as the ox is?”
The king frowned. “It is not well to threaten
a king.”
“We threaten not, we speak what is true.
Try to kill us, O king, and learn.”
The great savage put his hand to his forehead and
thought.
“Go in peace,” he said at length.
“To-night is the great dance. Ye shall
see it. Fear not that I shall set a snare for
you. To-morrow I will think.”
“It is well, O king,” I answered unconcernedly,
and then, accompanied by Infadoos, we rose and went
back to our kraal.
THE WITCH-HUNT
On reaching our hut I motioned to Infadoos to enter
with us.
“Now, Infadoos,” I said, “we would
speak with thee.”
“Let my lords say on.”
“It seems to us, Infadoos, that Twala the king
is a cruel man.”
“It is so, my lords. Alas! the land cries
out because of his cruelties. To-night ye shall
see. It is the great witch-hunt, and many will
be smelt out as wizards and slain. No man’s
life is safe. If the king covets a man’s
cattle, or a man’s wife, or if he fears a man
that he should excite a rebellion against him, then
Gagool, whom ye saw, or some of the witch-finding
women whom she has taught, will smell that man out
as a wizard, and he will be killed. Many must
die before the moon grows pale to-night. It is
ever so. Perhaps I too shall be killed.
As yet I have been spared because I am skilled in war,
and am beloved by the soldiers; but I know not how
long I have to live. The land groans at the cruelties
of Twala the king; it is wearied of him and his red
ways.”
“Then why is it, Infadoos, that the people do
not cast him down?”
“Nay, my lords, he is the king, and if he were
killed Scragga would reign in his place, and the heart
of Scragga is blacker than the heart of Twala his
father. If Scragga were king his yoke upon our
neck would be heavier than the yoke of Twala.
If Imotu had never been slain, or if Ignosi his son
had lived, it might have been otherwise; but they
are both dead.”
“How knowest thou that Ignosi is dead?”
said a voice behind us. We looked round astonished
to see who spoke. It was Umbopa.
“What meanest thou, boy?” asked Infadoos;
“who told thee to speak?”
“Listen, Infadoos,” was the answer, “and
I will tell thee a story. Years ago the king
Imotu was killed in this country and his wife fled
with the boy Ignosi. Is it not so?”
“It is so.”
“It was said that the woman and her son died
upon the mountains. Is it not so?”
“It is even so.”
“Well, it came to pass that the mother and the
boy Ignosi did not die. They crossed the mountains
and were led by a tribe of wandering desert men across
the sands beyond, till at last they came to water and
grass and trees again.”
