"There was no other, _Nkose_."

"No other? What? Was the fire not hot enough? Take him back."

But before the order could be carried out the victim decided that he could not face further torment. Every nerve in his body was throbbing with the agony he was undergoing.

"If I name him," he groaned, "shall I die immediately the death of the spear instead of by fire?"

Sapazani thought a moment.

"If thou liest not--yes," he answered.

"I have the chief's promise." And he named a name. It was that wrested from Pandulu at the point of the a.s.segai under those same dark forest shades.

"This time thou hast not lied, Sebela," said the chief. "Well, go."

He made a sign, and in a moment as many a.s.segais were driven into the body of the tortured wretch as there were of those wielding them who could get near enough, while those who could not pressed hungrily forward to get in their stab even after life was extinct. And it was that, well-nigh instantaneously.

"_Ou_! The justice of our father and chief!" cried the whole band as they surveyed their bloodstained blades and gazed adoringly at the splendid frame and majestic bearing of Sapazani. "He is the lion who will lead us to our meat. Ough--Ough--Ough!" in imitation of the roaring of the king of beasts.

"_Gahle_, my children," said Sapazani warningly. "Yet forget not--when the time comes."

Even as they moved away stealthy shapes were pattering up from afar.

The blood scent carries an incredible distance to the nostrils of the wild creatures of the waste, and already there were many such, stealing amid the undergrowth, waiting until the fire should die, to quarrel and snarl over this unexpected feast. Even as in the case of the other victim which this grim forest had swallowed, there would be little left of this one to tell any tales. And the broad, cold moon shone relentlessly down.

Tekana, the son of Msiza, rose blithely in the blithe early morning before the sun had peeped over the rim of the world. He was a goodly youth, tall and supple, and as he left the kraal of his relative--a distant relative who was not over-attached to him, for his father was dead--his thoughts were the thoughts of love. He had been offering _lobola_ for a girl whose father was the head of a kraal some five miles distant; but the said parent had fixed his price too high, and Tekana was in despair lest some richer suitor should step in and put him for ever out of the running. He had been dejected on this point for some time past, and had been wondering whether if he went away to work in the mines at Johannesburg for a year he could earn enough to make up the amount demanded, and to this end he had consulted one or two who had gone through that experience. In fact, he was for ever talking about it. His relative was surly and close-fisted, and, as we have said, had no great love for him; moreover, he had more than hinted of late that he preferred his room to his company. Yet a year was a long time, and once away, what might not happen? He was very much drawn to the girl, and she to him, but on that account her avaricious parent stuck firm to his price--eight good cows to wit, or their equivalent in hard English sovereigns, five of the cows payable, of course, in advance. Now Tekana could muster but three, and a doubtful one that a sympathising cousin had promised to lend him. He was in despair, and so was Ntombisa; in fact, she hinted to him that an elderly, unlovely suitor, with four wives already, and much cattle, had more than once cast his eyes upon her, and had been palavering with her father in rather an ominous way.

Then, suddenly, the whole situation had changed. Tekana owned another relative, who in turn was related to the induna of the court at Ezulwini, and this man had pointed out to him insidiously how money was to be made, and plenty of it. This would bring him Ntombisa at once.

But he did not like the method of it--not at first. Not at first. But his relative proved that nothing would come of it. No harm would come to anybody, least of all to his chief. It would be a mere matter of Government officialism, and there the affair would end. Besides, he would actually be serving his chief if anything, in that the latter would be obliged to sit still, and thus be saved from joining in any trouble, which could only end in disaster and ruin. So Tekana swallowed the bait and accepted the price.

Thus Tekana was found to be wending his way in the blithe early morning, blithe at heart, to the kraal of his prospective father-in-law. He had got the balance of the _lobola_ in good English sovereigns, and soon all the preliminary ceremonies of the marriage would be settled. Everything looked rosy.

"_Au_! Thou art hurried, brother. Whither bound?"

Four men were sitting on the gra.s.s by the side of the path. These had risen as he approached.

"For the kraal of Sondisi, but a short way hence," he replied.

"First sit and take snuff," one of them answered. "Thine errand will break no ox's head."

He could not refuse; yet it was with ill-concealed impatience that he sat down among them. Yet not quite among them. He knew them for Sapazani's people, yet they were wearing European clothes. Tekana was no fool of a Zulu, wherefore this fact struck him as singular; moreover, his own conscience was not clear. So he squatted as much as he could on the edge of the group. Incidentally he squatted in such wise as to be able to spring to his feet in a fraction of a second.

The snuff-horn went round, and they chatted on about ordinary topics.

The while Tekana was wondering why they were wearing clothes contrary to the chief's deadly prejudice. They were wearing them awkwardly, too.

One of them, the nearest to Tekana, rose. But while in the act of pa.s.sing behind him Tekana rose also, and not a moment too soon. From under the suspicious-looking coat was drawn a broad a.s.segai, and he whipped round barely in time to avoid its full stroke. Each of the other three also had risen and held a broad, gleaming blade, and without a word came straight for him.

Tekana, as we have said, was no fool, also his conscience was not clear; moreover, he was quite unarmed except for a stick. With this he knocked the weapon from the first man's grasp, and then, without a word, he started to run.

Now his chances were even. The a.s.segais of his a.s.sailants were useless for throwing purposes, and could he but gain his goal first his prospective father-in-law would certainly afford him protection, if only to save all that _lobola_ from slipping through his own fingers.

But his would-be murderers were as good at running as he, and he had no start. They, too, wasted no words as they sprinted in his wake, and there was scarcely a dozen yards between them. Yet the distance was evenly kept.

For about a hundred yards this went on. Then the hindermost of the pursuers stopped, and with lightning-like rapidity picked up a large stone. This he hurled with power and precision. It smote the hunted man hard and full on the base of the skull, bringing him to earth more than half stunned. In a moment four a.s.segai blades were buried again and again in his body.

"The last of the three!" exclaimed one of the slayers, all of whom were panting after their run. "Here is a thick bush. We will hide him."

This was done. Swinging it up by the wrists and heels they threw the body into the thickest part of a thick clump that grew just beside the track, not even troubling to see whether he had anything worth taking.

Plunder was not their object. Thus disappeared Tekana, who had set forth so blithely in the early morning. When the next return should be made for purposes of poll-tax collecting it would be represented that Sebela and Tekana had gone away to work at the mines, as the latter had frequently expressed his intention of doing. Pandulu did not matter.

He came from Natal, and had come secretly at that. He would not be missed.

Whereby two things are manifest--that Sapazani was a very dangerous man to betray, and that in a spa.r.s.ely settled and savage country things are done that never come to the knowledge of the ruling race at all.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE MATING.

"Yes, I have to be a bit careful," Ben Halse was saying. "You see, I've got up a bit of a name--well, all we old-time traders were tarred with the same brush. I could name more than one who made his pile on the same terms; I could also name a big firm or two in Natal who has made a bigger pile on the same terms. However, we're not running this load into the country, but out of it."

The speaker and Alaric Denham were helping to load up a waggon, part of the contents of which were consigned for shipment at Durban. One important item of the load was a case containing the record koodoo head.

There were other specimens, too, which Denham had collected.

The latter had been Ben Halse's guest about three weeks now, and as he had only just got up his outfit, and luggage in general, from the coast port it looked as though he were destined to prolong his sojourn for some time. And, indeed, from his point of view, there was every inducement for doing so. He and the trader had taken greatly to each other, and once when he had mooted the idea of leaving the other would not hear of it.

"We seem all jolly together," Ben Halse had said, in his bluff, straightforward way. "You take us as you find us, and you seem to me a man who would fit in anywhere. Further, you have got into a queer part of the world such as you may never get into again. You are collecting new things every day. So why hurry? You are welcome as long as you can stick it."

To which Denham had replied that he had enjoyed every day of his stay as he had seldom if ever enjoyed anything; and he would give himself plenty of time to wear out his welcome. And he and his host had sealed the compact then and there over a gla.s.s of grog.

Now he said--

"I shall be relieved when this load is fairly on board. That head, you know, is a sort of a nightmare. All the rest put together isn't in with it."

"Oh, you can trust Charlie Newnes," said the trader. "He's a straight, reliable man as ever was--a darn sight more so than lots of men who are quite white--and stands well with those who _baas_ this show now. I was shooting what I chose here in these parts when these new officials--d.a.m.n them!--were being licked at school, before ever they dreamed of coming here to tell an old up-country man like me that he mustn't shoot this and mustn't shoot that. I don't know what the devil we're all coming to. Oh, here is Charlie."

A tall, well-set-up young fellow appeared on the scene. He was the son of a well-known old-time trader by a Zulu wife, but in him the European had predominated to such an extent that outside Africa he might have pa.s.sed for a white man. There was, however, a certain lithe suppleness about his walk and movements that would have given him away in a moment to any South African not of the town born and bred.

"Well, Charlie," said Ben Halse; "it's all loaded up now. Mr Denham says he won't close his eyes until he knows his cargo's shipped, so be sure and impress upon Garland that he must send word at once."

"That'll be all right, Mr Halse; Mr Denham can rest easy," answered the young fellow. "If there's a reliable agent in Durban for anything under the sun, from shipping an elephant to the Zoo to sending a youngster to sea properly equipped, Mr Garland's the man."

"Well, then, you can trek. Come in and have a drop of square face first."

"Well, Mr Halse, I don't often take anything," said the young fellow deprecatorily. "But--once in a way."

The refection was duly consumed, and the waggon rolled its way down the hill.