"This country's being run on the wrong tack altogether," went on the magistrate. "Here's a tinpot township with three or four stores, as many more tin houses, and a Methodist chapel, and the Residency. Sounds big, don't it, Vidler? especially when there's wind enough to blow out the Union Jack we delight to fly from the pole in the garden. And all the force we've got to back it up is four police. Why, we're only here on sufferance. It isn't fair that a man with a wife and family should be forced to live at the mercy of that ruffian Sapazani."

The magistrate of Esifeni was not a timid man, but the monotony of life at his remote post rather tended to make him "nervy." Of late, moreover, he had seen and heard enough to make him anxious, and the largest thorn in his side was named Sapazani.

Between himself and the chief there existed a latent hostility which, never failed to peep out more or less whenever they met. Of late they had met rather more often than either wanted, but official duty required it; otherwise Downes would gladly have treated Sapazani on the principle of giving an organ-grinder sixpence to go to the next street.

"Wonder if that's him," said the clerk, shading his eyes to gaze at a distant cloud of dust coming over the rise, for the township was situated in a shallow, open hollow. "Yes, it is," he went on, "and he's bringing a regular impi with him as usual."

The magistrate frowned.

"d.a.m.n him," he said. "I'm always giving him hints about that, and by way of taking them he turns up next time with a bigger crowd still.

It's done for impudence, Vidler."

"I'm afraid it is, sir. But in this case we mustn't forget that our force consists of four police, two of whom happen to be just now absent; and, incidentally, that you have a wife and family."

"Quite right, Vidler, quite right. I'll keep my temper, somehow," he added, half savagely, half weariedly.

His subordinate was doubtful on this point, but forbore to say so. The day was abominably oppressive, and the hot wind from the north raked everything. It was the worst possible sort of day for the transaction of a difficult and delicate _indaba_, when both parties to the same were in a state of mutual friction.

The Zulus were now within recognising distance. Sapazani was clad in a well-cut riding suit of Bedford cord, with boots and spurs, but there was nothing between the sun and the shine of his head-ring, and he rode a good horse. Undhlawafa and a few others were also mounted, and then came a string of followers, clad mostly in a long military surtout. As Vidler had said, it seemed a regular impi, for there certainly could not have been much less than a hundred.

"There's one point on which Sapazani and I agree," said the magistrate, as he watched the approach of the _cortege_, "but not for the same reason, and that is obliging these fellows to wear clothes when they come into a township. It facilitates concealed weapons, but a chap with nothing but a _mutya_ on has nowhere to conceal anything."

There was a stretch of gra.s.s between the Court House and the main road.

Here the chiefs dismounted and came forward. Some dozen perhaps were there, the main body of their followers squatting themselves a little distance away. They gave the salute civilly but coldly--

"_Nkose_!"

This was calculated to start the talk wrong, Downes holding that, as representing the British Government, he ought to be given the salute royal, "_Bayete_."

The magistrate was seated in the verandah, with a table in front of him covered with papers; on his right was the clerk, and two members of the Natal Police stood on the other side. But before everything had been got into order Sergeant Meyrick had remarked to Trooper Francis--

"What's the odds we're here to draw our next month's pay, Frank?

Sapazani's an awful rascal, and he don't bring a whole crowd like that here for nothing."

"Depends upon how much Downes can keep his rag in," was the answer. But their revolvers were loaded, and they had other ammunition handy.

The _indaba_ began upon small matters, a recent dispute or two as to the ownership of cattle, or of land commonage, and so forth. Over the way people were gazing with faint curiosity at the new arrivals, and one or two storekeepers were trying to inveigle them into a trade. But it was difficult to scare up much interest in Esifeni. It was not a township addicted to excitement, and Sapazani was not a popular potentate among the storekeepers, in that his conservative soul discouraged the purchase of European goods on the part of his people.

In the preliminary questions Undhlawafa did most of the talking, referring now and then to the chief, who had been accommodated with a chair by virtue of his rank. Then the magistrate said--

"Come we now to a weightier matter--"

He was interrupted, brusquely, unexpectedly.

"I talk not before my own dogs," said Sapazani, with a wave of the hand towards the court induna who was standing at the end of the verandah, the same man who had brought him a summons to his own kraal, also towards two native constables who were hanging on the offskirts. The tone was curt, peremptory, not to say haughty. The magistrate stared at the speaker, frowned, then said, sarcastically--

"Is this my court or has Sapazani suddenly been chosen to represent the Government instead?"

But the chief's face underwent no change. He returned the official's gaze with a straight, haughty stare.

"I talk not before my own dogs," he repeated.

Downes was nonplussed.

"Well, if you prefer it, come within my own room," he said. But the other curtly refused. He did not know what trap might have been laid for him there. Once out of sight of his people and where was he?

Certainly between four walls anything might happen, outside, well--he knew where he was.

"If I talk I talk here," he declared. "Otherwise I go home."

Downes was speechless with rage--we have said that the day was abnormally hot and oppressive, and that these two men, whenever they met, invariably got upon each other's nerves. But he haply remembered the burden of his remarks to Vidler. The whole township was practically defenceless. No arms were visible certainly, but more than an uncomfortable suspicion was upon his mind that they were there all the same. It was a case for making the best of it. The while Vidler had made the slightest perceptible sign to the court induna that he should withdraw as though of his own accord, and with him the two native constables.

"Go easy, sir," he whispered warningly to his superior, in an undertone.

The latter pulled himself together.

"Talk we now of Pandulu," he said.

"Pandulu?" echoed Sapazani.

"Yes. What of him?"

"Who is Pandulu?"

And Undhlawafa and the remainder of the group looked at each other, and repeated, "Who is Pandulu?"

"He is a man from Natal," answered the magistrate. "He has been seen near your kraal, Sapazani, he and Babatyana, who is wanted by the Government. Where are these men?"

"Pandulu? Babatyana? Men from Natal?" repeated the chief. "Now, _Nkose_, this is like talking through a bullock's skin. No _Amakafula_ have been at my kraal."

"I said not _at_ thy kraal, but near it," was the short reply. "Now a chief is responsible to Government for all that happens within the tribe which he rules--under the Government. Under the Government," repeated Downes emphatically.

"Yet even a chief is not as the white man's G.o.d. He does not know everything," was the sneering reply. "I would ask--why does the Government allow its own people in Natal to come over into Zululand at all? We need no _Amakafula_ in this country. Why does it allow them to come here? Is it that it cannot prevent them?"

And something of their chief's sneer was echoed among the group, in the shape of a smothered laugh.

"Prevent them?" retorted Downes. "A man of your intelligence, Sapazani, must know that the Government has the power to sweep this land from end to end if necessary until there is not a man left alive in it."

"The Government? Which Government?" answered the chief, with his head on one side. "The Government of Natal or the Government of the Great King beyond the sea?"

"Both Governments. Both work together. The question is childish."

"Both work together," repeated Sapazani, still with his head on one side. "_Au_! That is strange. Because when the men down in Natal were ordered to be shot for killing two of the _Nongqai_ the King's Government prevented it."

"That was only until they had inquired further into it," answered the magistrate. "But they were shot--were they not?"

"We have _heard_ so."

There was a note of incredulity about this reply which was exasperating.

Perhaps it was intended to be.