"_Hau_! Of the Abagaza? I would fain hear something of that people.

See now, Untuswa, when these strangers are rested, I will talk with them here."

I saluted and withdrew. When I regained my hut the white _isa.n.u.si_ was reading from a book softly to himself. _Whau_! I have seen many books since, but at that time never, and it looked wonderful. At last he ceased, and, making one of those strange turns of his hand such as we had before noticed, he closed the book and looked up. Then I spoke the King's message, and he rose to his feet, declaring he was ready.

Umzilikazi was seated outside the _isiG.o.dhlo_ as we drew near. The white man halted in front of the King, and, inclining his head slightly, raised his hand aloft and said, "_Bayete_!" The Gaza, however, bent low to the ground, murmuring words of _bonga_ even as one of ourselves. Him the King began to question first:

"Who art thou, who art of us and yet not of us? How art thou named?"

"Ngubazana, son of Tumela, of the people of Gaza, Great Great One,"

replied the man.

"And wherefore hast thou left thine own country--thou a _kehla_? Art thou an _induna_?"

"No _induna_ am I, Black Elephant of the Amendebeli. I have left my country to follow my father here."

"And the feet of those who pursue thee? When a man forsakes his country, is it not that he may travel faster than the feet of those who run behind him?" said Umzilikazi, with meaning.

"None such are behind me, Serpent of Wisdom," replied the man. "In due time I return to my own country again, and to my wives. No evil have I done there that I should not return."

"Ha! Thy wives?" said the King. Then, turning to the white man--

"And thou, stranger? They say of thee that thou art an _isa.n.u.si_-- though white--that thou wert making _muti_ of a wonderful and unheard-of-kind?"

"That is true, O King."

"And wherefore was this _muti_?"

"Let the King listen," answered the white man. "When the _iza.n.u.si_ of the peoples of the Zulu offer sacrifice of cattle to the spirits of departed chiefs and kings, they do so to gain something. Is not this true, Great Great One?"

"It is no lie," answered Umzilikazi.

"When I offer sacrifice, it is of a different kind, for it is offered to the Mighty Ruler of the world who dwells above the heavens. The sacrifice which the _induna_ Untuswa beheld me offering amid the rocks in the forest was also to gain something--very especially to gain something."

"And what was that?"

"The peace and welfare and happiness of the people who dwell in this land, and of the King who reigns over them."

"_Hau_!" burst from all who heard these strange words. And for a s.p.a.ce all sat gazing at this white man in silence, as he stood there in his black robe, which was torn and patched and soiled as with hard travel.

His face was as the face of a good man, and in height he was not quite so tall as our warriors. Now he stood there looking round upon us all with the eyes of a friend.

"Thy words are good, white stranger," said the King. "But there is one thing that sounds strange to our ears, and that is that thou shouldst seek to gain us peace. For we are a nation of warriors, and what have such to do with peace? Would they not speedily be eaten up, even as these miserable peoples whom we have swept from our path? No; peace is not a thing to desire for such as we."

We who heard greeted the King's words with a shout of a.s.sent--I, especially, gripping my hand, as though I held the great a.s.segai, the royal gift.

"Yet peace is good," said the white _isa.n.u.si_, speaking pleasantly.

"Under its shadow nations prosper and grow great."

"_Atyi_! were ever such words heard!" we cried, shaking our heads.

"Grow great beneath the shadow of peace! _Ca-bo_--_Ca-bo_!" And we laughed scornfully.

"I think thy words please not the ears of my children, white stranger,"

said the King, with a grim smile. "It is war by which nations grow great--not peace--war, wherein they destroy all their enemies. The nation which does this is the greatest nation; and such is ours."

"_All_ their enemies?" repeated the white man softly, with head slightly on one side and his eyes fixed upon those of the Great Great One.

"_All_ their enemies did the King say?"

"All--all whom they can reach."

"Ah! But what of those who would reach _them_? With every nation, however great, there is at least one other which it has cause to fear-- at least one other which is stronger than itself, or which any day may become so."

Now the cry of anger, of disgust, which arose to our lips was checked, for beyond a lightening up of the eyes the King's face showed no sign that he had grasped the full meaning of this speech. For we knew--we _izinduna_--that in his heart of hearts Umzilikazi was uneasy on the subject of the Amabuna and Dingane, but especially Dingane. He knew that, sooner or later, the arm of Dingane would be long enough to reach him; and it was for this reason that such immense pains were taken to keep up the strength and efficiency of our army. Even then, nearly half of it was composed of slaves reared among base peoples. How should these withstand, in the day of trial, the pure blood and disciplined numbers of the _impis_ of Dingane? We had overthrown Tshaka's _impi_ among the mountain pa.s.ses, but that was a running fight, and but for the cloud which descended upon the crests of Kwahlamba and rested there for days the end might well have been different, and to-day there might have been no new nation ruled over by the son of Matyobane. It was a dangerous speech to utter into the ears of the Great Great One, for a King likes not to be reminded that there may be a mightier king than himself. It was a speech which, coming from the lips of many a man, might well have amounted to a prayer for death.

"Nations are like lions," replied Umzilikazi; "the stronger drives out the weaker, that it may keep its hunting-grounds for itself alone. The weaker, in turn, drives out the weaker still; and so things go on, and ever will go on."

"Not so, Black Elephant. The time will come--has come in some parts of the earth--when the strong no longer drive out the weak, but both shall sit down side by side in peace. There is One who gave His life that this should come to pa.s.s, and that all should be turned into the way of the truth. And He who thus suffered death to save a world was the Son of a King--a King beside whom the might of the mightiest King the earth ever saw is less than the weakness of a child beside the strength of an elephant. For He was the Son of G.o.d."

"What was He like? How did He die, the son of this mighty King?" said Umzilikazi.

"Thus, ruler of a nation which loves war. Thus."

And the white _isa.n.u.si_ drew from his robe something we had beheld sticking in it, and had deemed some portion of his _muti_, and held it out towards the King. And we, too, all saw it. It was a black cross, and upon it, fashioned in some shining metal, was stretched the Figure of a Man.

A gasp of astonishment went up from every throat; for we Zulus, _Nkose_, are always anxious to hear something new. _Au_! This was something new, if ever anything was.

"Seat thyself, father of the red _muti_ cloak," said Umzilikazi, after we had gazed awhile upon this strange object. "Seat thyself, and tell us the tale of this marvel. I would fain hear of the doings of a King whose house was mightier than that of Senzangakona."

So the white stranger seated himself there beside the King and told his tale; and a wonderful tale it was, and long did it take in telling.

_Whau, Nkose_! It was new then, though I have more than once heard it since from the lips of white preachers, but never did they tell it as this man told it whom we found, my brother and I, making strange _muti_ and offering sacrifice in the forest.

But there was one side of that story which pleased not any of us, which pleased not the King, and this was the teaching that all men should live at peace. We looked at one another, we war-captains, and shook our heads as we tried to imagine ourselves even more helpless than the cowardly Bakoni, whose ways were the ways of peace. We looked at the Great Great One too, though guardedly, at those parts of a story which set forth that there could be a mightier King than himself. _Au_! The tale was good, as a tale; but these were not teachings we liked to listen to, we chief men among a warrior race whose greatness lay in war.

"It is a great tale!" said Umzilikazi, when we had listened for a long time; "a wonderful tale. And now, my father, I would fain behold this making of _muti_ such as my _induna_ Untuswa witnessed unawares. I would fain see thee offer sacrifice. Shall we go forth into the forest, or can it be offered here?"

"It can be offered anywhere, Elephant of the Amandebeli, by one who is qualified to offer it," answered the white _isa.n.u.si_. "But it is a very high and holy act, and cannot be offered twice upon the same day except under certain conditions, but not at all if food has been partaken of on that day."

This answer satisfied the King. But there were some among us who murmured that the will of the Great Great One should thus be crossed, saying it brought back the day when old Masuka first came into our midst, who, being desired to make _muti_, refused, on the ground that the moment was not propitious.

Now, whether Umzilikazi was thus reminded, or whether his ears caught some of our murmurings, I know not. But he gave orders that the Mosutu should be called.

"Here is another _isa.n.u.si_, Masuka," he said, when the old man appeared, murmuring words of _bonga_. "He is white, but I am not sure he is not a greater than thou."

"I am not the greatest of my kind the world ever saw, Lord. Perchance there may be greater," answered Masuka, darting a quick glance at the stranger with his bright and piercing eyes. "But can he make fire out of nothing, Great Great One? Can he make the thunder roar forth b.a.l.l.s of flame into a buck smoke out of nothing? Can he make the countenances of the enemies of the King show clear in a bowl? Can he do these things, O Elephant?"

But the white man showed no dismay, no anxiety. There was nothing about him of the _isa.n.u.si_ who fears a more powerful rival still. He looked straight in the old Mosutu's face, and in his own was nothing but friendliness.

"Not in such spells do I deal, old man of a stranger race," he answered.

"The Great Great One whom I serve loves not such. Yet thou--the _muti_ thou usest is not generally for ill, and thy divinations are in favour of right and justice and for the well-being and safety of thy King and adopted nation. While this is so may it go well with thee."