pipe. And this was scarcely
wonderful, seeing that he was the father of Nzinto, the man whom Harley
Greenoak had just shot dead. The fact that the deceased had brought his
fate upon his own head did not count for much towards mending matters.

"The people might as well lie down again," he was saying, continuing the
debate, which had already reached a heated pitch. "`It is not healthy
to attempt to snatch a gun from the hand of Kulondeka,'" he quoted, with
a sneer. "_Hau_! Had I been there then, Kulondeka would have found it
`not healthy' to shoot down the children of Gaika, here in their own
home. Yet, a number of us, all armed, slunk away like stoned curs.
_Hau_! like stoned and beaten curs!"

A fierce murmur greeted his words. He went on--

"And such call themselves men. And they all slink away before one.
Men! _Hau_! I call them dogs. And if they slink away before one
white, what will they do when many whites are arrayed against them?
What is all this talk about driving the whites into the sea when they
are afraid of a single one, alone in their midst? Why, our women would
make better warriors than they."

Most of those present, elderly or middle-aged men themselves, had sons
who had been among the uproarious demonstrators; and liked not the
contemptuous denunciation of the speaker. One now spoke.

"Not at the bidding of the white man did they hold their hands,
Sikonile, but at the word of the chief."

"The word of the chief," echoed Sikonile, sneeringly savage. "_Au_! but
Matanzima is not a chief. He is the son of the Great Chief, but he is a
boy."

"Yet he is the one to whom all these look up," put in another. "The
time to take vengeance was not yet."

"Not yet? But will it ever be?" cried Sikonile, flinging out an arm and
glaring around. "You are all afraid of this white man--afraid. _Hau_!"

The disgust and contempt of his tone, especially as conveyed by the last
exclamation, stung them somewhat.

"Kulondeka is no ordinary white man," said some one, sullenly. "There
is that of _tagati_ about him. Many have tried to kill him, and he is
still alive. But--where are they?"

"Cowards all! Fools and cowards! They deserved their death," was the
fierce rejoinder.

"Yet, brother," went on the one who had spoken last, "Kulondeka is here
among us alone. It is thy son whom he has killed, but thou hast other
sons. Matanzima is no chief--only the child of one. Yonder is his hut,
and th