Zulu, and
even when he has shed it, he takes the earliest opportunity of
undergoing a very elaborate series of purifying rites. True, he is far
from unwilling to render himself liable to the latter process, but he is
scrupulously particular on the point of the observance. The clan was
far more likely to owe its weird name to the war-cry of its members than
to any such legendary practice. But, however sceptical John Dawes, and,
through him, Gerard, might be upon the point, certain it is that the
Swazis were firm believers in the lurid and repulsive legend; and, as
Dawes had said, the wonder was that any of that race had been induced to
enter into their service at all; indeed, they had only done so as part
of their bargaining. The cattle they had acquired would need herds and
drivers, and these the Swazi chiefs had agreed to supply as a portion of
the barter.

Now the said chiefs, talking matters over quietly with Dawes, had given
their opinion that the existence of such a predatory clan was an
undoubted fact. Ingonyama was a Zulu of rank, and a man of the Qulusi
tribe. He was known as a skilful and dashing fighter, and had gathered
around him, in his mountain stronghold, an increasing number of kindred
spirits, and now had rendered his name and theirs a terror to the whole
northern border. That Cetywayo should allow such a growing power to
spring up within the pale of his own rule was accountable perhaps by the
consideration that, pending his quarrel with the English and the
probable invasion of the country, he could not afford to alienate so
valuable an ally as this influential vassal; also, it might be, by the
fact that Ingonyama, over and above his skill and valour as a war-chief,
was accounted a witch-doctor or magician of no small cleverness and
renown. Such, then, was the nature of this new form of terror which
overhung the return path of the trading expedition; and gazing up at the
fantastic contours of the succession of conical hills, and the gloomy
belts of forest around their base--the wild fastnesses of this fierce
horde--every man who took part in that trek was fully capable of
appreciating the peril of the situation.

The night passed without disturbance; so, too, did the somewhat dreaded
hour of dawn. While making up the fire for the early cup of coffee,
Sintoba took the opportunity of saying to his master--

"There is going to be trouble, _Inkose_. Those Swazi dogs intend to run
away."

"So?