we were scrambling through a wire fence. I
knew the scar would be there still, so I arranged to make sure of that
too."

No wonder his people deemed Umnovunovu bewitched. Here he was, talking
easily, fluently, in the tongue of these strangers; nor was that all,
for his very countenance had changed, and the hardened savagery of the
ferocious despot had given way to an expression that was bright and
pleasing.

"No fear. I didn't forget you, Cetchy," answered Haviland,
unconsciously reverting to the old nickname, which, however, didn't
matter, being English. "Why I was quite a long while in the Zulu
country, and inquired for you everywhere. Ask Kumbelwa if I didn't. I
wanted no end to run against you again."

"Well, and now you have, and in a mighty queer sort of way. And, do you
know, Haviland, if you had been any one else, I'd have let them do what
they liked with you. I hate white people. Nick and the others at Saint
Kirwin's taught me that. I wish I'd got Nick here. I'd put him through
what Mushad's dogs underwent. Then I'd make him dance on that fire."

The recollection of his school experiences and discipline revived all
the savage in the young King. His face hardened vengefully.

"Oh, bosh, Cetchy," replied Haviland, with a laugh. "You surely don't
bear a grudge against Nick for giving you a licking now and then; it's
all in the ordinary course of things when a fellow's at school.
Supposing every fellow I'd ever given a licking to wanted to burn me.
Instead of that, we'd be shaking hands and talking over old times.
Jarnley, for instance."

Umnovunovu burst into a roar, his good humour quite restored.

"Jarnley!" he echoed, "I gave him such a licking before I left. You
see, I was growing every day, and I felt strong enough to lick Jarnley.
So we fought, and I licked him."

It was a curious contrast, this easy and light-hearted school
reminiscence, proceeding from the mouth of a blood-stained barbarian
despot, clad in his savage panoply, and enthroned at the head of his
astounded subjects. And on the ground, where they had fallen, the huge
gory trunks of the decapitated executioners. Haviland saw the _bizarre_
incongruity of the situation, and said as much, adding with something of
a shudder as his glance fell upon the hideous corpses:--

"You're a cruel young beggar, Cetchy, you know. Why are you?"

"Cruel? Look here, Haviland. When you did wrong, Nick gave you a
thousand lines, or a