ng. Grim heads craned
eagerly forward to examine the thing. _Whau_! the _muti_ of Gingamanzi
was wonderful, wonderful, declared his satellites sycophantically.

"Then, when they think him dead, we will take him away to the right
place, and revive him again. _Whau_! Umlimo will laugh, spending days
and nights listening to his shrieks and groans. This big strong Makiwa,
this leader of impis, he shall weep and whine like a woman or a dog
under that which we shall make him suffer, and that for days. Come, we
will go and see him, and it may be now I shall touch him with the _muti_
point."

With a hum of ferocious anticipation the group arose. These undersized,
lean Makalaka, who led the superstitions of the superior race, made up
for their lack of physical prowess in the field by a love of cruelty at
home, and woe betide him who should be handed over to their tender
mercies. That one they reckoned ought so to be, and hoped would be, we
have gleaned from the above conversation--and this one a white man.

They made their way to a great block of boulders, the piling of which
formed a spacious natural cave. In this several Matabele warriors were
lounging, some cooking food at a fire near the entrance. By the fitful
red light of the flickering flames another recumbent form could be made
out at the far extremity of the place. As the sorcerers would have
entered, several of the warriors sprang to their feet, and barred
passage.

"Give way; give way," ordered Gingamanzi curtly. "We would see the
Makiwa."

"That may not be, Umtwana Mlimo," came the ready reply. "He has said
it--our father--that none may approach the Makiwa."

"But another _he_--who is greater still--has said that _his_ servants
may. How is that, Umfane?"

"_Whau! `Umfane_!' I _Umfane--I_, who wear the ring!" And the tall
warrior scowled down upon the puny representative of an inferior race.

"_Umfane_ or not, thou art going into battle again soon," returned
Gingamanzi. "But it will be thy last. Not through death--that were
easy--but a warrior who has lost the use of his legs, and has to walk on
his hands like a dog--why, he had better be dead. But dead or not he
has fought in his last battle. How sayest thou?"

"_Eh! he_! How sayest thou?" echoed the sorcerers.

"How say I? This is how I say," answered the warrior, noting that some
of his comrades seemed to be wavering. "For what happens in battle I
will take my chance. For what h