onquerable," said
Galazi, eyeing it askance.

"It shall serve my turn," answered Umslopogaas.

Now Umslopogaas ate, and then they moved together slowly down the
mountain and crossed the river by a ford, for he wished to save his
strength. On the farther side of the river Galazi hid himself in the
reeds, because his face was known, and there Umslopogaas bade him
farewell, not knowing if he should look upon him again. Afterwards he
walked up to the Great Place of Jikiza. Now when he reached the gates
of the kraal, he saw that many people were streaming through them, and
mingled with the people. Presently they came to the open space in front
of the huts of Jikiza, and there the headmen were gathered together. In
the centre of them, and before a heap of the skulls of men which were
piled up against his door-posts, sat Jikiza, a huge man, a hairy and a
proud, who glared about him rolling his eyes. Fastened to his arm by a
thong of leather was the great axe Groan-Maker, and each man as he came
up saluted the axe, calling it "Inkosikaas," or chieftainess, but he did
not salute Jikiza. Umslopogaas sat down with the people in front of the
councillors, and few took any notice of him, except Zinita, who moved
sullenly to and fro bearing gourds of beer to the councillors. Near to
Jikiza, on his right hand, sat a fat man with small and twinkling eyes,
who watched the maid Zinita greedily.

"Yon man," thought Umslopogaas, "is Masilo. The better for blood-letting
will you be, Masilo."

Presently Jikiza spoke, rolling his eyes: "This is the matter before
you, councillors. I have settled it in my mind to give my step-daughter
Zinita in marriage to Masilo, but the marriage gift is not yet agreed
on. I demand a hundred head of cattle from Masilo, for the maid is fair
and straight, a proper maid, and, moreover, my daughter, though not
of my blood. But Masilo offers fifty head only, therefore I ask you to
settle it."

"We hear you, Lord of the Axe," answered one of the councillors, "but
first, O Unconquered, you must on this day of the year, according to
ancient custom, give public challenge to any man to fight you for the
Groan-Maker and for your place as chief of the People of the Axe."

"This is a wearisome thing," grumbled Jikiza. "Can I never have done in
it? Fifty-and-three have I slain in my youth without a wound, and now
for many years I have challenged, like a cock on a dunghill, and none
crow in answer."

"Ho, now! Is the