for the boy. He must die. He has slain two of our sons--
and they are of the House of Kuliso. He must die."

Such was the promising manner in which negotiations were opened. Now I
had been studying the Xosa tongue rather diligently since I had been at
Gonya's Kloof, and had acquired quite a smattering of it. Septimus
Matterson, of course, spoke it perfectly.

"Were they of the house of the chief?" he said. "But where is Kuliso?"

"Bring out the boy," they roared in response. "He must die. He has
taken two lives, and he must die twice. Bring him out, _Umlungu_, or it
will be the worse for all of you."

"Hear now, _amadoda_" came the reply, "the thing was an accident,
entirely an accident, and for it I will make due and complete
compensation according to your custom. Retire now and carry my word to
Kuliso and his _amapakati_, for surely I see no man of any note here."

This was indeed the case, and augured the worst. The wily chiefs could
plead afterwards that any outrage that might occur was the work of an
irresponsible mob. The latter, in no wise pacified, broke forth again.

"Compensation? Not so. Blood for blood. A life for a life--or rather
for two lives. That is the word of the people. And the two lives were
of the house of the chief. Bring out the boy. Bring him out."

The wild hubbub of voices grew louder and louder, and the ferocious
crowd closed in upon us nearer and nearer. Sticks were brandished, and
I could see more than one ruffian handling his assegai all ready for a
cast. It was a fearful moment. Our lives seemed to hang upon a hair--
and worse, for were we struck down or assegaied, would these barbarians,
in the fury of their blood lust, spare one living being within that
house?

"Shall we get inside and shoot?" I said hurriedly and in a low tone,
without turning my face from the enemy.

"No. We'd do no good that way. The bluster may wear itself out."

"Attend, _Umlungu_," called out one great voice. "If the boy is not
handed over to us immediately, we will take him. But first of all we
will kill all here."

"You will have to do that first, Sibuko," was the stern reply, "and in
doing it many of yourselves will die."

Sibuko! I remembered the name, and now, looking at its wearer, I
remembered him. It was the big Kafir to whom Brian had administered a
well-deserved thrashing on the morning after my arrival, and now this
ruffian was the leading spirit of the whole fe