hey must die. There was no mercy for them; it was a case
of death or victory. Their spokesman--for these people always find
a spokesman--answered that they thanked me for my advice; that they
understood, and that they would do their best. Then they lifted their
spears to me in salute. A wild lot of men they looked in the moonlight
as they departed to take shelter behind the rocks and trees and wait.

That waiting was long, and I confess that before the end it got upon
my nerves. I began to think of all sorts of things, such as whether
I should live to see the sun rise again; also I reflected upon the
legitimacy of this remarkable enterprise. What right had I to involve
myself in a quarrel between these savages?

Why had I come here? To gain cattle as a trader? No, for I was not at
all sure that I would take them if gained. Because Saduko had twitted me
with faithlessness to my words? Yes, to a certain extent; but that was
by no means the whole reason. I had been moved by the recital of the
cruel wrongs inflicted upon Saduko and his tribe by this Bangu, and
therefore had not been loath to associate myself with his attempted
vengeance upon a wicked murderer. Well, that was sound enough so far
as it went; but now a new consideration suggested itself to me. Those
wrongs had been worked many years ago; probably most of the men who had
aided and abetted them by now were dead or very aged, and it was their
sons upon whom the vengeance would be wreaked.

What right had I to assist in visiting the sins of the fathers upon the
sons? Frankly I could not say. The thing seemed to me to be a part of
the problem of life, neither less nor more. So I shrugged my shoulders
sadly and consoled myself by reflecting that very likely the issue would
go against me, and that my own existence would pay the price of the
venture and expound its moral. This consideration soothed my conscience
somewhat, for when a man backs his actions with the risk of his life,
right or wrong, at any rate he plays no coward's part.

The time went by very slowly and nothing happened. The waning moon shone
brightly in a clear sky, and as there was no wind the silence seemed
peculiarly intense. Save for the laugh of an occasional hyena and now
and again for a sound which I took for the coughing of a distant lion,
there was no stir between sleeping earth and moonlit heaven in which
little clouds floated beneath the pale stars.

At length I thought that I heard a no