de it he took up his
drinking vessel again, and drained it. His host at once refilled it
from the large bowl, and also his own.

"Has the Chief of the Amahluzi no word for Babatyana?" went on Nxala.

"_Whau_, Babatyana!"

This time the contempt in the old man's tone was more cutting than
before. The other appreciated it to the full.

"And to the people, father? The people, thy children?"

"The people? Fools--all fools. But to them I have one word--one last
word. Let them come here with the rising of to-morrow's sun and hear
it. Fools--because only a fool wants the same word uttered into his ear
again and again."

If it be wondered that during this talk nothing definite was said--no
plan propounded--it must be remembered that the colloquial process known
as coming straight to the point is an attribute vested in the civilised
man. To the savage it is utterly foreign, even abhorrent. These two
knew perfectly well what was in each other's mind. There was no
occasion to formulate anything. In matters of moment safety lay that
way, a tradition fostered through countless generations. Now
Babatyana's emissary knew that his mission had failed. Babatyana's
chief--the chief of the Amahluzi tribe--was as firm as a rock. Suddenly
Nxala's countenance lit up.

"_Whau_! The spear! The great spear!" he exclaimed. "That is the
spear with which my father met the might of Cetywayo, and slew two
warriors. I would fain gaze upon that spear once more."

Zavula turned his head, following the speaker's glance. Behind him hung
a fine assegai, of the broad-bladed, short-handled Zulu type, which he
had wielded with effect at Isandhlwana as leader of the Native
Contingent, before he was forced to fly before the weight of numbers.
But as he turned his head the hand of Nxala shot out by a quick
movement; perhaps two inches, and no more. But Zavula, though old, was
not the fool that the other--and, incidentally, the bulk of his people--
chose to take him for.

"Ha! The spear?" he answered, in the genial, pleased tones of a veteran
invited to enlarge once more on bygone deeds. "It was great, this
_umkonto_, was it not? And now it must be kept bright or it will rust;
for there is no more use for it."

He rose, and turning his back full upon his guest, stood, deliberately
taking down the weapon from where it hung behind him. For half a minute
he thus stood, gazing lovingly upon it as he held it in his hand. But
in a