ga, one of our most
skilled and cunning fighters, who has carefully trained his son in all
the arts of warfare. Is my choice approved?"

I looked at my proposed antagonist, and a single glance into his eyes,
aglow with pride and resolution, convinced me that whatever hope I might
have cherished regarding Mapela's supposed desire for my escape from the
ordeal to which I was about to be subjected had been utterly misplaced.
His cupidity in respect of possible gifts, if indeed he had been
animated by any such feeling, had evidently been swamped by his sense of
duty to his king, and he had as evidently picked a warrior well
calculated, in his opinion, to uphold and maintain the honourable
traditions of the Mashona army. 'Mfuni's every look and movement
clearly proclaimed that he regarded himself as the chosen champion of
the entire Mashona nation, and that he was fully prepared to lay down
his life in the endeavour to uphold its prestige. It was clear that I
should have to look well to myself if I desired to see the light of
another day.

Moved by a sudden impulse to avoid, if possible, a combat that, however
it might end, could be of no possible advantage to me, I turned to the
king and said:

"Surely Your Majesty is not in earnest in insisting that I should fight
the man in order to demonstrate the way in which the sword that I have
given thee should be used? I can show thee all that there is to show,
without the slightest need for bloodshed, as thus--permit me!" and I
took the sword from the king's hand, unsheathed it, and, laying the
scabbard at the king's feet, approached 'Mfuni, smiling into the man's
eyes to show him that I meant him no harm.

"Now, 'Mfuni," said I, as I halted within striking distance of him,
"raise thy spear, as though thou wert about to strike it through my
heart."

The man looked doubtfully at me, and then flung a lightning glance of
enquiry at the king. But the latter made no sign; therefore, after a
moment's pause, 'Mfuni raised his spear as I had bade him.

"Now," I continued, in a low voice, intended only for his ear, "when I
say `Strike', thrust at me--not too quickly, but just quick enough to
make the blow look real. Strike!"

Prompt at the word, the man struck, exactly as I had told him to do; and
without the least difficulty I parried the blow, shearing the head of
the spear from its haft, and leaving the latter in the astonished
savage's hand.

"You see, O Great One?" I