to make it a most productive
one.

But look as we would, we could see no signs of Flossie and her
donkey, so at last we had to come down disappointed. On reaching
the veranda I found Umslopogaas sitting there, slowly and lightly
sharpening his axe with a small whetstone he always carried with
him.

'What doest thou, Umslopogaas?' I asked.

'I smell blood,' was the answer; and I could get no more out
of him.

After dinner we again went up the tree and searched the surrounding
country with a spyglass, but without result. When we came down
Umslopogaas was still sharpening Inkosi-kaas, although she already
had an edge like a razor. Standing in front of him, and regarding
him with a mixture of fear and fascination, was Alphonse. And
certainly he did seem an alarming object -- sitting there, Zulu
fashion, on his haunches, a wild look upon his intensely savage
and yet intellectual face, sharpening, sharpening, sharpening
at the murderous-looking axe.

'Oh, the monster, the horrible man!' said the little French cook,
lifting his hands in amazement. 'See but the hole in his head;
the skin beats on it up and down like a baby's! Who would nurse
such a baby?' and he burst out laughing at the idea.

For a moment Umslopogaas looked up from his sharpening, and a
sort of evil light played in his dark eyes.

'What does the little "buffalo-heifer" [so named by Umslopogaas,
on account of his mustachios and feminine characteristics] say?
Let him be careful, or I will cut his horns. Beware, little
man monkey, beware!'

Unfortunately Alphonse, who was getting over his fear of him,
went on laughing at 'ce drole d'un monsieur noir'. I was about
to warn him to desist, when suddenly the huge Zulu bounded off
the veranda on to the open space where Alphonse was standing,
his features alive with a sort of malicious enthusiasm, and began
swinging the axe round and round over the Frenchman's head.

'Stand still,' I shouted; 'do not move as you value your life
-- he will not hurt you;' but I doubt if Alphonse heard me, being,
fortunately for himself, almost petrified with horror.

Then followed the most extraordinary display of sword, or rather
of axemanship, that I ever saw. First of all the axe went flying
round and round over the top of Alphonse's head, with an angry
whirl and such extraordinary swiftness that it looked like a
continuous band of steel, ever getting nearer and yet nearer
to that unhappy individual's skull, t