si_--known to the natives as the Snake-doctor--treatment for which
he had to pay pretty heavily lest worse should befall him. But though
he frequently abused and snarled at her, he had never laid hand--or
stick--upon his principal wife since. Indeed he would gladly have been
rid of her at any cost now. He would not have hesitated to make away
with her, but that he dared not. He would willingly have sent her back
to her people, but it would never do to arouse their hostility by the
slur upon her that such a course would imply, and have we not said above
that her father was an influential chief? So to that extent Nkombazana
remained mistress of the situation.

Bully Rawson went into a large hut, which he used as a trading store,
and reaching down a square bottle filled an enamelled iron cup. No
"trade" gin was this--liquor trading by the way was not allowed in the
Zulu country at that time, but plenty of it was done for all that. No.
This was excellent Hollands, and having poured the liberal libation down
his throat he went forth again. There was not much trade doing just
then, but he had entered into a contract for the cutting of poles, to be
taken to the coast and shipped; for which he had obtained a concession
from the local chief. Now, having lighted his pipe, he strolled
leisurely through the forest to where the sound of saw and axe told that
such work was going on.

Several natives were more or less busily engaged. These were not Zulus,
for at that time no Zulu had yet learned "the dignity of labour"--not in
his own country at any rate. They were for the most part. Tonga boys
from the coast, and, as ill-luck would have it, just as Rawson emerged
from the trees, one of them happened to be squatting on the ground
taking snuff. His back was towards his fate, nor did any of the others
dare to warn him. Suddenly he felt as though a tree had fallen upon
him, and the next few moments were spent by his employer in savagely
kicking him round and round the clearing, till at last the luckless
wretch fell on the ground and bowled for mercy. This he might not have
got but that his afflictor became aware of the presence of three tall
Zulus, who stood watching the proceedings, a gleam of mingled amusement
and contempt upon their fine faces.

"Greeting, Inxele!" said one.

Bully Rawson scowled. He resented the familiar use of his native name,
instead of the respectful "_'Nkose_." He further resented the sheaf of