an do what they will, for have they not already
done so? But behind these sits another dog and laughs. U' Jandone!
Who is Jandone?"

"_Hau_! U' Jandone!"

This time the roar was indescribable in its volume of execration. It
seemed to split the surrounding rocks with the concentrated vengefulness
of its echo. For a few moments the speaker could not continue, so
irrepressible were the murmurs of wrath and hate which seethed through
the ranks of his listeners.

"Who made him a Zulu," he went on, "since he came into the country
white? Who made him rich--rich in cattle, and wives, and power? Who
but him who is gone? But when the storm gathered and the _Abelungu_
invented childish grievances and said `the might of Zulu must be
crushed'--did this one who had come here white to be made black; who had
come here poor to be made rich--did he stand by that Great One's side
and say `This is my father who has made me great. This is my friend, by
whom I am what I am. I hold his hand. His fall is my fall. Did he?'
_Hau_! Jandone!"

"_Hau_! Jandone!" repeated the audience once more in deep-toned wrath
and disgust.

Gloomy lightning seemed to shine from the chief's eyes, as with head
thrown back and a sneer on his lips, he contemplated the humour of the
gathering. He proceeded:

"Our father, Mnyamana, is not here to-day. He is old, and it were
better for him to die hungry at home than in the white man's prison.
But upon him, heavily have the dogs of the white man fallen, upon him,
the valued adviser of two kings. Even now they are eating him up.
But--shall they? Behold," and he threw out a hand.

The assembly, following the gesture, turned. High up on the hillside
something gleamed--gleamed and glittered again and again. It was the
answering signal to those who watched on the mountain crest, and--it was
the second answer.

With a deep, fierce murmur the warriors, gripping their shields and
weapons, sprang to their feet as one man. Again Dabulamanzi waved his
hand.

"In silence," he said. "In silence. So shall we fall upon them the
easier."

In silence, accordingly, the great impi moved forth, no shouting, no
war-song--but all the more terrible for that. It differed from the
state of things prior to, and at the time of the war, in that here were
no regiments--head-ringed men and youngsters marching side by side. But
upon every face was the grim dark look of hate, not merely the eager
anticipation of