and I will kill them every one on the hill Hloma Amabutu. I
will spare none of them except the girl, whom perhaps I will take as a
wife. As to you, I will not yet say what I will do with you."

Now my first impulse was to refuse this monstrous wager, which meant
that the lives of a number of people were to be set against my skill in
shooting. But young Thomas Halstead, guessing the words that were about
to break from me, said in English:

"Accept unless you are a fool. If you don't he will cut the throats
of every one of them and stick your girl into the emposeni" (that is
harem), "while you will become a prisoner as I am."

These were words that I could not resent or neglect, so although despair
was in my heart, I said coolly:

"Be it so, O king. I take your wager. If I kill three vultures out of
five as they hover over the hill, then I have your promise that all
those who travel with me shall be allowed to go hence in safety."

"Yes, yes, Macumazahn; but if you fail to kill them, remember that the
next vultures you shoot at shall be those that come to feed upon their
flesh, for then I shall know that you are no magician, but a common
liar. And now begone, Tho-maas. I will not have you spying on me; and
you, Macumazahn, come hither. Although you talk my tongue so badly, I
would speak with you about the Boers."

So Halstead went, shrugging his shoulders and muttering as he passed me:

"I hope you really _can_ shoot."

After he had left I sat alone for a full hour with Dingaan while he
cross-examined me about the Dutch, their movements and their aims in
travelling to the confines of his country.

I answered his questions as best I could, trying to make out a good case
for them.

At length, when he grew weary of talking, he clapped his hands, whereon
a number of fine girls appeared, two of whom carried pots of beer, from
which he offered me drink.

I replied that I would have none, since beer made the hand shake and
that on the steadiness of my hand that afternoon depended the lives
of many. To do him justice he quite understood the point. Indeed, he
ordered me to be conducted back to the camp at once that I might rest,
and even sent one of his own attendants with me to hold a shield over my
head as I walked so that I should be protected from the sun.

"Hamba gachle" (that is "Go softly"), said the wicked old tyrant to me
as I departed under the guidance of Kambula. "This afternoon, one hour
before sundown,