I answered that, however well I might like them personally, a Zulu civil war was no affair of mine, and that, indeed, for every reason, including the supreme one of my own safety, I had better get out of the way at once.

They argued with me for a long while, making great offers and promises of reward, till at length, when he saw that my determination could not be shaken, Umbelazi said: 

“Come, Saduko, let us humble ourselves no more before this white man.  After all, he is right; the business is none of his, and why should we ask him to risk his life in our quarrel, knowing as we do that white men are not like us; they think a great deal of their lives.  Farewell, Macumazahn.  If I conquer and grow great you will always be welcome in Zululand, whereas if I fail perhaps you will be best over the Tugela river.”

Now, I felt the hidden taunt in this speech very keenly.  Still, being determined that for once I would be wise and not allow my natural curiosity and love of adventure to drag me into more risks and trouble, I replied: 

“The Prince says that I am not brave and love my life, and what he says is true.  I fear fighting, who by nature am a trader with the heart of a trader, not a warrior with the heart of a warrior, like the great Indhlovu-ene-Sihlonti”—­words at which I saw the grave Saduko smile faintly.  “So farewell to you, Prince, and may good fortune attend you.”

Of course, to call the Prince to his face by this nickname, which referred to a defect in his person, was something of an insult; but I had been insulted, and meant to give him “a Roland for his Oliver.”  However, he took it in good part.

“What is good fortune, Macumazahn?” Umbelazi replied as he grasped my hand.  “Sometimes I think that to live and prosper is good fortune, and sometimes I think that to die and sleep is good fortune, for in sleep there is neither hunger nor thirst of body or of spirit.  In sleep there come no cares; in sleep ambitions are at rest; nor do those who look no more upon the sun smart beneath the treacheries of false women or false friends.  Should the battle turn against me, Macumazahn, at least that good fortune will be mine, for never will I live to be crushed beneath Cetewayo’s heel.”

Then he went.  Saduko accompanied him for a little way, but, making some excuse to the Prince, came back and said to me: 

“Macumazahn, my friend, I dare say that we part for the last time, and therefore I make a request to you.  It is as to one who is dead to me.  Macumazahn, I believe that Umbelazi the thief”—­these words broke from his lips with a hiss—­“has given her many cattle and hidden her away either in the kloof of Zikali the Wise, or near to it, under his care.  Now, if the war should go against Umbelazi and I should be killed in it, I think evil will fall upon that woman’s head, I who have grown sure that it was she who was the wizard and not Masapo the Boar.  Also, as one connected