I can say honestly that I do not ever remember partaking of a more unhappy meal.  Not only did I believe that I was looking on the last sun I should ever see—­though by the way, there was uncommonly little of that orb visible—­but what made the matter worse was that, if so, I should be called upon to die alone among savages, with not a single white face near to comfort me.  Oh, how I wished I had never allowed myself to be dragged into this dreadful business.  Yes, and I was even mean enough to wish that I had broken my word to Panda and gone off with John Dunn when he invited me, although now I thank goodness that I did not yield to that temptation and thereby sacrifice my self-respect.

Soon, however, things grew so exciting that I forgot these and other melancholy reflections in watching the development of events from the summit of our tumulus-like knoll, whence I had a magnificent view of the whole battle.  Here, after seeing that his regiment made a full meal, as a good general should, old Maputa joined me, whom I asked whether he thought there would be any fighting for him that day.

“I think so, I think so,” he answered cheerfully.  “It seems to me that the Usutu greatly outnumber Umbelazi and the Isigqosa, and, of course, as you know, Panda’s orders are that if he is in danger we must help him.  Oh, keep a good heart, Macumazahn, for I believe I can promise you that you will see our spears grow red to-day.  You will not go hungry from this battle to tell the white people that the Amawombe are cowards whom you could not flog into the fight.  No, no, Macumazahn, my Spirit looks towards me this morning, and I who am old and who thought that I should die at length like a cow, shall see one more great fight—­my twentieth, Macumazahn; for I fought with this same Amawombe in all the Black One’s big battles, and for Panda against Dingaan also.”

“Perhaps it will be your last,” I suggested.

“I dare say, Macumazahn; but what does that matter if only I and the royal regiment can make an end that shall be spoken of?  Oh, cheer up, cheer up, Macumazahn; your Spirit, too, looks towards you, as I promise that we all will do when the shields meet; for know, Macumazahn, that we poor black soldiers expect that you will show us how to fight this day, and, if need be, how to fall hidden in a heap of the foe.”

“Oh!” I replied, “so this is what you Zulus mean by the ’giving of counsel,’ is it?—­you infernal, bloodthirsty old scoundrel,” I added in English.

But I think Maputa never heard me.  At any rate, he only seized my arm and pointed in front, a little to the left, where the horn of the great Usutu army was coming up fast, a long, thin line alive with twinkling spears; their moving arms and legs causing them to look like spiders, of which the bodies were formed by the great war shields.