“O Macumazana, before you leave us I wish to speak with you on a certain matter.  Will it please you to sit aside with me for a while?”

“Certainly, O Masapo.”  And I walked away a few yards out of hearing, whither he followed me.

“Macumazahn,” he said (I give the gist of his remarks, for he did not come to the point at once), “I need guns, and I am told that you can provide them, being a trader.”

“Yes, Masapo, I dare say that I can, at a price, though it is a risky business smuggling guns into Zululand.  But might I ask what you need them for? is it to shoot elephants?”

“Yes, to shoot elephants,” he replied, rolling his big eyes round him.  “Macumazahn, I am told that you are discreet, that you do not shout from the top of a hut what you hear within it.  Now, hearken to me.  Our country is disturbed; we do not all of us love the seed of Senzangakona, of whom the present king, Panda, is one.  For instance, you may know that we Quabies—­for my tribe, the Amansomi, are of that race—­suffered at the spear of Chaka.  Well, we think that a time may come when we who live on shrubs like goats may again browse on tree-tops like giraffes, for Panda is no strong king, and he has sons who hate each other, one of whom may need our spears.  Do you understand?”

“I understand that you want guns, O Masapo,” I answered dryly.  “Now, as to the price and place of delivery.”

Then we bargained for a while, but the details of that business transaction of long ago will interest no one.  Indeed, I only mention the matter to show that Masapo was plotting to bring trouble on the ruling house, whereof Panda was the representative at that time.

When we had concluded our rather nefarious negotiations, which were to the effect that I was to receive so many cattle in return for so many guns, if I could deliver them at a certain spot, namely, Umbezi’s kraal, I returned to the circle where Umbezi, his followers and guests were sitting, purposing to bid him farewell.  By now, however, meat had been served, and as I was hungry, having had little breakfast that morning, I stayed to eat.  When I had finished my meal, and washed it down with a draught of tshwala (that is, Kafir beer), I rose to go, but just at that moment who should walk through the gate but Saduko?

“Piff!” said Mameena, who was standing near me, speaking in a voice that none but I could hear.  “When two bucks meet, what happens, Macumazahn?”

“Sometimes they fight and sometimes one runs away.  It depends very much on the doe,” I answered in the same low voice, looking at her.

She shrugged her shoulders, folded her arms beneath her breast, nodded to Saduko as he passed, then leaned gracefully against the fence and awaited events.

“Greeting, Umbezi,” said Saduko in his proud manner.  “I see that you feast.  Am I welcome here?”

“Of course you are always welcome, Saduko,” replied Umbezi uneasily, “although, as it happens, I am entertaining a great man.”  And he looked towards Masapo.