So he stopped them as they came.  Scarcely had the last of them vanished into the bushes when the gathering volume of shouts, amongst which I heard a gun go off, told us that Saduko and his band and the pursuing Amakoba were not far away.  Presently they, too, appeared—­that is the handful of Amangwane did—­not fighting now, but running as hard as they could, for they knew they were approaching the ambush and wished to pass it so as not to be mixed up with the Amakoba.  We let them go through us.  Among the last of them came Saduko, who was wounded, for the blood ran down his side, supporting my hunter, who was also wounded, more severely as I feared.

I called to him.

“Saduko,” I said, “halt at the crest of the path and rest there so that you may be able to help us presently.”

He waved the gun in answer, for he was too breathless to speak, and went on with those who were left of his following—­perhaps thirty men in all—­in the track of the cattle.  Before he was out of sight the Amakoba arrived, a mob of five or six hundred men mixed up together and advancing without order or discipline, for they seemed to have lost their heads as well as their cattle.  Some of them had shields and some had none, some broad and some throwing assegais, while many were quite naked, not having stayed to put on their moochas and much less their war finery.  Evidently they were mad with rage, for the sounds that issued from them seemed to concentrate into one mighty curse.

The moment had come, though to tell the truth I heartily wished that it had not.  I wasn’t exactly afraid, although I never set up for great courage, but I did not quite like the business.  After all we were stealing these people’s cattle, and now were going to kill as many of them as we could.  I had to recall Saduko’s dreadful story of the massacre of his tribe before I could make up my mind to give the signal.  That hardened me, and so did the reflection that after all they outnumbered us enormously and very likely would prove victors in the end.  Anyhow it was too late to repent.  What a tricky and uncomfortable thing is conscience, that nearly always begins to trouble us at the moment of, or after, the event, not before, when it might be of some use.

I raised myself upon the rock and fired both barrels of my gun into the advancing horde, though whether I killed anyone or no I cannot say.  I have always hoped that I did not; but as the mark was large and I am a fair shot, I fear that is scarcely possible.  Next moment, with a howl that sounded like that of wild beasts, from either side of the gorge the fierce Amangwane free-spears—­for that is what they were—­leapt out of their hiding-places and hurled themselves upon their hereditary foes.  They were fighting for more than cattle; they were fighting for hate and for revenge since these Amakoba had slaughtered their fathers and their mothers, their sisters and their brothers, and they alone remained to pay them back blood for blood.