“Good morning, O Macumazahn.”

“Good morning, O Captain, whose name and business I do not know,” I answered.

“The winds know the mountain on which they blow, but the mountain does not know the winds which it cannot see,” he remarked with poetical courtesy; a Zulu way of saying that more people are acquainted with Tom Fool than Tom Fool is aware of.

“Perhaps, Captain; yet the mountain can feel the winds,” and I might have added, smell them, for the Kloof was close and these Kaffirs had not recently bathed.

“I am named Goza and come on an errand from the king, O Macumazahn.”

“Indeed, Goza, and is your errand to cut my throat?”

“Not at present, Macumazahn, that is, unless you refuse to do what the king wishes.”

“And what does the king wish, Goza?”

“He wishes, Macumazahn, that you, his friend, should visit him.”

“Which is just what I was on my way to do, Goza.” (This was not true, but it didn’t matter, for, if a lie, in the words of the schoolgirl’s definition, is an abomination to the Lord, it is a very present help in time of trouble.) “After we have eaten I and my friends will accompany you to the king’s kraal at Ulundi.”

“Not so, Macumazahn.  The king said nothing about your friends, of whom I do not think he has ever heard any more than we have.  Moreover, if your friends are white, you will do well not to mention them, since the order is that all white people in Zululand who have not come here by the king’s desire, are to be killed at once, except yourself, Macumazahn.”

“Is it so, Goza?  Well, as you will have understood, I am quite alone here and have no friends.  Only I did not wish to travel so early.”

“Of course we understand that you are quite alone and have no friends, is it not so, my brothers?”

“Yes, yes, we understand,” they exclaimed in chorus, one of them adding, “and shall so report to the King.”

“What kind of blankets do you like; the plain grey ones or the white ones with the blue stripes?” I asked, desiring to confirm them in this determination.

“The grey ones are warmer, Macumazahn, and do not show dirt so much,” answered Goza thoughtfully.

“Good, I will remember when I have the chance.”

“The promise of Macumazahn is known from of old to be as a tree that elephants cannot pull down and white ants will not eat,” said the sententious Goza, thereby intimating his belief that some time or other they would receive those blankets.  As a matter of fact the survivors of the party and the families of the others did receive them after the war, for in dealing with natives I have always made a point of trying to fulfil any promise or engagement made for value received.

“And now,” went on Goza, “will the Inkosi be pleased to start, as we have to travel far to-day?”

“Impossible,” I replied.  “Before I leave I must eat, for who can journey upon yesterday’s food?  Also I must saddle my horse, collect what belongs to me, and bid farewell to my host, Zikali.”