“Your friend,

“A.  Q.”

I tore out the sheet, folded, addressed it and presented it to Goza, remarking that although it seemed to be but paper, it really was fourteen blankets—­if given at once to Nombe.

He nodded and handed it to one of his men, who departed in the direction of our huts.  So, thought I to myself, Nombe knows all about this business, which means that it is being worked by Zikali.  That is why she spoke to me as she did last night.

“It is time to start, Macumazahn, and I think you told us that you would prefer to do so on your feet,” said Goza, looking suggestively at his spear.

“I am ready,” I said, rising because I must.  For a moment I contemplated the door in the kraal fence, wondering whether it would be safe to bolt through it and take refuge with Zikali.  No, it was not safe, since Zikali sat there in his hut pulling the strings and probably might refuse to see me.  Moreover, it was likely enough that before I could find him one of those broad spears would find my heart.  There was nothing to be done except submit.  Still I did call out in a loud voice—­

“Farewell, Zikali.  I leave you without a present against my will who am being taken by soldiers to visit the king at Ulundi.  When we meet again I will talk all this matter over with you.”

There was no answer, and as Goza took the opportunity to say that he disliked the noise of shouting extremely, which sometimes made him do things that he afterwards regretted, I became silent.  Then we departed, I in the exact centre of that guard of Zulus, heavy-hearted and filled with fears both for myself and those I left behind me.

Down the Black Kloof we tramped, emerging on the sunlit plain beyond without meeting any one.  A couple of miles further on we came to a small stream where Goza announced we would halt to eat.  So we ate of cold toasted meat which one of the men produced from a basket he carried, unpalatable food but better than nothing.  Just as we had finished I looked up and saw the soldier to whom my note had been given.  He was leading my mare that had been saddled.  On it were my large saddle-bags packed with my belongings, also my thick overcoat, mackintosh, waterbottle, and other articles down to a bag of tobacco, a spare pipe and a box of wax matches.  Moreover, the man carried my double-barrelled Express rifle and a shot-gun that could be used for ball, together with two bags of cartridges.  Practically nothing belonging to me had been forgotten.

I asked him who had collected the things.  He replied the doctress Nombe had done so and had brought him the horse saddled to carry them.  He did not know who saddled the horse as he had seen no one but Nombe to whom he had given the writing which she hid away.  In answer to further questions, he said that Nombe had sent me a message.  It was—­