“Macumazahn, you are in great danger.  If you are found here you will be killed, and so will the others whom I will send to warn not to return till this king has gone away.  Go at once to join them.  No, it is too late, I hear the Zulus come.  Take that kaross, cover yourself with it and lie among the baskets and beerpots here near the entrance of the hut in the deepest of the shadows, so that if any enter, perchance you will not be found.  I too am in danger who shall be held to account for all that has happened.  Perhaps they will kill me, if I can be killed.  If so, get away with the others as best you can.  Nombe will tell you where your horses are hidden.  In that case let Heddana take Nombe with her, for when I am dead she will go, and shake her off in Natal if she troubles her.  Whatever chances, remember, Macumazahn, that I have done my best to keep my word to you and to protect you and your friends.  Now I go to look on this pricked bladder who was once a king.”

He scrambled from the hut with slow, toad-like motions, while I with motions that were anything but slow, grabbed the grey catskin kaross and ensconced myself among the beerpots and mats in such a position that my head, over which I set a three-legged carved stool of Zikali’s own cutting, was but a few inches to the left of the door-hole and therefore in the deepest of the shadows.  Thence by stretching out my neck a little, I could see through the hole, also hear all that passed outside.  Unless a deliberate search of the hut should be made I was fairly safe from observation, even if it were entered by strangers.  One fear I had, however, it was lest the dog Lost should get into the place and smell me out.  I had left him tied to the centre pole in my own hut, because he hated Zikali and always growled at him.  But suppose he gnawed through the cord, or any one let him loose!

Scarcely had Zikali seated himself in his accustomed place before the hut, than the gate of the outer fence opened and approaching through it I saw forty or fifty fierce and way-worn men.  In front of them, riding on a tired horse that was led by a servant, was Cetewayo himself.  He was assisted to dismount, or rather threw his great bulk into the arms that were waiting to receive him.

Then after some words with his following and with one of Zikali’s people, followed by three or four indunas and leaning on the arm of Umnyamana, the Prime Minister, he entered the enclosure, the rest remaining without.  Zikali, who sat as though asleep, suddenly appeared to wake up and perceive him.  Struggling to his feet he lifted his right arm and gave the royal salute of Bayete, and with it titles of praise, such as “Black One!” “Elephant!” “Earth-Shaker!” “Conqueror!” “Eater-up of the White men!” “Child of the Wild Beast (Chaka) whose teeth are sharper than the Wild Beast’s ever were!” and so on, until Cetewayo, growing impatient, cried out—­

“Be silent, Wizard.  Is this a time for fine words?  Do you not know my case that you offend my ears with them?  Give us food to eat if you have it, after which I would speak with you alone.  Be swift also; here I may not stay for long, since the white dogs are at my heels.”