He told me that things were really serious in Zululand, so serious that he thought there was a probability of immediate war between the English and the Zulus.  He said also that Cetewayo, the Zulu king, had sent messengers to stir up the Basutos and other tribes against the white men, with the result that Sekukuni had already made a raid towards Pilgrim’s Rest and Lydenburg.

I expressed surprise and asked innocently if he had done any harm.  The Boer replied he understood that they had stolen some cattle, killed two white men, if not more, and burnt their house.  He added, however, that he was not sure whether the white men had been killed by the Kaffirs or by other white men with whom they had quarrelled.  There was a rumour to this effect, and he understood that the magistrate of Barberton had gone with some mounted police and armed natives to investigate the matter.

Then we parted, as, having got his concession to which the king Umbandine had put his mark when he was drunk on brandy that the Boer himself had brought with him as a present, he was anxious to be gone before he grew sober and revoked it.  Indeed, he was in so great a hurry that he never stopped to inquire what I was doing in Swazi-Land, nor do I think he realized that I was not alone.  Certainly he was quite unaware that I had been mixed up in these Basuto troubles.  Still his story as to the investigation concerning the deaths of Marnham and Rodd made me uneasy, since I feared lest he should hear something on his journey and put two and two together, though as a matter of fact I don’t think he ever did either of these things.

The Swazis told me much the same story as to the brewing Zulu storm.  In fact an old Induna or councillor, whom I knew, informed me that Cetewayo had sent messengers to them, asking for their help if it should come to fighting with the white men, but that the king and councillors answered that they had always been the Queen’s children (which was not strictly true, as they were never under English rule) and did not wish to “bite her feet if she should have to fight with her hands.”  I replied that I hoped they would always act up to these fine words, and changed the subject.

Now once more the question arose as to whether we should make for Natal or press on to Zululand.  The rumour of coming war suggested that the first would be our better course, while the Boer’s story as to the investigation of Rodd’s death pointed the other way.  Really I did not know which to do, and as usual Anscombe and Heda seemed inclined to leave the decision to me.  I think that after all Natal would have gained the day had it not been for a singular circumstance, not a flash of lightning this time.  Indeed, I had almost made up my mind to risk trouble and inquiry as to Rodd’s death, remembering that in Natal these two young people could get married, which, being in loco parentis, I thought it desirable they should do as soon as possible, if only to ease me of my responsibilities.  Also thence I could attend to the matter of Heda’s inheritance and rid myself of her father’s will that already had been somewhat damaged in the Crocodile River, though not as much as it might have been since I had taken the precaution to enclose it in Anscombe’s sponge bag before we left the house.