There was one breathless moment, during which men stood with upraised spears, their eyes glaring, their breasts heaving, and their breath coming in quick gasps.  A woman laughed and the tension slackened.

“Back—­back!” and before the fierce word of command the young warriors drew off.

“One is enough,” growled Muata, transformed, terrible in his fury, and glaring at the small band who stood around the fallen body.  “If I thought that ye were in the counsels of this dog who lies there, not one of ye would be spared.  It was in his heart to betray us to Hassan.”

“We knew it not, great black one,” muttered the men, humbly.

“If I thought ye knew,” growled the chief, with a terrible look, “there would be an end to you.  See that ye carry yourselves well.”

The three travellers had stood fast during this scene, and now Muata, having wiped the blood from his knife, turned to them.

“It is the law,” he said, as if in explanation.  “Haw! when I descended into the valley, in the night, I heard evil words spoken round the fire.  It was time to act, and as it was seen by your medicine, the law was done.”

“Ohe! the law was done,” chanted the young warriors.  “In the dark he came—­the great strong one—­silently out of the woods, and in the morning he smote.”

“It is the law.  If any of you feel a thorn in the foot, you cut it out.  Good; we are now whole.”

“We are whole, O chief,” cried all the warriors together.  “Good; then we will go up to the gateways to be ready.  In three companies we will go, and with each will so one of the chief’s white men.  Ye have seen how strong is the white man’s medicine.  If any hold back, the medicine will tell.”

The chief divided the men into three equal numbers of about fifty each, which left over some twenty-five of the older men who had sided with the slain man.

“Ye,” he said, addressing them, “will stay here with the women; and if it chance that the enemy prevail, take the women and the flocks to the foot of the rocks above, where the white men were.  O Inkosikase! (chieftainess).”

Muata’s mother came forward, armed with spear, and behind her came other women carrying bows and arrows.

“These men, O mother, will stay by the kraal.  They have learnt wisdom; but if they weaken, send a messenger to me.”

“There will be no messenger needed, O son,” said the woman, as she eyed the cowed men.  “So go forth to the battle, for your scouts upon the heights call.  They see the man-eaters and the women stealers.”  Her long arm shot out, and every man stared to the far end of the valley.

Muata gave a few sharp orders, and the first band of fifty young men went off up the valley at a trot.

“O great one, you said the word that helped betwixt me and my men.  I go forward with the next band—­do you follow with the others; so that when Hassan presses us back, as he must, being the stronger, you will let a part of his men pass through the gate; then stop the rest, and we who ran will deal with those who got through.”