“The fate thou gavest to my father, whose throne thou hast sat on these many years!” was the stern answer.

“It is good.  I will show thee how to die, that thou mayest remember it against thine own time.  See, the sun sinks in blood,” and he pointed with his battle-axe towards the setting orb; “it is well that my sun should go down in its company.  And now, O king!  I am ready to die, but I crave the boon of the Kukuana royal House[*] to die fighting.  Thou canst refuse it, or even those cowards who fled to-day will hold thee shamed.”

[*] It is a law amongst the Kukuanas that no man of the direct royal
    blood can be put to death, unless by his own consent, which is,
    however, never refused.  He is allowed to choose a succession of
    antagonists, to be approved by the king, with whom he fights, till
    one of them kills him.—­A.Q.

“It is granted.  Choose—­with whom wilt thou fight?  Myself I cannot fight with thee, for the king fights not except in war.”

Twala’s sombre eye ran up and down our ranks, and I felt, as for a moment it rested on myself, that the position had developed a new horror.  What if he chose to begin by fighting me?  What chance should I have against a desperate savage six feet five high, and broad in proportion?  I might as well commit suicide at once.  Hastily I made up my mind to decline the combat, even if I were hooted out of Kukuanaland as a consequence.  It is, I think, better to be hooted than to be quartered with a battle-axe.

Presently Twala spoke.

“Incubu, what sayest thou, shall we end what we began to-day, or shall I call thee coward, white—­even to the liver?”

“Nay,” interposed Ignosi hastily; “thou shalt not fight with Incubu.”

“Not if he is afraid,” said Twala.

Unfortunately Sir Henry understood this remark, and the blood flamed up into his cheeks.

“I will fight him,” he said; “he shall see if I am afraid.”

“For Heaven’s sake,” I entreated, “don’t risk your life against that of a desperate man.  Anybody who saw you to-day will know that you are brave enough.”

“I will fight him,” was the sullen answer.  “No living man shall call me a coward.  I am ready now!” and he stepped forward and lifted his axe.

I wrung my hands over this absurd piece of Quixotism; but if he was determined on this deed, of course I could not stop him.

“Fight not, my white brother,” said Ignosi, laying his hand affectionately on Sir Henry’s arm; “thou hast fought enough, and if aught befell thee at his hands it would cut my heart in twain.”

“I will fight, Ignosi,” was Sir Henry’s answer.

“It is well, Incubu; thou art a brave man.  It will be a good fray.  Behold, Twala, the Elephant is ready for thee.”

The ex-king laughed savagely, and stepping forward faced Curtis.  For a moment they stood thus, and the light of the sinking sun caught their stalwart frames and clothed them both in fire.  They were a well-matched pair.