“We come from the Stars, ask us not how.  We come to see this land.”

“Ye journey from far to see a little thing.  And that man with you,” pointing to Umbopa, “does he also come from the Stars?”

“Even so; there are people of thy colour in the heavens above; but ask not of matters too high for thee, Twala the king.”

“Ye speak with a loud voice, people of the Stars,” Twala answered in a tone which I scarcely liked.  “Remember that the Stars are far off, and ye are here.  How if I make you as him whom they bore away?”

I laughed out loud, though there was little laughter in my heart.

“O king,” I said, “be careful, walk warily over hot stones, lest thou shouldst burn thy feet; hold the spear by the handle, lest thou should cut thy hands.  Touch but one hair of our heads, and destruction shall come upon thee.  What, have not these”—­pointing to Infadoos and Scragga, who, young villain that he was, was employed in cleaning the blood of the soldier off his spear—­“told thee what manner of men we are?  Hast thou seen the like of us?” and I pointed to Good, feeling quite sure that he had never seen anybody before who looked in the least like him as he then appeared.

“It is true, I have not,” said the king, surveying Good with interest.

“Have they not told thee how we strike with death from afar?” I went on.

“They have told me, but I believe them not.  Let me see you kill.  Kill me a man among those who stand yonder”—­and he pointed to the opposite side of the kraal—­“and I will believe.”

“Nay,” I answered; “we shed no blood of men except in just punishment; but if thou wilt see, bid thy servants drive in an ox through the kraal gates, and before he has run twenty paces I will strike him dead.”

“Nay,” laughed the king, “kill me a man and I will believe.”

“Good, O king, so be it,” I answered coolly; “do thou walk across the open space, and before thy feet reach the gate thou shalt be dead; or if thou wilt not, send thy son Scragga” (whom at that moment it would have given me much pleasure to shoot).

On hearing this suggestion Scragga uttered a sort of howl, and bolted into the hut.

Twala frowned majestically; the suggestion did not please him.

“Let a young ox be driven in,” he said.

Two men at once departed, running swiftly.

“Now, Sir Henry,” said I, “do you shoot.  I want to show this ruffian that I am not the only magician of the party.”

Sir Henry accordingly took his “express,” and made ready.

“I hope I shall make a good shot,” he groaned.

“You must,” I answered.  “If you miss with the first barrel, let him have the second.  Sight for 150 yards, and wait till the beast turns broadside on.”

Then came a pause, until presently we caught sight of an ox running straight for the kraal gate.  It came on through the gate, then, catching sight of the vast concourse of people, stopped stupidly, turned round, and bellowed.