Hadden laughed, and passed on towards the stream where he proposed to bathe.  Just as he reached it, he caught sight of Maputa riding along the footpath, his head-ring covered with mud, his lips purple and his black face livid with rage.

“There goes an angry man,” he said to himself.  “Now, how would it be——­” and he looked upwards like one seeking an inspiration.  It seemed to come; perhaps the devil finding it open whispered in his ear, at any rate—­in a few seconds his plan was formed, and he was walking through the bush to meet Maputa.

“Go in peace, Chief,” he said; “they seem to have treated you roughly up yonder.  Having no power to interfere, I came away for I could not bear the sight.  It is indeed shameful that an old and venerable man of rank should be struck into the dirt, and beaten by a soldier drunk with beer.”

“Shameful, White Man!” gasped Maputa; “your words are true indeed.  But wait a while.  I, Maputa, will roll that stone over, I will throw that bull upon its back.  When next the harvest ripens, this I promise, that neither Nahoon nor Umgona, nor any of his kraal shall be left to gather it.”

“And how will you manage that, Maputa?”

“I do not know, but I will find a way.  Oh!  I tell you, a way shall be found.”

Hadden patted the pony’s neck meditatively, then leaning forward, he looked the chief in the eyes and said:—­

“What will you give me, Maputa, if I show you that way, a sure and certain one, whereby you may be avenged to the death upon Nahoon, whose violence I also have seen, and upon Umgona, whose witchcraft brought sore sickness upon me?”

“What reward do you seek, White Man?” asked Maputa eagerly.

“A little thing, Chief, a thing of no account, only the girl Nanea, to whom as it chances I have taken a fancy.”

“I wanted her for myself, White Man, but he who sits at Ulundi has laid his hand upon her.”

“That is nothing, Chief; I can arrange with him who ‘sits at Ulundi.’  It is with you who are great here that I wish to come to terms.  Listen:  if you grant my desire, not only will I fulfil yours upon your foes, but when the girl is delivered into my hands I will give you this rifle and a hundred rounds of cartridges.”

Maputa looked at the sporting Martini, and his eyes glistened.

“It is good,” he said; “it is very good.  Often have I wished for such a gun that will enable me to shoot game, and to talk with my enemies from far away.  Promise it to me, White Man, and you shall take the girl if I can give her to you.”

“You swear it, Maputa?”

“I swear it by the head of Chaka, and the spirits of my fathers.”