Just then there appeared through the gate of the fence a splendid specimen of the Zulu race.  The man, who was about thirty-five years of age, was arrayed in a full war dress of a captain of the Umcityu regiment.  From the circlet of otter skin on his brow rose his crest of plumes, round his middle, arms and knees hung the long fringes of black oxtails, and in one hand he bore a little dancing shield, also black in colour.  The other was empty, since he might not appear before the king bearing arms.  In countenance the man was handsome, and though just now they betrayed some anxiety, his eyes were genial and honest, and his mouth sensitive.  In height he must have measured six foot two inches, yet he did not strike the observer as being tall, perhaps because of his width of chest and the solidity of his limbs, that were in curious contrast to the delicate and almost womanish hands and feet which so often mark the Zulu of noble blood.  In short the man was what he seemed to be, a savage gentleman of birth, dignity and courage.

In company with him was another man plainly dressed in a moocha and a blanket, whose grizzled hair showed him to be over fifty years of age.  His face also was pleasant and even refined, but the eyes were timorous, and the mouth lacked character.

“Who are these?” asked the king.

The two men fell on their knees before him, and bowed till their foreheads touched the ground—­the while giving him his sibonga or titles of praise.

“Speak,” he said impatiently.

“O King,” said the young warrior, seating himself Zulu fashion, “I am Nahoon, the son of Zomba, a captain of the Umcityu, and this is my uncle Umgona, the brother of one of my mothers, my father’s youngest wife.”

Cetywayo frowned.  “What do you here away from your regiment, Nahoon?”

“May it please the king, I have leave of absence from the head captains, and I come to ask a boon of the king’s bounty.”

“Be swift, then, Nahoon.”

“It is this, O King,” said the captain with some embarrassment:  “A while ago the king was pleased to make a keshla of me because of certain service that I did out yonder——­” and he touched the black ring which he wore in the hair of his head.  “Being now a ringed man and a captain, I crave the right of a man at the hands of the king—­the right to marry.”

“Right?  Speak more humbly, son of Zomba; my soldiers and my cattle have no rights.”

Nahoon bit his lip, for he had made a serious mistake.

“Pardon, O King.  The matter stands thus:  My uncle Umgona here has a fair daughter named Nanea, whom I desire to wife, and who desires me to husband.  Awaiting the king’s leave I am betrothed to her and in earnest of it I have paid to Umgona a lobola of fifteen head of cattle, cows and calves together.  But Umgona has a powerful neighbour, an old chief named Maputa, the warden of the Crocodile Drift, who doubtless is known to the king, and this chief also seeks Nanea in marriage and harries Umgona, threatening him with many evils if he will not give the girl to him.  But Umgona’s heart is white towards me, and towards Maputa it is black, therefore together we come to crave this boon of the king.”