It hissed past Hokosa’s head, touching his ear, but he never flinched from the steel.

“A poor cast, Prince,” he said laughing; “but so it must have been, for I am guarded by that which you cannot see.  My wife you have, and she shall be your ruin; my life you may take, but ere it leaves me, Hafela, I shall see you dead and your army scattered.  The Messenger is passed away, but his power has fallen upon me and I speak the truth to you, O Prince and warriors, who are—­already dead.”

Now a shriek of dismay and fury rose from the hundreds who heard this prophesy of ill, for of Hokosa and his magic they were terribly afraid.

“Kill him!  Kill the wizard!” they shouted, and a rain of spears rushed towards him on the wall.

They rushed towards him, they passed above, below, around; but, of them all, not one touched him.

“Did I not tell you that I was guarded by That which you cannot see?” Hokosa asked contemptuously.  Then slowly he descended from the wall amidst a great silence.

“When men are scarce the tongue must play a part,” he explained to his companions, who stared at him wondering.  “By now the king and those with him should have reached the eastern gate; whereas, had we fought at once, Hafela would be hard upon his heels, for we are few, and who can hold a buffalo with a rope of grass?  Yet I think that I spoke truth when I told him that the garment of the Messenger has fallen upon my shoulders, and that death awaits him and his companions, as it awaits me also and many of us.  Now, friends, be ready, for the bull charges and soon we must feel his horns.  This at least is left to you, to die gloriously.”

While he was still speaking the first files of the regiment rushed upon the fence, tearing aside the thorns with their hands till a passage was made through them.  Then they sprang upon the wall, there to be met by the spears of Hokosa and his men thrusting upward from beneath its shelter.  Time after time they sprang, and time after time they fell back dead or wounded, till at last, dashing forward in one dense column, they poured over the stones as the rising tide pours over the rocks on the sea-shore, driving the defenders before them by the sheer weight of numbers.

“This game is played!” cried Hokosa.  “Fly now to the eastern gate, for here we can do nothing more.”

So they fled, those who survived of them, and after them came the thousands of the foe, sacking and firing the deserted town as they advanced.

Hokosa and his men, or rather the half of them, reached the gate and passed it in safety, barring it after them, and thereby delaying the attackers till they could burst their way through.  Now hundreds of huts were afire, and the flames spread swiftly, lighting up the country far and wide.  In the glare of them, Hokosa could see that already a full two-thirds of the crowd of fugitives had passed the narrow arch; while Nodwengo and the soldiers were drawn up in companies upon the steep and rocky slope that led to it, protecting their retreat.