Someone was firing Beza Town!  In less than an hour the flames, driven by the gale through hundreds of huts made dry as tinder by the heat, would reduce Beza to a heap of ashes.  It was inevitable, nothing could save the place!  For an instant I thought that the Arabs must have done this thing.  Then, seeing that new fires continually arose in different places, I understood that no Arabs, but a friend or friends were at work, who had conceived the idea of destroying the Arabs with fire.

My mind flew to Sammy.  Without doubt Sammy had stayed behind to carry out this terrible and masterly scheme, of which I am sure none of the Mazitu would have thought, since it involved the absolute destruction of their homes and property.  Sammy, at whom we had always mocked, was, after all, a great man, prepared to perish in the flames in order to save his friends!

Babemba rushed up, pointing with a spear to the rising fire.  Now my inspiration came.

“Take all your men,” I said, “except those who are armed with guns.  Divide them, encircle the town, guard the north gate, though I think none can win back through the flames, and if any of the Arabs succeed in breaking through the palisade, kill them.”

“It shall be done,” shouted Babemba, “but oh! for the town of Beza where I was born!  Oh! for the town of Beza!”

“Drat the town of Beza!” I holloaed after him, or rather its native equivalent.  “It is of all our lives that I’m thinking.”

Three minutes later the Mazitu, divided into two bodies, were running like hares to encircle the town, and though a few were shot as they descended the slope, the most of them gained the shelter of the palisade in safety, and there at intervals halted by sections, for Babemba managed the matter very well.

Now only we white people, with the Zulu hunters under Mavovo, of whom there were twelve in all, and the Mazitu armed with guns, numbering about thirty, were left upon the slope.

For a little while the Arabs did not seem to realise what had happened, but engaged themselves in peppering at the Mazitu, who, I think, they concluded were in full flight.  Presently, however, they either heard or saw.

Oh! what a hubbub ensued.  All the four hundred of them began to shout at once.  Some of them ran to the palisade and began to climb it, but as they reached the top of the fence were pinned by the Mazitu arrows and fell backwards, while a few who got over became entangled in the prickly pears on the further side and were promptly speared.  Giving up this attempt, they rushed back along the lane with the intention of escaping at the north-gate.  But before ever they reached the head of the market-place the roaring, wind-swept flames, leaping from hut to hut, had barred their path.  They could not face that awful furnace.