“What is to be done, Macumazana?” asked Mavovo.

“Have breakfast, I think,” I answered.  “If we are going to be killed it may as well be after breakfast as before,” and calling the trembling Sammy, I instructed him to make the coffee.  Also I awoke Stephen and explained the situation to him.

“Capital!” he answered.  “No doubt these are the Mazitu, and we have found them much more easily than we expected.  People generally take such a lot of hunting for in this confounded great country.”

“That’s not such a bad way of looking at things,” I answered, “but would you be good enough to go round the camp and make it clear that not on any account is anyone to fire without orders.  Stay, collect all the guns from those slaves, for heaven knows what they will do with them if they are frightened!”

Stephen nodded and sauntered off with three or four of the hunters.  While he was gone, in consultation with Mavovo, I made certain little arrangements of my own, which need not be detailed.  They were designed to enable us to sell our lives as dearly as possible, should things come to the worst.  One should always try to make an impression upon the enemy in Africa, for the sake of future travellers if for no other reason.

In due course Stephen and the hunters returned with the guns, or most of them, and reported that the slave people were in great state of terror, and showed a disposition to bolt.

“Let them bolt,” I answered.  “They would be of no use to us in a row and might even complicate matters.  Call in the Zulus who are watching at once.”

He nodded, and a few minutes later I heard—­for the mist which hung about the bush to the east of the camp was still too dense to allow of my seeing anything—­a clamour of voices, followed by the sound of scuttling feet.  The slave people, including our bearers, had gone, every one of them.  They even carried away the wounded.  Just as the soldiers who surrounded us were completing their circle they bolted between the two ends of it and vanished into the bush out of which we had marched on the previous evening.  Often since then I have wondered what became of them.  Doubtless some perished, and the rest worked their way back to their homes or found new ones among other tribes.  The experiences of those who escaped must be interesting to them if they still live.  I can well imagine the legends in which these will be embodied two or three generations hence.

Deducting the slave people and the bearers whom we had wrung out of Hassan, we were now a party of seventeen, namely eleven Zulu hunters including Mavovo, two white men, Hans and Sammy, and the two Mazitus who had elected to remain with us, while round us was a great circle of savages which closed in slowly.