CHAPTER IX
ALLAN RETURNS TO ZULULAND
A whole year had gone by, in which I did, or tried to do, various things
that have no connection with this story, when once more I found myself
in Zululand--at Umbezi's kraal indeed. Hither I had trekked in
fulfilment of a certain bargain, already alluded to, that was concerned
with ivory and guns, which I had made with the old fellow, or, rather,
with Masapo, his son-in-law, whom he represented in this matter. Into
the exact circumstances of that bargain I do not enter, since at the
moment I cannot recall whether I ever obtained the necessary permit to
import those guns into Zululand, although now that I am older I
earnestly hope that I did so, since it is wrong to sell weapons to
natives that may be put to all sorts of unforeseen uses.
At any rate, there I was, sitting alone with the Headman in his hut
discussing a dram of "squareface" that I had given to him, for the
"trade" was finished to our mutual satisfaction, and Scowl, my body
servant, with the hunters, had just carried off the ivory--a fine lot of
tusks--to my wagons.
"Well, Umbezi," I said, "and how has it fared with you since we parted a
year ago? Have you seen anything of Saduko, who, you may remember, left
you in some wrath?"
"Thanks be to my Spirit, I have seen nothing of that wild man,
Macumazahn," answered Umbezi, shaking his fat old head in a fashion
which showed great anxiety. "Yet I have heard of him, for he sent me a
message the other day to tell me that he had not forgotten what he owed
me."
"Did he mean the sticks with which he promised to bray you like a green
hide?" I inquired innocently.
"I think so, Macumazahn--I think so, for certainly he owes me nothing
else. And the worst of it is that, there at Panda's kraal, he has grown
like a pumpkin on a dung heap--great, great!"
"And therefore is now one who can pay any debt that he owes, Umbezi," I
said, taking a pull at the "squareface" and looking at him over the top
of the pannikin.
"Doubtless he can, Macumazahn, and, between you and me, that is the real
reason why I--or rather Masapo--was so anxious to get those guns. They
were not for hunting, as he told you by the messenger, or for war, but
to protect us against Saduko, in case he should attack. Well, now I
hope we shall be able to hold our own."
"You and Masapo must teach your people to use them first, Umbezi. But I
expect Saduko has forgotten all about both of you now that he is the
husband of a princess of the royal blood. Tell me, how goes it with
Mameena?"
"Oh, well, well, Macumazahn. For is she not the head lady of the
Amasomi? There is nothing wrong with her--nothing at all, except that
as yet she has no child; also that--," and he paused.
"That what?" I asked.
"That she hates the very sight of her husband, Masapo, and says that she
would rather be married to a baboon--yes, to a baboon--than to him,
which gives him offence, after he has paid so many cattle for her. But
what of this, Macumazahn? There is always a grain missing upon the
finest head of corn. Nothing is _quite_ perfect in the world,
Macumazahn, and if Mameena does not chance to love her husband--" and he
shrugged his shoulders and drank some "squareface."
"Of course it does not matter in the least, Umbezi, except to Mameena
and her husband, who no doubt will settle down in time, now that Saduko
is married to a princess of the Zulu House."
"I hope so, Macumazahn, but, to tell the truth, I wish you had brought
more guns, for I live amongst a terrible lot of people. Masapo, who is
furious with Mameena because she will have none of him, and therefore
with me, as though I could control Mameena; Mameena, who is mad with
Masapo, and therefore with me, because I gave her in marriage to him;
Saduko, who foams at the mouth at the name of Masapo, because he has
married Mameena, whom, it is said, he still loves, and therefore at me,
because I am her father and did my best to settle her in the world. Oh,
give me some more of that fire-water, Macumazahn, for it makes me forget
all these things, and especially that my guardian spirit made me the
father of Mameena, with whom you would not run away when you might have
done so. Oh, Macumazahn, why did you not run away with Mameena, and
turn her into a quiet white woman who ties herself up in sacks, sings
songs to the 'Great-Great' in the sky--[that is, hymns to the Power
above us]--and never thinks of any man who is not her husband?"
"Because if I had done so, Umbezi, I should have ceased to be a quiet
white man. Yes, yes, my friend, I should have been in some such place
as yours to-day, and that is the last thing that I wish. And now,
Umbezi, you have had quite enough 'squareface,' so I will take the
bottle away with me. Good-night."
On the following morning I trekked very early from Umbezi's
kraal--before he was up indeed, for the "squareface" made him sleep
sound. My destination was Nodwengu, Panda's Great Place, where I hoped
to do some trading, but, as I was in no particular hurry, my plan was to
go round by Masapo's, and see for myself how it fared between him and
Mameena. Indeed, I reached the borders of the Amasomi territory,
whereof Masapo was chief, by evening, and camped there. But with the
night came reflection, and reflection told me that I should do well to
keep clear of Mameena and her domestic complications, if she had any.
So I changed my mind, and next morning trekked on to Nodwengu by the
only route that my guides reported to be practicable, one which took me
a long way round.
That day, owing to the roughness of the road--if road it could be
called--and an accident to one of the wagons, we only covered about
fifteen miles, and as night fell were obliged to outspan at the first
spot where we could find water. When the oxen had been unyoked I looked
about me, and saw that we were in a place that, although I had
approached it from a somewhat different direction, I recognised at once
as the mouth of the Black Kloof, in which, over a year before, I had
interviewed Zikali the Little and Wise. There was no mistaking the
spot; that blasted valley, with the piled-up columns of boulders and the
overhanging cliff at the end of it, have, so far as I am aware, no exact
counterparts in Africa.
I sat upon the box of the first wagon, eating my food, which consisted
of some biltong and biscuit, for I had not bothered to shoot any game
that day, which was very hot, and wondering whether Zikali were still
alive, also whether I should take the trouble to walk up the kloof and
find out. On the whole I thought that I would not, as the place
repelled me, and I did not particularly wish to hear any more of his
prophecies and fierce, ill-omened talk. So I just sat there studying
the wonderful effect of the red evening light pouring up between those
walls of fantastic rocks.
Presently I perceived, far away, a single human figure--whether it were
man or woman I could not tell--walking towards me along the path which
ran at the bottom of the cleft. In those gigantic surroundings it
looked extraordinarily small and lonely, although perhaps because of the
intense red light in which it was bathed, or perhaps just because it was
human, a living thing in the midst of all that still, inanimate
grandeur, it caught and focused my attention. I grew greatly interested
in it; I wondered if it were that of man or woman, and what it was doing
here in this haunted valley.
The figure drew nearer, and now I saw it was slender and tall, like that
of a lad or of a well-grown woman, but to which sex it belonged I could
not see, because it was draped in a cloak of beautiful grey fur. Just
then Scowl came to the other side of the wagon to speak to me about
something, which took off my attention for the next two minutes. When I
looked round again it was to see the figure standing within three yards
of me, its face hidden by a kind of hood which was attached to the fur
cloak.
"Who are you, and what is your business?" I asked, whereon a gentle
voice answered:
"Do you not know me, O Macumazana?"
"How can I know one who is tied up like a gourd in a mat? Yet is it
not--is it not--"
"Yes, it is Mameena, and I am very pleased that you should remember my
voice, Macumazahn, after we have been separated for such a long, long
time," and, with a sudden movement, she threw back the kaross, hood and
all, revealing herself in all her strange beauty.
I jumped down off the wagon-box and took her hand.
"O Macumazana," she said, while I still held it--or, to be accurate,
while she still held mine--"indeed my heart is glad to see a friend
again," and she looked at me with her appealing eyes, which, in the red
light, I could see appeared to float in tears.
"A friend, Mameena! " I exclaimed. "Why, now you are so rich, and the
wife of a big chief, you must have plenty of friends."
"Alas! Macumazahn, I am rich in nothing except trouble, for my husband
saves, like the ants for winter. Why, he even grudged me this poor
kaross; and as for friends, he is so jealous that he will not allow me
any."
"He cannot be jealous of women, Mameena!"
"Oh, women! Piff! I do not care for women; they are very unkind to me,
because--because--well, perhaps you can guess why, Macumazahn," she
answered, glancing at her own reflection in a little travelling
looking-glass that hung from the woodwork of the wagon, for I had been
using it to brush my hair, and smiled very sweetly.
"At least you have your husband, Mameena, and I thought that perhaps by
this time--"
She held up her hand.
"My husband! Oh, I would that I had him not, for I hate him,
Macumazahn; and as for the rest--never! The truth is that I never cared
for any man except one whose name _you_ may chance to remember,
Macumazahn."
"I suppose you mean Saduko--" I began.
"Tell me, Macumazahn," she inquired innocently, "are white people very
stupid? I ask because you do not seem as clever as you used to be. Or
have you perhaps a bad memory?"
Now I felt myself turning red as the sky behind me, and broke in
hurriedly:
"If you did not like your husband, Mameena, you should not have married
him. You know you need not unless you wished."
"When one has only two thorn bushes to sit on, Macumazahn, one chooses
that which seems to have the fewest prickles, to discover sometimes that
they are still there in hundreds, although one did not see them. You
know that at length everyone gets tired of standing."
"Is that why you have taken to walking, Mameena? I mean, what are you
doing here alone?"
"I? Oh, I heard that you were passing this way, and came to have a talk
with you. No, from you I cannot hide even the least bit of the truth.
I came to talk with you, but also I came to see Zikali and ask him what
a wife should do who hates her husband."
"Indeed! And what did he answer you?"
"He answered that he thought she had better run away with another man,
if there were one whom she did not hate--out of Zululand, of course,"
she replied, looking first at me and then at my wagon and the two horses
that were tied to it.
"Is that all he said, Mameena?"
"No. Have I not told you that I cannot hide one grain of the truth from
you? He added that the only other thing to be done was to sit still and
drink my sour milk, pretending that it is sweet, until my Spirit gives
me a new cow. He seemed to think that my Spirit would be bountiful in
the matter of new cows--one day."
"Anything more?" I inquired.
"One little thing. Have I not told you that you shall have all--all the
truth? Zikali seemed to think also that at last every one of my herd of
cows, old and new, would come to a bad end. He did not tell me to what
end."
She turned her head aside, and when she looked up again I saw that she
was weeping, really weeping this time, not just making her eyes swim, as
she did before.
"Of course they will come to a bad end, Macumazahn," she went on in a
soft, thick voice, "for I and all with whom I have to do were 'torn out
of the reeds' [i.e. created] that way. And that's why I won't tempt you
to run away with me any more, as I meant to do when I saw you, because
it is true, Macumazahn you are the only man I ever liked or ever shall
like; and you know I could make you run away with me if I chose,
although I am black and you are white--oh, yes, before to-morrow
morning. But I won't do it; for why should I catch you in my unlucky
web and bring you into all sorts of trouble among my people and your
own? Go you your road, Macumazahn, and I will go mine as the wind blows
me. And now give me a cup of water and let me be away--a cup of water,
no more. Oh, do not be afraid for me, or melt too much, lest I should
melt also. I have an escort waiting over yonder hill. There, thank you
for your water, Macumazahn, and good night. Doubtless we shall meet
again ere long, and-- I forgot; the Little Wise One said he would like
to have a talk with you. Good night, Macumazahn, good night. I trust
that you did a profitable trade with Umbezi my father and Masapo my
husband. I wonder why such men as these should have been chosen to be
my father and my husband. Think it over, Macumazahn, and tell me when
next we meet. Give me that pretty mirror, Macumazahn; when I look in it
I shall see you as well as myself, and that will please me--you don't
know how much. I thank you. Good night."
In another minute I was watching her solitary little figure, now wrapped
again in the hooded kaross, as it vanished over the brow of the rise
behind us, and really, as she went, I felt a lump rising in my throat.
Notwithstanding all her wickedness--and I suppose she was wicked--there
was something horribly attractive about Mameena.
When she had gone, taking my only looking-glass with her, and the lump
in my throat had gone also, I began to wonder how much fact there was in
her story. She had protested so earnestly that she told me all the
truth that I felt sure there must be something left behind. Also I
remembered she had said Zikali wanted to see me. Well, the end of it
was I took a moonlight walk up that dreadful gorge, into which not even
Scowl would accompany me, because he declared that the place was well
known to be haunted by imikovu, or spectres who have been raised from
the dead by wizards.
It was a long and disagreeable walk, and somehow I felt very depressed
and insignificant as I trudged on between those gigantic cliffs, passing
now through patches of bright moonlight and now through deep pools of
shadow, threading my way among clumps of bush or round the bases of tall
pillars of piled-up stones, till at length I came to the overhanging
cliffs at the end, which frowned down on me like the brows of some
titanic demon.
Well, I got to the end at last, and at the gate of the kraal fence was
met by one of those fierce and huge men who served the dwarf as guards.
Suddenly he emerged from behind a stone, and having scanned me for a
moment in silence, beckoned to me to follow him, as though I were
expected. A minute later I found myself face to face with Zikali, who
was seated in the clear moonlight just outside the shadow of his hut,
and engaged, apparently, in his favourite occupation of carving wood
with a rough native knife of curious shape.
For a while he took no notice of me; then suddenly looked up, shaking
back his braided grey locks, and broke into one of his great laughs.
"So it is you, Macumazahn," he said. "Well, I knew you were passing my
way and that Mameena would send you here. But why do you come to see
the 'Thing-that-should-not-have-been-born'? To tell me how you fared
with the buffalo with the split horn, eh?"
"No, Zikali, for why should I tell you what you know already? Mameena
said you wished to talk with me, that was all."
"Then Mameena lied," he answered, "as is her nature, in whose throat
live four false words for every one of truth. Still, sit down,
Macumazahn. There is beer made ready for you by that stool; and give me
the knife and a pinch of the white man's snuff that you have brought for
me as a present."
I produced these articles, though how be knew that I had them with me I
cannot tell, nor did I think it worth while to inquire. The snuff, I
remember, pleased him very much, but of the knife he said that it was a
pretty toy, but he would not know how to use it. Then we fell to
talking.
"What was Mameena doing here?" I asked boldly.
"What was she doing at your wagons?" he asked. "Oh, do not stop to tell
me; I know, I know. That is a very good Snake of yours, Macumazahn,
which always just lets you slip through her fingers, when, if she chose
to close her hand-- Well, well, I do not betray the secrets of my
clients; but I say this to you--go on to the kraal of the son of
Senzangakona, and you will see things happen that will make you laugh,
for Mameena will be there, and the mongrel Masapo, her husband. Truly
she hates him well, and, after all, I would rather be loved than hated
by Mameena, though both are dangerous. Poor Mongrel! Soon the jackals
will be chewing his bones."
"Why do you say that?" I asked.
"Only because Mameena tells me that he is a great wizard, and the
jackals eat many wizards in Zululand. Also he is an enemy of Panda's
House, is he not?"
"You have been giving her some bad counsel, Zikali," I said, blurting
out the thought in my mind.
"Perhaps, perhaps, Macumazahn; only I may call it good counsel. I have
my own road to walk, and if I can find some to clear away the thorns
that would prick my feet, what of it? Also she will get her pay, who
finds life dull up there among the Amasomi, with one she hates for a
hut-fellow. Go you and watch, and afterwards, when you have an hour to
spare, come and tell me what happens--that is, if I do not chance to be
there to see for myself."
"Is Saduko well?" I asked to change the subject, for I did not wish to
become privy to the plots that filled the air.
"I am told that his tree grows great, that it overshadows all the royal
kraal. I think that Mameena wishes to sleep in the shade of it. And
now you are weary, and so am I. Go back to your wagons, Macumazahn, for
I have nothing more to say to you to-night. But be sure to return and
tell me what chances at Panda's kraal. Or, as I have said, perhaps I
shall meet you there. Who knows, who knows?"
Now, it will be observed that there was nothing very remarkable in this
conversation between Zikali and myself. He did not tell me any deep
secrets or make any great prophecy. It may be wondered, indeed, when
there is so much to record, why I set it down at all.
My answer is, because of the extraordinary impression that it produced
upon me. Although so little was said, I felt all the while that those
few words were a veil hiding terrible events to be. I was sure that
some dreadful scheme had been hatched between the old dwarf and Mameena
whereof the issue would soon become apparent, and that he had sent me
away in a hurry after he learned that she had told me nothing, because
he feared lest I should stumble on its cue and perhaps cause it to fail.
At any rate, as I walked back to my wagons by moonlight down that
dreadful gorge, the hot, thick air seemed to me to have a physical taste
and smell of blood, and the dank foliage of the tropical trees that grew
there, when now and again a puff of wind stirred them, moaned like the
fabled imikovu, or as men might do in their last faint agony. The
effect upon my nerves was quite strange, for when at last I reached my
wagons I was shaking like a reed, and a cold perspiration, unnatural
enough upon that hot night, poured from my face and body.
Well, I took a couple of stiff tots of "squareface" to pull myself
together, and at length went to sleep, to awake before dawn with a
headache. Looking out of the wagon, to my surprise I saw Scowl and the
hunters, who should have been snoring, standing in a group and talking
to each other in frightened whispers. I called Scowl to me and asked
what was the matter.
"Nothing, Baas," he said with a shamefaced air; "only there are so many
spooks about this place. They have been passing in and out of it all
night."
"Spooks, you idiot!" I answered. "Probably they were people going to
visit the Nyanga, Zikali."
"Perhaps, Baas; only then we do not know why they should all look like
dead people--princes, some of them, by their dress--and walk upon the
air a man's height from the ground."
"Pooh!" I replied. "Do you not know the difference between owls in the
mist and dead kings? Make ready, for we trek at once; the air here is
full of fever."
"Certainly, Baas," he said, springing off to obey; and I do not think I
ever remember two wagons being got under way quicker than they were that
morning.
I merely mention this nonsense to show that the Black Kloof could affect
other people's nerves as well as my own.
In due course I reached Nodwengu without accident, having sent forward
one of my hunters to report my approach to Panda. When my wagons
arrived outside the Great Place they were met by none other than my old
friend, Maputa, he who had brought me back the pills before our attack
upon Bangu.
"Greeting, Macumazahn," he said. "I am sent by the King to say that you
are welcome and to point you out a good place to outspan; also to give
you permission to trade as much as you will in this town, since he knows
that your dealings are always fair."
I returned my thanks in the usual fashion, adding that I had brought a
little present for the King which I would deliver when it pleased him to
receive me. Then I invited Maputa, to whom I also offered some trifle
which delighted him very much, to ride with me on the wagon-box till we
came to the selected outspan.
This, by the way, proved, to be a very good place indeed, a little
valley full of grass for the cattle--for by the King's order it had not
been grazed--with a stream of beautiful water running down it. Moreover
it overlooked a great open space immediately in front of the main gate
of the town, so that I could see everything that went on and all who
arrived or departed.
"You will be comfortable here, Macumazahn," said Maputa, "during your
stay, which we hope will be long, since, although there will soon be a
mighty crowd at Nodwengu, the King has given orders that none except
your own servants are to enter this valley."
"I thank the King; but why will there be a crowd, Maputa?"
"Oh!" he answered with a shrug of the shoulders, "because of a new
thing. All the tribes of the Zulus are to come up to be reviewed. Some
say that Cetewayo has brought this about, and some say that it is
Umbelazi. But I am sure that it is the work of neither of these, but of
Saduko, your old friend, though what his object is I cannot tell you. I
only trust," he added uneasily, "that it will not end in bloodshed
between the Great Brothers."
"So Saduko has grown tall, Maputa?"
"Tall as a tree, Macumazahn. His whisper in the King's ear is louder
than the shouts of others. Moreover, he has become a 'self-eater' [that
is a Zulu term which means one who is very haughty]. You will have to
wait on him, Macumazahn; he will not wait on you."
"Is it so? " I answered. "Well, tall trees are blown down sometimes."
He nodded his wise old head. "Yes, Macumazahn; I have seen plenty grow
and fall in my time, for at last the swimmer goes with the stream.
Anyhow, you will be able to do a good trade among so many, and, whatever
happens, none will harm you whom all love. And now farewell; I bear
your messages to the King, who sends an ox for you to kill lest you
should grow hungry in his house."
That same evening I saw Saduko and the others, as I shall tell. I had
been up to visit the King and give him my present, a case of English
table-knives with bone handles, which pleased him greatly, although he
did not in the least know how to use them. Indeed, without their
accompanying forks these are somewhat futile articles. I found the old
fellow very tired and anxious, but as he was surrounded by indunas, I
had no private talk with him. Seeing that he was busy, I took my leave
as soon as I could, and when I walked away whom should I meet but
Saduko.
I saw him while he was a good way off, advancing towards the inner gate
with a train of attendants like a royal personage, and knew very well
that he saw me. Making up my mind what to do at once, I walked straight
on to him, forcing him to give me the path, which he did not wish to do
before so many people, and brushed past him as though he were a
stranger. As I expected, this treatment had the desired effect, for
after we had passed each other he turned and said:
"Do you not know me, Macumazahn?"
"Who calls?" I asked. "Why, friend, your face is familiar to me. How
are you named?"
"Have you forgotten Saduko?" he said in a pained voice.
"No, no, of course not," I answered. "I know you now, although you seem
somewhat changed since we went out hunting and fighting together--I
suppose because you are fatter. I trust that you are well, Saduko?
Good-bye. I must be going back to my wagons. If you wish to see me you
will find me there."
These remarks, I may add, seemed to take Saduko very much aback. At any
rate, he found no reply to them, even when old Maputa, with whom I was
walking, and some others sniggered aloud. There is nothing that Zulus
enjoy so much as seeing one whom they consider an upstart set in his
place.
Well, a couple of hours afterwards, just as the sun was sinking, who
should walk up to my wagons but Saduko himself, accompanied by a woman
whom I recognised at once as his wife, the Princess Nandie, who carried
a fine baby boy in her arms. Rising, I saluted Nandie and offered her
my camp-stool, which she looked at suspiciously and declined, preferring
to seat herself on the ground after the native fashion. So I took it
back again, and after I had sat down on it, not before, stretched out my
hand to Saduko, who by this time was quite humble and polite.
Well, we talked away, and by degrees, without seeming too much
interested in them, I was furnished with a list of all the advancements
which it had pleased Panda to heap upon Saduko during the past year. In
their way they were remarkable enough, for it was much as though some
penniless country gentleman in England had been promoted in that short
space of time to be one of the premier peers of the kingdom and endowed
with great offices and estates. When he had finished the count of them
he paused, evidently waiting for me to congratulate him. But all I said
was:
"By the Heavens above I am sorry for you, Saduko! How many enemies you
must have made! What a long way there will be for you to fall one
night!"--a remark at which the quiet Nandie broke into a low laugh that
I think pleased her husband even less than my sarcasm. "Well," I went
on, "I see that you have got a baby, which is much better than all these
titles. May I look at it, Inkosazana?"
Of course she was delighted, and we proceeded to inspect the baby, which
evidently she loved more than anything on earth. Whilst we were
examining the child and chatting about it, Saduko sitting by meanwhile
in the sulks, who on earth should appear but Mameena and her fat and
sullen-looking husband, the chief Masapo.
"Oh, Macumazahn," she said, appearing to notice no one else, "how
pleased I am to see you after a whole long year!"
I stared at her and my jaw dropped. Then I recovered myself, thinking
she must have made a mistake and meant to say "week."
"Twelve moons," she went on, "and, Macumazahn, not one of them has gone
by but I have thought of you several times and wondered if we should
ever meet again. Where have you been all this while?"
"In many places," I answered; "amongst others at the Black Kloof, where
I called upon the dwarf, Zikali, and lost my looking-glass."
"The Nyanga, Zikali! Oh, how often have I wished to see him. But, of
course, I cannot, for I am told he will not receive any women."
"I don't know, I am sure," I replied, "but you might try; perhaps he
would make an exception in your favour."
"I think I will, Macumazahn," she murmured, whereon I collapsed into
silence, feeling that things were getting beyond me.
When I recovered myself a little it was to hear Mameena greeting Saduko
with much effusion, and complimenting him on his rise in life, which she
said she had always foreseen. This remark seemed to bowl out Saduko
also, for he made no answer to it, although I noticed that he could not
take his eyes off Mameena's beautiful face. Presently, however, he
seemed to become aware of Masapo, and instantly his whole demeanour
changed, for it grew proud and even terrible. Masapo tendered him some
greeting; whereon Saduko turned upon him and said:
"What, chief of the Amasomi, do you give the good-day to an umfokazana
and a mangy hyena? Why do you do this? Is it because the low
umfokazana has become a noble and the mangy hyena has put on a tiger's
coat?" And he glared at him like a veritable tiger.
Masapo made no answer that I could catch. Muttering some inaudible
words, he turned to depart, and in doing so--quite innocently, I
think--struck Nandie, knocking her over on to her back and causing the
child to fall out of her arms in such fashion that its tender head
struck against a pebble with sufficient force to cause it to bleed.
Saduko leapt at him, smiting him across the shoulders with the little
stick that he carried. For a moment Masapo paused, and I thought that
he was going to show fight. If he had any such intention, however, he
changed his mind, for without a word, or showing any resentment at the
insult which he had received, he broke into a heavy run and vanished
among the evening shadows. Mameena, who had observed all, broke into
something else, namely, a laugh.
"Piff! My husband is big yet not brave," she said, "but I do not think
he meant to hurt you, woman."
"Do you speak to me, wife of Masapo?" asked Nandie with gentle dignity,
as she gained her feet and picked up the stunned child. "If so, my name
and titles are the Inkosazana Nandie, daughter of the Black One and wife
of the lord Saduko."
"Your pardon," replied Mameena humbly, for she was cowed at once. "I
did not know who you were, Inkosazana."
"It is granted, wife of Masapo. Macumazahn, give me water, I pray you,
that I may bathe the head of my child."
The water was brought, and presently, when the little one seemed all
right again, for it had only received a scratch, Nandie thanked me and
departed to her own huts, saying with a smile to her husband as she
passed that there was no need for him to accompany her, as she had
servants waiting at the kraal gate. So Saduko stayed behind, and
Mameena stayed also. He talked with me for quite a long while, for he
had much to tell me, although all the time I felt that his heart was not
in his talk. His heart was with Mameena, who sat there and smiled
continually in her mysterious way, only putting in a word now and again,
as though to excuse her presence.
At length she rose and said with a sigh that she must be going back to
where the Amasomi were in camp, as Masapo would need her to see to his
food. By now it was quite dark, although I remember that from time to
time the sky was lit up by sheet lightning, for a storm was brewing. As
I expected, Saduko rose also, saying that he would see me on the morrow,
and went away with Mameena, walking like one who dreams.
A few minutes later I had occasion to leave the wagons in order to
inspect one of the oxen which was tied up by itself at a distance,
because it had shown signs of some sickness that might or might not be
catching. Moving quietly, as I always do from a hunter's habit, I
walked alone to the place where the beast was tethered behind some
mimosa thorns. Just as I reached these thorns the broad lightning shone
out vividly, and showed me Saduko holding the unresisting shape of
Mameena in his arms and kissing her passionately.
Then I turned and went back to the wagons even more quietly than I had
come.
I should add that on the morrow I found out that, after all, there was
nothing serious the matter with my ox.
