drily. He was an old man, and privileged. "Manyana
grows from a good tree, but what if some other had been sent, and had
returned to say that he had been received with roughness, and that
Sapazani was not loyal?"

"Loyal!" echoed the chief, in bitter disgust. "Loyal! _Hau_! Loyal--
to whom?"

Beyond a murmur which might have meant anything, the other made no
reply. Sapazani looked up and around. It was nearly dark. The sounds
of evening had merged into the sounds of night. Most of the inhabitants
of the kraal had retired within the huts, for there was a chill feeling
in the air. He arose.

"The other messenger," he said. "Now we will talk with him."

He, too, went into his hut, and drawing his green blanket round him
proceeded to take snuff. Undhlawafa, who, after a whispered injunction
to some one outside, had followed him, proceeded to do likewise.

Soon a man crept through the low doorway and saluted. In his then frame
of mind the chief noted with double irritation that the new arrival wore
that abomination, in his eyes, the article of European clothing commonly
called a shirt. Squatted on the ground the latter's mission unfolded
itself bit by bit. All the tribes in the north of Natal were ready.
Those in the south of the Zulu country were ready too. How was it with
those in the north?

In reply to this Sapazani and his induna put a number of questions to
the emissary, as the way of natives is. These were answered--some
straightly, some crooked.

"And He--what is _his_ word?"

"He is dumb," replied the emissary. "There are those who have spoken in
his ear, and He is dumb."

Sapazani sat, thinking deeply. "He" applied to the head of the royal
House. More than ever did the insidious poison of the Ethiopian
preacher of whom mention has been made, come back to his mind. Now he
saw his own chance. Not by force of arms alone could a change be
effected; but by the dissensions among the ruling race. Now was the
time--before it should pass.

"Tell him who sent you," he said, "that at the moment I shall be ready.
That is my `word.'"

"_Nkose_!"

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE PROSPECTORS.

"I've got some news for you, Stride."

He addressed was just dismounting. Obviously he had returned from a
journey. His steed was flecked with sweat and had rather a limp
appearance, as though ridden through the heat of a long day, and,
withal, a hot one. A tent and a makeshift native shelter, together