ecome too pestilent for any man to bear aught of. My cattle had
increased, and spread over the land, and they who owned me as chief were
many, and comprised some of the best born and of the finest fighting men
in the nation. Yet this was not to last, and as age and security
increased for Umzilikazi, his distrust of me gained too, and now I knew
he would almost gladly be rid of me, and quite gladly of Lalusini, my
principal wife. Yes. To this had things come. I, Untuswa, the second
in command of the King's troops, who had largely borne part in the
saving of our nation, who had even been hailed as king by the flower of
the Zulu fighting indunas, had now to set out upon a ghost hunt, and, in
the event of failure, the penalty hanging over me was such as might have
fallen upon a miserable cheat of an _izanusi_.

Thus pondering I took my way back to my principal kraal, followed by
Lalusini and others of my wives and followers who had separated from the
throng and joined themselves on to me when the order was given to
disperse. Arrived there, I entered my hut, accompanied by Lalusini
alone. Then I sat down and took snuff gloomily and in silence. This
was broken by Lalusini.

"Wherefore this heaviness, holder of the White Shield?" she said. "Do
you forget that you have a sorceress for _inkosikazi_?"

For a while I made no reply, but stood gazing at her with a glance full
of admiration and love. For, standing there, tall and beautiful and
shapely, it seemed to me that Lalusini looked just as when I first
beheld her in the rock cave high up on the Mountain of Death. Time had
gone by since I had taken her to wife, yet she seemed not to grow old as
other women do. My two former wives, Fumana and Nxope, were no longer
young and pleasing, but Lalusini seemed ever the same. Was it her magic
that so kept her? She had borne me no children, but of this I was
rather glad than otherwise, for we loved each other greatly, and I
desired that none should come between to turn her love away from me, as
children would surely do. For my other wives it mattered nothing, but
with Lalusini it was different. I loved her, _Nkose_, as some of you
white people love your women. _Whau_! Do you not allow your women to
walk side by side with you instead of behind? This I have seen in my
old age. And those among us who have been at Tegwini [Durban] tell
strange tales of white men who go out with their women, that they might
load themselv