ck a
veritable shower of sparks, and the Zulu found himself fully employed in
protecting his own epidermis from the spear of a splendid-looking man,
who might easily have passed for one of his own people.

Taking advantage of this diversion in his favour, the cowardly Mormon
drew a murderous-looking hunting-knife, and, walking up to the Zulu,
prepared to strike him in the back. The moment he raised the weapon,
however, Grenville's rifle vomited a sheet of flame through the bushes,
and Brother Abiram Levert bit the dust, with a heavy bullet through his
brain.

The cousins watched anxiously for a chance of disposing of Myzukulwa's
opponent in like manner, but the evolutions of the combatants were much
too complicated to admit of shooting one without very great risk to the
other.

The Zulu had forced his man inch by inch into the centre of the forest
glade, and the steely flashes of the spears were keen and vivid as the
lightning on a stormy night; all at once Myzukulwa, who had manoeuvred
so as to get the light into his opponent's eyes, made an advance which
Grenville knew to be a favourite and deadly point of his, and, on its
being most unexpectedly parried, bounded back with a cry of
astonishment, and stood quietly leaning on his spear, whilst his foe
gazed at him, for the space of a few seconds, in sheer wonder, and then,
concluding Myzukulwa had given in, prepared to finish him. The great
Zulu, however, raised his hand, and, pointing to his foe, began a speech
which was both wild and curious:--

"Tell me, white men, what is life? Is it not the breath of the Creator?
Does it come and go like the blushes on a maiden's cheek? Is it the
shadow which comes to us at daybreak but to vanish with the setting sun?
Here have we no daybreak, nor can it be evening; yet, how then, in this
strange place of witchcraft, have I, Myzukulwa, the son of Isanusi, the
last of the ancient chieftains of the race of Undi, met face to face and
fought with my brother Amaxosa, the son of my own mother, he having been
slain in the Pass of the Spooks sixty long moons ago?"

The other man emitted a strange wild cry, gazed for a moment at
Myzukulwa as if spell-bound, and then the pair fell to embracing one
another, vociferating the while in the Zulu tongue, whilst Grenville,
who saw they had no more to fear from the new arrival, commenced
unbinding the white prisoner with many commiserating expressions.

"Who are you?" he asked Grenville.