se
fellows, they might be frightened and run away. Or they might not; or if
they did they might return."

"Whatever happened," he remarked sagely, "we should scarcely be welcome
in their country afterwards, so I think we had better do nothing unless
we are obliged."

I nodded, for it was obvious that we could not fight hundreds of
men, and told Sammy, who was perfectly livid with fear, to bring the
breakfast. No wonder he was afraid, poor fellow, for we were in great
danger. These Mazitu had a bad name, and if they chose to attack us we
should all be dead in a few minutes.

The coffee and some cold buck's flesh were put upon our little
camp-table in front of the tent which we had pitched because of the
rain, and we began to eat. The Zulu hunters also ate from a bowl of
mealie porridge which they had cooked on the previous night, each of
them with his loaded rifle upon his knees. Our proceedings appeared
to puzzle the Mazitu very much indeed. They drew quite near to us, to
within about forty yards, and halted there in a dead circle, staring at
us with their great round eyes. It was like a scene in a dream; I shall
never forget it.

Everything about us appeared to astonish them, our indifference, the
colour of Stephen and myself (as a matter of fact at that date Brother
John was the only white man they had ever seen), our tent and our two
remaining donkeys. Indeed, when one of these beasts broke into a bray,
they showed signs of fright, looking at each other and even retreating a
few paces.

At length the position got upon my nerves, especially as I saw that
some of them were beginning to fiddle with their bows, and that their
General, a tall, one-eyed old fellow, was making up his mind to do
something. I called to one of the two Mazitus, whom I forgot to say we
had named Tom and Jerry, and gave him a pannikin of coffee.

"Take that to the captain there with my good wishes, Jerry, and ask him
if he will drink with us," I said.

Jerry, who was a plucky fellow, obeyed. Advancing with the steaming
coffee, he held it under the Captain's nose. Evidently he knew the man's
name, for I heard him say:

"O Babemba, the white lords, Macumazana and Wazela, ask if you will
share their holy drink with them?"

I could perfectly understand the words, for these people spoke a dialect
so akin to Zulu that by now it had no difficulty for me.

"Their holy drink!" exclaimed the old fellow, starting back. "Man, it is
hot red-wate