s, straining every nerve and
muscle, was a white man. They had passed a _reim_ round his neck, and
were trying to draw his head down almost to his knees, in a word, to
truss him like a fowl, preparatory to impaling him upon that hideous
stake. And in this man, Gerard recognised at a glance John Dawes.

So intent were all upon the execution of their barbarous task, that the
approach of the party took place absolutely unheeded. To fling himself
upon the warriors who were straggling with his friend was to Gerard the
work of a fraction of an instant. To empty his revolver into the head
of one, and the body of another was that of the same iota of time. Then
as the remaining two with a yell of surprise started back to seize the
weapons, which they had dropped while engaged in their straggle with the
prisoner, they were speared by the Zulus who had followed close behind
Gerard.

"_Usutu_! Death to the _abatagati_!" thundered Nkumbi-ka-zulu, hurling
a casting assegai full at the chief.

Ingonyama, however, caught it deftly on his shield, and charged forward
upon the thrower, followed by his six remaining warriors. Bending the
air with their ferocious blood-shout, the Igazipuza, having recovered
from their momentary surprise, strove now to bear back the assailants,
to press them over the cliff's brow. But the blood of the young
Ngobamakosi warriors was up. Not an inch did they give way, and
numerically the odds were in their favour. Hand to hand--slashing,
parrying, thrusting--they fought.

So swift was the attack--so hard pressed by the ferocious and desperate
freebooters was Gerard and his allies, that the former had not even so
much as a moment of time wherein to release Dawes. He could only stand
before him to protect him with his life. Then suddenly seizing his
opportunity, he slipped his rifle between the shoulders of two of the
striving Ngobamakosi, and hardly taking aim pressed the trigger.
Ingonyama leaped in the air, and fell heavily forward, the blood pouring
from a small round hole in his forehead.

"_Au_! Between the eyes has his life been let out!" cried
Nkumbi-ka-zulu, unconsciously echoing the words of the dead chief
himself, uttered so prophetically over the lion's skin which he still
wore.

And, remembering the words, despair was in the hearts of the bystanders;
but despair to the intrepid, almost fanatical Igazipuza meant only a
fresh access of desperation. So far from the fall of their ch