s? As I was about to fire I caught sight of some bright
object flashing towards the king from above, and instantaneously
shifted my aim and pressed the trigger. The thing, whatever it
might be, flew in two. One part of it fell upon Zikali, the
other part travelled on and struck Cetewayo upon the knee.

There followed a great confusion and a cry of "The king is
stabbed!" I ran forward to look and saw the blade of a little
assegai lying on the ground and on Cetewayo's knee a slight cut
from which blood trickled.

"It is nothing," I said, "a scratch, no more, though had not the
spear been stopped in its course it might have been otherwise."

"Yes," cried Zikali, "but what was it that caused the cut? Take
this, Sigananda, and tell me what it may be," and he threw
towards him a piece of red wood.

Sigananda looked at it. "It is the haft of the Black One's
spear," he exclaimed, "which the bullet of Macumazahn has severed
from the blade."

"Aye," said Zikali, "and the blade has drawn the blood of the
Black One's child. Read me this omen, Sigananda; or ask it of
her who stands above you."

Now all looked to the rock, but it was empty. The figure had
vanished.

"Your word, King," said Zikali. "Is it for peace or war?"

Cetewayo looked at the assegai, looked at the blood trickling
from his knee, looked at the faces of the councillors.

"Blood calls for blood," he moaned. "My word is--_War!_"

CHAPTER XVII

KAATJE BRINGS NEWS

Zikali burst into one of his peals of laughter, so unholy that
it caused the blood in me to run cold.

"The King's word is _war_," he cried. "Let Nomkubulwana take
that word back to heaven. Let Macumazahn take it to the White
Men. Let the captains cry it to the regiments and let the world
grow red. The King has chosen, though mayhap, had I been he, I
should have chosen otherwise; yet what am I but a hollow reed
stuck in the ground up which the spirits speak to men? It is
finished, and I, too, am finished for a while. Farewell, O King!
Where shall we meet again, I wonder? On the earth or under it?
Farewell, Macumazahn, I know where we shall meet, though you do
not. O King, I return to my own place, I pray you to command
that none come near me or trouble me with words, for I am spent."

"It is commanded," said Cetewayo.

As he spoke the fire went out mysteriously, and the wizard rose
and hobbled off at a surprising pace round the corner of the
projectin