course there was nothing to
prove that it had really been Chaka's famous weapon.

Another thing that tormented me was my failure to see Zikali. I
felt as though I had committed a crime in leaving Zululand
without doing this and hearing from his own lips--well, whatever
he chose to tell me. I forget if I said that while we were
waiting at the gate where those silly women talked so much
nonsense about Mameena and Kaatje, that I made another effort
through Goza to get into touch with the wizard, but quite without
avail. Goza only answered what he said before, that if I wished
to die at once I had better take ten steps towards the Valley of
Bones, whence, he added parenthetically, the Opener of Roads had
already departed on his homeward journey. This might or might
not be true; at any rate I could find no possible way of coming
face to face with him, or even of getting a message to his ear.
No, I was not to blame; I had done all I could, and yet in my
heart I felt guilty. But then, as cynics would, say, failure is
guilt.

At length we came to the ford of the Tugela, and as fortunately
the water was just low enough, bade farewell to our escort before
crossing to the Natal side. My parting with Goza was quite
touching, for we felt that it partook of the nature of a deathbed
adieu, which indeed it did. I told him and the others that I
hoped their ends be easy, and that whether they met them by
bullets or by bayonet thrusts, the wounds would prove quickly
mortal so that they might not linger in discomfort or pain.
Recognizing my kind thought for their true welfare they thanked
me for it, though with no enthusiasm. Indudu, however, filled
with the spirit of repartee, or rather of "tu quoque", said in
his melancholy fashion that if he and I came face to face in war,
he would be sure to remember my words and to cut me up in the
best style, since he could not bear to think of me languishing on
a bed of sickness without my wife Kaatje to nurse me (they knew I
was touchy about Kaatje). Then we shook hands and parted.
Kaatje, hung round with paraphernalia like the White Knight in
"Alice through the Looking-glass," clinging to a cooking-pot and
weeping tears of terror, faced the foaming flood upon the mare,
while I grasped its tail.

When we were as I judged out of assegai shot, I turned, with the
water up to my armpits, and shouted some valedictory words.

"Tell your king," I said, "that he is the greatest fool in the