ok at him, Mopo," he said, "look at the wizard who has no tears,
though my mother is dead by witchcraft. See, he takes snuff to bring
tears to his eyes that are dry with wickedness. Take him away, the
heartless brute! Oh, take him away!"

So this one also was killed, and these were but the first of thousands,
for presently Chaka grew mad with wickedness, with fury, and with the
lust of blood. He walked to and fro, weeping, going now and again into
his hut to drink beer, and I with him, for he said that we who sorrowed
must have food. And ever as he walked he would wave his arm or his
assegai, saying, "Take them away, the heartless brutes, who do not weep
because my mother is dead," and those who chanced to stand before his
arm were killed, till at length the slayers could slay no more, and
themselves were slain, because their strength had failed them, and they
had no more tears. And I also, I must slay, lest if I slew not I should
myself be slain.

And now, at length, the people also went mad with their thirst and the
fury of their fear. They fell upon each other, killing each other; every
man who had a foe sought him out and killed him. None were spared, the
place was but a shambles; there on that day died full seven thousand
men, and still Chaka walked weeping among them, saying, "Take them away,
the heartless brutes, take them away!" Yet, my father, there was cunning
in his cruelty, for though he destroyed many for sport alone, also he
slew on this day all those whom he hated or whom he feared.

At length the night came down, the sun sank red that day, all the sky
was like blood, and blood was all the earth beneath. Then the killing
ceased, because none had now the strength to kill, and the people lay
panting in heaps upon the ground, the living and the dead together. I
looked at them, and saw that if they were not allowed to eat and drink,
before day dawned again the most of them would be dead, and I spoke to
the king, for I cared little in that hour if I lived or died; even my
hope of vengeance was forgotten in the sickness of my heart.

"A mourning indeed, O King," I said, "a merry mourning for true-hearted
men, but for wizards a mourning such as they do not love. I think that
thy sorrows are avenged, O King, thy sorrows and mine also."

"Not so, Mopo," answered the king, "this is but the beginning; our
mourning was merry to-day, it shall be merrier to-morrow."

"To-morrow, O King, few will be left to mourn;