those who tended it"--and he pointed to the
captives--"and without are the cattle that ploughed it."

"Good, Slaughterer! I see the gardeners, and I hear the lowing of the
cattle, but what of the Flower? Where is this Flower ye went so far to
dig in Swazi soil? Was it a Lily-bloom, perchance?"

"It was a Lily-bloom, O King! and yet, alas! the Lily has withered.
Nothing is left but the stalk, white and withered as are the bones of
men."

"What meanest thou?" said Dingaan, starting to his feet.

"That the king shall learn," answered Umslopogaas; and, turning, he
spoke a word to the captains who were behind him. Presently the ranks
opened up, and four men ran forward from the rear of the companies.
On their shoulders they bore a stretcher, and upon the stretcher lay
something wrapped about with raw ox-hides, and bound round with rimpis.
The men saluted, and laid their burden down before the king.

"Open!" said the Slaughterer; and they opened, and there within the
hides, packed in salt, lay the body of a girl who once was tall and
fair.

"Here lies the Lily's stalk, O King!" said Umslopogaas, pointing with
the axe, "but if her flower blooms on any air, it is not here."

Now Dingaan stared at the sight of death, and bitterness of heart took
hold of him, since he desired above all things to win the beauty of the
Lily for himself.

"Bear away this carrion and cast it to the dogs!" he cried, for thus he
could speak of her whom he would have taken to wife, when once he deemed
her dead. "Take it away, and thou, Slaughterer, tell me how it came
about that the maid was slain. It will be well for thee if thou hast a
good answer, for know thy life hangs on the words."

So Umslopogaas told the king all that tale which had been made ready
against the wrath of Dingaan. And when he had finished Galazi told his
story, of how he had seen the soldier kill the maid, and in his wrath
had killed the soldier. Then certain of the captains who had seen the
soldier and the maid lying in one death came forward and spoke to it.

Now Dingaan was very angry, and yet there was nothing to be done. The
Lily was dead, and by no fault of any except of one, who was also dead
and beyond his reach.

"Get you hence, you and your people," he said to the Wolf-Brethren. "I
take the cattle and the captives. Be thankful that I do not take all
your lives also--first, because ye have dared to make war without my
word, and secondly, because, having made