rought in
during that afternoon. The native followers, their heads in their
blankets, had ceased their sonorous hum of gossip, and were mingling
their snores with the somewhat discomforting sounds emitted by the
nostrils of Pemberton. Away on the northern sky-line, a faint glow
still hung, and from time to time a muffled snatch of far-away song. A
dance of some sort was in late progress at the King's kraal, but such
had no novelty for Blachland. The exploration of the King's grave,
however, had; and he could think upon nothing else. Yet, could he have
foreseen, his companions had uttered words of sound wisdom. He had
better have left Umzilikazi's sepulchre severely alone.

CHAPTER TWO.

BEFORE THE KING.

"Tumble out, Blachland. We've got to go up and interview the King."
Thus Sybrandt at an early hour on the following morning. "And," he
added in a low voice, "I hope the _indaba_ will end satisfactorily,
that's all."

"Why shouldn't it?" was the rather sleepy rejoinder. And the speaker
kicked off his blanket, and, sitting up, yawned and stretched himself.

Three savage-looking Matabele were squatted on the ground just within
the camp. They were _majara_, and were arrayed in full regimentals,
i.e. fantastic bedizenments of cowhair and monkey-skin, and their heads
crowned with the _isiqoba_, or ball of feathers; one long plume from the
wing of a crested crane stuck into this, pointing aloft like a horn.
The expression of their faces was that of truculent contempt, as their
glance roamed scornfully from the camp servants, moving about their
divers occupations, to the white men, to whom they were bearers of a
peremptory summons. It was significant of the ominous character of the
latter, no less than of the temper of arrogant hostility felt towards
the whites by the younger men of the nation, that these sat there,
toying with the blades of their assegais and battle-axes; for a
remonstrance from Sybrandt against so gross a violation of etiquette as
to enter a friendly camp with weapons in their hands had been met by a
curt refusal to disarm, on the ground that they were King's warriors,
and, further, that they were of the King's bodyguard, and, as such, were
armed, even in the presence of the Great Great One himself.

"I only hope no inkling of what we were talking about yesterday has got
wind, Blachland," explained Sybrandt, seriously. "If Lo Ben got such a
notion into his head--why then, good night. A