ural, so absolutely
unconventional. Her ways and ideas struck him somehow as peculiar to
herself--and then her appearance--as striking as it was uncommon. He
had not begun to fall in love with her, but could not ignore the
possibility that he might, and in that case Heaven help him, for he felt
pretty sure he would meet with no reciprocity.

Meanwhile, there was nothing to be gained by discounting potentialities,
wherefore he laid himself out to make the most of the present time, and
succeeded admirably well. If his host was rather abstracted and silent
throughout the evening, Edala more than made up for it. She chatted
away on every subject under the sun; and played and sang--both well--so
that by the time he went to bed Elvesdon had come to the conclusion that
he had never enjoyed himself so much--or got through such a jolly day in
his life.

CHAPTER TEN.

A CHIEF--OUT OF DATE.

Zavula sat in his hut smoking, and--blinking.

Zavula was an old man. There were wisps of white beneath and above the
dull, uncared for head-ring, for being a Natal native he did not keep
his head scrupulously shaved, as the way of the ringed Zulu is. But his
eyesight was very weak, wherefore he sat--and blinked. And he was
alone.

A small fire burned in the bowl-like hollow in the centre of the hut.
Into this Zavula was gazing. Perhaps he was dreaming dreams of the
past--when he had been somebody, when he was looked up to and respected
by thousands of tribesmen; when, too, he had gallantly led in person
these same tribesmen, at the call of the white man's Government, against
the hosts of Cetywayo the Great King, on the red plain of Isandhlwana--
only to retire, in helter-skelter rout, together with such of the whites
who had it in their power to do likewise, before the on-sweeping wave of
the might of Zulu. Then, in those days, his word was law. He had been
called upon to assist the Government, and he and his fighting men had
done so loyally. It was not their fault if the white leader had been
out-generalled by Tyingwayo, who had learned the art of war under Tshaka
the Terrible. They had done their best, and had been thanked for it and
remembered, when Cetywayo's power had melted into air, and the horns of
that Bull, which had gored where they would, had been blunted and
rendered harmless for ever.

And now here were his people engaged in running their heads against a
rock. _Whau_! was ever such foolishness known? H