lack warriors when he was seen and recognised. We could even catch
occasional exclamations, when loudly uttered. These mostly consisted of
the one word, Umkopo. Men seemed to be going from group to group
conveying the news that the White Witch had appeared.

The indunas and their visitor rose to their feet, presently, having, I
suppose, concluded their arguments, but one man seemed still to be
engaged in heated conversation with Umkopo. Suddenly a shot rang out,
and the man fell.

With one accord the Matabele hosts sprang to their feet; they gazed for
a moment at Umkopo, who seemed to give some order in raised tones, his
arms outstretched. Almost instantly the entire regiment turned their
faces and began to depart. First they walked, then ambled, then
gradually they formed into lines and trotted in their former rhythmical
fashion. In five minutes all were out of sight, Umkopo alone being left
upon the field of battle--he and the dead induna.

Umkopo returned slowly towards my waggon; his dignity--'_side_' would be
a more exact description--was indescribable; at any other moment it
would have been actually amusing, but at this crisis I had no room for
any feeling excepting one of deep gratitude, mingled with amazement. The
lad had certainly saved us from immediate destruction--how in the world
had he done it?

I met him and we shook hands. 'Umkopo, you are a wonderful fellow,' I
said, most sincerely; 'how did you do it?--what did you say?--what is
the meaning of it?'

'The meaning?' he repeated. 'The meaning is that I am Umkopo; let him
disobey me who dares. There are few of the Matabeles who dare. One there
was; I knew him before, the induna Gongula: he was jealous of Umkopo; he
dared not once, not twice, only to speak in my face--see where he lies;
the rest have gone; they will not return.'

'But why do they obey--what is your power over them?' I asked, in
genuine surprise; 'I do not understand.'

'Bah!' he said, 'what matters? You are alive and not dead; that is
better than to understand. I am the White Witch--it is enough!'

'No, it is not enough,' said I. 'You have saved our lives, Umkopo; you
have saved mine a second time to-day; how shall I repay you?'

'Bah! we are friends, that is enough. Where do you go? To your death,
that is certain, unless I know in time.'

'I go to Gadsby's farm--a day's journey north and west,' said I. 'Is the
country clear between?'

'It is clear to-day. I know Gadsby's farm.