regiment was
drawn up, and moved slowly along the ranks, critically eyeing each man
over as he did so. I believed that I had succeeded in producing a
tolerably good impression upon Mapela; moreover, it was to his interest
that I should not be killed, for if I should chance to be slain he might
bid goodbye to his hopes of obtaining a present from me: and I began to
wonder whether "the Wise One" possessed enough mental acuteness and
alertness to conceive the idea of quietly warning the warrior whom he
might choose that there was no need for him to put up a real fight, and
that every purpose would be served if the warrior, while feigning to use
his best endeavours to kill me, should skilfully permit me to disarm
him. Unfortunately, however, Mapela could not know what was passing in
my mind, and I had missed the only opportunity that had presented itself
for discussing the matter with him--which was while the king was
displaying his fine feathers to his ladies; and it might very well
happen that the old induna, animated by the best intentions in the world
toward me, might select a foeman whom he might deem well worthy of my
steel, for the purpose of enabling me to display my skill before the
king. It was a most annoying dilemma for a peaceably disposed young
fellow like myself, with a natural aversion to unnecessary strife and
bloodshed, to find himself in, and for the life of me I could see no way
out of it. The king was clearly in no mood to listen to argument;
indeed, he was evidently very much ruffled in temper, and in just that
frame of mind which would impel him to insist the more strongly on
having his own way should I attempt anything in the nature of
dissuasion: therefore all I could see for it was to submit to his whim,
and do my best to disarm my antagonist without hurting him.

By the time that I had thus far considered the matter, Mapela had made
his choice, and now approached us, accompanied by a fine, stalwart young
Mashona warrior of some five or six and twenty years of age, a ringed
man, whose smooth, dark skin was already seamed here and there with
scars that told of more than one hard-fought fight, and whose lithe and
easy movements indicated that he was in the very pink of fighting
condition. Halting within a pace or two of where I stood, near the
king, Mapela saluted, and said:

"Behold, O Great, Great One, I have chosen a warrior, even as you bade
me. He is named 'Mfuni, and is the son of Matan