he centre of it,
and here his strength seemed to fail him, for he stopped and
leaned upon his axe. Then suddenly he lifted up his voice and
cried aloud --

'I die, I die -- but it was a kingly fray. Where are they who
came up the great stair? I see them not. Art thou there, Macumazahn,
or art thou gone before to wait for me in the dark whither I
go? The blood blinds me -- the place turns round -- I hear the
voice of waters.'

Next, as though a new thought had struck him, he lifted the red
axe and kissed the blade.

'Farewell, Inkosi-kaas,' he cried. 'Nay, nay, we will go together;
we cannot part, thou and I. We have lived too long one with
another, thou and I.

'One more stroke, only one! A good stroke! a straight stroke!
a strong stroke!' and, drawing himself to his full height, with
a wild heart-shaking shout, he with both hands began to whirl
the axe round his head till it looked like a circle of flaming steel.
Then, suddenly, with awful force he brought it down straight
on to the crown of the mass of sacred stone. A shower of sparks
flew up, and such was the almost superhuman strength of the blow,
that the massive marble split with a rending sound into a score
of pieces, whilst of Inkosi-kaas there remained but some fragments
of steel and a fibrous rope of shattered horn that had been the
handle. Down with a crash on to the pavement fell the fragments
of the holy stone, and down with a crash on to them, still grasping
the knob of Inkosi-kaas, fell the brave old Zulu -- _dead_.

And thus the hero died.

A gasp of wonder and astonishment rose from all those who witnessed
the extraordinary sight, and then somebody cried, '_The prophecy!
the prophecy!_ He has shattered the sacred stone!' and at once
a murmuring arose.

'Ay,' said Nyleptha, with that quick wit which distinguishes
her. 'Ay, my people, he has shattered the stone, and behold
the prophecy is fulfilled, for a stranger king rules in Zu-Vendis.
Incubu, my lord, hath beat Sorais back, and I fear her no more,
and to him who hath saved the Crown it shall surely be. And
this man,' she said, turning to me and laying her hand upon my
shoulder, 'wot ye that, though wounded in the fight of yesterday,
he rode with that old warrior who lies there, one hundred miles
'twixt sun set and rise to save me from the plots of cruel men.
Ay, and he has saved me, by a very little, and therefore because
of the deeds that they have done -- deeds of glory such