dog!" I said to the slave. And it was the last word his
ears ever heard, for when we had passed through the dark passage, and
gained the outer air, I seized him by the ankle, and overthrew him; then
bringing my knobstick down upon the back of his neck, I laid him dead
before he could utter a sound. No second blow was required. The secret
of the hiding-place was now shared by two only.

It is true, _Nkose_, that I had made a half-promise to spare his life,
but to do so now would be to throw away my own. Nor could the dog be
relied upon to preserve silence. He had betrayed me once, and deserted
to the Bakoni; he would certainly not hesitate to betray me again--this
time to the Great Great One himself.

But as I returned, and mixed with the people, I told myself that I was
indeed the very king of fools. Had I not thrown away my life before for
the sake of a woman, and to-day this same woman was an element of great
trouble and disturbance in my life? And now, here I was, older, and
with plentiful experience, doing exactly the same thing again! For to
secrete captives or cattle taken in war was one of the most deadly
offences in the eyes of the King. Its penalty was death, and more than
death, for it was usually death by torture. And this deadly offence, I,
Untuswa, the second fighting captain and trusted _induna_ of the King,
had deliberately committed; and all for the sake of a woman! In truth
was I the very chief of fools!

Yet, at the time, I did not so name myself; for as we returned in
triumph, with the captives in our midst, streaming down the
mountain-side, and singing the war-song of Umzilikazi, I, for once,
thought but little of warrior-pride, for my mind was back in that
strange hiding-place, and in my ears was still the music of the voice of
her whom I had found there. A spell indeed as of witchcraft had she
cast over me; and now, as I walked among the triumphant warriors, I
seemed quite outside of their rejoicings. It might be witchcraft, I
told myself, but it was witchcraft that rose above the fear of death.

The plain beneath was covered with the blue cattle of the Bakoni, and,
huddled in groups, were the women captives, frightened and sad. Other
captives were there--men--and these had a set, still, stony look, for
they reckoned themselves as already dead. To these were added the
others we had brought down from the summit of the mountain--that
fortified mountain which Tauane had boasted was