ng's eyes, in the
King's glance which meant death, and nothing less. And then old Masuka
advanced to take their place.

His little bowed, shrivelled figure was undecked by gauds of any kind,
but his eyes were keen and bright, and searching as ever. He was
attended by three others--young men of our own people, whom the King had
appointed to him to be instructed in his magic; for Umzilikazi was too
clear-sighted to arouse disaffection among our own people by leaving the
chief magic entirely in the hands of strangers. Besides, he wanted to
set up a rival band to that of Notalwa.

"Hearken!" said the King. "This morning a man was found who had died in
blood in the night--had died in blood under the very shadow of where I
sit. Who is he that arrogates to himself the right to slay where that
right is of one alone? Who dares take life without my decree? Here has
been _tagati_ of the most deadly kind!"

These words were taken up by a trumpet voiced _imbonga_, and rolled
forth aloud, that all the nation might hear. And the people heard, and
the shivering that went through those crouched circles was as the
shaking of the forest leaves just before a gale.

[Note: an imbonga is a professional "praiser," or herald.]

"Find him!" said the King, with a sweep of the hand.

The three who were learners of Masuka's sorcery sprang to their feet,
and began to intone the witch-finding chant. Then they ran softly
hither and thither, striking the ground with their tail-tipped wands.
But the old Mosutu himself remained rigid and motionless where he had
first been standing.

The three witch-finders, running lightly, entered among the people, for
lanes had been left between the densely-serried ranks. As they advanced
down these a dread silence lay upon all. Tens of thousands of eyeballs
rolled white in chill apprehension. There alone, gloomy, and with
lowering brow, sat the King, terrible in his fell and destroying wrath.
Even I, who was in the counsels of the Great Great One, felt a shiver of
awe; remembering, too, the words my father had let fall in the conclave
of the midnight conspirators.

Down the ranks went the witch-finders, chanting, and twirling their
rods. And behind them came a grim and fearsome company--the whole body
of the slayers, namely--the fierce light of expectancy upon their dread
faces, as each held his thong ready, grasping in a cruel grip the heavy
knobstick.

Ha! The witch-finders have halted, and