it shall drink deeper yet.
Have I read these men aright, Allan?"

"Not so ill," I answered.

"I thought it," she said with a musical laugh, "although at this place I
rust and grow dull like an unused sword. Now you would rest. Go--all of
you. To-morrow you and I will talk alone. Fear nothing for your safety;
you are watched by my slaves and I watch my slaves. Until to-morrow,
then, farewell. Go now, eat and sleep, as alas we all must do who linger
on this ball of earth and cling to a life we should do well to lose.
Billali, lead them hence," and she waved her hand to signify that the
audience was ended.

At this sign Hans, who apparently was still much afraid, rose from his
knees and literally bolted through the curtains. Robertson followed him.
Umslopogaas stood a moment, drew himself up and lifting the great axe,
cried _Bayete_, after which he too turned and went.

"What does that word mean, Allan?" she asked.

I explained that it was the salutation which the Zulu people only give
to kings.

"Did I not say that savages are often the best?" she exclaimed in a
gratified voice. "The white man, your companion, gave me no salute, but
the Black One knows when he stands before a woman who is royal."

"He too is of royal blood in his own land," I said.

"If so, we are akin, Allan."

Then I bowed deeply to her in my best manner and rising from her couch
for the first time she stood up, looking very tall and commanding, and
bowed back.

After this I went to find the others on the further side of the
curtains, except Hans, who had run down the long narrow hall and through
the mats at its end. We followed, marching with dignity behind Billali
and between the double line of guards, who raised their spears as we
passed them, and on the further side of the mats discovered Hans, still
looking terrified.

"Baas," he said to me as we threaded our way through the court of
columns, "in my life I have seen all kinds of dreadful things and faced
them, but never have I been so much afraid as I am of that white witch.
Baas, I think that she is the devil of whom your reverend father, the
Predikant, used to talk so much, or perhaps his wife."

"If so, Hans," I answered, "the devil is not so black as he is painted.
But I advise you to be careful of what you say as she may have long
ears."

"It doesn't matter at all what one says, Baas, because she reads
thoughts before they pass the lips. I felt her doing it there in that
roo