assegais and small shield which each carried, and which should have been
dropped before coming into his camp, or at any rate, while addressing
himself. But the Zulu is quick to recognise a blackguard and loth to
show him deference, and that this white man was an egregious blackguard
as white men went, these were perfectly well aware.

"I see you, _amadoda_," he answered shortly.

"He, there, has a message," said the first who had spoken, indicating
the only one of the three who was not head-ringed. "It has travelled
from Tegwini." [Durban.]

"Well, what is it?" rejoined the white man, shortly.

"It is here," said the unringed native, producing a small packet, which
he carried tied on to the end of a stick. Rawson snatched it eagerly.
It was a sort of oilskin enclosure.

"Now, what the devil can this be?" he said to himself, fairly puzzled.
But the mystery was soon solved. The wrappings being undone, revealed
nothing less commonplace that a mere letter--addressed to himself. Yet
why should the bronze hue of his forbidding countenance dull to a dirty
white as he stared at the envelope? It might have been because he knew
that writing well, and had cherished the fond delusion that the writer
hadn't the ghost of an idea as to his own whereabouts. What then?
Well, the writer of that letter had power to hang him.

He remembered to give the Zulus snuff out of a large box which he always
carried, then while they sat down leisurely to enjoy the same, he tore
open the envelope, and that with hands which trembled somewhat. The
communication, however, was brevity itself. Thus it ran:

"A friend of mine--name Wyvern--is going into your part, even if he is
not already there. Take care of him. Do you hear? _Take care of
him_.

"Warren."

Rawson stared at the words while he read them again and again, "Take
care of him." Oh, yes, he would do that, he thought to himself with a
hideous laugh. Then he fell to wondering what sort of a man this object
of Warren's solicitude might be--whether, in fact, he would prove an
easy one to "take care of." Well, that, of course, events would show.
Anyway, what was certain was that Warren's wishes had to be attended to
by him, Bully Rawson.

Turning to the Zulus he asked about news. Was there any?

Not any, they said. The country was getting more and more disturbed
because the English Government could not make up its mind. It made one
arrangement to-day, and ano