rible
fist, until able to get in a telling blow. This was done--and the
powerful ruffian dropped in his turn, more than half-stunned, the blood
pouring from a wound in the temple. Did that satisfy them? Not a bit
of it. They then and there set to work and belaboured his prostrate
form with their sticks, uttering a strident hiss with each resounding
thud. In short, they very nearly and literally beat him to a jelly--a
chastisement, indeed, which would probably have spelt death to the
ordinary man, and was destined to leave this one in a very sore state
for some time to come. Then, helping up their injured comrades, they
departed, leaving their victim to get himself round as best he could, or
not at all.

You will ask what was the motive for this savage act of retribution.
Some outrage on his part committed upon one of their womenkind? Or,
these were relatives of his own wives who had chosen to avenge his
ill-treatment of them? Neither.

In this instance Bully Rawson was destined to suffer for an offence of
which he was wholly innocent; to wit, the bursting of a gun which he had
traded to a petty chief who hailed from a distant part of the country--
for he did a bit of gun-running when opportunity offered. But the old
fool had rammed in a double charge--result--his arm blown off; and these
six were his sons resolved upon revenge. They dared not kill him--he
was necessary to far too powerful a chief for that--though they would
otherwise cheerfully have done so; wherefore they had brought with them
no deadly weapons, lest they should be carried away, and effectually
finish him off. Wherein lay one of life's little ironies. For his many
acts of villainy Bully Rawson was destined to escape. For one casualty
for which he was in no sense of the word responsible, he got hammered
within an inch of his life.

It must not be taken for granted that this ruffian was a fair specimen
or sample of the Zulu trader or up-country going man in general, for
such was by no means the case. But, on the principle of "black sheep in
every flock," it may be stated at once that in this particular flock
Bully Rawson was about the blackest of the black.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

WHAT HLABULANA REVEALED.

In the quadrangle, or courtyard, known as Ulundi Square, in the Royal
Hotel at Durban, two men sat talking. One we already know, the other, a
wiry, bronzed, and dark-bearded man of medium height, was known to his
acquaintance as