“Then I wish you and your headmen had killed them before we met those buffalo, Umbezi,” I groaned, for my ribs were paining me very much. “Send Saduko and Sikauli here; I would thank them for saving my life.”
So they came, next morning, I think, and I thanked them warmly enough.
“There, there, Baas,” said Scowl, who was literally weeping tears of joy at my return from delirium and coma to the light of life and reason; not tears of Mameena’s sort, but real ones, for I saw them running down his snub nose, that still bore marks of the eagle’s claws. “There, there, say no more, I beseech you. If you were going to die, I wished to die, too, who, if you had left it, should only have wandered through the world without a heart. That is why I jumped into the pool, not because I am brave.”
When I heard this my own eyes grew moist. Oh, it is the fashion to abuse natives, but from whom do we meet with more fidelity and love than from these poor wild Kafirs that so many of us talk of as black dirt which chances to be fashioned to the shape of man?
“As for myself, Inkoosi,” added Saduko, “I only did my duty. How could I have held up my head again if the bull had killed you while I walked away alive? Why, the very girls would have mocked at me. But, oh, his skin was tough. I thought that assegai would never get through it.”
Observe the difference between these two men’s characters. The one, although no hero in daily life, imperils himself from sheer, dog-like fidelity to a master who had given him many hard words and sometimes a flogging in punishment for drunkenness, and the other to gratify his pride, also perhaps because my death would have interfered with his plans and ambitions in which I had a part to play. No, that is a hard saying; still, there is no doubt that Saduko always first took his own interests into consideration, and how what he did would reflect upon his prospects and repute, or influence the attainment of his desires. I think this was so even when Mameena was concerned–at any rate, in the beginning–although certainly he always loved her with a single-hearted passion that is very rare among Zulus.
Presently Scowl left the hut to prepare me some broth, whereon Saduko at once turned the talk to this subject of Mameena.
He understood that I had seen her. Did I not think her very beautiful?
“Yes, very beautiful,” I answered; “indeed, the most beautiful Zulu woman I have ever seen.”
And very clever–almost as clever as a white?
“Yes, and very clever–much cleverer than most whites.”
And–anything else?
“Yes; very dangerous, and one who could turn like the wind and blow hot and blow cold.”
“Ah!” he said, thought a while, then added: “Well, what do I care how she blows to others, so long as she blows hot to me.”
“Well, Saduko, and does she blow hot for you?”
“Not altogether, Macumazahn.” Another pause. “I think she blows rather like the wind before a great storm.”
“That is a biting wind, Saduko, and when we feel it we know that the storm will follow.”
“I dare say that the storm will follow, Inkoosi, for she was born in a storm and storm goes with her; but what of that, if she and I stand it out together? I love her, and I had rather die with her than live with any other woman.”
“The question is, Saduko, whether she would rather die with you than live with any other man. Does she say so?”
“Inkoosi, Mameena’s thought works in the dark; it is like a white ant in its tunnel of mud. You see the tunnel which shows that she is thinking, but you do not see the thought within. Still, sometimes, when she believes that no one beholds or hears her”–here I bethought me of the young lady’s soliloquy over my apparently senseless self–“or when she is surprised, the true thought peeps out of its tunnel. It did so the other day, when I pleaded with her after she had heard that I killed the buffalo with the cleft horn.