Still I smoked on and took no notice.
At length, as I expected, Saduko grew weary of my silence and spoke. “These are men of the Amangwane tribe, Macumazahn; three hundred of them, all that Bangu left alive, for when their fathers were killed, the women escaped with some of the children, especially those of the outlying kraals. I have gathered them to be revenged upon Bangu, I who am their chief by right of blood.”
“Quite so,” I answered. “I see that you have gathered them; but do they wish to be revenged on Bangu at the risk of their own lives?”
“We do, white Inkoosi,” came the deep-throated answer from the three hundred.
“And do they acknowledge you, Saduko, to be their chief?”
“We do,” again came the answer. Then a spokesman stepped forward, one of the few grey-haired men among them, for most of these Amangwane were of the age of Saduko, or even younger.
“O Watcher-by-Night,” he said, “I am Tshoza, the brother of Matiwane, Saduko’s father, the only one of his brothers that escaped the slaughter on the night of the Great Killing. Is it not so?”
“It is so,” exclaimed the serried ranks behind him.
“I acknowledge Saduko as my chief, and so do we all,” went on Tshoza.
“So do we all,” echoed the ranks.
“Since Matiwane died we have lived as we could, O Macumazana; like baboons among the rocks, without cattle, often without a hut to shelter us; here one, there one. Still, we have lived, awaiting the hour of vengeance upon Bangu, that hour which Zikali the Wise, who is of our blood, has promised to us. Now we believe that it has come, and one and all, from here, from there, from everywhere, we have gathered at the summons of Saduko to be led against Bangu and to conquer him or to die. Is it not so, Amangwane?”
“It is, it is so!” came the deep, unanimous answer, that caused the stirless leaves to shake in the still air.
“I understand, O Tshoza, brother of Matiwane and uncle of Saduko the chief,” I replied. “But Bangu is a strong man, living, I am told, in a strong place. Still, let that go; for have you not said that you come out to conquer or to die, you who have nothing to lose; and if you conquer, you conquer; and if you die, you die and the tale is told. But supposing that you conquer. What will Panda, King of the Zulus, say to you, and to me also, who stir up war in his country?”
Now the Amangwane looked behind them, and Saduko cried out:
“Appear, messenger from Panda the King!”
Before his words had ceased to echo I saw a little, withered man threading his way between the tall, gaunt forms of the Amangwane. He came and stood before me, saying:
“Hail, Macumazahn. Do you remember me?”
“Aye,” I answered, “I remember you as Maputa, one of Panda’s indunas.”
“Quite so, Macumazahn; I am Maputa, one of his indunas, a member of his Council, a captain of his impis [that is, armies], as I was to his brothers who are gone, whose names it is not lawful that I should name. Well, Panda the King has sent me to you, at the request of Saduko there, with a message.”
“How do I know that you are a true messenger?” I asked. “Have you brought me any token?”
“Aye,” he answered, and, fumbling under his cloak, he produced something wrapped in dried leaves, which he undid and handed to me, saying:
“This is the token that Panda sends to you, Macumazahn, bidding me to tell you that you will certainly know it again; also that you are welcome to it, since the two little bullets which he swallowed as you directed made him very ill, and he needs no more of them.”
I took the token, and, examining it in the moonlight, recognised it at once.
It was a cardboard box of strong calomel pills, on the top of which was written: “Allan Quatermain, Esq.: One only to be taken as directed.” Without entering into explanations, I may state that I had taken “one as directed,” and subsequently presented the rest of the box to King Panda, who was very anxious to “taste the white man’s medicine.”