Umbopa rose to the occasion, and with something as nearly resembling a grin as I have ever seen on his dignified face he handed me the gun.
“It is here, O Lord of Lords,” he said with a deep obeisance.
Now just before I had asked for the rifle I had perceived a little klipspringer antelope standing on a mass of rock about seventy yards away, and determined to risk the shot.
“Ye see that buck,” I said, pointing the animal out to the party before me. “Tell me, is it possible for man born of woman to kill it from here with a noise?”
“It is not possible, my lord,” answered the old man.
“Yet shall I kill it,” I said quietly.
The old man smiled. “That my lord cannot do,” he answered.
I raised the rifle and covered the buck. It was a small animal, and one which a man might well be excused for missing, but I knew that it would not do to miss.
I drew a deep breath, and slowly pressed on the trigger. The buck stood still as a stone.
Bang! thud! The antelope sprang into the air and fell on the rock dead as a door nail.
A groan of simultaneous terror burst from the group before us.
“If you want meat,” I remarked coolly, “go fetch that buck.”
The old man made a sign, and one of his followers departed, and presently returned bearing the klipspringer. I noticed with satisfaction that I had hit it fairly behind the shoulder. They gathered round the poor creature’s body, gazing at the bullet-hole in consternation.
“Ye see,” I said, “I do not speak empty words.”
There was no answer.
“If ye yet doubt our power,” I went on, “let one of you go stand upon that rock that I may make him as this buck.”
None of them seemed at all inclined to take the hint, till at last the king’s son spoke.
“It is well said. Do thou, my uncle, go stand upon the rock. It is but a buck that the magic has killed. Surely it cannot kill a man.”
The old gentleman did not take the suggestion in good part. Indeed, he seemed hurt.
“No! no!” he ejaculated hastily, “my old eyes have seen enough. These are wizards, indeed. Let us bring them to the king. Yet if any should wish a further proof, let him stand upon the rock, that the magic tube may speak with him.”
There was a most general and hasty expression of dissent.
“Let not good magic be wasted on our poor bodies,” said one; “we are satisfied. All the witchcraft of our people cannot show the like of this.”
“It is so,” remarked the old gentleman, in a tone of intense relief; “without any doubt it is so. Listen, children of the Stars, children of the shining Eye and the movable Teeth, who roar out in thunder, and slay from afar. I am Infadoos, son of Kafa, once king of the Kukuana people. This youth is Scragga.”
“He nearly scragged me,” murmured Good.
“Scragga, son of Twala, the great king—Twala, husband of a thousand wives, chief and lord paramount of the Kukuanas, keeper of the great Road, terror of his enemies, student of the Black Arts, leader of a hundred thousand warriors, Twala the One-eyed, the Black, the Terrible.”
“So,” said I superciliously, “lead us then to Twala. We do not talk with low people and underlings.”
“It is well, my lords, we will lead you; but the way is long. We are hunting three days’ journey from the place of the king. But let my lords have patience, and we will lead them.”
“So be it,” I said carelessly; “all time is before us, for we do not die. We are ready, lead on. But Infadoos, and thou Scragga, beware! Play us no monkey tricks, set for us no foxes’ snares, for before your brains of mud have thought of them we shall know and avenge. The light of the transparent eye of him with the bare legs and the half-haired face shall destroy you, and go through your land; his vanishing teeth shall affix themselves fast in you and eat you up, you and your wives and children; the magic tubes shall argue with you loudly, and make you as sieves. Beware!”
This magnificent address did not fail of its effect; indeed, it might almost have been spared, so deeply were our friends already impressed with our powers.
The old man made a deep obeisance, and murmured the words, “Koom Koom,” which I afterwards discovered was their royal salute, corresponding to the Bayéte of the Zulus, and turning, addressed his followers. These at once proceeded to lay hold of all our goods and chattels, in order to bear them for us, excepting only the guns, which they would on no account touch. They even seized Good’s clothes, that, as the reader may remember, were neatly folded up beside him.
He saw and made a dive for them, and a loud altercation ensued.
“Let not my lord of the transparent Eye and the melting Teeth touch them,” said the old man. “Surely his slave shall carry the things.”
“But I want to put ’em on!” roared Good, in nervous English.
Umbopa translated.
“Nay, my lord,” answered Infadoos, “would my lord cover up his beautiful white legs (although he is so dark Good has a singularly white skin) from the eyes of his servants? Have we offended my lord that he should do such a thing?”
Here I nearly exploded with laughing; and meanwhile one of the men started on with the garments.
“Damn it!” roared Good, “that black villain has got my trousers.”
“Look here, Good,” said Sir Henry; “you have appeared in this country in a certain character, and you must live up to it. It will never do for you to put on trousers again. Henceforth you
