“_Ja_, baas,” answered the Hottentot between his chattering teeth, “there is an end. You did not put in enough powder. Presently we shall all be dead.”
“Not quite,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Hans, load the rifle, load it quick. Before they die there shall be another king in Zululand.”
“Good, good!” he exclaimed as he loaded desperately. “Let us take that fat pig of a Dingaan with us. Shoot him in the stomach, baas; shoot him in the stomach, so that he too may learn what it is to die slowly. Then cut my throat, here is my big knife, and afterwards cut your own, if you have not time to load the gun again and shoot yourself, which is easier.”
I nodded, for it was in my mind to do these things. Never could I stand still and see those poor Boers killed, and I knew that Marie would look after herself.
Meanwhile, the Zulus were coming towards me, and the soldiers who had charge of them were driving up Marais’s people, making pretence to thrust them through with their assegais, and shouting at them as men do at cattle. Both parties arrived in the depression at about the same time, but remained separated by a little space. In this space lay the corpses of the murdered men and the two dead _aasvogels_, with Hans and myself standing opposite to them.
“Well, little Son of George,” puffed Dingaan, “you have lost your bet, for you did but kill two vultures out of five with your magic, which was good as far as it went, but not good enough. Now you must pay, as I would have paid had you won.”
Then he stretched out his hand, and issued the dreadful order of “_Bulala amalongu!_” (Kill the white people). “Kill them one by one, that I may see whether they know how to die, all except Macumazahn and the tall girl, whom I keep.”
Some of the soldiers made a dash and seized the Vrouw Prinsloo, who was standing in front of the party.
“Wait a little, King,” she called out as the assegais were lifted over her. “How do you know that the bet is lost? He whom you call Macumazahn hit that last vulture. It should be searched for before you kill us.”
“What does the old woman say?” asked Dingaan, and Halstead translated slowly.
“True,” said Dingaan. “Well, now I will send her to search for the vulture in the sky. Come back thence, Fat One, and tell us if you find it.”