Although there are no marriage rites beyond payment for the wife, there are very strict customs in regard to widows. If the deceased husband is an induna of importance or a connection of the royal family, it is customary for the king to take his pick of the widows. If, however, he has no interest in them, the nearest male relation who can afford to keep them inherits as many as he wishes. Of course, when a husband dies all his wives shave their heads in token of mourning. As they have trained their hair to grow in a sort of pyramid, the hair is shaved clean up to this structure. Daughters of the dead man have their hair shaved right off; if they are already wives, this does not apply, since the claim of the husband is greater than that of any other relative. We did not pay our usual visit to Tzaneen the day Sebuza married his first installment of wives. Instead, Tuys and I remained in camp planning some way to accomplish our mission and my companions made good their threat to learn something first-hand about Swazi life. Next morning trouble of another kind occurred. A government messenger arrived with a communication for me. He had located me at Zombode, where they told him that I had gone on to Lebombo. This messenger was a Swazi induna with six warriors, and he carried himself with a good deal of swank. Evidently he was impressed with his importance. I know he snubbed Sibijaan, and my boy was breathing fire when he came to announce this arrival. The messenger waited for me in front of the tent, with his warriors drawn up behind him. It was quite a military turnout, and he saluted me with gravity and impressiveness. Across one shoulder he had a small despatch-case on which were the arms of Great Britain in well-polished brass. From this he took an official looking envelope and handed it to me with a flourish. It was a communication from His Majesty's High Commissioner for Swaziland, and it "begged most respectfully to call to your attention" the fact that I had passed through Mbabane without acquainting the government officials with the details of my expedition into British territory. At once I realized my mistake, and could have kicked myself for not calling on the Commissioner and telling him about my project. I knew how these British officials work. First they are punctiliously polite and request information. If they do not get it speedily, they remain polite but make certain definite demands. If still unsatisfied, they become annoyed in a polite manner and take "proper measures." These latter oftentimes consist of a "flying column," which makes it decidedly uncomfortable for the object of their well-bred attentions.