They had arrived to present themselves in marriage to the prince. They are cousins of the queen, as she is a Zulu by birth] [Illustration: UMZULEK, A RESOURCEFUL AND INFLUENTIAL EXILE He is living in a territory set aside for him. On his right is Prince Bilakzi, who is soliciting his assistance for Sebuza in obtaining his throne] The witch-doctor gave some sort of a command, and from behind Buno's hut came ten of the most splendid savages I have ever seen. They were all indunas and wore the full costume of their rank. On their heads were great plumes and each carried his shield, knob-kerrie, and assegai. With steady tramp they passed by their dead king and lined up, facing his body, in front of the fire. No sooner were they in place than they gave the royal salute. Then they did something I had not seen before. With steady rythmic strokes they beat on their great shields with their knob-kerries. This lasted for only a moment, but it was like the throbbing of a heart--the heart of Swaziland, it seemed to me. When the hollow roar died, the chief witch-doctor stepped out and made an oration. We could not hear him very plainly. However, I caught a few phrases. "Indunas, great heroes of Swaziland," he shouted, illustrating his words with extravagant gestures and contortions, "You have been chosen of all our people to die with our king. There is not one present who does not envy you! Tens of thousands are here, and all covet the honor that is yours. "Buno, our great king, the saviour of Swaziland, has gone! Great indunas, you would not want to live without your peerless leader--life would mean nothing!" There was a lot more, but I did not get it. The oration must have lasted a good half hour, the condemned men standing like statues all the while. I did not understand the last remarks of the witch-doctor, but the instant he stopped the royal salute, repeated once, crashed out. Then the first of the ten indunas stepped out. He raised his shield and knob-kerrie above his head and saluted the dead king. Immediately came the "thunder of the shields." Every warrior in the entire crowd began striking his shield with his knob-kerrie. There was no staccato to the blows--rather a rubbing, pulling stroke that brought each blow out with repeated vibrations. In a few moments a cadence was set up and the strokes came all together at equal intervals. The effect was terrific; the air seemed to pulsate with the vibrations and it seemed to catch me right in the pit of the stomach. The steady drumming slowly rose in a crescendo, and then the induna turned from the king's body and with one far-flung motion threw his shield and arms into the fire. Next he turned, threw his head back, and faced the body. Slowly and firmly he stepped forward until he stood beside his dead king.