Adventure stories; Africa -- Fiction; Hunting guides -- Fiction; Quatermain, Allan (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“Macumazahn, trust me,” he whispered in my ear in the Sisutu tongue,
which the Zulus did not understand. “Trust me; kneel on the grass
before me, and when I strike at you with the spear, roll over like one
dead; then, when you hear my voice again, get up. Trust me—it is your
only hope.”
Having no choice I nodded my head in assent, though I had not the
faintest idea of what he was about to do. The tumult lessened somewhat,
and once more the warriors drew back.
“Great White Spirit—Spirit of victory,” said Indaba-zimbi, addressing
me aloud, and covering his eyes with his hand, “hear me and forgive me.
These children are blind with folly, and think thee mortal because thou
hast dealt death upon a mortal who dared to stand against thee. Deign
to kneel down before me and let me pierce thy heart with this spear,
then when I call upon thee, arise unhurt.”
I knelt down, not because I wished to, but because I must. I had not
overmuch faith in Indaba-zimbi, and thought it probable that he was in
truth about to make an end of me. But really I was so worn out with
fears, and the horrors of the night and day had so shaken my nerves,
that I did not greatly care what befell me. When I had been kneeling
thus for about half a minute Indaba-zimbi spoke.
“People of the Umtetwa, children of T’Chaka,” he said, “draw back a
little way, lest an evil fall on you, for now the air is thick with
ghosts.”
They drew back a space, leaving us in a circle about twelve yards in
diameter.
“Look on him who kneels before you,” went on Indaba-zimbi, “and listen
to my words, to the words of the witch-finder, the words of the
rain-maker, Indaba-zimbi, whose fame is known to you. He seems to be a
young man, does he not? I tell you, children of the Umtetwa, he is no
man. He is the Spirit who gives victory to the white men, he it is who
gave them assegais that thunder and taught them how to slay. Why were
the Impis of Dingaan rolled back at the Blood River? Because _he_ was
there. Why did the Amaboona slay the people of Mosilikatze by the
thousand? Because _he_ was there. And so I say to you that, had I not
drawn him from the laager by my magic but three hours ago, you would
have been conquered—yes, you would have been blown away like the dust
before the wind; you would have been burnt up like the dry grass in the
winter when the fire is awake among it. Ay, because he had but been
there many of your bravest were slain in overcoming a few—a pinch of
men who could be counted on the fingers. But because I loved you,
because your chief Sususa is my half-brother—for had we not one
father?—I came to you, I warned you. Then you prayed me and I drew the
Spirit forth. But you were not satisfied when the victory was yours,
when the Spirit, of all you had taken asked but one little thing—a
white child to take away and sacrifice to himself, to make the medicine
of his magic of——”
Here I could hardly restrain myself from interrupting, but thought
better of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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