"H'm!" answered Haviland, musingly. "The more experience you gain of the interior, the more disinclined you are to say straight out that you disbelieve in anything. Now, that Spider tribe, if it exists at all-- and, mind you, I don't say it doesn't--would be a good deal further to the west than we are now. I don't think we have much to fear from it. But there's a far nastier crowd than that, and within tolerable striking distance, too. It's a Zulu-speaking tribe, not so very numerous, but occupying difficult country, and the very deuce of a fighting mob. Some say it's of direct Zulu origin, others that it originated in a split among the Wangoni down on the lakes. But I don't want to rub against it if I can help it. Ho, Kumbelwa!" he called. In response there came up a magnificent specimen of a man. His skin was of a dark rich copper colour, and save for a _mutya_ of cat's tails, he wore no clothing whatever. His finely shaped head was shaven, and crowned with the Zulu head-ring. In comparison with the inferior natives who constituted the carrying staff--though some of these were of powerful and muscular build--he looked like an emperor. "_Nkose_!" he cried, saluting, with right hand uplifted. Then Haviland, speaking in Zulu, questioned him at some length. The man professed but a scant knowledge with regard to the tribe under discussion. He could not even tell its name for certain. It was reputed to change its name with every new king, and he had heard that a new king had succeeded rather lately. He was said to be quite a young man, but very stern and merciless in his rule. It was said, too, that towards white men he entertained a most extraordinary hatred. Anyhow, more than one who had entered his country had never been known to come out again. He had made himself troublesome, too, to more than one exploring party. "Well, we'd better keep our eyes open, so as to give them a warm reception if they bother us," said Oakley, when this was translated. "I know, and that's why I'm not over-keen on this hippo-shoot when we strike the river," said Haviland. "Far better go without meat a little longer than get ourselves into a beastly unequal fight. And the banging of guns can be heard a deuce of a distance. We'll call Somala, and get his opinion." But the Arab had not much to add to the Zulu's information. Him, however, Oakley understood, and needed no translation. "Did you ever notice those two chaps; what an extraordinary family likeness there is between them?" said Haviland, as the two departed. "If you clapped a turban and long clothes on to Kumbelwa he'd pass for Somala's brother, and if you rigged out Somala in a _mutya_ and head-ring he'd pass for a Zulu. The same type of face exactly." "By Jove it is! Think there's a lot of Arab in the Zulu, then?"