“‘Slay, you war-whelps,’ cried Maiwa from the wall. ‘Are you afraid, you women, you chicken-hearted women! Strike home, or die like dogs! What—you give way! Follow me, children of Nala.’ And with one long cry she leapt from the wall as leaps a stricken antelope, and holding the spear poised rushed right into the thickest of the fray. The warriors saw her, and raised such a shout that it echoed like thunder against the mountains. They massed together, and following the flutter of her white robe crashed into the dense heart of the foe. Down went the Matuku before them like trees before a whirlwind. Nothing could stand in the face of such a rush as that. It was as the rush of a torrent bursting its banks. All along their line swept the wild desperate charge; and there, straight in the forefront of the battle, still waved the white robe of Maiwa. “Then they broke, and, stricken with utter panic, Wambe’s soldiers streamed away a scattered crowd of fugitives, while after them thundered the footfall of the victors. “The fight was over, we had won the day; and for my part I sat down upon a stone and wiped my forehead, thanking Providence that I had lived to see the end of it. Twenty minutes later Nala’s warriors began to return panting. ‘Wambe’s soldiers had taken to the bush and the caves,’ they said, ‘where they had not thought it safe to follow them,’ adding significantly, that many had stopped on the way. “I was utterly dazed, and now that the fight was over my energy seemed to have left me, and I did not pay much attention, till presently I was aroused by somebody calling me by my name. I looked up, and saw that it was the chief Nala himself, who was bleeding from a flesh wound in his arm. By his side stood Maiwa panting, but unhurt, and wearing on her face a proud and terrifying air. “‘They are gone, Macumazahn,’ said the chief; ‘there is little to fear from them, their heart is broken. But where is Wambe the chief?—and where is the white man thou camest to save?’ “‘I know not,’ I answered. “Close to where we stood lay a Matuku, a young man who had been shot through the fleshy part of the calf. It was a trifling wound, but it prevented him from running away. “‘Say, thou dog,’ said Nala, stalking up to him and shaking his red spear in his face, ‘say, where is Wambe? Speak, or I slay thee. Was he with the soldiers?’ “‘Nay, lord, I know not,’ groaned the terrified man, ‘he fought not with us; Wambe has no stomach for fighting. Perchance he is in his kraal yonder, or in the cave behind the kraal,’ and he pointed to a small enclosure on the hillside, about four hundred yards to the right of where we were. “‘Let us go and see,’ said Nala, summoning his soldiers.” CHAPTER VIII. MAIWA IS AVENGED