Scarcely had the sentence been uttered, and the Kaffir had arisen, without a murmur, for it to be put into execution, than Mr Ferguson, suddenly quitting my side, walked, erect and unhesitatingly, up to Metilulu. Guessing his intent, and fearful of the consequences, I, beseeching hot-brained Jack to keep back, hurried after him. On drawing near I found I was correct in my surmise. The young missionary, in earnest, eloquent terms, was pleading the prisoner's cause, and praying for a commutation of the sentence. Metilulu looked and listened in silent astonishment; but, as I anxiously marked his features, I fancied they gradually assumed a pleased, friendly expression, quite the reverse of anger at being interfered with. As I came up Mr Ferguson was saying-- "You, Metilulu the great!--you, the recognised mighty Chief of the numerous tribes dwelling in this vast and beautiful land of Caffraria-- has not your victory been complete? Has not but a few hours back triumph been given you over those who but lately would have made you captive? Why, then, should one so favoured stain the day of rejoicing by condemning to a horrible death, for a slight offence, one of those warriors to whose bravery, to whose devotion, he partly owes that triumph? Truly you are strong, you are courageous, but one arm alone could not have crushed the tribe of Kabela. You had need of warriors, and you found them, brave, willing, and submissive. Surely, then, noble Metilulu, you will let your hand dispense mercy as well as justice. This is no time to speak of the power of Heaven and the Rewarder of all great deeds, for the ground of your heart has as yet been prepared by no refreshing dews; but all grand souls must recognise the mighty power of mercy, and surely you will forgive this man in honour of the day of victory, if for nothing else." Mr Ferguson finishing, earnestly, respectfully waited a reply, when, thinking my turn had come to put in a word for the poor fellow, I hurried forward, and kneeling, according to Kaffir custom, said-- "Noble Metilulu, if my friend's prayers to save this warrior have not had sufficient weight with you, then let mine be added to his. Let him be spared; extend your hand in mercy towards him. It is the white men who beseech your clemency; for their sakes grant it." Metilulu was silent a moment; then replied, "You white men are a strange people, yet I have listened to your words with pleasure; you are soft-hearted, but you are friends to the Kaffir. Umatula," he added, turning to the warrior, "I reverse your sentence--you may live. These, my friends, have interceded for you; thank them, not me, as it is because of them that I pardon you. Live, and show by future deeds your sorrow for your past crime." His dusky face beaming with delight, Umatula bowed low till his forehead touched the ground before Metilulu--afterwards to us--then, starting up, proudly grasped his shield and assagais, exclaiming--