So the Umpondwana made ready to fight, not because they loved it, but because they must, for they knew that no humbleness would help them in face of the spears of Dingaan. The cattle were driven into the centre kraal, and great supplies of grass and green corn were cut to feed them. Except for one manhole the pass leading to the top of the mountain was closed, and the schanzes, or walls, which protected the mouth of the river that welled from the hillside between the eastern ridges were strengthened and garrisoned. Here, as Sihamba knew, was their weak place, for this river flowed out beneath the impregnable precipices of rock, and to it they must look for their main supply of water, since, although the spring upon the tableland, if husbanded, would suffice for a supply to the tribe, it was not sufficient for the cattle. It was for this reason that Sihamba wished to turn the kine loose and let the Zulus capture them if they would, for she knew that then they could never take the mountain or harm a hair of the head of one of its inhabitants. But the Umpondwana were greedy, and would not consent to the loss of their cattle, forgetting that cattle are of no value to dead men. They said that they could very well defend the schanzes which surrounded the source of the river, and that from it sufficient water could be carried to keep the beasts alive, even if the siege were long. “As you will,” answered Sihamba shortly, “but see that you do defend them when the Zulu warriors leap upon the walls, for if you fail then you will lose cattle and life together.” All this time, according to her daily custom, Suzanne had been seated in her chair of rock upon the highest point of the precipice looking for that help which never came. Presently, as she watched with sad eyes, far away upon the plain she saw a cloud of dust in which moved and shone the sheen of spears. Now she climbed down from her seat, and ran to seek Sihamba, whom she found surrounded by her councillors. “What is it, Swallow?” asked the little chieftainess looking up, though already she had guessed the answer. Suzanne told her, adding, “Who can it be that travels towards the mountain with so great a force?” “Lady Swallow,” said Sihamba gravely, “it is an army of the Zulus sent by Dingaan to destroy us, and with them marches Bull-Head.” And she told her of the trick of the cattle and of what the messengers had seen. Suzanne heard, and her face grew white as the goatskin cloak she wore. “Then at last the long story is at an end,” she faltered, for she knew the terrible prowess of the Zulus, and how none could stand before their onslaught. “Yes, of that impi there is an end,” answered Sihamba proudly, “if these children of mine will but take heart and fight as their fathers fought. Fear not, Lady Swallow, nothing that has not wings can storm the mountain of Umpondwana.”