Now as old Untuswa ended, the other two Zulus--who had been intently,
eagerly, listening throughout--never interrupting, though uttering an
emphatic murmur of assent or astonishment now and again, fell to
discussing this tale they had heard--the Tale of the White Shield. They
compared it with other traditions of magic feats and magic arms, wholly
heroic and three parts mythical. But the old follower of Umzilikazi
stood aloof with a good-humoured, yet pitying, kind of smile. He had
other stories, he more than hinted; for this stirring epic which he had
just narrated covered a time which was to his life as less than the
blade of an assegai is to its whole length.
Then indeed, I, the stranger and the civilised, felt a growing
compunction that time--and other things--forbade further dalliance amid
the wild mountain haunts of these genuinely interesting barbarians, for
from where we sat to Kambtila, whither the wagon had proceeded, was a
far cry at that time of night; nor was the way better known to me than
any other road I had never travelled before, and it was already growing
dusk. Wherefore my steed, grazing hard by, was caught and saddled, and
the splendid old veteran of a hundred fights, stood holding my stirrup
in his courteous Zulu manner, and thus with hearty farewells we parted.
The darkness drew down, curtaining the grey cliffs above with shadowy
gloom, and now lights twinkled forth from the little eyrie-like kraal,
and as I slanted down the steep side of the mountain I could still see
the dark forms of the three warriors, could hear the quivering rattle of
assegai-hafts and the deep bass of voices, as they took their way
homeward, half-hidden among the rocks and long grass.
So, too, did I take mine, reflecting on the completeness of this grand
savage epic--the Tale of the White Shield; also of that other I had
heard from the same narrator. What tales they were! What deeds, too,
which most of these quiet-looking, pleasant-featured, courtly-mannered
savages could tell of if they chose! dramas hardly credible as fitting
in with the latter quarter of this prosaic nineteenth century. And I
marvelled exceedingly--not for the first time--over the boundless
stupidity of certain Britons of the denser sort, who in official or
private capacity could move among such for a greater or lesser period of
time, and yet bring away no more of an impression than that of a lot of
"blacks" who wore precious little clothing and were not eager to learn
the arts of "civilisation."