"The dark places of the earth are full
Of the habitations of cruelty."
_Psalm_ lxxiv.
"Whose graves are set in the sides of the pit."
_Ezekiel_ XXXII, 23.
_The Death of the Chief_.
The old chief of the Amagamedse tribe lay dying in his hut. It was a
warm summer's evening, with a sense of moisture on the almost silent
breeze, which was borne from the other side of the valley, over which a
slight thunder-storm had passed.
Umsoala, the chief, lay on a mat under which some dry grass had been
spread to ease his loosened bones. He was partially propped against the
body of old Dogolwana, his faithful and tried attendant. Dogolwana sat
with his left arm around his beloved master's waist. He had bravely
sustained for a long time a painfully strained position.
Sitting silently on the ground, against the circular wall of the hut,
were a number of old men and a few women, all clad in blankets, their
knees drawn up to their chins. Between the centre-pole and the dying
man sat a young woman, who held a little boy of about five years of age
in her arms. On a log of wood, near the dying man's feet, sat the
Magistrate of the district and the District Surgeon. They had been
hurriedly sent for on the previous day when the paralytic stroke, which
was putting a sudden period to the old chief's existence, had fallen.
The dying chief was a man of enormous build. He was covered by a
blanket to the middle, but his trunk and arms, gaunt and wrinkled with
age, were bare. His chest did not heave, as he was breathing from the
diaphragm. His face was grey and shrunken, and but for the eyes, which
were bright and lively, one might have almost thought him already dead.
After his lips had been moistened with water brought by the young woman
in a cleft calabash, the chief spoke, his voice at first broken and
trembling, but gaining steadiness and volume under the stimulus of
excitement as he proceeded:
"I am dying alone... alone... for a man is alone when his children
desert him. Where are my sons? Have they not been sent for?"
Old Dogolwana replied in a low tone:
"Yes, my chief and father."
"My sons, for whose sakes I have striven, leave me lonely at the hour of
my death. There is Songoza, my `Great Son,' whom I have asked the
Government to recognise as chief in my place. I made him rich and now
he is poor. I filled his kraal with cattle, and he has filled his huts
with women until to-day his kraal stands empty. There is Gonyolo,
eldest son of my right hand. I gave him the cattle of his house last
year and told him to keep his mother in comfort till she died. One by
one the cattle are driven to the village and sold for brandy. They tell
me his mother has to go to a neighbouring kraal to beg for a drink of
milk. When I went to visit Bawela a few months ago, I found him drunk
with beer. He and his friends mocked me to my face. The bones of
cattle were strewn around the huts, and a fat cow had just been
slaughtered. And Philip, that I sent to school and kept there until he
had learned nearly as much as a Magistrate--does he not ride around
amongst the people telling them not to listen to my words? Nomtsheke--
Zoduba and the others--all children, though men in years. And now I am
near my death, and none but this poor little Gqomisa is near me. Come
here, boy."
The mother half arose and pushed forward the little boy, who shrank back
at first; then crouching down on his face and knees at his father's
side, he began to cry.
Old Dogolwana seemed to divine what the old chief wanted. He lifted the
powerless arm from the elbow, and let the hand rest on the back of the
crouching child.
After another sip of water, Umsoala recommenced speaking. He now
addressed the Magistrate:
"You have always been a father to me and to my people, and your coming
now makes my heart lighter. We have known each other for many years,
and the knowledge has brought trust. This little boy Gqomisa is my
youngest child. There sits his mother Notemba, the daughter of
Dogolwana. I wish to tell you, so that all may know, that the herd of
black cattle here at my `great place' belongs to Gqomisa, and is left in
charge of his mother, old Dogolwana, and Dogolwana's son Kele. I have
paid out their shares of cattle to Songoza and to all my other sons, and
if they should try to take what belongs to this boy, I want the strength
of the Government to shield him from wrong. Will you promise to protect
him?"
"I will protect him," replied the Magistrate.
"He is such a little child. It is true he has Dogolwana, and Kele who
is the bravest and strongest man of my tribe, to protect him, but his
enemies will be many. I ask the Government, in its strength, to stand
on his side. I took the side of the Government when the Tshobeni raised
the war-cry in the great rebellion, and the Governor himself told me
that I dammed the flood of war, and that my services would never be
forgotten. I only ask that the Government may now keep my little boy
from harm."
"I will be his father," said the Magistrate.
The Magistrate and the District Surgeon had far to ride, so they arose
to take their leave of the dying chief. He was past all possibility of
recovery, and had only a few more hours to live. The Magistrate bent
down and spoke in a voice broken by emotion, holding the time Umsoala's
cold and lifeless hand.
"I leave you now because I must return to my duties. We will never meet
again unless it be in that land beyond the grave. We have worked
together all these years, and my heart is heavy at parting with you, my
old friend. I only hope that your son Songoza will follow in the ways
of his father."
"My son, my son. Why is he not here to hearken to my last words? Be a
father to Songoza. Advise him. He is young and headstrong--perhaps the
years may bring him wisdom. Bear with him for the sake of my people, to
whom I have tried to be a father."
"I will bear with a lot for your sake," said the Magistrate. "Now
good-bye, old friend. I know you are brave, and that you fear nothing
for yourself. You will be all right--wherever you go to. I will try
and influence Songoza for good, and I will protect your little son
Gqomisa. Good-bye... old friend..."
_The Sepulture_.
The old chief died next morning just as the day was breaking.
Immediately after his death the women and most of the men left the hut
and dispersed silently. No one was allowed to enter the hut in which
the body lay, and all inquiries were answered with the statement, "The
chief is very near death," or "Our father is about to draw his last
breath." As day wore on a round pit, three feet in diameter and about
six feet deep, was dug on a ridge which overhung the "great place."
Every one then knew that the chief was no more, but custom forbade the
fact of his death to be acknowledged.
At the same time another excavation was being secretly dug deep in the
heart of a large forest in an adjoining valley. This was the real
grave. Among the more important Bantu clans the last resting-place of
the chief is always kept a profound secret. The object of this is to
prevent an enemy obtaining the bones and, by their means, working magic
against the tribe.
In the middle of the night, the dead body, with the legs flexed and the
knees bound up to the chin, was borne out of the hut by Dogolwana and
three other old men. It was carried by means of two poles between which
it was slung after the manner of a sedan chair. Avoiding the footpaths,
they hurried the dead chief up the side of the mountain, and then
plunged into the forest, stumbling over rocks and dead trees in their
course. The hoarse bark of the bush-bucks challenging each other echoed
across the ravine, the jackals yelled at the stars from the grassy
hill-tops, and the brown owls moaned from the tall yellow-wood trees.
Every now and then unseen forest creatures would rustle through the
undergrowth, or a frightened loorie flutter away, breaking its bright
plumage against the branches in the darkness. In the broken fringe of
cliff over the river-way a leopard made a dash at a troop of sleeping
baboons which, having heard the alarm-call of the sentinel, darted away
and escaped with hoarse roarings.
When the bearers paused to rest, as they frequently did, the forest
seemed full of awful whisperings. It contained the graves of the dead
chief's ancestors--secret places known to no living man. It seemed to
the bearers as if the spirits of the dead were abroad in the rustling
darkness, mustering to welcome a long-waited-for companion--a son and
subject made peer by the patent of death.
They found the open grave. A pit had been sunk, and a large,
dome-shaped excavation made in its side. Dogolwana had already been
chosen for the awful but honourable task of entering this chamber after
the body had been placed there, and finally disposing of the latter for
its long rest. The Kafirs have the most intense horror of a dead body,
and the man who enters the grave-chamber with a dead chief becomes a
chief himself immediately upon emerging--so highly is the dead esteemed.
The body of Umsoala was placed on a mat, in a sitting posture, facing
the "great place," where the herd of black cattle that he had loved so
well were kraaled every night. The left hand had been bound across the
breast, with the open palm inwards. The right hand and arm had been
allowed to stiffen in a flexed position, and in the hand a spear was
placed, the handle resting on the ground and the blade pointing upwards.
At his side were an earthen pot, a calabash, and a wooden pillow.
The face of the lateral excavation was then filled up with stones, the
builders saying the while in low tones: "Watch over us."
"Remember your people in the place to which you have gone."
"Do not forget that we are your children."
After the building up of the excavation was finished, the grave was
filled in with earth, and then bushes and twigs were strewn on it so as
to conceal as far as possible all signs of its existence. After this,
Dogolwana and his companions separated, and returned to the "great
place," each by a different course.
Just before day broke, a bright flame suddenly leaped to the sky--the
chief's hut had been set alight in several places at once. Soon a mass
of flame-shot smoke climbed into the still morning air, in the form of a
massive fiery column with an immense black capital.
When day broke, old Dogolwana and his companions could be seen just
completing the filling in of the other grave, which had been dug on the
ridge at the back of the "great place." Over it they piled heavy
stones, and afterwards they dragged bushes up and built a surrounding
kraal-fence. Within the enclosure thus formed cattle would be folded
for about two years. A small hut was built in the immediate vicinity,
and here the watchers of the grave took up their abode. According to
native custom these are authorised to beat and rob any stranger coming
near the grave. The persons of the watchers are sacred, and they are
not subject to actions at law, nor can they be put to death for any
crime during the period of their watching. The kraal surrounding the
grave is an inviolable sanctuary even for the worst criminals, and the
cattle folded there may never be killed, nor can their progeny be in any
way disposed of until the very last one of the original cattle has died.
_The Killing of Kele_.
In due course, Songoza was duly declared chief of the Amagamedse. In an
address to the assembled people, the Magistrate highly extolled the old
chief, and exhorted his successor to follow Umsoala's example. Songoza
was reticent; he stood with the other sons of the late chief around him,
and listened quietly to the Magistrate's words. The assembly dispersed
in silence. It was evident that the memory of the dead man was not held
in esteem. As a matter of fact he had of late years rendered himself
unpopular by leaning towards civilised methods and ideas, and
discouraging the grosser forms of superstition. Songoza was known to be
reactionary, but as the tribe would have acknowledged no one else,
Government was constrained to recognise him as his late father's
successor.
Two days afterwards, a messenger came hurrying in from old Dogolwana to
report that Songoza had swooped down and driven off the herd of black
cattle belonging to little Gqomisa. The Magistrate thereupon sent for
Songoza, who, after considerable pressure, consented to return them, so
they were restored, under police supervision, to old Dogolwana.
The country of the Amagamedse was a border territory, and just over its
bounds lay the country of the Unonclaba, an independent native state. A
few months after the death of Umsoala, Songoza began to profess great
friendship for Kele, the son of old Dogolwana. There took place no
function at Songoza's "great place" (each chief, on his accession,
chooses a "great place" for himself) to which Kele was not specially
invited, and several of the chief's cattle were assigned to him to milk,
according to the custom known as "'Nquoma."
Songoza arranged to add to his harem a girl of the Unondaba tribe, the
daughter of a petty chief who dwelt about ten miles from the border, and
when the first instalment of the "lobola" cattle were sent, Kele was one
of those selected to take charge of and deliver them. Three men besides
Kele were sent, namely, Pandule, Sogogo, and Rali.
Just about this time Songoza's mother, Manolie, became ill. She lay on
a mat and coughed. On the fourth day of her illness her pains became
very great, and she kept pressing her hand to her right side and saying
that there was fire within her body. After this she wandered in her
mind for several days. At intervals she partially regained her senses,
and then she kept calling to the chief, her son, to find out who had
bewitched her. So Songoza sent men with an ox to Hloba, a renowned
witch-doctor, who lived at Xabakaza, with a message asking him to "smell
out" the person who had bewitched Manolie.
Kele, with his three companions, started with the "lobola" cattle on the
day after the messengers went to Hloba. They crossed the border, and
slept at a kraal about five miles from the dwelling of the bride-elect.
Here a goat was killed for them, and they feasted late into the night.
Next morning they arose, lit a fire, and began cooking the remainder of
the goat's flesh in a pot.
They were sitting round the fire talking, when a man was seen
approaching. This turned out to be Xosa, one of Songoza's Indunas. His
arrival occasioned some surprise, and in response to an inquiry, he
stated that he was carrying a message from Songoza to the bride's
father. Just then, having caught Pandule's eye, he made a quick
movement with his lips, and dropped his gaze. After this, Rali stood up
and walked a short distance away to collect some fire-wood. Xosa
followed him, and said in a whisper:
"Manolie is dead, and Kele has been `smelt out;' Songoza has sent me to
tell you and the others to kill him."
Rali, having in mind Kele's great strength and courage, replied:
"Son of my father, how can we do it? He has his shield, spear, and
club, and some of us will surely die. Why did not the chief send a
larger party?"
"I do not know," replied Xosa, "but the order is that he is to be killed
at once before he returns over the border to within reach of the hand of
the Government."
"What plan do you think will be best?" asked Rali. "A blow from a club
would not be safe, for his hair is thick and his head-ring is heavy and
strong."
"Nevertheless, the club is the best," replied Xosa; "one can stand
behind him as he leans over the fire, and strike him just over and in
front of the ear below the head-ring, where the bone is thin."
Then they walked back to the fire with the wood, meaning to tell Pandule
and Sogogo as soon as an opportunity should offer.
Just afterwards Kele stood up and walked away, leaving his weapons
behind. Then Pandule and Sogogo were told. They were much astonished;
all knew that Kele was innocent. They discussed the best mode of
killing him. Pandule was very much against using the club, for fear of
an unskilful blow. Sogogo was a strong man and an expert fighter. So
it was finally decided that the spear should be the weapon, clubs
(amabunguza) being kept in readiness in case they should be required.
Xosa refused to help in the killing by using any weapon. He was not a
strong man, and he said that the chief had only told him to convey a
message to the others.
After a short time Kele returned, and again took his seat by the fire,
sitting on his heels. Sogogo stood up, yawned, stretched himself, and
took up his spear, which he pretended to sharpen on a stone. Pandule
and Rali also stood up. They took their clubs and began comparing them,
pretending to dispute as to the respective weights and workmanship.
Xosa then moved from where he was, and sat opposite Kele. These two
were now sitting with the fire and the pot of meat between them.
Then Pandule remarked that the meat must now be sufficiently cooked.
Sogogo continued: "You, Kele and Xosa, lift the pot from the fire so
that we can eat, and then proceed on our journey."
Rali added:
"Do not try and lift it by yourself, Xosa, for you are not strong
enough."
Xosa thereupon seized the pot by the rim on one side with both hands,
and Kele bent forward and did likewise. Then Sogogo, who stood ready,
with his right hand towards Kele's back, plunged the spear into Kele's
left side just below the arm-pit. Kele gave a roar and sprang up, but
Rali and Pandule struck him at the same time on the head and neck with
their clubs. He fell dead across the fire.
They then took the body and dragged it for a short distance down the
hill to a point where there were some large rocks. After this they
returned to the fire, and found Xosa busy cleaning the meat which, on
account of the overturning of the pot, was full of ashes.
Songoza sent a present of two oxen to the chief of the Unondaba with an
apology for having soiled the earth of his territory with the blood of a
wizard, and excusing himself on the ground that the unreasonableness of
the laws imposed by the white man prevented him from administering
justice in his own country. The Unondaba chief sent a message in reply,
to the effect that he fully approved of his brother's action, and
sympathised in the inconvenience caused by the vexatious restrictions
imposed by European government. He added that the Unondaba territory
was always at Songoza's disposal for similar operations.
Old Dogolwana and his wife were nearly mad with grief at Kele's death.
It was the thought of their responsibility in respect of little Gqomisa
that brought them to a condition of outward reasonableness. Kele's
widow and her little baby son came to dwell with the old people, and a
deadly revenge was sworn against the murderers of Kele.
_The Plot_.
After Kele's death old Dogolwana redoubled his care of little Gqomisa.
He and Notemba hardly ever let the child out of their sight. Every
night the little one's mat was unrolled between that of his protector
and the wall of the hut. Three of Dogolwana's grandsons--lads between
twelve and sixteen years of age--looked after the cattle. Another
widowed daughter-in-law, with the widow of Kele, cultivated the
maize-field.
Dogolwana was obliged to dissemble his hatred of Songoza, who, however,
disclaimed all complicity in the killing of Kele, and often visited the
late chief's "great place." No native, even under the Government, could
afford to defy the paramount chief. Dogolwana brooded over his intended
vengeance with deadly persistency. What form that vengeance was to
take, he had not been able to decide, but revenged he would be, so he
chewed the cud of implacable resentment, and bided his time.
Philip, the educated half-brother of little Gqomisa, often visited the
"great place," and he, as much as Songoza, was hated and feared by old
Dogolwana. Philip was a cold-natured, cunning man. He had dwelt, ever
since his father's death, at the kraal of Songoza, who was completely
under his influence.
The herd of black cattle, which numbered several hundred head, was ever
in the mind of Songoza, and Philip was continually reminding him that
only the life of little Gqomisa stood between him and his possession.
Songoza was poor--his former wealth squandered in purchasing fresh
wives. He already possessed upwards of twenty, for he endeavoured to
add every handsome girl he saw to his harem. In his sinister mind,
acted on by the evil influences of Philip, the wish for the little boy's
death soon ripened into a murderous resolve.
Songoza's chief wife Mahlokoza, a woman of considerable force of
character, was the only one of his wives who possessed any influence
over him, and her son Umkilwa, a boy of about seven years of age, was
the only being who inspired him with anything like affection. In his
way, Songoza loved this boy, who already gave evidence of possessing a
somewhat brutal nature.
Mahlokoza and Philip between them hatched out a plot against little
Gqomisa, and after all the details had been worked out, Songoza was
taken into their confidence. His stupidity would have rendered him
useless in the preliminary stages of the conspiracy.
About six months after Umsoala's death, in the winter, Mahlokoza's
second son, a child of three years of age, sickened and nearly died. As
the child recovered, Mahlokoza herself became ill, and the witch-doctor
was sent for. After the exercise of most powerful incantations he
announced that the sufferers had not been bewitched by any being of
flesh, but that some evilly-disposed, disembodied spirits, who held a
spite against the "great house," were plaguing them. There existed, he
officially declared to a large assemblage, one, and only one, possible
remedy. The chief must transfer his great wife and her children to the
"great place" of his late father, and there cause to be slaughtered by
him (the witch-doctor) a young black bull from the herd. This sacrifice
would attract the "imishologu," or ancestral spirits, who would rally
round the "great house," and drive away the inimical ghosts.
Old Dogolwana was obliged to agree to this, and even to assist at the
ceremonial, knowing as he full well did that some treachery was afoot
against little Gqomisa. Mahlokoza, after she and her children had been
sprinkled with the blood of the bull, declared herself much better, and
began making preparations for returning home at once. However, the
function was not yet at an end. The witch-doctor went through some
further most elaborate ritual, and then fell into a trance. On
awakening he declared to have again received a communication from the
spirits dwelling in the unseen, this time to the effect that the great
wife and her children were required to remain at the late chief's "great
place" for at least two weeks, at the end of which period the evil ones,
who dared not venture near so sacred a locality, would have left the
neighbourhood in disgust.
Here again old Dogolwana was obliged to submit. He now felt that
matters were developing rapidly, and that the crisis was approaching
fast. Mahlokoza and her two sons were assigned a hut next door to the
one occupied by little Gqomisa and his two guardians.
Trouble began on the very first day--just after the witch-doctor left
and the company dispersed--for Umkilwa and his younger brother fell upon
little Gqomisa with their small clubs, and mauled him cruelly before old
Dogolwana's wife, who was the only one near, could interfere. This was
added as a considerable item to the already heavy account debited
against Songoza and his house.
However, next day things went somewhat more smoothly. Three of the
black cows were assigned to Mahlokoza's hut for milking purposes, and a
supply of corn was delivered in baskets every day.
Philip became a constant visitor, and now and then Songoza called in
passing. One morning, about ten days after Mahlokoza's arrival, Songoza
and Philip arrived together. All the visitors were invited to partake
of beer in old Dogolwana's hut.
Kele's widow, Mamiekwa, was a silent little woman with very bright eyes.
She was continually hovering around Mahlokoza and the others, trying to
hear what they talked about, but hitherto she had been unable to
overhear anything.
On this occasion she announced her intention of spending the day in a
neighbouring forest seeking for medicinal roots, so she handed over her
baby to old Dogolwana's wife, asking her to look after it until evening.
She managed to whisper to old Dogolwana just before she left:
"Get them all in here again at sundown to drink beer."
Mamiekwa gave a hurried glance around to make sure she was not being
watched by any one, and then, instead of going to the forest, darted
into the hut occupied by Mahlokoza and her family.
Huts of the larger class generally have four poles fixed in the ground
and extending to the roof close to the wall on the side opposite the
door. These poles are connected by horizontal pieces of wood, across
which wattles are laid. Rude shelving, generally in two tiers, is thus
formed, and upon the shelves are kept skins, mats, bundles of dried
rushes, and other bulky articles. In the hut occupied by Mahlokoza the
upper shelf was piled high with rolls of matting. Mamiekwa nimbly
climbed up and lay down amongst these, which effectually concealed her.
Here she lay perfectly still, and hardly venturing to breathe.
After some little time, Songoza, Mahlokoza, and Philip came in.
Mahlokoza said to Philip:
"Sit at the door where you can see outside, so that no one can creep up
to listen. That owl-face Mamiekwa is always sneaking near, and I am
sure Dogolwana suspects."
Philip went and sat right in the doorway, and every now and then looked
out to either side.
"Is it settled that it is to happen to-morrow night?" asked Songoza.
"Yes," replied Philip; "and I shall stay here to see that all is
arranged. I must try and dispose of Mamiekwa. If I can manage it, I
will get her to sleep in the hut too."
Bit by bit the horrible conspiracy was unfolded. In the middle of the
following night, the door of Dogolwana's hut was to be fastened from the
outside, and then the hut was to be burnt with its inmates. Songoza
particularly wished the thing to be done in his absence, but Philip,
whilst agreeing to fasten the door some time after the inmates had gone
to sleep, insisted that Songoza's should be the hand to apply the fire.
Philip knew Songoza well, and did not desire to run the risk of being
made a scapegoat.
The day seemed very long to Mamiekwa stretched amongst the mats, and it
was with a keen sense of relief that she heard at sundown the voice of
old Dogolwana at the door saying that a pot of beer of a fresh brew,
which had risen splendidly, was waiting to be discussed, and that they
must be sure and bring the children to have some of it. Shortly
afterwards every one else left the hut, so she came down from her shelf.
After ascertaining that the coast was clear, she ran along the pathway
at the back of the kraal, and darted into the forest, whence she emerged
in a few moments, carrying some "mootie" (medicine) roots which she had
dug out, scraped, and hidden on the previous day.
That night she communicated what she had heard to old Dogolwana, his
wife, and Notemba, and then under the influence of black wrath and
despair, a counter-plot, equally appalling, was hatched.
_The Vengeance_.
Next morning Songoza took a friendly farewell, saying that he was going
away on a three days' visit. Late in the afternoon, Mahlokoza went to
the forest to collect fuel, and her two boys went down to the field to
gather sticks of "imfe" (sweet reed). Old Dogolwana had been plying
Philip heavily with beer, and consequently the latter was somewhat
mellow. When the coast was clear, Mamiekwa, to whom Philip had been
making love all day, brought him an earthen pot of beer, over the edge
of which the pink foam was temptingly protruding. She lifted the pot
for him to drink from, and as he stretched forth his head, old Dogolwana
struck him a violent blow behind the ear with a knobbed stick, and he
fell to the ground, stunned. Dogolwana and the two women then bound his
hands and feet securely with thongs which they had in readiness. They
then lashed him firmly to a heavy loose pole which was lying in the hut,
passing the thongs round and round his body and the pole together, so
firmly that he could hardly writhe. They then fastened a gag in his
mouth. Just as they had finished, he regained consciousness, and glared
at them like the trapped animal that he was. A blanket was tied loosely
over his head, and he was than left to his own reflections.
Upon the return of Mahlokoza with the load of fuel she was treated in
exactly the same way in her own hut. After dark she was carried into
the other hut and laid alongside Philip. The two boys had been easily
secured on their return from the field. They were trussed and gagged in
the same manner, and laid on the ground between their mother and uncle.
The door of the hut was then securely fastened by lacing a strand of
soft copper wire through the wicker-work, and round stout poles placed
across the entrance, after the manner agreed upon by the conspirators,
as overheard by Mamiekwa.
Old Dogolwana, his wife, and Notemba, with little Gqomisa, Mamiekwa, and
her baby moved into the hut which Mahlokoza had occupied. Little
Gqomisa had been kept out of the way whilst the terrible preparations
described had been carried out.
The huts at the "great place" were arranged in the form of a large
crescent, with the cattle kraal midway between the points. The old
chief's hut had been in the middle of the curve. After his death, old
Dogolwana had taken possession of the huts near the right-hand point.
Those huts towards the middle of the curve were uninhabited, being used
as corn stores. Thus, no one dwelt nearer to the hut where the wretched
victims lay bound awaiting their doom than the women and boys occupying
the huts at the left-hand point, beyond the cattle kraal.
As soon as darkness fell, old Dogolwana and the women barred the door of
the hut which they occupied securely on the inside, and sat in grim
silence awaiting developments. Dogolwana sat listening close to the
wicker door. After waiting thus for some hours he heard stealthy
footsteps approaching, and then some one endeavoured to open the door.
Then Songoza whispered:
"Philip--Philip, open--it is I."
The women snored loudly and Dogolwana sat mute and rigid. After calling
Philip's name several times in a low voice, and obtaining no answer,
Songoza crept away. Going softly to the door of the other hut, he
examined the fastenings, which satisfied him that Philip had performed
his share of the contract. He then stole away on tip-toe until he
reached the other side of the hut in which Dogolwana was. Then he sat
down and pulled out a flint, steel, and tinder-box.
Old Dogolwana and the women could hear the low click, click of the steel
on the flint through the "wattle and daub" wall of the hut.
The touchwood soon ignited, so Songoza placed it in the curve of a
doubled wisp of dry grass, and then he ran quickly over to the hut which
contained his brother, his wife, and his two sons, one being the only
creature that had ever awakened a spark of love in his cold and cruel
heart.
The wisp of grass quickly ignited, and with it Songoza ran around the
hut, firing the overhanging eaves every few feet. He then rushed into
the forest. The hut was old and as dry as tinder. The roaring flames
shot up instantly, and within a quarter of an hour the glowing roof sank
down with a thud between the blazing walls.
About an hour afterwards Dogolwana again heard some one trying to open
the door.
"Who is there?" he called out, his voice sounding muffled through the
blanket which he had drawn over his head.
"Open the door, Philip; it is I, Songoza."
"My chief," replied Dogolwana; "Philip, with your wife and children, is
sleeping in the next hut on the left."
Songoza gave one frightful shriek, and rushed forth as if driven by
fiends.