"Who am I that I should pry into the King's mind, Klistiaan? But his
`word' has been spoken in no uncertain voice," he added significantly.
This there was no denying, and they took their leave. As they passed
out of the kraal, the lines of warriors glowered at them like wolves,
for though the conversation had been inaudible to them, they divined
that these whites had incurred the King's displeasure.
"You've got us into a pretty kettle of fish, Blachland," said Young,
rather curtly, as they rode in the direction of their camp.
"Don't see it," was the reply. "Now, my belief is, Lo Ben is shirty
about our gold-prospecting. My scheme had nothing to do with it."
"Blachland's right, Young," cut in Pemberton. "If it had been the other
thing, we wouldn't have got off so cheaply. Eh, Sybrandt?"
"Rather not. We may thank our stars it wasn't the other. That rip
Hlangulu must have been strung upon us as a spy. The old man is dead
off any gold-prospecting. Afraid it'll bring a swarm of whites into the
country, and he's right. Why, what's this?"
All looked back, and the same idea was in the mind of each. Had Lo
Bengula thought better of it, and yielded to the bloodthirsty clamour of
his warriors? For the gates of Bulawayo were pouring forth a dense
black swarm, which could be none other than the impi gathered there at
the time of their visit,--and this, clear of the entrance, was advancing
at a run, heading straight for the four equestrians.
These looked somewhat anxious. Their servants, the two Bechuana boys,
went grey with fear.
"Is it a case of leg-bail?" said Blachland, surveying the on-coming
horde.
"No, we must face it anyhow," answered Pemberton, puffing at his pipe
tranquilly. "Besides, we can't leave these poor devils of boys to be
murdered. Eh, Sybrandt?"
"Never run away, except in a losing fight and there's no help for it,"
was the reply.
Accordingly they kept their horses at a walk. But the moment was a
thrilling one. On swept the impi; but now it had drawn up into a walk,
and from its ranks arose a song--
"Uti mayihlome, mayihlome katese njebo!
Ise nompako wayo namanyatelo ayo!
Utaho njalo. Uti mayihlome katese njebo!"
This strophe--which may be rendered roughly to mean, "He says (i.e. the
King), `Let it (the impi) arm. Let it arm at once. Come with its food,
with its sandals.' He says always. He says, `Let it arm at once!'"--
was boomed forth from nearly two thousand throats, deafening,
terrifying. But the impi swept by, and, passing within a hundred yards,
singing in mighty volume its imposing war-song, shields waving, and
assegais brandished menacingly towards the white men, it poured up the
opposite slope, taking a straight line, significantly symbolical of the
unswerving purpose it had been sent to fulfil.
An involuntary feeling of relief was upon the party, upon all but one,
that is. For Hilary Blachland, noting the direction taken by this army
of destroyers, could not but admit a qualm of very real and
soul-stirring misgiving. That he had good grounds for the same we shall
see anon.