Summary

W. C. Scully Kafir Stories: Seven Short Stories

It was broad daylight when the Balotsi drew off, and the Zulus could see their enemies massed round them in every direction, and outnumbering them excessively. Both parties paused for a time, each watching the other. The sun rose up over the mountains, the sky was clear as a dewdrop, and a bracing breeze swept down the valley, making music through the quivering reeds. Herds of eland, hartebeests, gnu, and other game, stood on the slopes afar off, and looked down on the dark masses of men standing still in grim silence after their desperate struggle.
Then Kondwana gave the order to retreat.
Source: Gutenberg

W. C. Scully Kafir Stories: Seven Short Stories

The executioners approached, but Kondwana drew himself up with ineffable dignity, signed to them with his hand to pause, and spake in a firm voice.
"O King, for my own death I thank you, for why should I longer live? But this man is still young, and has done no evil deed. Let him wash his spear once in the blood of your enemies, and die at the tip of your battle-horn."
Tshaka, thoroughly enraged, was a fearsome sight. Like Peter the Great, his features worked and twitched horribly. Those who beheld him thus, felt that they were before the very face of Death, embodied and visible.
Source: Gutenberg

W. C. Scully Kafir Stories: Seven Short Stories

I will never give up my friend to be choked with a rope."
"E-hea," shouted the audience.
"My Chief," said Vooda, "your words are like milk flowing from a great black cow ten days after she has calved, but there is one thing you have not seen, but which I have seen and trembled at."
"What is this thing that frightens a man who is the father of children?"
"The magic (umtagati) of U-Sessellodes, which he has taught to
Indabeni—the terrible magic wherewith he overthrew Lo Bengula and the
Matabele."
"We, also, have our magic," said Sololo, glancing at Shasha, the war-doctor.
Source: Gutenberg

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