Evidently his
medicine was working, and almost I regretted that I had not taken some
while I had the chance.
When we were all fastened, Imbozwi came round to inspect. Moreover,
with a piece of white chalk he made a round mark on the breast of each
of us; a kind of bull's eye for the archers to aim at.
"Ah! white man," he said to me as he chalked away at my shooting coat,
"you will never burn anyone's hair again with your magic shield.
Never, never, for presently I shall be treading down the earth upon
you in that hole, and your goods will belong to me."
I did not answer, for what was the use of talking to this vile brute
when my time was so short. So he passed on to Stephen and began to
chalk him. Stephen, however, in whom the natural man still prevailed,
shouted:
"Take your filthy hands off me," and lifting his leg, which was
unfettered, gave the painted witch-doctor such an awful kick in the
stomach, that he vanished backwards into the grave beneath him.
"/Ow!/ Well done, Wazela!" said the Zulus, "we hope that you have
killed him.
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