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I have spoken."

[*] For the history of Umslopogaasi and his Axe, the reader is
referred to the books called "Allan Quatermain" and "Nada the
Lily."--Editor.

I was rather puzzled by this man and his way of speech. It was evident
to me from his manner that in the main he was telling the truth, but
somehow he seemed different from the ordinary run of Zulus, and I
rather mistrusted his offer to come without pay. Being in a
difficulty, I translated his words to Sir Henry and Good, and asked
them their opinion.

Sir Henry told me to ask him to stand up. Umbopa did so, at the same
time slipping off the long military great coat which he wore, and
revealing himself naked except for the moocha round his centre and a
necklace of lions' claws. Certainly he was a magnificent-looking man;
I never saw a finer native. Standing about six foot three high he was
broad in proportion, and very shapely. In that light, too, his skin
looked scarcely more than dark, except here and there where deep black
scars marked old assegai wounds. Sir Henry walked up to him and looked
into his proud, handsome face.

"They make a good pair, don't they?" said Good; "one as big as the
other."

"I like your looks, Mr. Umbopa, and I will take you as my servant,"
said Sir Henry in English.

Umbopa evidently understood him, for he answered in Zulu, "It is
well"; and then added, with a glance at the white man's great stature
and breadth, "We are men, thou and I."



CHAPTER IV

AN ELEPHANT HUNT

Now I do not propose to narrate at full length all the incidents of
our long travel up to Sitanda's Kraal, near the junction of the
Lukanga and Kalukwe Rivers. It was a journey of more than a thousand
miles from Durban, the last three hundred or so of which we had to
make on foot, owing to the frequent presence of the dreadful "tsetse"
fly, whose bite is fatal to all animals except donkeys and men.

We left Durban at the end of January, and it was in the second week of
May that we camped near Sitanda's Kraal. Our adventures on the way
were many and various, but as they are of the sort which befall every
African hunter--with one exception to be presently detailed--I shall
not set them down here, lest I should render this history too
wearisome.

At Inyati, the outlying trading station in the Matabele country, of
which Lobengula (a great and cruel scoundrel) is king, with many
regrets we parted from our comfortable wagon. Only twelve oxen
remained to us out of the beautiful span of twenty which I had bought
at Durban. One we lost from the bite of a cobra, three had perished
from "poverty" and the want of water, one strayed, and the other three
died from eating the poisonous herb called "tulip." Five more sickened
from this cause, but we managed to cure them with doses of an infusion
made by boiling down the tulip leaves. If administered in time this is
a very effective antidote.

The wagon and the oxen we left in the immediate charge of Goza and

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