gasped out, “Zulus! Matabele! they want to kill me!”
For my part I could not comprehend how it happened that these Matabele should be on Khame’s territory. I began to wonder whether it was possible that war had broken out between the tribes, and I confess that I was not without apprehension that we were going to be attacked. The savages advanced yelling and screeching, and looked like wolves in human form. Unwilling to risk the mischief that might ensue if I fired upon them, I resolved to remain steadily where I was until I had ascertained their real intentions. Meriko’s opinion did not in the least coincide with mine; he could not bring himself to await their approach, but bounding over the pole of the waggon, he scampered off into the bush beyond, but without further outcry, evidently anxious to conceal himself in the long grass. I called out to him that he had more to fear from the lions in the grass than from the Zulus, and that he had better stay in the waggon; so terrified, however, was he at the prospect of falling into the hands of the Matabele, that he turned a deaf ear to my words, and rushed out of sight.
The savage band flocked round the waggon, still flourishing their kiris. Excepting the two ring-leaders they proved to be not true Zulus, but belonging to various plundered tribes, having been stolen away as boys by Moselikatze, and brought up as Zulu warriors. They had small leather aprons with fringes, or occasionally a gourd-shell or piece of basket-work on their bodies, otherwise they were quite naked; only some of them wore balloon-shaped head-dresses made of ostrich feathers or other
