Singularly eventful are the footsteps of travellers in
little-known lands, and very startling are the freaks of
fortune and misfortune, which are, metaphorically, the
milestones of their progress. In the present instance it
was passing strange that after all the ups and downs of
the journey from Cape Town to Nyassa I should, while on
the way southwards again to the sea, find myself between
the lines of contending armies on the very day, and almost
at the very hour, when it was determined to restore peace.
Now there would be some satisfaction in being able to
tell the miserable Mazinjiri that their warlike enemies were
retiring, so that they were free to return to. their own
country.
“ A h ! Fred,” I remarked, “ they’ll be glad to hear that
it’s all over. Our boys will go nicely now that we can show
we have been given a man.”*
The man wants to speak,” replied Fred, dubiously.
“ Master, I think we have made a mistake.”
Like lightning’s flash the position was at once before
me. By all the suns and stars what had I done ? What
foolish act was this ?
“ The man,” continued Fred, “ says that the Mazinjiri
will be sure to kill him! ”
“ And here they are coming, Fred. I t is too late to do
anything. We must face them. Tell the man to.stick
closely to u s ; then go and find Bararika.”
I approached with the hostage towards the senatorial
tree, but the old men had left, and the chief also. I saw the
latter making hastily for his hut. M. Griraud, however, was
waiting; also Miller. They had observed from the attitude
of the people that something was radically wrong.
* To be given a man amongst these people means that he is your property.
You can kill him if you like with impunity.
“ Never mind,” was my response to their inquiries. “ We
must stick to the man now we have got him. The mistake
is mine.”
The news seemed to spread like wildfire, far and near.
From tree, ant-heap, bush and hut, came the throng of
Mazinjiri, talking as only agitated Kaffirs can talk. As if
by magic, the living crowd bristled with the iron points of
countless spears and arrow-heads, amidst which could be
seen protruding old and rather rusty Tower muskets. The
air resounded with the wildest threats and imprecations, and
the scene every moment was gaining in excitement.
Coolness was the only bearing that promised safety—not
exactly sang-froid, but, so to speak, wide-awake indifference,
for the threatening people were now pressing dangerously
near.
From among the mass came Fred, along with the chief,
and the latter, I could easily see, had taken my well-
meant but ill-judged action as a gross insult to himself and
his people. He now carried his gun.
The unfortunate hostage seemed to have but a poor
chance, and naturally all my anxiety was on his account.
“ Don’t speak much, master,” said F re d ; “ the people
may ask you for the man. The chief say he want to hear
the white man speak, and tell why he brought this man
here.”
9 Let the chief speak first, Fred. We wish him to tell
Ms grievance.”
An irate Mazinjiri here leaped among us and seized the
hostage’s red turban, which he shied to the wolfish herd, at
the same time shaking his arrows over the man’s head, and
never ceasing,to threaten and make signs of hate and of
thirst for blood. The object of execration and enmity sat
upon his rifle with an air of complete indifference, which