Now the lions were close to us; they came to the body of the second

cub, that lay outside the fence of thorns. The lion stopped and
sniffed it. Then he roared--ah! he roared till the earth shook. As for

the lioness, she dropped the dead cub which she was carrying, and took
the other into her mouth, for she could not carry both.

"Get behind me, Nada," cried Umslopogaas, brandishing his spear, "the
lion is about to spring."

As the words left his mouth the great brute crouched to the ground.
Then suddenly he sprang from it like a bird, and like a bird he

travelled through the air towards us.
"Catch him on the spears!" cried Umslopogaas, and by nature, as it

were, we did the boy's bidding; for huddling ourselves together, we
held out the assegais so that the lion fell upon them as he sprang,

and their blades sank far into him. But the weight of his charge
carried us to the ground, and he fell on to us, striking at us and at

the spears, and roaring with pain and fury as he struck. Presently he
was on his legs biting at the spears in his breast. Then Umslopogaas,

who alone did not wait his onslaught, but had stepped aside for his
own ends, uttered a loud cry and drove his assegai into the lion

behind the shoulder, so that with a groan the brute rolled over dead.
Meanwhile, the lioness stood without the fence, the second dead cub in

her mouth, for she could not bring herself to leave either of them.
But when she heard her mate's last groan she dropped the cub and

gathered herself together to spring. Umslopogaas alone stood up to
face her, for he only had withdrawn his assegai from the carcass of

the lion. She swept on towards the lad, who stood like a stone to meet
her. Now she met his spear, it sunk in, it snapped, and down fell

Umslopogaas dead or senseless beneath the mass of the lioness. She
sprang up, the broken spear standing in her breast, sniffed at

Umslopogaas, then, as though she knew that it was he who had robbed
her, she seized him by the loins and moocha, and sprang with him over

the fence.
"Oh, save him!" cried the girl Nada in bitter woe. And we rushed after

the lioness shouting.
For a moment she stood over her dead cubs, Umslopogaas hanging from

her mouth, and looked at them as though she wondered; and we hoped
that she might let him fall. Then, hearing our cries, she turned and

bounded away towards the bush, bearing Umslopogaas in her mouth. We
seized our spears and followed; but the ground grew stony, and, search

as we would, we could find no trace of Umslopogaas or of the lioness.
They had vanished like a cloud. So we came back, and, ah! my heart was

sore, for I loved the lad as though he had indeed been my son. But I
knew that he was dead, and there was an end.

"Where is my brother?" cried Nada when we came back.
"Lost," I answered. "Lost, never to be found again."

Then the girl gave a great and bitter cry, and fell to the earth
saying, "I would that I were dead with my brother!"

"Let us be going," said Macropha, my wife.
"Have you no tears to weep for your son?" asked a man of our company.

"What is the use of weeping over the dead? Does it, then, bring them
back?" she answered. "Let us be going!"

The man thought these words strange, but he did not know that
Umslopogaas was not born of Macropha.

Still, we waited in that place a day, thinking that, perhaps, the
lioness would return to her den and that, at least, we might kill her.

But she came back no more. So on the next morning we rolled up our
blankets and started forward on our journey, sad at heart. In truth,

Nada was so weak from grief that she could hardly travel, but I never
heard the name of Umslopogaas pass her lips again during that journey.

She buried him in her heart and said nothing. And I too said nothing,
but I wondered why it had been brought about that I should save the

life of Umslopogaas from the jaws of the Lion of Zulu, that the
lioness of the rocks might devour him.

And so the time went on till we reached the kraal where the king's
business must be done, and where I and my wife should part.

On the morning after we came to the kraal, having kissed in secret,
though in public we looked sullenly on one another, we parted as those

part who meet no more, for it was in our thoughts, that we should
never see each other's face again, nor, indeed, did we do so. And I

drew Nada aside and spoke to her thus: "We part, my daughter; nor do I
know when we shall meet again, for the times are troubled and it is

for your safety and that of your mother that I rob my eyes of the
sight of you. Nada, you will soon be a woman, and you will be fairer

than any woman among our people, and it may come about that many great
men will seek you in marriage, and, perhaps, that I, your father,

shall not be there to choose for you whom you shall wed, according to
the custom of our land. But I charge you, as far as may be possible

for you to do so, take only a man whom you can love, and be faithful
to him alone, for thus shall a woman find happiness."

Here I stopped, for the girl took hold of my hand and looked into my
face. "Peace, my father," she said, "do not speak to me of marriage,

for I will wed no man, now that Umslopogaas is dead because of my
foolishness. I will live and die alone, and, oh! may I die quickly,

that I may go to seek him whom I love only!"
"Nay, Nada," I said, "Umslopogaas was your brother, and it is not

fitting that you should speak of him thus, even though he is dead."
"I know nothing of such matters, my father," she said. "I speak what

my heart tells me, and it tells me that I loved Umslopogaas living,
and, though he is dead, I shall love him alone to the end. Ah! you

think me but a child, yet my heart is large, and it does not lie to
me."

Now I upbraided the girl no more, because I knew that Umslopogaas was
not her brother, but one whom she might have married. Only I marvelled

that the voice of nature should speak so truly in her, telling her
that which was lawful, even when it seemed to be most unlawful.

"Speak no more of Umslopogaas," I said, "for surely he is dead, and
though you cannot forget him, yet speak of him no more, and I pray of

you, my daughter, that if we do not meet again, yet you should keep me
in your memory, and the love I bear you, and the words which from time

to time I have said to you. The world is a thornywilderness, my
daughter, and its thorns are watered with a rain of blood, and we

wander in our wretchedness like lost travellers in a mist; nor do I
know why our feet are set on this wandering. But at last there comes

an end, and we die and go hence, none know where, but perhaps where we
go the evil may change to the good, and those who were dear to each

other on the earth may become yet dearer in the heavens; for I believe
that man is not born to perishaltogether, but is rather gathered

again to the Umkulunkulu who sent him on his journeyings. Therefore
keep hope, my daughter, for if these things are not so, at least sleep

remains, and sleep is soft, and so farewell."
Then we kissed and parted, and I watched Macropha, my wife, and Nada,

my daughter, till they melted into the sky, as they walked upon their
journey to Swaziland, and was very sad, because, having lost

Umslopogaas, he who in after days was named the Slaughterer and the
Woodpecker, I must lose them also.

CHAPTER X
THE TRIAL OF MOPO

Now I sat four days in the huts of the tribe whither I had been sent,
and did the king's business. And on the fifth morning I rose up,

together with those with me, and we turned our faces towards the
king's kraal. But when we had journeyed a little way we met a party of

soldiers, who commanded us to stand.
"What is it, king's men?" I asked boldly.

"This, son of Makedama," answered their spokesman: "give over to us
your wife Macropha and your children Umslopogaas and Nada, that we may

do with them as the king commands."
"Umslopogaas," I answered, "has gone where the king's arm cannot

stretch, for he is dead; and for my wife Macropha and my daughter
Nada, they are by now in the caves of the Swazis, and the king must

seek them there with an army if he will find them. To Macropha he is
welcome, for I hate her, and have divorced her; and as for the girl,

well, there are many girls, and it is no great matter if she lives or
dies, yet I pray him to spare her."

Thus I spoke carelessly, for I knew well that my wife and child were
beyond the reach of Chaka.

"You do well to ask the girl's life," said the soldier, laughing, "for
all those born to you are dead, by order of the king."

"Is it indeed so?" I answered calmly, though my knees shook and my
tongue clove to my lips. "The will of the king be done. A cut stick

puts out new leaves; I can have more children."
"Ay, Mopo; but first you must get new wives, for yours are dead also,

all five of them."
"Is it indeed so?" I answered. "The king's will be done. I wearied of

those brawling women."
"So, Mopo," said the soldier; "but to get other wives and have more

children born to you, you must live yourself, for no children are born
to the dead, and I think that Chaka has an assegai which you shall

kiss."
"Is it so?" I answered. "The king's will be done. The sun is hot, and

I tire of the road. He who kisses the assegai sleeps sound."
Thus I spoke, my father, and, indeed, in that hour I desired to die.

The world was empty for me. Macropha and Nada were gone, Umslopogaas
was dead, and my other wives and children were murdered. I had no

heart to begin to build up a new house, none were left for me to love,
and it seemed well that I should die also.

The soldiers asked those with me if that tale was true which I told of
the death of Umslopogaas and of the going of Macropha and Nada into

Swaziland. They said, Yes, it was true. Then the soldiers said that
they would lead me back to the king, and I wondered at this, for I

thought that they would kill me where I stood. So we went on, and
piece by piece I learned what had happened at the king's kraal.

On the day after I left, it came to the ears of Chaka, by the mouth of
his spies, that my second wife--Anadi--was sick and spoke strange

words in her sickness. Then, taking three soldiers with him, he went
to my kraal at the death of the day. He left the three soldiers by the

gates of the kraal, bidding them to suffer none to come in or go out,
but Chaka himself entered the large hut where Anadi lay sick, having

his toy assegai, with the shaft of the royal red wood, in his hand.
Now, as it chanced, in the hut were Unandi, the mother of Chaka, and

Baleka, my sister, the wife of Chaka, for, not knowing that I had
taken away Umslopogaas, the son of Baleka, according to their custom,

these two foolish women had come to kiss and fondle the lad. But when
they entered the hut they found it full of my other wives and

children. These they sent away, all except Moosa, the son of Anadi--
that boy who was born eight days before Umslopogaas, the son of Chaka.

But they kept Moosa in the hut, and kissed him, giving him imphi[1] to
eat, fearing lest it should seem strange to the women, my wives, if,

Umslopogaas being gone, they refused to take notice of any other
child.

[1] A variety of sugar-cane.--ED.
Now as they sat this, presently the doorway was darkened, and, behold!

the king himself crept through it, and saw them fondling the child
Moosa. When they knew who it was that entered, the women flung

themselves upon the ground before him and praised him. But he smiled
grimly, and bade them be seated. Then he spoke to them, saying, "You

wonder, Unandi, my mother, and Baleka, my wife, why it is that I am
come here into the hut of Mopo, son of Makedama. I will tell you: it

is because he is away upon my business, and I hear that his wife Anadi
is sick--it is she who lies there, is it not? Therefore, as the first

doctor in the land, I am come to cure her, Unandi, my mother, and
Baleka, my sister."

Thus he spoke, eyeing them as he did so, and taking snuff from the
blade of his little assegai, and though his words were gentle they

shook with fear, for when Chaka spoke thus gently he meant death to
many. But Unandi, Mother of the Heavens, answered, saying that it was

well that the king had come, since his medicine would bring rest and
peace to her who lay sick.

"Yes," he answered; "it is well. It is pleasant, moreover, my mother
and sister, to see you kissing yonder child. Surely, were he of your

own blood you could not love him more."
Now they trembled again, and prayed in their hearts that Anadi, the

• sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
• striking [´straikiŋ] a.显著的，明显的 (初中英语单词)
• presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
• standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
• charge [tʃɑ:dʒ] v.收费；冲锋 n.费用 (初中英语单词)
• wilderness [´wildənis] n.荒地，荒野 (初中英语单词)
• perish [´periʃ] v.灭亡；消灭；(使)死去 (初中英语单词)
• altogether [,ɔ:ltə´geðə] ad.完全；总而言之 (初中英语单词)
• calmly [´kɑ:mli] ad.平静地；无风浪地 (初中英语单词)
• sickness [´siknis] n.生病；呕吐，恶心 (初中英语单词)
• knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
• variety [və´raiəti] n.变化；多样(性)；种类 (初中英语单词)
• doorway [´dɔ:wei] n.门口 (初中英语单词)
• therefore [´ðeəfɔ:] ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词)
• gently [´dʒentli] ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词)
• moreover [mɔ:´rəuvə] ad.再者，此外，而且 (初中英语单词)
• hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
• hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
• bearing [´beəriŋ] n.举止；忍耐；关系 (高中英语单词)
• devour [di´vauə] vt.吞食；毁坏 (高中英语单词)
• carelessly [´kɛəlisli] ad.粗心地；疏忽地 (高中英语单词)
• learned [´lə:nid] a.有学问的，博学的 (高中英语单词)
• saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
• withdrawn [wið´drɔ:n] withdraw过去分词 (英语四级单词)
• carcass [´kɑ:kəs] n.(动物的)尸体 (英语四级单词)
• senseless [´sensləs] a.无知觉的；愚蠢的 (英语四级单词)
• lawful [´lɔ:fəl] a.合法的，守法的 (英语四级单词)
• biting [´baitiŋ] a.刺痛的；尖利的 (英语六级单词)
• weeping [´wi:piŋ] a.&n.哭泣(的) (英语六级单词)
• sullenly [´sʌlənli] ad.不高兴地 (英语六级单词)
• thorny [´θɔ:ni] a.多刺的，棘手的 (英语六级单词)
• spokesman [´spəuksmən] n.发言人 (英语六级单词)
• taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)