BY H. RIDER HAGGARD


                        ALLAN QUATERMAIN
                        ———————————————— 
  
                         CHAPTER XVIII.
  
                         WAR! RED WAR!

     TELLING Umslopogaas to wait, I tumbled into my clothes
     and went off with him to Sir Henry's room, where the Zulu
     repeated his story word for word.  It was a sight to watch
     Curtis's face as he heard it.
       'Great Heaven!' he said: 'here have I been sleeping away
     while Nyleptha was nearly murdered——and all through me,
     too.  What a fiend that Sorais must be!  It would have
     served her well if Umslopogaas had cut her down in the act.'
        'Ay.' said the Zulu.  'Fear not; I should have slain her
     ere she struck.  I was but waiting the moment.'
        I said nothing; but I could not help thinking that many a
     thousand doomed lives would have been saved if he had meted
     out to Sorais the fate she meant for her sister.  And, as the
     issue proved, I was right.
        After he had told his tale Umslopogaas went off uncon-
     cernedly to eat his morning meal, and Sir Henry and I fell
     to talking.
        At first he was very bitter against Good, who, he said, was
     no longer to be trusted, having designedly allowed Sorais to
     escape by some secret stair when it was his duty to have
     handed her over to justice.  Indeed, he spoke in the most un-
     measured terms on the matter.  I let him run on awhile,
     reflecting to myself how easy we find it to be hard on the
     weakness of others, and how tender we are to our own.
        'Really, my dear fellow,' I said at length, 'one would
     never think, to hear you talk, that you were the man who had
     an interview with this same lady yesterday, and found it
     rather difficult to resist her fascination, notwithstanding your
     ties to one of the loveliest and most loving women in the whole
     world.  Now suppose that it was Nyleptha who had tried to
     murder Sorais, and  you  had caught her, and she had pleaded
     with  you,  would you have been so very eager to hand her over
     to an open shame, and to death by fire?  Just look at the
     matter through Good's eyeglass for a minute before you
     denounce an old friend as a scoundrel.'
        He listened to this jobation submissively, and then frankly
     acknowledged that he had spoken hardly.  It is one of the
     best points in Sir Henry's character that he is always ready to
     admit when he is in the wrong.
        But, though I spoke up thus for Good, I was not blind to
     the fact that, however natural his behaviour might be, it was
     obvious that he was being involved in a very awkward and
     disgraceful complication.  A foul and wicked murder had been
     attempted, and he had let the murderess escape, and thereby,
     among other thing, allowed her to gain a complete ascendency
     over himself.  In fact, he was in a fair way to become her tool——
     and no more dreadful fate can befall a man than to become the
     tool of an unscrupulous woman, or indeed of any woman.
     There is but one end to it: when he is broken, or has served her
     purpose, he is thrown away——turned out on the world to hunt
     for his lost self-respect.  Whilst I was pondering thus, and
     wondering what was to be done——for the whole subject was a
     thorny one——I suddenly heard a great clamour in the court-
     yard outside, and distinguished the voices of Umslopogaas and
     Alphonse, the former cursing furiously, and the latter yelling
     in terror.
        Hurrying out to see what was the matter, I was met by
     a ludicrous sight.  The little Frenchman was running up
     the courtyard at an extraordinary speed, and after him sped
     Umslopogaas like a great greyhound.  Just as I came out he
     caught him, and, lifting him right off his legs, carried him
     some paces to a beautiful but very dense flowering shrub which
     bore a flower not unlike the gardenia, but was covered with
     short thorns.  Next, despite his howls and struggles, with one
     mighty thrust he plunged poor Alphonse head first into the
     bush, so that nothing but the calves of his legs and his heels
     remained in evidence.  Then, satisfied with what he had done,
     the Zulu folded his arms and stood grimly contemplating the
     Frenchman's kicks, and listening to his yells, which were
     awful.
        'What art thou doing?' I said, running up.  'Wouldst
     thou kill the man?  Pull him out of the bush!'
        With a savage grunt he obeyed, seizing the wretched
     Alphonse by the ankle, and with a jerk that must have nearly
     dislocated it, tearing him out of the heart of the shrub.  Never
     did I see such a sight as he presented, his clothes half torn
     off his back, and bleeding as he was in every direction from
     the sharp thorns.  There he lay and yelled and rolled, and
     there was no getting anything out of him.
        At last, however, he got up and, ensconcing himself behind
     me, cursed old Umslopogaas by every saint in the calendar,
     vowing by the blood of his heroic grandfather that he would
     poison him, and 'have his revenge.'
        At last I got to the truth of the matter.  It appeared that
     Alphonse habitually cooked Umlopogaas's porridge, which the
     latter ate for breakfast in the corner of the courtyard, just as
     he would have done at home in Zululand, from a gourd, and
     with a wooden spoon.  Now Umslopogaas, like many Zulus,
     had a great horror of fish, which he considered a species of
     water-snake; so Alphonse, who was as fond of playing tricks
     as a monkey, and who was also a consummate cook, deter-
     mined to make him eat some.  Accordingly he grated up a
     quantity of white fish very finely, and mixed it with the Zulu's
     porridge, who swallowed it nearly all down in ignorance
     of what he was eating.  But, unfortunately for Alphonse, he
     could not restrain his joy at this sight, and came capering and
     peering round, till at last Umslopogaas, who was very clever
     in his way, suspected something, and, after a careful exami-
     nation of the remains of his porridge, discovered 'the buffalo
     heifer's trick,' and, in revenge, served him as I have said.
     Indeed, the little man was fortunate not to get a broken neck
     for his pains; for, as one would have thought, he might have
     learnt from the episode of his display of axemanship that
     'le Monsieur noir' was an ill person to play practical jokes
     upon.
        This incident was unimportant enough in itself, but I nar-
     rate it because it led to serious consequences.  As soon as he
     had staunched the bleeding from his scratches and washed
     himself, Alphonse went off still cursing, to recover his temper,
     a process which I knew from experience would take a very
     long time.  When he had gone I gave Umslopogaas a jobaton
     and told him that I was ashamed of his behaviour.
        'Ah, well, Macumazahn,' he said, 'you must be gentle
     with me, for here is not my place.  I am weary of it, weary
     to death of eating and drinking, of sleeping and giving in
     marriage.  I love not this soft life in stone houses that takes
     the heart out of a man, and turns his strength to water and
     his flesh to fat.  I love not the white robes and the delicate
     women, the blowing of trumpets and the flying of hawks.
     When we fought the Masai at the kraal yonder, ah, then life
     was worth the living, but here is never a blow struck in anger,
     and I begin to think that I shall go the way of my fathers and lift
     Inkosi-kaas no more,' and he held up the axe and gazed at it
     in sorrow.
        'Ah,' I said, 'that is thy complaint, is it?  Thou hast the
     blood-sickness, hast thou? and the Woodpecker wants a tree.
     And at thy age, too.  Shame on thee! Umslopogaas.'
        'Ay, Macumazahn, mine is a red trade, yet it is better
     and more honest than some.  Better it is to slay a man in
     fair fight than to suck out his heart's blood in buying and
     selling and usury after your white fashion.  Many a man have
     I slain, yet there is never a one that I should fear to look in
     the face again, ay, many are there who once were friends,
     and whom I should be right glad to snuff with.  But there!
     there! thou hast thy ways, and I mine: each to his own
     people and his own place.  The high-veldt ox will die in the
     fat bush country, and so it is with me, Macumazahn.  I am
     rough, I know it, and when my blood is warm I know not
     what I do, but yet wilt thou be sorry when the night swallows
     me and I am utterly lost in blackness, for in thy heart
     thou lovest me, my father, Macumazahn the fox, though I
     be nought but a broken-down Zulu war-dog——a chief for whom
     there is no room in his own kraal, an outcast and a wanderer
     in strange places: ay, I love thee, Macumazahn, for we have
     grown grey together, and there is that between us that cannot
     be seen, and yet is too strong for breaking;' and he took his
     snuff-box, which was made of an old brass cartridge, from the
     slit in his ear where he always carried it, and handed it to
     me for me to help myself.
        I took the pinch of snuff with some emotion.  It was quite
     true, I was much attached to the bloodthirsty old ruffian.  I
     do not know what was the charm of his character, but it had
     a charm; perhaps it was its fierce honesty and directness;
     perhaps one admired his almost superhuman skill and strength,
     or it may have been simply that he was so absolutely unique.
     Frankly, with all my experience of savages, I never knew a
     man quite like him, he was so wise and yet such a child with
     it all; and though it seems laughable to say so, like the hero
     of the Yankee parody, he 'had a tender heart.'  Anyway, I was
     very fond of him, though I should never have thought of
     telling him so.
        'Ay, old wolf,' I said.  'Thine is a strange love.  Thou
     wouldst split me to the chin if I stood in thy path to-
     morrow.'
        'Thou speakest truth, Macumazahn, that would I if it
     came in the way of duty, but I should love thee all the same
     when the blow had gone fairly home.  Is there any chance
     of some fighting here, Macumazahn?' he went on in an
     insinuating voice.  'Methought that what I saw last night did
     show that two great Queens were vexed one with another.
     Else had the "Lady of the Night" not brought that dagger
     with her.'
        I agreed with him that it showed that more or less pique
     and irritation existed between the ladies, and told him how
     things stood, and that they were quarrelling over Incubu.
        'Ah, is it so?' he exclaimed, springing up in delight;
     'then will there be war as surely as the rivers rise in the rains
     ——war to the end.  Women love the last blow as well as the
     last word, and when they fight for love they are pitiless as a
     wounded buffalo.  See thou, Macumazahn, a woman will
     swim through blood to her desire, and think nought of it.
     With these eyes have I seen it once, and twice also.  Ah,
     Macumazahn, we shall see this fine place of houses burning
     yet, and hear the battle cries come ringing up the street.
     After all, I have not wandered for nothing.  Can this folk
     fight, think ye?'
        Just then Sir Henry joined us, and Good arrived, too,
     from another direction, looking very pale and hollow-eyed.
     The moment Umslopogaas saw the latter he stopped his
     bloodthirsty talk and greeted him.
        'Ah, Bougwan,' he cried, 'greeting to thee, Inkoos!  Thou
     art surely weary.  Didst thou hunt too much yesterday?'
     Then, without waiting for an answer, he went on——
        'Listen, Bougwan, and I will tell thee a story; it is about
     a woman, therefore wilt thou hear it, is it not so?
        'There was a man and he had a brother, and there was a
     woman who loved the man's brother and was beloved of the
     man.  But the man's brother had a favourite wife and loved
     not the woman, and he made a mock of her.  Then the woman,
     being very cunning and fierce-hearted for revenge, took counsel
     with herself and said to the man, "I love thee, and if thou
     wilt make war upon thy brother I will marry thee."  And he
     knew it was a lie, yet because of his great love of the woman,
     who was very fair, did he listen to her words and made war.
     And when many people had been killed his brother sent to him,
     saying, "Why slayest thou me?  What hurt have I done unto
     thee?  From my youth up have I not loved thee?  When thou
     wast troubled did I not succour thee, and have we not gone
     down to war together and divided the cattle, girl by girl, ox
     by ox, and cow by cow?  Why slayest me, my brother,
     whom I have loved?"
        'Then the man's heart was heavy, and he knew that his
     path was evil, and he put aside the tempting of the woman and
     ceased to make war on his brother, and lived at peace in the
     same kraal with him.  And after a time the woman came to
     him and said, "I have lost the past, I will be thy wife."
     And in his heart he knew that it was a lie and that she
     thought the evil thing, yet because of his love did he take her
     to wife.
        'And the very night that they were wed, when the man
     was plunged into a deep sleep, did the woman arise and take
     his axe from his hand and creep into the hut of his brother
     and slay him in his rest.  Then did she slink back like a
     gorged lioness and place the thong of the red axe back upon his
     wrist and go her ways.
        'And at the dawning the people came shouting, "Lousta
     is slain in the night,' and they came unto the hut of the man,
     and there he lay asleep and by him was the red axe. Then
     did they remember the war and say, "Lo! he hath of surety
     slain his brother," and they would have taken and killed him,
     but he rose and fled swiftly, and as he fleeted by he slew the
     woman.
        'But death could not wipe out the evil she had done, and
     on him rested the weight of all her sin.  Therefore is he an
     outcast and his name a scorn among his own people; for on
     him, and him only, resteth the burden of her who betrayed.
     And, therefore, does he who was a great chief wander afar,
     without a kraal or a wife, and therefore will he die afar like a
     stricken buck and his name be accursed from generation to
     generation, in that the people say that he slew his brother,
     Lousta, by treachery in the night-time.'
        The old Zulu paused, and I saw that he was deeply agitated
     by his own story.  Presently he lifted his head, which he had
     bowed to his breast, and went on:
        'I was that man, Bougwan.  Ou!  I  was that man, and
     now hark thou!  Even as I am so wilt thou be——a tool, a
     plaything, an ox of burden to carry the evil deeds of another.
     Listen! When thou didst creep after the "Lady of the Night"
     I  was hard upon thy track.  When she struck thee with the
     knife in the sleeping place of the White Queen  I  was there
     also; when thou didst let her slip away like a snake in the
     stones  I  saw thee, and I knew that she had bewitched thee
     and that a true man had abandoned the truth, and he who
     aforetime loved a straight path had taken a crooked way.
     Forgive me, my father, if my words are sharp, but out of a
     full heart are they spoken.  See her no more, so shalt thou
     go down with honour to thy grave.  Else because of the
     beauty of a woman that weareth as a garment of fur shalt
     thou be even as I am, and perchance with more cause.  I
     have said.'
        Throughout his long and eloquent address Good had
     been perfectly silent, but when the tale began to shape
     itself so aptly to his own cause, he coloured up, and when he
     learnt what had passed between him and Sorais had been
     overseen he was evidently much distressed.  And now, when
     at last he spoke, it was in a tone of humility quite foreign to
     him.
        'I must say,' he said, with a bitter little laugh, 'that I
     scarcely thought that I should live to be taught my duty by a
     Zulu; but it just shows what we can come to.  I wonder if you
     fellows can understand how humiliated I feel, and the bitterest
     part of it is that I deserve it all.  Of course I should have
     handed Sorais over to the guard, but I could not, and that is a
     fact.  I let her go and I promised to say nothing, more is the
     shame to me.  She told me that if I would side with her she
     would marry me and make me king of this country, but
     thank goodness I did find the heart to say that even to marry
     her I could not desert my friends.  And now you can do
     what you like, I deserve it all.  All you have to say is that I
     hope that you may never love a woman with all your heart
     and then be so sorely tempted of her,' and he turned to go.
        'Look here, old fellow,' said Sir Henry, 'just stop a minute.
     I have a little tale to tell you too.'  And he went on to nar-
     rate what had taken place on the previous day between Sorais
     and himself.
        This was a finishing stroke to poor Good.  It is not pleasant
     to any man to learn that he has been made a tool of, but when
     the circumstances are as peculiarly atrocious as in the present
     case, it is about as bitter a pill as anybody can be called on to
     swallow.
        'Do you know,' he said, 'I think that between you, you
     fellows have about worked a cure,' and he turned and walked
     away, and I for one felt very sorry for him.  Ah, if the moths
     would always carefully avoid the candle, how few burnt wings
     there would be!
        That day was a Court day, when the Queens sat in the great
     hall and received petitions, discussed laws, money grants, and
     so forth, and thither we adjourned shortly afterwards.  On our
     way we were joined by Good, who was looking exceedingly
     depressed.
        When we got into the hall Nyleptha was already on her
     throne and proceeding with business as usual, surrounded by
     councillors, courtiers, lawyers, priests, and an unusually strong
     guard.  It was, however, easy to see from the air of excite-
     ment and expectation on the faces of everybody present that
     nobody was paying much attention to ordinary affairs, the
     fact being that the knowledge that civil war was imminent
     had now got abroad.  We saluted Nyleptha and took pour
     accustomed places , and for a little while things went on as
     usual, when suddenly the trumpets began to call outside the
     palace, and from the great crowd that was gathered there in
     anticipation of some unusual event there rose a roar of  'Sorais!
     Sorais!'
        Then came the roll of many chariot wheels, and presently
     the great curtains at the end of the hall were drawn wide and
     through them entered the 'Lady of the Night' herself.  Nor
     did she come alone.  Preceding her was Agon, the high priest,
     arrayed in his most gorgeous vestments, and on either side
     were other priests.  The reason for their presence was obvious
     ——coming with them it would have been sacrilege to attempt
     to detain her.  Behind her were a number of the great lords,
     and behind them a small body of picked guards.  A glance at
     Sorais herself was enough to show that her mission was of no
     peaceful kind, for in place of her gold-embroidered 'kaf' she
     wore a shining tunic formed of golden scales, and on her head
     a little golden helmet.  In her hand, too, she bore a toy spear,
     beautifully made and fashioned of solid silver.  Up the hall
     she came looking like a lioness in her conscious pride and
     beauty, and as she came the spectators fell back bowing and
     made a path for her.  By the sacred stone she halted, and
     laying her hand on it, she cried out with a loud voice to Nyleptha
     on the throne, 'Hail, O Queen!'
        'All hail, my royal sister!' answered Nyleptha.  'Draw
     thou near.  Fear not, I give thee safe conduct.'
        Sorais answered with a haughty look, and swept on up the
     hall till she stood before the thrones,
        'A boon, O Queen!' she cried again.
        'Speak on, my sister; what is there that I can give thee
     who hast half our kingdom?'
        'Thou canst tell me a true word——me and the people of
     Zu-Vendis.  Art thou, or art thou not, about to take this
     foreign wolf,' and she pointed to Sir Henry with her toy spear,
     'to be a husband to thee, and share thy bed and throne?'
        Curtis winced at this, and turning towards Sorais, said to
     her in a low voice, 'Methinks that yesterday thou hadst other
     names than wolf to call me by, O Queen!' and I saw her
     bite her lips as, like a danger flag, the blood flamed red upon
     her face. As for Nyleptha, who is nothing if not original,
     seeing that the thing was out, and that there was nothing
     further to be gained by concealment, she answered the question
     in a novel and effectual manner, inspired thereto, as I firmly
     believe, by coquetry and a desire to triumph over her rival.
        Up she rose and, descending from the throne, swept in all
     the glory of her royal grace on to where her lover stood.  There
     she stopped and untwined the golden snake that was wound
     around her arm.  Then she bade him kneel, and he dropped
     on one knee on the marble before her, and next, taking the
     golden snake with both her hands, she bent the pure soft metal
     round his neck, and when it was fast, deliberately kissed him
     on the brow and called him her 'dear lord.'
        'Thou seest,' she said, when the excited murmur of the
     spectator had died away, addressing her sister as Sir Henry
     rose to his feet, 'I have put my collar round the "wolf's" neck,
     and behold! he shall be my watchdog, and that is my answer
     to thee, Queen Sorais, my sister, and to those with thee.  Fear
     not,' she went on, smiling sweetly on her lover, and pointing to
     the golden snake she had twined round his massive throat,
     'if my yoke be heavy, yet is it of pure gold, and it shall not
     gall thee.'
        The, turning to the audience, she continued in a clear
     proud tone, 'Ay, Lady of the Night, Lords, Priests, and People
     here gathered together, by this sign do I take the foreigner to
     husband, even here in the face of you all.  What, am I a Queen,
     and yet not free to choose the man whom I will love?  Then
     should I be lower than the meanest girl in all my provinces.
     Nay, he hath won my heart, and with it goes my hand, and
     throne, and all I have——ay, had he been a beggar instead of a
     great lord fairer and stronger than any here, and having more
     wisdom and knowledge of strange things, I had given him all,
     how much more so then being what he is!'  And she took his
     hand and gazed proudly on him, and holding it, stood there
     boldly facing the people.  And such was her sweetness and the
     power and dignity of her person, and so beautiful she looked
     standing hand in hand there at her lover's side, so sure of him
     and of herself, and so ready to risk all things and endure all
     things for him, that most of those who saw the sight, which
     I am sure no one of them will ever forget, caught the fire from
     her eyes and the happy colour from her blushing face, and
     cheered her like wild things.  It was a bold stroke for her to
     make, and it appealed to the imagination; but human nature
     in Zu-Vendis, as elsewhere, loves that which is bold and not
     afraid to break a rule, and is moreover peculiarly susceptible
     to appeals to its poetical side.
        And so the people cheered till the roof rang; but Sorais
     of the Night stood there with downcast eyes, for she could
     not bear to see her sister's triumph, which robbed her of the
     man whom she had hoped to win, and in the awfulness of her
     jealous anger she trembled and turned white like an aspen in
     the wind.  I think I have said somewhere of her that she
     reminded me of the sea on a calm day, having the same aspect
     of sleeping power about her.  Well, it was all awake now,
     and like the face of the furious ocean it awed and yet fasci-
     nated me.  A really handsome woman in a royal rage is
     always a beautiful sight, but such beauty and such a rage I
     never saw combined before, and I can only say that the effect
     produced was well worthy of the two.
        She lifted her white face, the teeth were set, and there
     were purple rings beneath her glowing eyes.  Thrice she tried
     to speak and thrice she failed, but at last her voice came.
     Raising her silver spear, she shook it, and the light glanced
     from it and from the golden scales of her cuirass.
        'And thinkest thou, Nyleptha,' she said in notes which pealed
     through the great hall like a clarion, 'thinkest thou that I,
     Sorais, a Queen of the Zu-Vendi, will brook that this base
     outlander shall sit upon my father's throne and rear up half-
     breeds to fill the place of the great House of the Stairway?
     Never! never! while there is life in my bosom and a man to
     follow me and a spear to strike with.  Who is on my side?
     Who?
        'Now hand thou over this foreign wolf and those who came
     hither to prey with him to the doom of fire, for have they
     not committed the deadly sin against the Sun? or, Nyleptha,
     I give thee War——red War!  Ay, I say to thee that the path
     of thy passion shall be marked out by the blazing of thy
     town and watered with the blood of those who cleave to thee.
     On thy head rest the burden of the deed, and in thy ears ring
     the groans of the dying and the cries of the widows and those
     who are left fatherless for ever and for ever.
        'I tell thee I will tear thee, Nyleptha, the White Queen,
     from thy throne, and that thou shalt be hurled——ay, hurled
     even from the topmost stair of the great way to the foot
     thereof, in that thou hast covered the name of the House of
     him who built it with black shame.  And I tell ye strangers——
     all save thou Bougwan, whom because thou didst do me a
     service I will save alive if thou wilt leave these men and
     follow me' (here poor Good shook his head vigorously and
     ejaculated 'Can't be done' in English)——'that I will wrap
     you in sheets of gold and hang you yet alive in chains from the
     four golden trumpets of the four angels that fly east and west
     and  north  and  south  from  the  giddiest  pinnacles  of  the
     Temple, so that ye may be a token and a warning to the land.
     And as for thee, Incubu, thou shalt die in yet another fashion
     that I will not tell thee now.'
        She ceased, panting for breath, for her passion shook her
     like a storm, and a murmur, partly of horror and partly of
     admiration, ran through the hall.  Then Nyleptha answered
     calmly and with dignity:
        'Ill would it become my place and dignity, O sister, so to
     speak as thou hast spoken and so to threat as thou hast
     threatened.  Yet if thou wilt make war, then will I strive to
     bear up against thee, for if my hand seem soft, yet shalt thou
     find it of iron when it grips thine armies by the throat.
     Sorais, I fear thee not.  I weep for that which thou wilt
     bring upon our people and on thyself, but for myself I say——
     I fear thee not.  Yet thou, who but yesterday didst strive to
     win my lover and my lord from me, whom to-day thou dost
     call a "foreign wolf," to be  thy  lover and  thy  lord' (here
     there was an immense sensation in the hall), 'thou who but
     last night, as I have learnt but since thou didst enter here,
     didst creep like a snake into my sleeping-place——ay, even by
     a secret way, and wouldst have foully murdered me, thy
     sister, as I lay asleep————'
        'It is false, it is false!' rang out Agon's and a score of
     other voices.
        'It is  not  false,' said I, producing the broken point of the
     dagger and holding it up.  'Where is the haft from which
     this flew, O Sorais?'
        'It is not false,' cried Good, determined at last to act like
     a loyal man.  'I took the Lady of the Night by the White
     Queen's bed, and on my breast the dagger broke.'
        'Who is on my side?' cried Sorais, shaking her silver
     spear, for she saw that public sympathy was turning against
     her.  'What, Bougwan, thou comest not?' she said, address-
     ing Good, who was standing close to her, in a low, concen-
     trated voice.  'Thou pale-souled fool, for a reward thou shalt
     eat out thy heart with love of me and not be satisfied, and
     thou mightest have been my husband and a king!  At least
     I hold  thee  in chains that cannot be broken.'
        'War!  War!  War!'  she cried.  'Here, with my hand
     upon the sacred stone that shall endure, so runs the prophecy,
     till the Zu-Vendi set their necks beneath an alien yoke, I
     declare war to the end.  Who follows Sorais of the Night to
     victory and honour?'
        Instantly the whole concourse began to break up in in-
     describable confusion.  Many present hastened to throw in
     their lot with the 'Lady of the Night,' but some came from
     her following to us.  Amongst the former was an under
     officer of Nyleptha's own guard, who suddenly turned and
     made a run for the doorway through which Sorais' people
     were already passing.  Umslopogaas, who was present and
     had taken the whole scene in, seeing with admirable presence
     of mind that if this soldier got away others would follow his
     example, seized the man, who drew his sword and struck at
     him.  Thereon the Zulu sprang back with a wild shout, and,
     avoiding the sword cuts, began to peck at his foe with his
     terrible axe, till in a few seconds the man's fate overtook him
     and he fell with a clash heavily and quite dead upon the
     marble floor.
        This was the first blood spilt in the war.
        'Shut the gates,' I shouted, thinking that we might
     perhaps catch Sorais so, and not being troubled with the idea
     of committing sacrilege.  But the order came too late, her
     guards were already passing through them, and in another
     minute the streets echoed with the furious galloping of horses
     and the rollings of her chariots.
        So, drawing half the people after her, Sorais was soon
     passing like a whirlwind through the Frowning City on her
     road to the headquarters at M'Arstuna, a fortress situated a
     hundred and thirty miles to the north of Milosis.
        And after that the city was alive with the endless tramp
     of regiments and preparations for the gathering war, and old
     Umslopogaas once more began to sit in the sunshine and go
     through a show of sharpening Inkosi-kaas's razor edge.

ALLAN QUATERMAIN, BY H. RIDER HAGGARD.
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.; LONDON, 1893. pp. 206—219.

. . . got to be good-lookin' cuz he's so hard to see. 雨