trampled to death in the rush, the herd had gone. Now, like the Roman
emperor--I think he was an emperor--I began to wonder what had become of
my legions.

"Umbezi," I shouted, or, rather, sneezed through the smoke, "are you
dead, Umbezi?"

"Yes, yes, Macumazahn," replied a choking and melancholy voice from the
top of the rock, "I am dead, quite dead. That evil spirit of a silwana
[i.e. wild beast] has killed me. Oh! why did I think I was a hunter;
why did I not stop at my kraal and count my cattle?"

"I am sure I don't know, you old lunatic," I answered, as I scrambled up
the rock to bid him good-bye.

It was a rock with a razor top like the ridge of a house, and there,
hanging across this ridge like a pair of nether garments on a
clothes-line, I found the "Eater-up-of-Elephants."

"Where did he get you, Umbezi?" I asked, for I could not see his wounds
because of the smoke.

"Behind, Macumazahn, behind!" he groaned, "for I had turned to fly, but,
alas! too late."

"On the contrary," I replied, "for one so heavy you flew very well; like
a bird, Umbezi, like a bird."

"Look and see what the evil beast has done to me, Macumazahn. It will
be easy, for my moocha has gone."