brothers?"

This question seemed to puzzle them a good deal, for they sang the song
again and again. At last a herald came forward, a great man with ivory
rings about his arm, and, putting his hands to his mouth, called out to
us asking where our cattle were.

Hans Botha climbed on to the top of a waggon and roared out that they
might answer that question themselves.

Then the herald called again, saying that he saw the cattle had been
sent away.

"We shall go and find the cattle," he said, "then we shall come and kill
you, because without cattle you must stop where you are, but if we wait
to kill you before we get the cattle, they may have trekked too far for
us to follow. And if you try to run away we shall easily catch you white
men!"

This struck me as a very odd speech, for the Zulus generally attack an
enemy first and take his cattle afterwards; still, there was a certain
amount of plausibility about it. While I was still wondering what it
all might mean, the Zulus began to run past us in companies towards the
river. Suddenly a shout announced that they had found the spoor of the
cattle, and the whole Impi of them started down it at a run till they
vanished over a rise about a quarter of a mile away.

We waited for half an hour or more, but nothing could we see of them.

"Now I wonder if the devils have really gone," said Hans Botha to me.