kill the ghost who has slain Bombyane by witchcraft."

Instantly I was surrounded by fierce faces, and spears flashed before my
eyes. I folded my arms and stood calmly waiting the end. In a moment
it would have come, for the warriors were mad at seeing their champion
overthrown thus easily. But presently through the tumult I heard the
high, cracked voice of Indaba-zimbi.

"Stand back, you fools!" it cried; "can a spirit then be killed?"

"Spear him! spear him!" they roared in fury. "Let us see if he is a
spirit. How did a spirit slay Bombyane with an assegai? Spear him,
rain-maker, and we shall see."

"Stand back," cried Indaba-zimbi again, "and I will show you if he
can be killed. I will kill him myself, and call him back to life again
before your eyes."

"Macumazahn, trust me," he whispered in my ear in the Sisutu tongue,
which the Zulus did not understand. "Trust me; kneel on the grass before
me, and when I strike at you with the spear, roll over like one dead;
then, when you hear my voice again, get up. Trust me--it is your only
hope."

Having no choice I nodded my head in assent, though I had not the
faintest idea of what he was about to do. The tumult lessened somewhat,
and once more the warriors drew back.

"Great White Spirit--Spirit of victory," said Indaba-zimbi, addressing
me aloud, and covering his eyes with his hand, "hear me and forgive me.