me jump out of my skin. He was a very tall, broad man, quite
six foot three, I should say, but gaunt, with lean, wiry-looking
limbs. My first glance at him told me that he was no Wakwafi:
he was a pure bred Zulu. He came out with his thin aristocratic-looking
hand placed before his face to hide a yawn, so I could only see
that he was a 'Keshla' or ringed man {Endnote 1}, and that he
had a great three-cornered hole in his forehead. In another
second he removed his hand, revealing a powerful-looking Zulu
face, with a humorous mouth, a short woolly beard, tinged with
grey, and a pair of brown eyes keen as a hawk's. I knew my man
at once, although I had not seen him for twelve years. 'How
do you do, Umslopogaas?' I said quietly in Zulu.

The tall man (who among his own people was commonly known as
the 'Woodpecker', and also as the 'Slaughterer') started, and
almost let the long-handled battleaxe he held in his hand fall
in his astonishment. Next second he had recognized me, and was
saluting me in an outburst of sonorous language which made his
companions the Wakwafi stare.

'Koos' (chief), he began, 'Koos-y-Pagete! Koos-y-umcool! (Chief
from of old -- mighty chief) Koos! Baba! (father) Macumazahn,
old hunter, slayer of elephants, eater up of lions, clever one!
watchful one! brave one! quick one! whose shot never misses,
who strikes straight home, who grasps a hand and holds it to
the death (i.e. is a true friend) Koos! Baba! Wise is the voice
of our people that says, "Mountain never meets with mountain,
but at daybreak or at even man shall meet again with man." Behold!
a messenger came up from Natal, "Macumazahn is dead!" cried he.
"The land knows Macumazahn no more." That is years ago. And