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"The king is waiting to see you, white lords," he said in a voice of very forced jollity, "and I have come to conduct you to him." "Why would he not accept our presents?" I asked, pointing to the row of them. "Oh! that is because of Imbozwi's story of the magic shield. He said he wanted no gifts to burn his hair off. But, come, come. He will explain for himself.
Babemba and the witch-doctor were arguing so fiercely that neither of them seemed to notice what I was doing. Getting the focus right, I directed the concentrated spark straight on to Imbozwi's greased top-knot, where I knew he would feel nothing, my plan being to char a hole in it.
Most mercifully Mavovo was watching him, for that is a good Zulu saying which declares that "Wizard is Wizard's fate." With one bound he was on him. Just as the knife touched me it actually pricked my skin though without drawing blood, which was fortunate as probably it was poisoned he gripped Imbozwi's arm in his grasp of iron and hurled him to the ground as though he were but a child.
"I take note of them," answered Bausi, "and I swear by my mother on behalf of all the people, that they shall be fulfilled if Dogeetah comes." "Good," exclaimed Mavovo, and stalked on to the stake which had been pointed out to him. As he went he whispered something into Imbozwi's ear that seemed to frighten that limb of Satan, for I saw him start and shiver.
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