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Updated: June 11, 2025
At this time the Heer van Vooren, Swart Piet's father, had been dead for two years, and there were strange stories as to the manner of his death which I do not think it necessary to set out here. Whether or no Swart Piet did or did not murder his father I cannot say, nor does it matter, for at the least he worked other crimes as bad.
Sihamba, listening not far away, knew his voice; it was that of the fellow who had set the noose about her neck at Swart Piet's bidding and who was to have done the murder in the pass. "Now, friend, you are unarmed," she thought to herself, "for you have no gun with you, and perhaps we shall settle our accounts before you go to seek that dead jackal by to-morrow's light."
This being the case, and the river having fallen nearly a foot since Piet and I had first arrived at the ford, I seized the favourable opportunity, and safely transferred the wagon and all my other belongings to the Mashona side of the river upon the afternoon of the day of Piet's return; and, following the course of the stream to which I attributed the formation of the ford and which, Piet informed me, led direct to Gwanda outspanned for the night some six miles to the northward of the Limpopo.
As I now approached him, the sun was immediately behind me, and, mindful of Piet's advice, I was determined to keep it there, if possible; although there was this disadvantage about the arrangement, that the king, with his group of indunas, was far enough forward on my left front to be just within my range of vision, and any sudden movement upon the part of any of them was liable to attract my attention from my antagonist and leave me open to his attack.
The men were unarmed, and the presence of the women with the baskets the contents of which were of course a present to us showed that the visit was to be one of ceremony and compliment; therefore with Piet's assistance I at once proceeded to unpack one of my bales of "truck", and withdrew therefrom the articles which I proposed to present in turn.
Almost at the same instant the wolf-dog leapt from Grouse Piet's cage, and the two faced each other in the arena. With the next breath he drew Durant could have groaned. What happened in the following half minute was a matter of environment with Miki.
Nothing, but I shall win that kiss yet, yes, and before very long." Now in a valley of the hills, something over an hour's ride from the farm, and not far from the road that ran to Swart Piet's place, lived the little Kaffir witch-doctoress, Sihamba Ngenyanga.
But if we saw Piet's face no more, we could still feel the weight of his hand, since from that time forward we began to suffer from thefts of cattle and other troubles with the natives, which so Sihamba learned in her underground fashion were instigated by him, working through his savage tools, while he himself lay hidden far away and in safety.
His breath came in a sudden gasp. "DAMN!" he cried, softly. His hands clenched, and he stepped slowly down from the door and went toward the cage. It was over when he made his way through the ring of spectators. The fight had ended as suddenly as it had begun, and Grouse Piet's wolf-dog lay in the centre of the cage with a severed jugular. Miki looked as though he might be dying.
Once or twice she was moved to glance up at the brown face of the man who leaned between herself and the objectionable visitor. His attitude was one of complete ease, and yet something told her that he desired Piet's departure quite as sincerely as she did.
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