King Solomon's Mines
soldier step forty paces and place the shaft of a spear in the ground
so that the flat blade looks towards us.”
In a few seconds it was done.
“Now, see, I will break yonder spear.”
Taking a careful sight I fired. The bullet struck the flat of the
spear, and shattered the blade into fragments.
Again the sigh of astonishment went up.
“Now, Twala, we give this magic tube to thee, and by-and-by I will show
thee how to use it; but beware how thou turnest the magic of the Stars
against a man of earth,” and I handed him the rifle.
The king took it very gingerly, and laid it down at his feet. As he did
so I observed the wizened monkey-like figure creeping from the shadow
of the hut. It crept on all fours, but when it reached the place where
the king sat it rose upon its feet, and throwing the furry covering
from its face, revealed a most extraordinary and weird countenance.
Apparently it was that of a woman of great age so shrunken that in size
it seemed no larger than the face of a year-old child, although made up
of a number of deep and yellow wrinkles. Set in these wrinkles was a
sunken slit, that represented the mouth, beneath which the chin curved
outwards to a point. There was no nose to speak of; indeed, the visage
might have been taken for that of a sun-dried corpse had it not been
for a pair of large black eyes, still full of fire and intelligence,
which gleamed and played under the snow-white eyebrows, and the
projecting parchment-coloured skull, like jewels in a charnel-house. As
for the head itself, it was perfectly bare, and yellow in hue, while
its wrinkled scalp moved and contracted like the hood of a cobra.
The figure to which this fearful countenance belonged, a countenance so
fearful indeed that it caused a shiver of fear to pass through us as we
gazed on it, stood still for a moment. Then suddenly it projected a
skinny claw armed with nails nearly an inch long, and laying it on the
shoulder of Twala the king, began to speak in a thin and piercing
voice—
“Listen, O king! Listen, O warriors! Listen, O mountains and plains and
rivers, home of the Kukuana race! Listen, O skies and sun, O rain and
storm and mist! Listen, O men and women, O youths and maidens, and O ye
babes unborn! Listen, all things that live and must die! Listen, all
dead things that shall live again—again to die! Listen, the spirit of
life is in me and I prophesy. I prophesy! I prophesy!”
The words died away in a faint wail, and dread seemed to seize upon the
hearts of all who heard them, including our own. This old woman was
very terrible.
“_Blood! blood! blood!_ rivers of blood; blood everywhere. I see it, I
smell it, I taste it—it is salt! it runs red upon the ground, it rains
down from the skies.
“_Footsteps! footsteps! footsteps!_ the tread of the white man coming
from afar. It shakes the earth; the earth trembles before her master.
“Blood is good, the red blood is bright; there is no smell like the
smell of new-shed blood. The lions shall lap it and roar, the vultures
shall wash their wings in it and shriek with joy.
“I am old! I am old! I have seen much blood; _ha, ha!_ but I shall see
more ere I die, and be merry. How old am I, think ye? Your fathers knew
me, and _their_ fathers knew me, and _their_ fathers’ fathers’ fathers.
I have seen the white man and know his desires. I am old, but the
mountains are older than I. Who made the great road, tell me? Who wrote
the pictures on the rocks, tell me? Who reared up the three Silent Ones
yonder, that gaze across the pit, tell me?” and she pointed towards the
three precipitous mountains which we had noticed on the previous night.
“Ye know not, but I know. It was a white people who were before ye are,
who shall be when ye are not, who shall eat you up and destroy you.
_Yea! yea! yea!_
“And what came they for, the White Ones, the Terrible Ones, the skilled
in magic and all learning, the strong, the unswerving? What is that
bright stone upon thy forehead, O king? Whose hands made the iron
garments upon thy breast, O king? Ye know not, but I know. I the Old
One, I the Wise One, I the _Isanusi_, the witch doctress!”
Then she turned her bald vulture-head towards us.
“What seek ye, white men of the Stars—ah, yes, of the Stars? Do ye seek
a lost one? Ye shall not find him here. He is not here. Never for ages
upon ages has a white foot pressed this land; never except once, and I
remember that he left it but to die. Ye come for bright stones; I know
it—I know it; ye shall find them when the blood is dry; but shall ye
return whence ye came, or shall ye stop with me? _Ha! ha! ha!_
“And thou, thou with the dark skin and the proud bearing,” and she
pointed her skinny finger at Umbopa, “who art _thou_, and what seekest
_thou_? Not stones that shine, not yellow metal that gleams, these thou
leavest to ‘white men from the Stars.’ Methinks I know thee; methinks I
can smell the smell of the blood in thy heart. Strip off the girdle—”
Here the features of this extraordinary creature became convulsed, and
she fell to the ground foaming in an epileptic fit, and was carried
into the hut.
The king rose up trembling, and waved his hand. Instantly the regiments
began to file off, and in ten minutes, save for ourselves, the king,
and a few attendants, the great space was left empty.
“White people,” he said, “it passes in my mind to kill you. Gagool has
spoken strange words. What say ye?”
I laughed. “Be careful, O king, we are not easy to slay. Thou hast seen
the fate of the ox; wouldst thou be as the ox is?”
The king frowned. “It is not well to threaten a king.”
“We threaten not, we speak what is true. Try to kill us, O king, and
learn.”
The great savage put his hand to his forehead and thought.
“Go in peace,” he said at length. “To-night is the great dance. Ye
shall see it. Fear not that I shall set a snare for you. To-morrow I
will think.”
“It is well, O king,” I answered unconcernedly, and then, accompanied
by Infadoos, we rose and went back to our kraal.
CHAPTER X.
THE WITCH-HUNT
On reaching our hut I motioned to Infadoos to enter with us.
“Now, Infadoos,” I said, “we would speak with thee.”
“Let my lords say on.”
“It seems to us, Infadoos, that Twala the king is a cruel man.”
“It is so, my lords. Alas! the land cries out because of his cruelties.
To-night ye shall see. It is the great witch-hunt, and many will be
smelt out as wizards and slain. No man’s life is safe. If the king
covets a man’s cattle, or a man’s wife, or if he fears a man that he
should excite a rebellion against him, then Gagool, whom ye saw, or
some of the witch-finding women whom she has taught, will smell that
man out as a wizard, and he will be killed. Many must die before the
moon grows pale to-night. It is ever so. Perhaps I too shall be killed.
As yet I have been spared because I am skilled in war, and am beloved
by the soldiers; but I know not how long I have to live. The land
groans at the cruelties of Twala the king; it is wearied of him and his
red ways.”
“Then why is it, Infadoos, that the people do not cast him down?”
“Nay, my lords, he is the king, and if he were killed Scragga would
reign in his place, and the heart of Scragga is blacker than the heart
of Twala his father. If Scragga were king his yoke upon our neck would
be heavier than the yoke of Twala. If Imotu had never been slain, or if
Ignosi his son had lived, it might have been otherwise; but they are
both dead.”
“How knowest thou that Ignosi is dead?” said a voice behind us. We
looked round astonished to see who spoke. It was Umbopa.
“What meanest thou, boy?” asked Infadoos; “who told thee to speak?”
“Listen, Infadoos,” was the answer, “and I will tell thee a story.
Years ago the king Imotu was killed in this country and his wife fled
with the boy Ignosi. Is it not so?”
“It is so.”
“It was said that the woman and her son died upon the mountains. Is it
not so?”
“It is even so.”
“Well, it came to pass that the mother and the boy Ignosi did not die.
They crossed the mountains and were led by a tribe of wandering desert
men across the sands beyond, till at last they came to water and grass
and trees again.”
“How knowest thou this?”
“Listen. They travelled on and on, many months’ journey, till they
reached a land where a people called the Amazulu, who also are of the
Kukuana stock, live by war, and with them they tarried many years, till
at length the mother died. Then the son Ignosi became a wanderer again,
and journeyed into a land of wonders, where white people live, and for
many more years he learned the wisdom of the white people.”
“It is a pretty story,” said Infadoos incredulously.
“For years he lived there working as a servant and a soldier, but
holding in his heart all that his mother had told him of his own place,
and casting about in his mind to find how he might journey thither to
see his people and his father’s house before he died. For long years he
lived and waited, and at last the time came, as it ever comes to him
who can wait for it, and he met some white men who would seek this
unknown land, and joined himself to them. The white men started and
travelled on and on, seeking for one who is lost. They crossed the
burning desert, they crossed the snow-clad mountains, and at last
reached the land of the Kukuanas, and there they found _thee_, O
Infadoos.”
“Surely thou art mad to talk thus,” said the astonished old soldier.
“Thou thinkest so; see, I will show thee, O my uncle.
“_I am Ignosi, rightful king of the Kukuanas!_”
Then with a single movement Umbopa slipped off his “moocha” or girdle,
and stood naked before us.
“Look,” he said; “what is this?” and he pointed to the picture of a
great snake tattooed in blue round his middle, its tail disappearing
into its open mouth just above where the thighs are set into the body.
Infadoos looked, his eyes starting nearly out of his head. Then he fell
upon his knees.
“_Koom! Koom!_” he ejaculated; “it is my brother’s son; it is the
king.”
“Did I not tell thee so, my uncle? Rise; I am not yet the king, but
with thy help, and with the help of these brave white men, who are my
friends, I shall be. Yet the old witch Gagool was right, the land shall
run with blood first, and hers shall run with it, if she has any and
can die, for she killed my father with her words, and drove my mother
forth. And now, Infadoos, choose thou. Wilt thou put thy hands between
my hands and be my man? Wilt thou share the dangers that lie before me,
and help me to overthrow this tyrant and murderer, or wilt thou not?
Choose thou.”
The old man put his hand to his head and thought. Then he rose, and
advancing to where Umbopa, or rather Ignosi, stood, he knelt before
him, and took his hand.
“Ignosi, rightful king of the Kukuanas, I put my hand between thy
hands, and am thy man till death. When thou wast a babe I dandled thee
upon my knees, now shall my old arm strike for thee and freedom.”
“It is well, Infadoos; if I conquer, thou shalt be the greatest man in
the kingdom after its king. If I fail, thou canst only die, and death
is not far off from thee. Rise, my uncle.”
“And ye, white men, will ye help me? What have I to offer you! The
white stones! If I conquer and can find them, ye shall have as many as
ye can carry hence. Will that suffice you?”
I translated this remark.
“Tell him,” answered Sir Henry, “that he mistakes an Englishman. Wealth
is good, and if it comes in our way we will take it; but a gentleman
does not sell himself for wealth. Still, speaking for myself, I say
this. I have always liked Umbopa, and so far as lies in me I will stand
by him in this business. It will be very pleasant to me to try to
square matters with that cruel devil Twala. What do you say, Good, and