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than this wagon； we will go and ask Zweete。 Bring a bottle of
squareface and some snuff with you for presents。〃
An hour later he stood in the hut of Zweete。 Before him was a very
ancient man； a mere bag of bones； with sightless eyes； and one hand
his leftwhite and shrivelled。
〃What do you seek of Zweete； my white father？〃 asked the old man in a
thin voice。 〃You do not believe in me and my wisdom； why should I help
you？ Yet I will do it； though it is against your law； and you do wrong
to ask me；yes； to show you that there is truth in us Zulu doctors； I
will help you。 My father； I know what you seek。 You seek to know where
your oxen have run for shelter from the cold！ Is it not so？〃
〃It is so； Doctor；〃 answered the White Man。 〃You have long ears。〃
〃Yes； my white father； I have long ears； though they say that I grow
deaf。 I have keen eyes also； and yet I cannot see your face。 Let me
hearken！ Let me look！〃
For awhile he was silent； rocking himself to and fro； then he spoke：
〃You have a farm； White Man； down near Pine Town； is it not？ Ah！ I
thought soand an hour's ride from your farm lives a Boer with four
fingers only on his right hand。 There is a kloof on the Boer's farm
where mimosa…trees grow。 There； in the kloof； you shall find your oxen
yes； five days' journey from here you will find them all。 I say all；
my father； except three onlythe big black Africander ox； the little
red Zulu ox with one horn； and the speckled ox。 You shall not find
these； for they have died in the snow。 Send； and you will find the
others。 No； no！ I ask no fee！ I do not work wonders for reward。 Why
should I？ I am rich。〃
Now the White Man scoffed。 But in the end； so great is the power of
superstition； he sent。 And here it may be stated that on the eleventh
day of his sojourn at the kraal of Zweete； those whom he sent returned
with the oxen； except the three only。 After that he scoffed no more。
Those eleven days he spent in a hut of the old man's kraal； and every
afternoon he came and talked with him； sitting far into the night。
On the third day he asked Zweete how it was that his left hand was
white and shrivelled； and who were Umslopogaas and Nada； of whom he
had let fall some words。 Then the old man told him the tale that is
set out here。 Day by day he told some of it till it was finished。 It
is not all written in these pages； for portions may have been
forgotten； or put aside as irrelevant。 Neither has it been possible
for the writer of it to render the full force of the Zulu idiom nor to
convey a picture of the teller。 For； in truth； he acted rather than
told his story。 Was the death of a warrior in question； he stabbed
with his stick； showing how the blow fell and where； did the story
grow sorrowful； he groaned； or even wept。 Moreover； he had many
voices； one for each of the actors in his tale。 This man； ancient and
withered； seemed to live again in the far past。 It was the past that
spoke to his listener； telling of deeds long forgotten； of deeds that
are no more known。
Yet as he best may； the White Man has set down the substance of the
story of Zweete in the spirit in which Zweete told it。 And because the
history of Nada the Lily and of those with whom her life was
intertwined moved him strangely； and in many ways； he has done more；
he has printed it that others may judge of it。
And now his part is played。 Let him who was named Zweete； but who had
another name； take up the story。
CHAPTER I
THE BOY CHAKA PROPHESIES
You ask me； my father； to tell you the tale of the youth of
Umslopogaas； holder of the iron Chieftainess； the axe Groan…maker； who
was named Bulalio the Slaughterer； and of his love for Nada； the most
beautiful of Zulu women。 It is long； but you are here for many nights；
and； if I live to tell it； it shall be told。 Strengthen your heart； my
father； for I have much to say that is sorrowful； and even now； when I
think of Nada the tears creep through the horn that shuts out my old
eyes from light。
Do you know who I am； my father？ You do not know。 You think that I am
an old； old witch…doctor named Zweete。 So men have thought for many
years； but that is not my name。 Few have known it； for I have kept it
locked in my breast； lest； thought I live now under the law of the
White Man； and the Great Queen is my chieftainess； an assegai still
might find this heart did any know my name。
Look at this hand； my fatherno； not that which is withered with
fire； look on this right hand of mine。 You see it； though I who am
blind cannot。 But still； within me； I see it as it was once。 Ay！ I see
it red and strongred with the blood of two kings。 Listen； my father；
bend your ear to me and listen。 I am Mopoah！ I felt you start； you
start as the regiment of the Bees started when Mopo walked before
their ranks； and from the assegai in his hand the blood of Chaka＇1＇
dropped slowly to the earth。 I am Mopo who slew Chaka the king。 I
killed him with Dingaan and Umhlangana the princes； but the wound was
mine that his life crept out of； and but for me he would never have
been slain。 I killed him with the princes； but Dingaan； I and one
other slew alone。
＇1＇ The Zulu Napoleon； one of the greatest geniuses and most wicked
men who ever lived。 He was killed in the year 1828； having
slaughtered more than a million human beings。ED。
What do you say？ 〃Dingaan died by the Tongola。〃
Yes； yes； he died； but not there； he died on the Ghost Mountain； he
lies in the breast of the old Stone Witch who sits aloft forever
waiting for the world to perish。 But I also was on the Ghost Mountain。
In those days my feet still could travel fast； and vengeance would not
let me sleep。 I travelled by day； and by night I found him。 I and
another； we killed himah！ ah！
Why do I tell you this？ What has it to do with the loves of
Umslopogaas and Nada the Lily？ I will tell you。 I stabbed Chaka for
the sake of my sister； Baleka； the mother of Umslopogaas； and because
he had murdered my wives and children。 I and Umslopogaas slew Dingaan
for the sake of Nada； who was my daughter。
There are great names in the story； my father。 Yes； many have heard
the names： when the Impis roared them out as they charged in battle； I
have felt the mountains shake and seen the waters quiver in their
sound。 But where are they now？ Silence has them； and the white men
write them down in books。 I opened the gates of distance for the
holders of the names。 They passed through and they are gone beyond。 I
cut the strings that tied them to the world。 They fell off。 Ha！ ha！
They fell off！ Perhaps they are falling still； perhaps they creep
about their desolate kraals in the skins of snakes。 I wish I knew the
snakes that I might crush them with my heel。 Yonder； beneath us； at
the burying place of kings； there is a hole。 In that hole lies the
bones of Chaka； the king who died for Baleka。 Far away in Zululand
there is a cleft upon the Ghost Mountain。 At the foot of that cleft
lie the bones of Dingaan； the king who died for Nada。 It was far to
fall and he was heavy； those bones of his are broken into little
pieces。 I went to see them when the vultures and the jackals had done
their work。 And then I laughed three times and came here to die。
All that is long ago； and I have not died； though I wish to die and
follow the road that Nada trod。 Perhaps I have lived to tell you this
tale； my father； that you may repeat it to the white men if you will。
How old am I？ Nay； I do not know。 Very； very old。 Had Chaka lived he
would have been as old as I。＇2＇ None are living whom I knew when I was
a boy。 I am so old that I must hasten。 The grass withers； and the
winter comes。 Yes； while I speak the winter nips my heart。 Well； I am
ready to sleep in the cold； and perhaps I shall awake again in the
spring。
＇2＇ This would have made him nearly a hundred years old； an age rarely
attained by a native。 The writer remembers talking to an aged Zulu
woman； however； who told him that she was married when Chaka was
king。ED。
Before the Zulus were a peoplefor I will begin at the beginningI
was born of the Langeni tribe。 We were not a large tribe； afterwards；
all our able…bodied men numbered one full regiment in Chaka's army；
perhaps there were between two and three thousand of them； but they
were brave。 Now they are all dead； and their women and children with
them；that people is no more。 It is gone like last month's moon； how
it went I will tell you by…and…bye。
Our tribe lived in a beautiful open country； the Boers； whom we call
the Amaboona； are there now； they tell me。 My father； Makedama； was
chief of the tribe； and his kraal was built on the crest of a hill；
but I was not the son of his head wife。 One evening； when I was still
little； standing as high as a man's elbow only； I went out with my
mother below the cattle kraal to see the cows driven in。 My mot