Part 40 (1/2)

”Said I not that the old Witch should smile at this fray?” he cried.

”Lo! she smiles! Up, Galazi, let us spend the remnant of our people on the foe, and fight this fight out, man to man, with no beast to spoil it! Ho! Blood and Greysnout! ho! Deathgrip! ho! wood-dwellers grey and black, at them, my children!”

The wolves heard; they were few and they were sorry to see, with weariness and wounds, but still they were fierce. With a howl, for the last time they leaped down upon the foe, tearing, harrying, and killing till they themselves were dead by the spear, every one of them except Deathgrip, who crept back sorely wounded to die with Galazi.

”Now I am a chief without a people,” cried Galazi. ”Well, it has been my lot in life. So it was in the Halakazi kraals, so it is on Ghost Mountain at the last, and so also shall it be even for the greatest kings when they come to their ends, seeing that they, too, must die alone. Say, Slaughterer, choose where you will stand, to the left or to the right.”

Now, my father, the track below separated, because of a boulder, and there were two little paths which led to the platform of the Witch's knees with, perhaps, ten paces between them. Umslopogaas guarded the left-hand path and Galazi took the right. Then they waited, having spears in their hands. Presently the soldiers came round the rock and rushed up against them, some on one path and some on the other.

Then the brethren hurled their spears at them and killed three men.

Now the a.s.segais were done, and the foe was on them. Umslopogaas bends forward, his long arm shoots out, the axe gleams, and a man who came on falls back.

”One!” cries Umslopogaas.

”One, my brother!” answers Galazi, as he draws back the Watcher from his blow.

A soldier rushes forward, singing. To and fro he moves in front of Umslopogaas, his spear poised to strike. Groan-Maker swoops down, but the man leaps back, the blow misses, and the Slaughterer's guard is down.

”A poor stroke, Sorcerer!” cries the man as he rushes in to stab him.

Lo! the axe wheels in the air, it circles swiftly low down by the ground; it smites upward. Before the spearsman can strike the horn of Groan-Maker has sped from chin to brain.

”But a good return, fool!” says Umslopogaas.

”Two!” cries Galazi, from the right.

”Two! my brother,” answers Umslopogaas.

Again two men come on, one against each, to find no better luck. The cry of ”Three!” pa.s.ses from brother to brother, and after it rises the cry of ”Four!”

Now Faku bids the men who are left to hold their s.h.i.+elds together and push the two from the mouths of the paths, and this they do, losing four more men at the hands of the brethren before it is done.

”Now we are on the open! Ring them round and down with them!” cries Faku.

But who shall ring round Groan-Maker that s.h.i.+nes on all sides at once, Groan-Maker who falls heavily no more, but pecks and pecks and pecks like a wood-bird on a tree, and never pecks in vain? Who shall ring round those feet swifter than the Sa.s.saby of the plains? Wow! He is here! He is there! He is a sorcerer! Death is in his hand, and death looks out of his eyes!

Galazi lives yet, for still there comes the sound of the Watcher as it thunders on the s.h.i.+elds, and the Wolf's hoa.r.s.e cry of the number of the slain. He has a score of wounds, yet he fights on! his leg is almost hewn from him with an axe, yet he fights on! His back is pierced again and again, yet he fights on! But two are left alive before him, one twists round and spears him from behind. He heeds it not, but smites down the foe in front. Then he turns and, whirling the Watcher on high, brings him down for the last time, and so mightily that the man before him is crushed like an egg.

Galazi brushes the blood from his eyes and glares round on the dead.

”All! Slaughterer,” he cries.

”All save two, my brother,” comes the answer, sounding above the clash of steel and the sound of smitten s.h.i.+elds.

Now the Wolf would come to him, but cannot, for his life ebbs.

”Fare you well, my brother! Death is good! Thus, indeed, I would die, for I have made me a mat of men to lie on,” he cried with a great voice.

”Fare you well! Sleep softly, Wolf!” came the answer. ”All save one!”

Now Galazi fell dying on the dead, but he was not altogether gone, for he still spoke. ”All save one! Ha! ha! ill for that one then when Groan-Maker yet is up. It is well to have lived so to die. Victory!