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Half an hour later the four of us who were armed with guns were posted
behind rocks on either side of the steep, natural roadway cut by water,
which led down to the vlei, and with us some of Umbezi's men. That
chief himself was at my side--a post of honour which he had insisted
upon taking. To tell the truth, I did not dissuade him, for I thought
that I should be safer so than if he were opposite to me, since, even if
the old rifle did not go off of its own accord, Umbezi, when excited,
was a most uncertain shot. The herd of buffalo appeared to have lain
down in the reeds, so, being careful to post ourselves first, we sent
three of the native bearers to the farther side of the vlei, with
instructions to rouse the beasts by shouting. The remainder of the
Zulus--there were ten or a dozen of them armed with stabbing spears--we
kept with us.
But what did these scoundrels do? Instead of disturbing the herd by
making a noise, as we told them, for some reason best known to
themselves--I expect it was because they were afraid to go into the
vlei, where they might meet the horn of a buffalo at any moment--they
fired the dry reeds in three or four places at once, and this, if you
please, with a strong wind blowing from them to us. In a minute or two
the farther side of the swamp was a sheet of crackling flame that gave
off clouds of dense white smoke. Then pandemonium began.
The sleeping buffalo leapt to their feet, and, after a few moments of
indecision, crashed towards us, the whole huge herd of them, snorting
and bellowing like mad things. Seeing what was about to happen, I
nipped behind a big boulder, while Scowl shinned up a mimosa with the
swiftness of a cat and, heedless of its thorns, sat himself in an
eagle's nest at the top. The Zulus with the spears bolted to take cover
where they could. What became of Saduko I did not see, but old Umbezi,
bewildered with excitement, jumped into the exact middle of the roadway,
shouting:
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