"Stand back, ye dogs," I shouted, "if ye would see to-morrow's light. Touch one hair of his head and your king dies," and I covered Twala with my revolver. Sir Henry and Good also drew their pistols, Sir Henry pointing his at the leading executioner, who was advancing to carry out the sentence, and Good taking a deliberate aim at Gagool.
Twala winced perceptibly, as my barrel came in a line with his broad chest.
"Well," I said, "what is it to be, Twala?"
"Put away your magic tubes," he said; "ye have adjured me in the name of hospitality, and for that reason, but not from fear of what ye can do, I spare him. Go in peace."
"It is well," I answered, unconcernedly; "we are weary of slaughter, and would sleep. Is the dance ended?"
"It is ended," Twala answered, sulkily. "Let these dogs," pointing to the long rows of corpses, "be flung out to the hyenas and the vultures," and he lifted his spear.
Instantly the regiments began in perfect silence to defile off through the kraal gateway, a fatigue party only remaining behind to drag away the corpses of those who had been sacrificed.
Then we too rose, and, making our salaam to his majesty, which he hardly deigned to acknowledge, departed to our kraal.
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