It is the
decree of the Munwali, spoken by the voice of his Mouth, the Molimo of
Bambatse. Go, children of Lobengula, and bear with you as an offering
this first-fruit of the harvest that the white men shall reap among the
warriors of his people."
The thin voice died away, and there was silence so intense that Benita
thought she heard the scraping of the feet of a green lizard which crept
across a stone a yard or two away.
Then of a sudden it ended. Of a sudden the two remaining Matabele turned
and fled for their lives, and as, when dogs run, a flock of sheep will
wheel about and pursue them, so did the Makalanga. They grabbed at the
messengers with their hands, tearing their finery from them; they struck
them with sticks, they pounded them with stones, till at length two
bruised and bleeding men, finding all escape cut off, and led perhaps
by some instinct, staggered back to where Benita stood horrified at this
dreadful scene, and throwing themselves upon the ground, clutched at her
dress and prayed for mercy.
"Move a little, Miss Clifford," said Meyer. "Three of those brutes will
not weigh heavier than one upon my conscience."
"No, no, you shall not," she answered. "Mambo, these men are messengers;
spare them."
"Hearken to the voice of pity," said the old prophet, "spoken in a place
where pity never was, and not in vain.
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