With a roar like that of a lion the great man cast off those who held
him and seizing one of them round the waist and thigh, he put out all
his terrible strength. Lifting him as though he had been an infant, he
hurled him over the edge of the cliff to find his death on the rocks of
the Pool of Doom. Then crying:--
"Black Heart! your turn, Black Heart the traitor!" he rushed at Hadden,
his eyes rolling and foam flying from his lips, as he passed striking
the chief Maputa from his horse with a backward blow of his hand. Ill
would it have gone with the white man if Nahoon had caught him. But
he could not come at him, for the soldiers sprang upon him and
notwithstanding his fearful struggles they pulled him to the ground, as
at certain festivals the Zulu regiments with their naked hands pull down
a bull in the presence of the king.
"Cast him over before he can work more mischief," said a voice. But the
captain cried out, "Nay, nay, he is sacred; the fire from Heaven has
fallen on his brain, and we may not harm him, else evil would overtake
us all.
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