Still, the mouth is not the head, so
the mouth may come in peace.'"
Now I started when for the second time I heard talk of one Mopo, whose
name had been on the lips of Bulalio the Slaughterer. Who was there
that would thus have loved Mopo except one who was long dead? And yet,
perhaps the chief spoke of some other Mopo, for the name was not my
own only--in truth, Chaka had killed a chief of that name at the great
mourning, because he said that two Mopos in the land were one too
many, and that though this Mopo wept sorely when the tears of others
were dry. So I said only that this Bulalio had a high stomach, and we
went on to the gates of the kraal.
There were none to meet us at the gates, and none stood by the doors
of the huts within them, but beyond, from the cattle kraal that was in
the centre of the huts, rose a dust and a din as of men gathering for
war. Now some of those were with me were afraid, and would have turned
back, fearing treachery, and they were yet more afraid when, on coming
to the inner entrance of the cattle kraal, we saw some five hundred
soldiers being mustered there company by company, by two great men,
who ran up and down the ranks shouting.
But I cried, "Nay! nay! Turn not back! Bold looks melt the hearts of
foes. Moreover, if this Bulalio would have murdered us, there was no
need for him to call up so many of his warriors.
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