were our escort—all picked men of the household impi—and their leader was a noted warrior who was an old friend of Tuys.
After a short halt for this officer to deliver a brief address of welcome, Tuys ordered our party to proceed. I noted that he treated the officer with scant courtesy, and he explained this by saying, "Here I am a king; he is lucky if I even look at him!"
A little later we dropped into the Valley of Heaven. This is really the most delightful valley in Swaziland. It is well watered, and thousands of the natives have their kraals there. Swaziland is a broken country, alternating between veldt of from two to five, and even six thousand feet, and there are small rivers everywhere, flowing from west to east. Each of these rivers has cut out its own valley, but the Valley of Heaven is the most fertile and beautiful of all. Trees, sometimes in clumps but more often singly, are found along the banks of the rivers and each kraal is practically surrounded by big and little ones.
Our progress down the Valley of Heaven was practically a parade. At each kraal or village, a village being a collection of kraals, we would be greeted by hundreds of warriors and children. The women would usually remain in the background, but were quite in evidence. Young as I was, I could not help noting that they were the finest looking savages I had ever seen. These women have perfectly proportioned bodies and stand erect, with their heads thrown back. They are the women of a proud nation, and they show it. I particularly noticed their splendid shoulders, these and their erect carriage being due to carrying all burdens on their heads.
At each village the local chief would offer us tswala, or kaffir beer, and we were lucky to be important enough to be able to refuse to drink. If we had taken all that was offered, we would have been drowned long before the end of the first day in the Valley of Heaven. The fact that our escort consisted of picked warriors from the royal troops and that Oom Tuys was known to be the intimate of their king made it permissible for us to refuse to associate with the little chiefs along the line of march.
Camp on the last night before reaching the royal kraal at Zombode was pitched in the valley, and we saw the sun set over the plateau on which King Buno made his headquarters. After supper that night Oom Tuys confided to me a great secret.
"Buno has asked me a thousand times to bring him a rifle," he said, "but always I have refused. As you know, the Swazis, like other kaffirs, are not allowed to have guns. Death is the punishment we deal out to those who sell rifles to these savages. Now Buno has his heart set on owning a rifle, and the last time I saw him I promised that I would get him one.
"In the cart I have a Mauser with about five thousand cartridges, and the outfit is for Buno. You will want to come to Swaziland many times in the future, so I am going to make Buno your friend for life. I am going to allow you to present the Mauser to him!
"No one will know how he got it and you will be as big a man in Swaziland as I am, once you have given the rifle to Buno. Now what do you think of your Uncle Tuys?"
Naturally, I was very grateful, since I had already begun to feel the lure of Swaziland and dearly wanted to be a little king there myself.
That night was memorable for several reasons. Soon after dark Sibijaan and I climbed up the trail a little way and looked up the valley. Here and there we could see fires burning at the various kraals and quite often the wind brought us the pungent smell of wood-smoke. The sky was clear as it only is in South Africa and the stars glittered with all the hard brilliance of diamonds. However, we did not remain long admiring the beauties of the Valley of Heaven.
Down below us we suddenly saw what seemed to be a dark cloud of men coming up the road. Discreetly we hid in the brush along the trail and watched them go by. They were warriors in full costume, their faces hard and set in the dim light. There was only the sound of their feet on the road and their silence was unnerving. The Swazi warrior chanting and dancing in the sunlight is awesome enough, but when he becomes a silent swift-moving shadow of the night, he is terrifying. Particularly is this true when you are only a small boy and know that the shadow is fully armed and is deplorably careless with his weapons!
Sibijaan was shaking with terror, and as soon as the shadows passed on we started back to camp. Neither of us spoke. We didn't need to. We knew that we wanted Oom Tuys and without a word started for him.
A moment later we saw another band of warriors coming swiftly up the trail, so again we hid. As we dived into our little camp a third band passed. I was very glad to find Oom Tuys smoking by the fire, and for the first time in my life I realized that a fire is a friendly thing.
Tuys noted that we had been hurrying and asked the reason. I told him about the shadows on the trail.
"It is well that you hid," he said. "It would have been better yet if you had not been so foolish as to wander about at night. Don't you know that sudden death is always walking abroad at night in Swaziland? Have I not told you?"
Then he explained that practically all Swazis travel at night, whenever possible, so as to avoid the heat. He said that those we had met were going to Zombode, as the king had issued a call for his warriors to attend the celebration in our honor. That night I waked several times, cold with an unnamed fear, and was comforted by seeing the massive bulk of Tuys sleeping nearby. His steady breathing seemed a guarantee of safety and I would drift back to sleep feeling that the shadows on the trail were far removed from me.
CHAPTER V
Sheba's Breasts and the Place of Execution—Zombode and the royal kraal of Queen Labotsibeni—Common and royal ground—We reach King Buno's kraal at Lebombo—Gin for the king—Buno, the regal savage—I present a rifle to the king—Lomwazi takes me to Labotsibeni—The old queen is worried over Tuys's activities—The shooting match with the king—Tuys and I manage to miss a few human targets.
Next morning we waked to find several hundred more warriors surrounding our camp. A more important chief was in command, and when Tuys had made a brief but leisurely toilet, he talked to him. Again Tuys was given kingly honors, which he accepted with marked condescension. This chief informed him that King Buno was waiting for him and had sent greetings to "his white brother." Many dramatic gestures accompanied this announcement, and I was quite impressed with the manner of the chief. He was a fine figure of a savage and had a great number of scars on his forehead, showing that he had killed many enemies.
We broke camp shortly after and started on the short climb to the top of the plateau. With our escort we made a party of about five hundred, and I felt very proud to be riding with Oom Tuys at the head of so imposing a procession.
When we reached the top, Tuys reined in and pointed across the Valley of Heaven to where two rounded peaks rose about a thousand feet above the river.
"You see those?" he asked. "Those mountains are Sheba's Breasts and are known everywhere in Swaziland. Beyond them is the Place of Execution. If you look closely, you can see that sharp cliff to their left."
The rounded peaks looked exactly like a woman's breasts and were very striking. There are many tales about them and they are supposed to be the home of spirits of all kinds. I could see the cliff Tuys spoke of. It appeared to be a sheer drop of many feet.
The plateau was much like the high veldt in our country. Except for the tall grass and a few rocks raising their rugged tops here and there, it was absolutely barren. These rocks look like little black islands in a vast rolling sea of dull brown. Back of this are the bare mountains, rugged and naked in their rocky barrenness.
We
