Imbozwi, however, interpreted my movement differently, since among savages the turning of the back always means that a petition is refused.

Then, in his rage and despair, the venom of his wicked heart boiled over.

He leapt to his feet, and drawing a big, carved knife from among his witch-doctor's trappings, sprang at me like a wild cat, shouting: "At least you shall come too, white dog!" Most mercifully Mavovo was watching him, for that is a good Zulu saying which declares that "Wizard is Wizard's fate." With one bound he was on him.

Just as the knife touched me--it actually pricked my skin though without drawing blood, which was fortunate as probably it was poisoned--he gripped Imbozwi's arm in his grasp of iron and hurled him to the ground as though he were but a child.
After this of course all was over.
"Come away," I said to Stephen and Brother John; "this is no place for us." So we went and gained our huts without molestation and indeed quite unobserved, for the attention of everyone in Beza Town was fully occupied elsewhere.

From the market-place behind us rose so hideous a clamour that we rushed into my hut and shut the door to escape or lessen the sound.