Here their hereditary enemies, the Mazitu, attacked them under the command of old Babemba.

The struggle that ensued partook more of the nature of a series of hand-to-hand fights than of a set battle.

It was extraordinary to see the heads of the combatants moving among the reeds as they stabbed at each other with the great spears, till one went down.

There were few wounded in that fray, for those who fell sank in the mud and water and were drowned.
On the whole the Pongo, who were operating in what was almost their native element, were getting the best of it, and driving the Mazitu back.

But what decided the day against them were the guns of our Zulu hunters.