The answer was that it was not lawful for any man to appear before the king armed even with so much as a dancing-stick.

Mavovo and the Zulus showed signs of resisting and for a minute I thought there was going to be a row, which of course would have ended in our massacre, for although the Mazitus feared guns very much, what could we have done against hundreds of them?
I ordered him to give way, but for once he was on the point of disobeying me.

Then by a happy thought I reminded him that, according to his Snake, Dogeetah was coming, and that therefore all would be well.

So he submitted with an ill grace, and we saw our precious guns borne off we knew not where.
Then the Mazitu soldiers piled their spears and bows at the gate of the kraal and we proceeded with only the Union Jack and the musical box, which was now discoursing "Britannia rules the waves." Across the open space we marched to where several broad-leaved trees grew in front of a large native house.

Not far from the door of this house a fat, middle-aged and angry-looking man was seated on a stool, naked except for a moocha of catskins about his loins and a string of large blue beads round his neck.
"Bausi, the King," whispered Babemba.
At his side squatted a little hunchbacked figure, in whom I had no difficulty in recognising Imbozwi, although he had painted his scorched scalp white with vermillion spots and adorned his snub nose with a purple tip, his dress of ceremony I presume.