"S'gee!" says the hiss.

"S'gee! S'gee!" There, my father, I am old.

What have I do with the battle any more, with the battle and its joy?
Yet it is better to die in such a fight as that than to live any other way.

I have seen such--I have seen many such.

Oh! we could fight when I was a man, my father, but none that I knew could ever fight like Umslopogaas the Slaughterer, son of Chaka, and his blood-brother Galazi the Wolf! So, so! they swept them away, those Halakazi; they swept them as a maid sweeps the dust of a hut, as the wind sweeps the withered leaves.