The man fell, and again he struck at another soldier, cutting his throat.

The Boers also drew their knives--those of them who had time--and tried to defend themselves against these black devils, who rushed on them in swarms.

I heard afterwards that they succeeded in killing six or eight of them and wounding perhaps a score.

But it was soon over, for what could men armed only with pocket-knives do against such a multitude?
Presently, amidst a hideous tumult of shouts, groans, curses, prayers for mercy, and Zulu battle cries, the Boers were all struck down--yes, even the two little lads and the Hottentot servants.

Then they were dragged away, still living, by the soldiers, their heels trailing on the ground, just as wounded worms or insects are dragged by the black ants.
Dingaan was standing by me now, laughing, his fat face working nervously.
"Come, Son of George," he said, "and let us see the end of these traitors to your sovereign." Then I was pulled along to an eminence within the labyrinth, whence there was a view of the surrounding country.