Look!" As he spoke, throwing his hands upwards, there arose at his very feet one of those tiny and incomprehensible whirlwinds with which all who know South Africa will be familiar.

It drove the dust together; it lifted it in a tall, spiral column that rose and rose to a height of fifty feet or more.

Then it died away as suddenly as it had come, so that the dust fell down again over Zikali, over the King, and over three of his sons who sat behind him.

Those three sons, I remember, were named Tshonkweni, Dabulesinye, and Mantantashiya.

As it chanced, by a strange coincidence all of these were killed at the great battle of the Tugela of which I have to tell.
Now again an exclamation of fear and wonder rose from the audience, who set down this lifting of the dust at Zikali's very feet not to natural causes, but to the power of his magic.