Awake, children of the Umtetwa, awake! The vulture wheels, the jackal sniffs the air; Awake, children of the Umtetwa--cry aloud, ye ringed men: There is the foe, we shall slay them.

Is it not so, my brothers?
_S'gee! S'gee! S'gee!_" Such is a rough translation of that hateful chant which to this very day I often seem to hear.

It does not look particularly imposing on paper, but if, while he waited to be killed, the reader could have heard it as it rolled through the still air from the throats of nearly three thousand warriors singing all to time, he would have found it impressive enough.
Now the shields began to appear over the brow of the rise.

They came by companies, each company about ninety strong.

Altogether there were thirty-one companies.