We were surrounded by a great company of Zulus, as I discovered afterwards, over two hundred strong.
Thinking that after their fashion they were preparing to attack us at dawn, I called the news to the others, whereon Marais rushed forward, just as he had left his bed, cocking his roer as he came.
"For the love of God, do not shoot!" I said.

"How can we resist so many?
Soft words are our only chance." Still he attempted to fire, and would have done so had I not thrown myself upon him and literally torn the gun from his hand.

By this time the Vrouw Prinsloo had come up, a very weird spectacle, I recollect, in what she called her "sleep-garments," that included a night-cap made of a worn jackal skin and a kind of otter-pelt stomacher.
"Accursed fool!" she said to Marais, "would you cause all our throats to be cut?
Go forward, you, Allan, and talk to those 'swartzels'" (that is, black creatures), "gently, as you would to a savage dog.

You have a tongue steeped in oil, and they may listen to you." "Yes," I answered; "that seems the best thing to do.

If I should not return, give my love to Marie." So I beckoned to the headman of my Zulus whom I had hired at Delagoa, to accompany me, and marched forward boldly quite unarmed.