These warriors, some of whom had wounds that were scarcely healed, saluted me with loud cries of "Inkoosi!" and "Baba" as I stepped out of the wagon, where I had spent a wretched night of unpleasant anticipation, showing me that there were at least some Zulus with whom I remained popular.
Indeed, their delight at seeing me, whom they looked upon as a comrade and one of the few survivors of the great adventure, was quite touching.
As we went, which we did slowly, their captain told me of their fears that I had been killed with the others, and how rejoiced they were when they learned that I was safe.

He told me also that, after the third regiment had attacked them and broken up their ring, a small body of them, from eighty to a hundred only, managed to cut a way through and escape, running, not towards the Tugela, where so many thousands had perished, but up to Nodwengu, where they reported themselves to Panda as the only survivors of the Amawombe.
"And are you safe now ?" I asked of the captain.
"Oh, yes," he answered.

"You see, we were the King's men, not Umbelazi's, so Cetewayo bears us no grudge.

Indeed, he is obliged to us, because we gave the Usutu their stomachs full of good fighting, which is more than did those cows of Umbelazi's.

It is towards Saduko that he bears a grudge, for you know, my father, one should never pull a drowning man out of the stream--which is what Saduko did, for had it not been for his treachery, Cetewayo would have sunk beneath the water of Death--especially if it is only to spite a woman who hates him.