One part of it fell upon Zikali, the other part travelled on and struck Cetewayo upon the knee.
There followed a great confusion and a cry of "The king is stabbed!" I ran forward to look and saw the blade of a little assegai lying on the ground and on Cetewayo's knee a slight cut from which blood trickled.
"It is nothing," I said, "a scratch, no more, though had not the spear been stopped in its course it might have been otherwise." "Yes," cried Zikali, "but what was it that caused the cut?
Take this, Sigananda, and tell me what it may be," and he threw towards him a piece of red wood.
Sigananda looked at it.

"It is the haft of the Black One's spear," he exclaimed, "which the bullet of Macumazahn has severed from the blade." "Aye," said Zikali, "and the blade has drawn the blood of the Black One's child.

Read me this omen, Sigananda; or ask it of her who stands above you." Now all looked to the rock, but it was empty.

The figure had vanished.
"Your word, King," said Zikali.

"Is it for peace or war ?" Cetewayo looked at the assegai, looked at the blood trickling from his knee, looked at the faces of the councillors.
"Blood calls for blood," he moaned.