I went up and looked.

There, on the ground, lay the body of his son.

It was a dreadful sight.

The hair was burnt off his head, the copper rings upon his arms were fused, the assegai handle which lay near was literally shivered into threads, and, when I took hold of his arm, it seemed to me that every bone of it was broken.
The men with the chief stood gazing silently, while the women wailed.
"Great is the magic of Indaba-zimbi!" said a man, at length.

The chief turned and struck him a heavy blow with the kerrie in his hand.
"Great or not, thou dog, he shall die," he cried, "and so shalt thou if thou singest his praises so loudly." I said nothing, but thinking it probable that Indaba-zimbi had shared the fate of his enemy, I went to look.