RECEPTION BY MOSELEKATSE. 91 



heights the approaching foe. The noise of their song was hushed in night, 

 and their hearts were filled with dismay. They saw the clouds ascend from 

 the plains. It was the smoke of burning towns. The confusion of a whirl- 

 wind was in the heart of the great chief of the blue-coloured cattle. The 

 shout was raised, ' They are friends ; ' but they shouted again, ' They are 

 foes,' till their near approach proclaimed them naked Matabele. The men 

 seized their arms, and rushed out, as if to chase the antelope. The onset 

 was as the voice of lightning, and their spears as the shaking of a forest in the 

 autumn storm. The Matabele lions raised the shout of death, and flew upon 

 their victims. It was the shout of victory. Their hissing and hollow groans told 

 their progress among the dead. A few moments laid hundreds on the ground. 

 The clash of shields was the signal of triumph. Our people fled with their cattle 

 to the top of yonder mount. The Matabele entered the town with the roar 

 of the Hon ; they pillaged and fired the houses, speared the mothers, and cast 

 their infants to the flames. The sun went down. The victors emerged from 

 the smoking plain, and pursued their course, surrounding the base of yonder 

 hill. They slaughtered cattle : they danced and sang till the dawn of day ; 

 they ascended and killed till their hands were weary of the spear. Stooping 

 to the ground on which we stood, he took up a little dust in his hand ; blow- 

 ing it off, and holding out his naked palm, he added, ' That is all that remains 

 of the great chief of the blue-coloured cattle!' 'It is impossible for me,' 

 says Mr. Moffat, ' to describe my f eelings while listening to this descriptive 

 effusion of native eloquence ; and I afterwards embraced opportunities of 

 writing it down, of which the above is only an abridgement. I found also 

 from other aborigines that his was no fabled song, but merely a compendious 

 sketch of the catastrophe.' " 



Arrived at the town of the great chief, Mr. Moffat was received with 

 much pomp : — 



" On riding into the centre of the large fold, which was capable of hold- 

 ing ten thousand head of cattle, we were rather taken by surprise to find it 

 lined by eight hundred warriors, beside two hundred which were concealed 

 in each side of the entrance, as if in ambush. We were beckoned to dismount, 

 which we did, holding our horses' bridles in our hands. The warriors at the 

 gate instantly rushed in with hideous yells, and leaping from the earth with 

 kilts around their bodies, hanging like loose tails, and their large shields, 

 frightened our horses. They then joined the circle, falling into rank with as 

 much order as if they had been accustomed to European tactics. Here we 

 stood surrounded by warriors, whose kilts were of ape skins, and their legs 

 and arms adorned with the hair and tails of oxen, their shields reaching to 

 their chins, and their heads adorned with feathers. 



"Although in the centre of a town all was silent as the midnight hour, 

 while the men were motionless as statues. Eyes only were seen to move, and 



