All three of us had seen a good deal of scenery in different parts
of the world, and one of the party was intimately acquainted with the
finest spots in South Africa, but we were forced to admit that we had
never seen anything half so lovely as Secocoeni's valley. We had seen
grander views, indeed the scene from the top of the pass was grander,
but never anything that so nearly approached perfection in detail.
Beautiful it was, beautiful beyond measure, but it was the sort of
beauty under whose veil are hidden fever and death. And so we pushed on,
through the still hot eventide, till at length we came to the gates
of the town, where we found "Makurupiji," Secocoeni's "mouth" or prime
minister, who had evidently been informed of our coming by his spies
waiting to receive us.[*]
[*] Makurupiji committed suicide after the town had been stormed,
preferring death to imprisonment.
Conducted by this grandee, we went on past the Chief's kraals, down to
the town, whence flocked men, women, and children, to look on the white
lords; all in a primitive state of dress, consisting of a strip of skin
tied round the middle, and the women with their hair powdered with some
preparation of iron, which gave it a metallic blue tinge.
Pages:
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520