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llent man who could sit a bucking horse better than anyone I ever knew。 Subsequently he entered the service of the British Government and was killed； how； I forget。
Shortly after the Annexation Deventer told the following tale to Osborn； and at the time we satisfied ourselves that this tale was true。 A night or two before our arrival at Fort Weber； when it was known that we were ing； Makurupiji； Secocoeni’s “Tongue” or prime minister； visited the place in connection with the peace negotiations。 Whether he was still there when we arrived I am not quite certain。 During his stay Mr。 A。 — who； I should add； was not of pure Boer blood — in Deventer’s hearing assured Makurupiji that if the Boers had scourged Secocoeni with whips； the English would scourge him with scorpions。 He said that they would take all the women and cattle and make slaves or soldiers of the men。 So earnest were his protestations that at length Makurupiji； who knew nothing about the English； was persuaded to believe him and asked what could be done to prevent these calamities。
Mr。 A。 answered that there was but one way out of the danger； namely to kill the British envoys。 To this plan Makurupiji at length consented； and it was arranged that on our way back from Secocoeni’s town we three were to be ambushed and murdered by the Basutos。 I should add that we never learned whether or not Secocoeni himself had any part in this scheme； or whether all the credit of it must be given to Makurupiji； a very cunning and villainous…looking person； who； I believe； ultimately mitted suicide after the destruction of the tribe； preferring death to imprisonment。 If Secocoeni was concerned in it retribution overtook him when； a year or two later； Sir Gar Wolseley stormed his town with the help of the Swazis and wiped out his people。 I think that he himself died in jail in Pretoria。
After the plot had been settled in all its details Mr。 A。 and Makurupiji separated。 During the night； however； Deventer； who was horrified at the whole business； crept to where Makurupiji was sleeping； woke him up and implored him to have nothing to do with so foul a crime。 Makurupiji listened to his arguments and in the end answered； “My words are my words。 What I have said I have said。”
We arrived and； according to my original pencilled notes which I have before me； started for Secocoeni’s on March 27th。 All that day we rode through wild and most beautiful country； now across valleys and now over mountains。 Indeed I never saw any more lovely in its own savage way； backed as it was by the splendid Blueberg range rising like a titanic wall； its jagged pinnacles aglow with the fires of the setting sun。 At length； scrambling down the path； in which one of our horses was seized with the dreaded sickness and left to die； we entered the fever…trap known as Secocoeni’s Town and rode on past the celebrated fortified kopje to the beautiful hut that had been prepared for us。
Here we were received by Swasi； Secocoeni’s uncle and guest…master。 All the population flocked out to look at us； clad in the sweet simplicity of a little strip of skin tied round the middle。 Even here； however； the female love of ornament was in evidence； for the hair of the women was elaborately arranged and powdered with some metal that caused it to glitter and gave it a blue tinge。 Our hut was very superior to that built by the Zulus。 It stood in a reed…hedged courtyard which was floored with limestone concrete。 Also it had a verandah round it。 The interior walls were painted with red ochre in lines and spirals something after the old Greek fashion。 Indeed； these Basutos gave me the idea that they were sprung from some race with a considerable knowledge of civilisation and its arts。 In other ways； however； they had quite relapsed into barbarism。 Thus； as we entered the town about a hundred women returned from labouring in the fields； stripped themselves stark naked before us； and proceeded to wash in a stream — though I observe that they did this “in a modest kind of way。” I should add that at this time very few white men had ever passed the gates of Secocoeni’s Town。
It was an uncanny kind of place。 If you got up at night； if you moved anywhere； you became aware that dozens or hundreds of eyes were watching you。 Privacy was impossible。 You ate； too； in public。 The chief sent down a sheep。 You saw it living； next you saw it more or less cooked and held before you in quarters on sticks by kneeling natives。 You cut off chunks with your knife； ate what you liked or； rather； what you must； and threw the rest to other natives who stood round staring； among them the heir…apparent to the chieftainship。 These caught the pieces as a dog does； and gobbled them down like a dog。
On the morning following our arrival； after a night so hot that sleep was almost impossible — for at that season the place； surrounded as it was by hills； was like a stewpan — we rose and； quite unwashed； since water was unobtainable； ate more chunks of half…cooked sheep； which we flavoured with quinine。 Then after bating demands for brandy； whereof the fame had spread even to this remote place； we surrendered ourselves into the charge of the astute…faced Makurupiji； the fat Swasi； and of the general of the forces； an obese person called Galock； with a countenance resembling that of a pig。 These eminent officers conducted us for nearly a mile； through a heat so burning that we grew quite exhausted； to the place of the indaba； or talk。 Here； under a rough shed open on all sides； sat about a hundred of the headmen who had e “to witness。” Beyond this was the chief’s private enclosure； where he was seated on the hide of a bull under a shady tree； clothed in a tiger…skin kaross and a cotton blanket； and wearing on his head a huge old felt hat。 He rose and shook hands with us through the gateway。 He was a man of middle age with twinkling black eyes and a flat nose； very repulsive to look on。 After this he retired to his bull…hide； where he sat chewing handfuls of some intoxicating green leaf； and took no further active part in the proceedings。 All the conversation was carried on through Makurupiji； his “Tongue；” who personated him； using the pronoun �