When ’Manthla had greeted her brother and told him the whole story, he was of course highly indignant at her disregard of tribal custom. He rated her in good sound terms, jeered at her, and treated her to a variety of ill-favoured epithets, in which the Zulu vocabulary is unusually rich. It was the sound of this fraternal reproof which my wife had heard. There was really nothing for it but to give shelter to the fugitive for at least one night. It would scarcely have been humane to have turned ’Manthla adrift, tired and hungry as she was; and accordingly the ‘pilgrim of love’ was allowed to take her fill of porridge and sleep on the kitchen floor.
Early next morning, as I was mounting my cob at the stable-door, preparatory to a ‘spin’ over the _veldt_ before breakfast, there appeared an elderly Kaffir, who held up the forefinger of his right hand and exclaimed ‘Inkosi!’—the native salutation of respect. This was no less a personage than Pank, the father of ’Manthla and of our boy Capelle. He was attired in a soldier’s old coat, and ragged trousers that descended no farther than his knees. On his head was a battered felt hat; while through the lobe of one ear was stuck a cigar, and through the other a cylindrical ‘snuff-box.’ Though old Pank had come in hot haste from the kraal all those fifty miles, and was presumably in a state of great mental agitation, he sauntered into our back-yard as carelessly as if he had only casually dropped in from next door. I have noticed the same characteristic in several other Kaffirs. After the afore-mentioned salutation, Pank’s lean face broadened into a grin, and he vivaciously ejaculated two or three times: ‘It’s allee right, allee right!’ This phrase, which proved to be the only English at his command, was introduced with great frequency, and sometimes with ludicrous effect. This optimist remark, however, was not upon his lips when he caught sight of his daughter ’Manthla timidly peeping out from the door of the Kaffir-house. His face darkened in expression, and pouring forth a volley of reproaches, the ‘stern parient’ approached her. I stood anxiously watching the interview, fearing lest violence might be the outcome. But after Pank had uncorked the vial of his wrath, it quickly evaporated, and in a short time he sat down on his haunches, took the snuff-box from his ear and regaled himself with a hearty pinch.