Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1902-09-17

he had learned in Toledo and that he
had found effective in the Salvation
barracks at Cape Town and at Mafe-
king.
Then that strange procession began
the eighteen bullocks headed by the
little voorlooper, gray with terror;
West, his face set rigidls to the front,
walking by the wheel 5ullocks, the
creaking wagon following, and upon it
Otto Marks toiling ut the melodeon,
playing gospel hymns for the life he
loved, while close pressed about them
all, hemming them in on every side,
were the hundreds Of naked Matabele,
shaking their bulls hide shields and
tossing assagais and kirris high in the
air.
Music mad, us only the Zulu race can
be, their minds all exalted and distort-
ed by the self imposed tortures of the
Mahunda rites, dizzied and confused
by the drunkenness Of the Cape smoke,
Otto's music caught them and held
them, and they danced and danced ac
though they would never tire, dazed
and bewildered, working themselves
into fury, leaping and shouting aloud
without knowing why.
Otto struck into fresh hymn with u
veritable frenzy. The excitement and
the strangeness of the thing were be-
ginning to tell upon them as well. No
barracks gathering had ever aroused
such enthusiasm as this. By now he
had come to-
Pull for the shore. sailor,
Pull for the shore;
/ Heed not the raging waves,
Though loudly they roar.
And after this, without moments
pause, he dashed into
I am so glad that Jesus loves me-
When that was done, he dug his fin
gers into the celluloid keys again,
kneading them with all the strength
of his two arms, swaying from side to
side, and, while his feet thrashed out
the rhythm upon the pedals, played:
Halleluiah it's done.
| believe on the Son.
Suddenly the Matabele began to sing,
catching up the tunes with the quick
ness and facility of savages, singing
to the airs of these gospel hymns the
words of the war song of Moselekatse,
the chant of the Black Bull:
Yaing-g'labi
Lego kunze
Yai ukufa-
Then at last the tension broke. The
thing was more than Mr.. Otto Marks of
Toledo was made to bear. All at once
his nerves crisped and recoiled like the
broken ends of the overstrained harp
string, and he leaped in the air, sud.
denly seized with hysteria, shrieking
and laughing and banging his fists up
on the keys.
With the cessation of the music the
spell was broken, the droning chant
stopped in medley Of discords. and
the dancing feet grew still.
"Go on! Go on" screamed West. go
on playingy' But Otto neither needed
nor heard, for he was out of his head
with terror and excitement and was
dancing upon the wagon, shrieking out
snatches of gospel hymns. He was
waving his fists above his head. His
eyes were us the eyes Of fish. and he
was bleeding at the nose.
An assagat struck him all ut once full
on the face, and he spun about twice
gripping at the air, and then went over
sideways upon the keyboard Of the
organ, his blood splashing the dazzling
white of the celluloid keys
They ran in then and overwhelmed
the wagon like an angry ocean burst
ing dixie, and the little voorlooper
found his death amid the panic strick
en- oxen.
West tried to shoot himself under
meath the wagon, but was dragged out
by one arm and leg with his CHR
shot away.
And what was done with Mr.. West?
"Iaghwheena!" exclaimed Ingodus
as he finished the tale "He was III
Umtagati, crawling snake. Him We
crucified upon telegraph pole-by the
farms only"