diff options
Diffstat (limited to '2727-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 2727-0.txt | 5413 |
1 files changed, 5413 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/2727-0.txt b/2727-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4347f0d --- /dev/null +++ b/2727-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5413 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Allan’s Wife, by H. Rider Haggard + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Allan’s Wife + +Author: H. Rider Haggard + +Release Date: July, 2001 [eBook #2727] +[Most recently updated: April 20, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: John Bickers, Dagny and David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALLAN’S WIFE *** + + + + +Allan’s Wife + +by H. Rider Haggard + + +Contents + + CHAPTER I. EARLY DAYS + CHAPTER II. THE FIRE-FIGHT + CHAPTER III. NORTHWARDS + CHAPTER IV. THE ZULU IMPI + CHAPTER V. THE END OF THE LAAGER + CHAPTER VI. STELLA + CHAPTER VII. THE BABOON-WOMAN + CHAPTER VIII. THE MARBLE KRAALS + CHAPTER IX. “LET US GO IN, ALLAN!” + CHAPTER X. HENDRIKA PLOTS EVIL + CHAPTER XI. GONE! + CHAPTER XII. THE MAGIC OF INDABA-ZIMBI + CHAPTER XIII. WHAT HAPPENED TO STELLA + CHAPTER XIV. FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER + + + + +DEDICATION + + + My Dear Macumazahn, + It was your native name which I borrowed at the christening of that + Allan who has become as well known to me as any other friend I + have. It is therefore fitting that I should dedicate to you this, + his last tale—the story of his wife, and the history of some + further adventures which befell him. They will remind you of many + an African yarn—that with the baboons may recall an experience of + your own which I did not share. And perhaps they will do more than + this. Perhaps they will bring back to you some of the long past + romance of days that are lost to us. The country of which Allan + Quatermain tells his tale is now, for the most part, as well known + and explored as are the fields of Norfolk. Where we shot and + trekked and galloped, scarcely seeing the face of civilized man, + there the gold-seeker builds his cities. The shadow of the flag of + Britain has, for a while, ceased to fall on the Transvaal plains; + the game has gone; the misty charm of the morning has become the + glare of day. All is changed. The blue gums that we planted in the + garden of the “Palatial” must be large trees by now, and the + “Palatial” itself has passed from us. Jess sat in it waiting for + her love after we were gone. There she nursed him back to life. But + Jess is dead, and strangers own it, or perhaps it is a ruin. + For us too, Macumazahn, as for the land we loved, the mystery and + promise of the morning are outworn; the mid-day sun burns overhead, + and at times the way is weary. Few of those we knew are left. Some + are victims to battle and murder, their bones strew the veldt; + death has taken some in a more gentle fashion; others are hidden + from us, we know not where. We might well fear to return to that + land lest we also should see ghosts. But though we walk apart + to-day, the past yet looks upon us with its unalterable eyes. Still + we can remember many a boyish enterprise and adventure, lightly + undertaken, which now would strike us as hazardous indeed. Still we + can recall the long familiar line of the Pretoria Horse, the face + of war and panic, the weariness of midnight patrols; aye, and hear + the roar of guns echoed from the Shameful Hill. + To you then, Macumazahn, in perpetual memory of those eventful + years of youth which we passed together in the African towns and on + the African veldt, I dedicate these pages, subscribing myself now + as always, + Your sincere friend, + Indanda. + To Arthur H. D. Cochrane, Esq. + + + + +ALLAN’S WIFE + + + + +CHAPTER I. +EARLY DAYS + + +It may be remembered that in the last pages of his diary, written just +before his death, Allan Quatermain makes allusion to his long dead +wife, stating that he has written of her fully elsewhere. + +When his death was known, his papers were handed to myself as his +literary executor. Among them I found two manuscripts, of which the +following is one. The other is simply a record of events wherein Mr. +Quatermain was not personally concerned—a Zulu novel, the story of +which was told to him by the hero many years after the tragedy had +occurred. But with this we have nothing to do at present. + +I have often thought (Mr. Quatermain’s manuscript begins) that I would +set down on paper the events connected with my marriage, and the loss +of my most dear wife. Many years have now passed since that event, and +to some extent time has softened the old grief, though Heaven knows it +is still keen enough. On two or three occasions I have even begun the +record. Once I gave it up because the writing of it depressed me beyond +bearing, once because I was suddenly called away upon a journey, and +the third time because a Kaffir boy found my manuscript convenient for +lighting the kitchen fire. + +But now that I am at leisure here in England, I will make a fourth +attempt. If I succeed, the story may serve to interest some one in +after years when I am dead and gone; before that I should not wish it +to be published. It is a wild tale enough, and suggests some curious +reflections. + +I am the son of a missionary. My father was originally curate in charge +of a small parish in Oxfordshire. He had already been some ten years +married to my dear mother when he went there, and he had four children, +of whom I was the youngest. I remember faintly the place where we +lived. It was an ancient long grey house, facing the road. There was a +very large tree of some sort in the garden. It was hollow, and we +children used to play about inside of it, and knock knots of wood from +the rough bark. We all slept in a kind of attic, and my mother always +came and kissed us when we were in bed. I used to wake up and see her +bending over me, a candle in her hand. There was a curious kind of pole +projecting from the wall over my bed. Once I was dreadfully frightened +because my eldest brother made me hang to it by my hands. That is all I +remember about our old home. It has been pulled down long ago, or I +would journey there to see it. + +A little further down the road was a large house with big iron gates to +it, and on the top of the gate pillars sat two stone lions, which were +so hideous that I was afraid of them. Perhaps this sentiment was +prophetic. One could see the house by peeping through the bars of the +gates. It was a gloomy-looking place, with a tall yew hedge round it; +but in the summer-time some flowers grew about the sun-dial in the +grass plat. This house was called the Hall, and Squire Carson lived +there. One Christmas—it must have been the Christmas before my father +emigrated, or I should not remember it—we children went to a +Christmas-tree festivity at the Hall. There was a great party there, +and footmen wearing red waistcoats stood at the door. In the +dining-room, which was panelled with black oak, was the Christmas-tree. +Squire Carson stood in front of it. He was a tall, dark man, very quiet +in his manners, and he wore a bunch of seals on his waistcoat. We used +to think him old, but as a matter of fact he was then not more than +forty. He had been, as I afterwards learned, a great traveller in his +youth, and some six or seven years before this date he married a lady +who was half a Spaniard—a papist, my father called her. I can remember +her well. She was small and very pretty, with a rounded figure, large +black eyes, and glittering teeth. She spoke English with a curious +accent. I suppose that I must have been a funny child to look at, and I +know that my hair stood up on my head then as it does now, for I still +have a sketch of myself that my mother made of me, in which this +peculiarity is strongly marked. On this occasion of the Christmas-tree +I remember that Mrs. Carson turned to a tall, foreign-looking gentleman +who stood beside her, and, tapping him affectionately on the shoulder +with her gold eye-glasses, said— + +“Look, cousin—look at that droll little boy with the big brown eyes; +his hair is like a—what you call him?—scrubbing-brush. Oh, what a droll +little boy!” + +The tall gentleman pulled at his moustache, and, taking Mrs. Carson’s +hand in his, began to smooth my hair down with it till I heard her +whisper— + +“Leave go my hand, cousin. Thomas is looking like—like the +thunderstorm.” + +Thomas was the name of Mr. Carson, her husband. + +After that I hid myself as well as I could behind a chair, for I was +shy, and watched little Stella Carson, who was the squire’s only child, +giving the children presents off the tree. She was dressed as Father +Christmas, with some soft white stuff round her lovely little face, and +she had large dark eyes, which I thought more beautiful than anything I +had ever seen. At last it came to my turn to receive a present—oddly +enough, considered in the light of future events, it was a large +monkey. Stella reached it down from one of the lower boughs of the tree +and handed it to me, saying— + +“Dat is my Christmas present to you, little Allan Quatermain.” + +As she did so her sleeve, which was covered with cotton wool, spangled +over with something that shone, touched one of the tapers and caught +fire—how I do not know—and the flame ran up her arm towards her throat. +She stood quite still. I suppose that she was paralysed with fear; and +the ladies who were near screamed very loud, but did nothing. Then some +impulse seized me—perhaps instinct would be a better word to use, +considering my age. I threw myself upon the child, and, beating at the +fire with my hands, mercifully succeeded in extinguishing it before it +really got hold. My wrists were so badly scorched that they had to be +wrapped up in wool for a long time afterwards, but with the exception +of a single burn upon her throat, little Stella Carson was not much +hurt. + +This is all that I remember about the Christmas-tree at the Hall. What +happened afterwards is lost to me, but to this day in my sleep I +sometimes see little Stella’s sweet face and the stare of terror in her +dark eyes as the fire ran up her arm. This, however, is not wonderful, +for I had, humanly speaking, saved the life of her who was destined to +be my wife. + +The next event which I can recall clearly is that my mother and three +brothers all fell ill of fever, owing, as I afterwards learned, to the +poisoning of our well by some evil-minded person, who threw a dead +sheep into it. + +It must have been while they were ill that Squire Carson came one day +to the vicarage. The weather was still cold, for there was a fire in +the study, and I sat before the fire writing letters on a piece of +paper with a pencil, while my father walked up and down the room +talking to himself. Afterwards I knew that he was praying for the lives +of his wife and children. Presently a servant came to the door and said +that some one wanted to see him. + +“It is the squire, sir,” said the maid, “and he says he particularly +wishes to see you.” + +“Very well,” answered my father, wearily, and presently Squire Carson +came in. His face was white and haggard, and his eyes shone so fiercely +that I was afraid of him. + +“Forgive me for intruding on you at such a time, Quatermain,” he said, +in a hoarse voice, “but to-morrow I leave this place for ever, and I +wish to speak to you before I go—indeed, I must speak to you.” + +“Shall I send Allan away?” said my father, pointing to me. + +“No; let him bide. He will not understand.” Nor, indeed, did I at the +time, but I remembered every word, and in after years their meaning +grew on me. + +“First tell me,” he went on, “how are they?” and he pointed upwards +with his thumb. + +“My wife and two of the boys are beyond hope,” my father answered, with +a groan. “I do not know how it will go with the third. The Lord’s will +be done!” + +“The Lord’s will be done,” the squire echoed, solemnly. “And now, +Quatermain, listen—my wife’s gone.” + +“Gone!” my father answered. “Who with?” + +“With that foreign cousin of hers. It seems from a letter she left me +that she always cared for him, not for me. She married me because she +thought me a rich English milord. Now she has run through my property, +or most of it, and gone. I don’t know where. Luckily, she did not care +to encumber her new career with the child; Stella is left to me.” + +“That is what comes of marrying a papist, Carson,” said my father. That +was his fault; he was as good and charitable a man as ever lived, but +he was bigoted. “What are you going to do—follow her?” + +He laughed bitterly in answer. + +“Follow her!” he said; “why should I follow her? If I met her I might +kill her or him, or both of them, because of the disgrace they have +brought upon my child’s name. No, I never want to look upon her face +again. I trusted her, I tell you, and she has betrayed me. Let her go +and find her fate. But I am going too. I am weary of my life.” + +“Surely, Carson, surely,” said my father, “you do not mean——” + +“No, no; not that. Death comes soon enough. But I will leave this +civilized world which is a lie. We will go right away into the wilds, I +and my child, and hide our shame. Where? I don’t know where. Anywhere, +so long as there are no white faces, no smooth educated tongues——” + +“You are mad, Carson,” my father answered. “How will you live? How can +you educate Stella? Be a man and wear it down.” + +“I will be a man, and I will wear it down, but not here, Quatermain. +Education! Was not she—that woman who was my wife—was not she highly +educated?—the cleverest woman in the country forsooth. Too clever for +me, Quatermain—too clever by half! No, no, Stella shall be brought up +in a different school; if it be possible, she shall forget her very +name. Good-bye, old friend, good-bye for ever. Do not try to find me +out, henceforth I shall be like one dead to you, to you and all I +knew,” and he was gone. + +“Mad,” said my father, with a heavy sigh. “His trouble has turned his +brain. But he will think better of it.” + +At that moment the nurse came hurrying in and whispered something in +his ear. My father’s face turned deadly pale. He clutched at the table +to support himself, then staggered from the room. My mother was dying! + +It was some days afterwards, I do not know exactly how long, that my +father took me by the hand and led me upstairs into the big room which +had been my mother’s bedroom. There she lay, dead in her coffin, with +flowers in her hand. Along the wall of the room were arranged three +little white beds, and on each of the beds lay one of my brothers. They +all looked as though they were asleep, and they all had flowers in +their hands. My father told me to kiss them, because I should not see +them any more, and I did so, though I was very frightened. I did not +know why. Then he took me in his arms and kissed me. + +“The Lord hath given,” he said, “and the Lord hath taken away; blessed +be the name of the Lord.” + +I cried very much, and he took me downstairs, and after that I have +only a confused memory of men dressed in black carrying heavy burdens +towards the grey churchyard! + +Next comes a vision of a great ship and wide tossing waters. My father +could no longer bear to live in England after the loss that had fallen +on him, and made up his mind to emigrate to South Africa. We must have +been poor at the time—indeed, I believe that a large portion of our +income went from my father on my mother’s death. At any rate we +travelled with the steerage passengers, and the intense discomfort of +the journey with the rough ways of our fellow emigrants still remain +upon my mind. At last it came to an end, and we reached Africa, which I +was not to leave again for many, many years. + +In those days civilization had not made any great progress in Southern +Africa. My father went up the country and became a missionary among the +Kaffirs, near to where the town of Cradock now stands, and here I grew +to manhood. There were a few Boer farmers in the neighbourhood, and +gradually a little settlement of whites gathered round our mission +station—a drunken Scotch blacksmith and wheelwright was about the most +interesting character, who, when he was sober, could quote the Scottish +poet Burns and the Ingoldsby Legends, then recently published, +literally by the page. It was from that I contracted a fondness for the +latter amusing writings, which has never left me. Burns I never cared +for so much, probably because of the Scottish dialect which repelled +me. What little education I got was from my father, but I never had +much leaning towards books, nor he much time to teach them to me. On +the other hand, I was always a keen observer of the ways of men and +nature. By the time that I was twenty I could speak Dutch and three or +four Kaffir dialects perfectly, and I doubt if there was anybody in +South Africa who understood native ways of thought and action more +completely than I did. Also I was really a very good shot and horseman, +and I think—as, indeed, my subsequent career proves to have been the +case—a great deal tougher than the majority of men. Though I was then, +as now, light and small, nothing seemed to tire me. I could bear any +amount of exposure and privation, and I never met the native who was my +master in feats of endurance. Of course, all that is different now, I +am speaking of my early manhood. + +It may be wondered that I did not run absolutely wild in such +surroundings, but I was held back from this by my father’s society. He +was one of the gentlest and most refined men that I ever met; even the +most savage Kaffir loved him, and his influence was a very good one for +me. He used to call himself one of the world’s failures. Would that +there were more such failures. Every morning when his work was done he +would take his prayer-book and, sitting on the little stoep or verandah +of our station, would read the evening psalms to himself. Sometimes +there was not light enough for this, but it made no difference, he knew +them all by heart. When he had finished he would look out across the +cultivated lands where the mission Kaffirs had their huts. + +But I knew it was not these he saw, but rather the grey English church, +and the graves ranged side by side before the yew near the wicket gate. + +It was there on the stoep that he died. He had not been well, and one +evening I was talking to him, and his mind went back to Oxfordshire and +my mother. He spoke of her a good deal, saying that she had never been +out of his mind for a single day during all these years, and that he +rejoiced to think he was drawing near that land whither she had gone. +Then he asked me if I remembered the night when Squire Carson came into +the study at the vicarage, and told him that his wife had run away, and +that he was going to change his name and bury himself in some remote +land. + +I answered that I remembered it perfectly. + +“I wonder where he went to,” said my father, “and if he and his +daughter Stella are still alive. Well, well! I shall never meet them +again. But life is a strange thing, Allan, and you may. If you ever do, +give them my kind love.” + +After that I left him. We had been suffering more than usual from the +depredations of the Kaffir thieves, who stole our sheep at night, and, +as I had done before, and not without success, I determined to watch +the kraal and see if I could catch them. Indeed, it was from this habit +of mine of watching at night that I first got my native name of +Macumazahn, which may be roughly translated as “he who sleeps with one +eye open.” So I took my rifle and rose to go. But he called me to him +and kissed me on the forehead, saying, “God bless you, Allan! I hope +that you will think of your old father sometimes, and that you will +lead a good and happy life.” + +I remember that I did not much like his tone at the time, but set it +down to an attack of low spirits, to which he grew very subject as the +years went on. I went down to the kraal and watched till within an hour +of sunrise; then, as no thieves appeared, returned to the station. As I +came near I was astonished to see a figure sitting in my father’s +chair. At first I thought it must be a drunken Kaffir, then that my +father had fallen asleep there. + +And so he had,—for he was dead! + + + + +CHAPTER II. +THE FIRE-FIGHT + + +When I had buried my father, and seen a successor installed in his +place—for the station was the property of the Society—I set to work to +carry out a plan which I had long cherished, but been unable to execute +because it would have involved separation from my father. Put shortly, +it was to undertake a trading journey of exploration right through the +countries now known as the Free State and the Transvaal, and as much +further North as I could go. It was an adventurous scheme, for though +the emigrant Boers had begun to occupy positions in these territories, +they were still to all practical purposes unexplored. But I was now +alone in the world, and it mattered little what became of me; so, +driven on by the overmastering love of adventure, which, old as I am, +will perhaps still be the cause of my death, I determined to undertake +the journey. + +Accordingly I sold such stock and goods as we had upon the station, +reserving only the two best waggons and two spans of oxen. The proceeds +I invested in such goods as were then in fashion, for trading purposes, +and in guns and ammunition. The guns would have moved any modern +explorer to merriment; but such as they were I managed to do a good +deal of execution with them. One of them was a single-barrelled, smooth +bore, fitted for percussion caps—a roer we called it—which threw a +three-ounce ball, and was charged with a handful of coarse black +powder. Many is the elephant that I killed with that roer, although it +generally knocked me backwards when I fired it, which I only did under +compulsion. The best of the lot, perhaps, was a double-barrelled No. 12 +shot-gun, but it had flint locks. Also there were some old tower +muskets, which might or might not throw straight at seventy yards. I +took six Kaffirs with me, and three good horses, which were supposed to +be salted—that is, proof against the sickness. Among the Kaffirs was an +old fellow named Indaba-zimbi, which, being translated, means “tongue +of iron.” I suppose he got this name from his strident voice and +exhaustless eloquence. This man was a great character in his way. He +had been a noted witch-doctor among a neighbouring tribe, and came to +the station under the following circumstances, which, as he plays a +considerable part in this history, are perhaps worth recording. + +Two years before my father’s death I had occasion to search the country +round for some lost oxen. After a long and useless quest it occurred to +me that I had better go to the place where the oxen were bred by a +Kaffir chief, whose name I forget, but whose kraal was about fifty +miles from our station. There I journeyed, and found the oxen safe at +home. The chief entertained me handsomely, and on the following morning +I went to pay my respects to him before leaving, and was somewhat +surprised to find a collection of some hundreds of men and women +sitting round him anxiously watching the sky in which the +thunder-clouds were banking up in a very ominous way. + +“You had better wait, white man,” said the chief, “and see the +rain-doctors fight the lightning.” + +I inquired what he meant, and learned that this man, Indaba-zimbi, had +for some years occupied the position of wizard-in-chief to the tribe, +although he was not a member of it, having been born in the country now +known as Zululand. But a son of the chief’s, a man of about thirty, had +lately set up as a rival in supernatural powers. This irritated +Indaba-zimbi beyond measure, and a quarrel ensued between the two +witch-doctors that resulted in a challenge to trial by lightning being +given and accepted. These were the conditions. The rivals must await +the coming of a serious thunderstorm, no ordinary tempest would serve +their turn. Then, carrying assegais in their hands, they must take +their stand within fifty paces of each other upon a certain patch of +ground where the big thunderbolts were observed to strike continually, +and by the exercise of their occult powers and invocations to the +lightning, must strive to avert death from themselves and bring it on +their rival. The terms of this singular match had been arranged a month +previously, but no storm worthy of the occasion had arisen. Now the +local weather-prophets believed it to be brewing. + +I inquired what would happen if neither of the men were struck, and was +told that they must then wait for another storm. If they escaped the +second time, however, they would be held to be equal in power, and be +jointly consulted by the tribe upon occasions of importance. + +The prospect of being a spectator of so unusual a sight overcame my +desire to be gone, and I accepted the chief’s invitation to see it out. +Before mid-day I regretted it, for though the western heavens grew +darker and darker, and the still air heralded the coming of the storm, +yet it did not come. By four o’clock, however, it became obvious that +it must burst soon—at sunset, the old chief said, and in the company of +the whole assembly I moved down to the place of combat. The kraal was +built on the top of a hill, and below it the land sloped gently to the +banks of a river about half a mile away. On the hither side of the bank +was the piece of land that was, the natives said, “loved of the +lightning.” Here the magicians took up their stand, while the +spectators grouped themselves on the hillside about two hundred yards +away—which was, I thought, rather too near to be pleasant. When we had +sat there for a while my curiosity overcame me, and I asked leave of +the chief to go down and inspect the arena. He said I might do so at my +own risk. I told him that the fire from above would not hurt white men, +and went to find that the spot was a bed of iron ore, thinly covered +with grass, which of course accounted for its attracting the lightning +from the storms as they travelled along the line of the river. At each +end of this iron-stone area were placed the combatants, Indaba-zimbi +facing the east, and his rival the west, and before each there burned a +little fire made of some scented root. Moreover they were dressed in +all the paraphernalia of their craft, snakeskins, fish-bladders, and I +know not what beside, while round their necks hung circlets of baboons’ +teeth and bones from human hands. First I went to the western end where +the chief’s son stood. He was pointing with his assegai towards the +advancing storm, and invoking it in a voice of great excitement. + +“Come, fire, and lick up Indaba-zimbi! + +“Hear me, Storm Devil, and lick Indaba-zimbi with your red tongue! + +“Spit on him with your rain! + +“Whirl him away in your breath! + +“Make him as nothing—melt the marrow in his bones! + +“Run into his heart and burn away the lies! + +“Show all the people who is the true Witch Finder! + +“Let me not be put to shame in the eyes of this white man!” + +Thus he spoke, or rather chanted, and all the while rubbed his broad +chest—for he was a very fine man—with some filthy compound of medicine +or _mouti_. + +After a while, getting tired of his song, I walked across the +iron-stone, to where Indaba-zimbi sat by his fire. He was not chanting +at all, but his performance was much more impressive. It consisted in +staring at the eastern sky, which was perfectly clear of cloud, and +every now and again beckoning at it with his finger, then turning round +to point with the assegai towards his rival. For a while I looked at +him in silence. He was a curious wizened man, apparently over fifty +years of age, with thin hands that looked as tough as wire. His nose +was much sharper than is usual among these races, and he had a queer +habit of holding his head sideways like a bird when he spoke, which, in +addition to the humour that lurked in his eye, gave him a most comical +appearance. Another strange thing about him was that he had a single +white lock of hair among his black wool. At last I spoke to him: + +“Indaba-zimbi, my friend,” I said, “you may be a good witch-doctor, but +you are certainly a fool. It is no good beckoning at the blue sky while +your enemy is getting a start with the storm.” + +“You may be clever, but don’t think you know everything, white man,” +the old fellow answered, in a high, cracked voice, and with something +like a grin. + +“They call you Iron-tongue,” I went on; “you had better use it, or the +Storm Devil won’t hear you.” + +“The fire from above runs down iron,” he answered, “so I keep my tongue +quiet. Oh, yes, let him curse away, I’ll put him out presently. Look +now, white man.” + +I looked, and in the eastern sky there grew a cloud. At first it was +small, though very black, but it gathered with extraordinary rapidity. + +This was odd enough, but as I had seen the same thing happen before it +did not particularly astonish me. It is by no means unusual in Africa +for two thunderstorms to come up at the same time from different points +of the compass. + +“You had better get on, Indaba-zimbi,” I said, “the big storm is coming +along fast, and will soon eat up that baby of yours,” and I pointed to +the west. + +“Babies sometimes grow to giants, white man,” said Indaba-zimbi, +beckoning away vigorously. “Look now at my cloud-child.” + +I looked; the eastern storm was spreading itself from earth to sky, and +in shape resembled an enormous man. There was its head, its shoulders, +and its legs; yes, it was like a huge giant travelling across the +heavens. The light of the setting sun escaping from beneath the lower +edge of the western storm shot across the intervening space in a sheet +of splendour, and, lighting upon the advancing figure of cloud, wrapped +its middle in hues of glory too wonderful to be described; but beneath +and above this glowing belt his feet and head were black as jet. +Presently, as I watched, an awful flash of light shot from the head of +the cloud, circled it about as though with a crown of living fire, and +vanished. + +“Aha,” chuckled old Indaba-zimbi, “my little boy is putting on his +man’s ring,” and he tapped the gum ring on his own head, which natives +assume when they reach a certain age and dignity. “Now, white man, +unless you are a bigger wizard than either of us you had better clear +off, for the fire-fight is about to begin.” + +I thought this sound advice. + +“Good luck go with you, my black uncle,” I said. “I hope you don’t feel +the iniquities of a mis-spent life weighing on you at the last.” + +“You look after yourself, and think of your own sins, young man,” he +answered, with a grim smile, and taking a pinch of snuff, while at that +very moment a flash of lightning, I don’t know from which storm, struck +the ground within thirty paces of me. That was enough for me, I took to +my heels, and as I went I heard old Indaba-zimbi’s dry chuckle of +amusement. + +I climbed the hill till I came to where the chief was sitting with his +indunas, or headmen, and sat down near to him. I looked at the man’s +face and saw that he was intensely anxious for his son’s safety, and by +no means confident of the young man’s powers to resist the magic of +Indaba-zimbi. He was talking in a low voice to the induna next to him. +I affected to take no notice and to be concentrating my attention on +the novel scene before me; but in those days I had very quick ears, and +caught the drift of the conversation. + +“Hearken!” the chief was saying, “if the magic of Indaba-zimbi prevails +against my son I will endure him no more. Of this I am sure, that when +he has slain my son he will slay me, me also, and make himself chief in +my place. I fear Indaba-zimbi. _Ou!_” + +“Black One,” answered the induna, “wizards die as dogs die, and, once +dead, dogs bark no more.” + +“And once dead,” said the chief, “wizards work no more spells,” and he +bent and whispered in the induna’s ear, looking at the assegai in his +hand as he whispered. + +“Good, my father, good!” said the induna, presently. “It shall be done +to-night, if the lightning does not do it first.” + +“A bad look-out for old Indaba-zimbi,” I said to myself. “They mean to +kill him.” Then I thought no more of the matter for a while, the scene +before me was too tremendous. + +The two storms were rapidly rushing together. Between them was a gulf +of blue sky, and from time to time flashes of blinding light passed +across this gulf, leaping from cloud to cloud. I remember that they +reminded me of the story of the heathen god Jove and his thunderbolts. +The storm that was shaped like a giant and ringed with the glory of the +sinking sun made an excellent Jove, and I am sure that the bolts which +leapt from it could not have been surpassed even in mythological times. +Oddly enough, as yet the flashes were not followed by thunder. A deadly +stillness lay upon the place, the cattle stood silently on the +hillside, even the natives were awed to silence. Dark shadows crept +along the bosom of the hills, the river to the right and left was +hidden in wreaths of cloud, but before us and beyond the combatants it +shone like a line of silver beneath the narrowing space of open sky. +Now the western tempest was scrawled all over with lines of intolerable +light, while the inky head of the cloud-giant to the east was +continually suffused with a white and deadly glow that came and went in +pulses, as though a blood of flame was being pumped into it from the +heart of the storm. + +The silence deepened and deepened, the shadows grew blacker and +blacker, then suddenly all nature began to moan beneath the breath of +an icy wind. On sped the wind; the smooth surface of the river was +ruffled by it into little waves, the tall grass bowed low before it, +and in its wake came the hissing sound of furious rain. + +Ah! the storms had met. From each there burst an awful blaze of +dazzling flame, and now the hill on which we sat rocked at the noise of +the following thunder. The light went out of the sky, darkness fell +suddenly on the land, but not for long. Presently the whole landscape +grew vivid in the flashes, it appeared and disappeared, now everything +was visible for miles, now even the men at my side vanished in the +blackness. The thunder rolled and cracked and pealed like the trump of +doom, whirlwinds tore round, lifting dust and even stones high into the +air, and in a low, continuous undertone rose the hiss of the rushing +rain. + +I put my hand before my eyes to shield them from the terrible glare, +and looked beneath it towards the lists of iron-stone. As flash +followed flash, from time to time I caught sight of the two wizards. +They were slowly advancing towards one another, each pointing at his +foe with the assegai in his hand. I could see their every movement, and +it seemed to me that the chain lightning was striking the iron-stone +all round them. + +Suddenly the thunder and lightning ceased for a minute, everything grew +black, and, except for the rain, silent. + +“It is over one way or the other, chief,” I called out into the +darkness. + +“Wait, white man, wait!” answered the chief, in a voice thick with +anxiety and fear. + +Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the heavens were lit up +again till they literally seemed to flame. There were the men, not ten +paces apart. A great flash fell between them, I saw them stagger +beneath the shock. Indaba-zimbi recovered himself first—at any rate +when the next flash came he was standing bolt upright, pointing with +his assegai towards his enemy. The chief’s son was still on his legs, +but he was staggering like a drunken man, and the assegai had fallen +from his hand. + +Darkness! then again a flash, more fearful, if possible, than any that +had gone before. To me it seemed to come from the east, right over the +head of Indaba-zimbi. At that instant I saw the chief’s son wrapped, as +it were, in the heart of it. Then the thunder pealed, the rain burst +over us like a torrent, and I saw no more. + +The worst of the storm was done, but for a while the darkness was so +dense that we could not move, nor, indeed, was I inclined to leave the +safety of the hillside where the lightning was never known to strike, +and venture down to the iron-stone. Occasionally there still came +flashes, but, search as we would, we could see no trace of either of +the wizards. For my part, I believed that they were both dead. Now the +clouds slowly rolled away down the course of the river, and with them +went the rain; and now the stars shone in their wake. + +“Let us go and see,” said the old chief, rising and shaking the water +from his hair. “The fire-fight is ended, let us go and see who has +conquered.” + +I rose and followed him, dripping as though I had swum a hundred yards +with my clothes on, and after me came all the people of the kraal. + +We reached the spot; even in that light I could see where the +iron-stone had been split and fused by the thunderbolts. While I was +staring about me, I suddenly heard the chief, who was on my right, give +a low moan, and saw the people cluster round him. I went up and looked. +There, on the ground, lay the body of his son. It was a dreadful sight. +The hair was burnt off his head, the copper rings upon his arms were +fused, the assegai handle which lay near was literally shivered into +threads, and, when I took hold of his arm, it seemed to me that every +bone of it was broken. + +The men with the chief stood gazing silently, while the women wailed. + +“Great is the magic of Indaba-zimbi!” said a man, at length. The chief +turned and struck him a heavy blow with the kerrie in his hand. + +“Great or not, thou dog, he shall die,” he cried, “and so shalt thou if +thou singest his praises so loudly.” + +I said nothing, but thinking it probable that Indaba-zimbi had shared +the fate of his enemy, I went to look. But I could see nothing of him, +and at length, being thoroughly chilled with the wet, started back to +my waggon to change my clothes. On reaching it, I was rather surprised +to see a strange Kaffir seated on the driving-box wrapped up in a +blanket. + +“Hullo! come out of that,” I said. + +The figure on the box slowly unrolled the blanket, and with great +deliberation took a pinch of snuff. + +“It was a good fire-fight, white man, was it not?” said Indaba-zimbi, +in his high, cracked voice. “But he never had a chance against me, poor +boy. He knew nothing about it. See, white man, what becomes of +presumption in the young. It is sad, very sad, but I made the flashes +fly, didn’t I?” + +“You old humbug,” I said, “unless you are careful you will soon learn +what comes of presumption in the old, for your chief is after you with +an assegai, and it will take all your magic to dodge that.” + +“Now you don’t say so,” said Indaba-zimbi, clambering off the waggon +with rapidity; “and all because of this wretched upstart. There’s +gratitude for you, white man. I expose him, and they want to kill me. +Well, thank you for the hint. We shall meet again before long,” and he +was gone like a shot, and not too soon, for just then some of the +chief’s men came up to the waggon. + +On the following morning I started homewards. The first face I saw on +arriving at the station was that of Indaba-zimbi. + +“How do you do, Macumazahn?” he said, holding his head on one side and +nodding his white lock. “I hear you are Christians here, and I want to +try a new religion. Mine must be a bad one seeing that my people wanted +to kill me for exposing an impostor.” + + + + +CHAPTER III. +NORTHWARDS + + +I make no apology to myself, or to anybody who may happen to read this +narrative in future, for having set out the manner of my meeting with +Indaba-zimbi: first, because it was curious, and secondly, because he +takes some hand in the subsequent events. If that old man was a humbug, +he was a very clever one. What amount of truth there was in his +pretensions to supernatural powers it is not for me to determine, +though I may have my own opinion on the subject. But there was no +mistake as to the extraordinary influence he exercised over his +fellow-natives. Also he quite got round my poor father. At first the +old gentleman declined to have him at the station, for he had a great +horror of these Kaffir wizards or witch-finders. But Indaba-zimbi +persuaded him that he was anxious to investigate the truths of +Christianity, and challenged him to a discussion. The argument lasted +two years—to the time of my father’s death, indeed. At the conclusion +of each stage Indaba-zimbi would remark, in the words of the Roman +Governor, “Almost, praying white man, thou persuadest me to become a +Christian,” but he never quite became one—indeed, I do not think he +ever meant to. It was to him that my father addressed his “Letters to a +Native Doubter.” This work, which, unfortunately, remains in +manuscript, is full of wise saws and learned instances. It ought to be +published together with a _précis_ of the doubter’s answers, which were +verbal. + +So the talk went on. If my father had lived I believe it would be going +on now, for both the disputants were quite inexhaustible. Meanwhile +Indaba-zimbi was allowed to live on the station on condition that he +practised no witchcraft, which my father firmly believed to be a wile +of the devil. He said that he would not, but for all that there was +never an ox lost, or a sudden death, but he was consulted by those +interested. + +When he had been with us a year, a deputation came to him from the +tribe he had left, asking him to return. Things had not gone well with +them since he went away, they said, and now the chief, his enemy, was +dead. Old Indaba-zimbi listened to them till they had done, and, as he +listened, raked sand into a little heap with his toes. Then he spoke, +pointing to the little heap, “There is your tribe to-day,” he said. +Then he lifted his heel and stamped the heap flat. “There is your tribe +before three moons are gone. Nothing is left of it. You drove me away: +I will have no more to do with you; but when you are being killed think +of my words.” + +The messengers went. Three months afterwards I heard that the whole +community had been wiped out by an Impi of raiding Pondos. + +When I was at length ready to start upon my expedition, I went to old +Indaba-zimbi to say good-bye to him, and was rather surprised to find +him engaged in rolling up medicine, assegais, and other sundries in his +blankets. + +“Good-bye, Indaba-zimbi,” I said, “I am going to trek north.” + +“Yes, Macumazahn,” he answered, with his head on one side; “and so am +I—I want to see that country. We will go together.” + +“Will we!” I said; “wait till you are asked, you old humbug.” + +“You had better ask me, then, Macumazahn, for if you don’t you will +never come back alive. Now that the old chief (my father) is gone to +where the storms come from,” and he nodded to the sky, “I feel myself +getting into bad habits again. So last night I just threw up the bones +and worked out about your journey, and I can tell you this, that if you +don’t take me you will die, and, what is more, you will lose one who is +dearer to you than life in a strange fashion. So just because you gave +me that hint a couple of years ago, I made up my mind to come with +you.” + +“Don’t talk stuff to me,” I said. + +“Ah, very well, Macumazahn, very well; but what happened to my own +people six months ago, and what did I tell the messengers would happen? +They drove me away, and they are gone. If you drive me away you will +soon be gone too,” and he nodded his white lock at me and smiled. Now I +was not more superstitious than other people, but somehow old +Indaba-zimbi impressed me. Also I knew his extraordinary influence over +every class of native, and bethought me that he might be useful in that +way. + +“All right,” I said: “I appoint you witch-finder to the expedition +without pay.” + +“First serve, then ask for wages,” he answered. “I am glad to see that +you have enough imagination not to be altogether a fool, like most +white men, Macumazahn. Yes, yes, it is want of imagination that makes +people fools; they won’t believe what they can’t understand. You can’t +understand my prophecies any more than the fool at the kraal could +understand that I was his master with the lightning. Well, it is time +to trek, but if I were you, Macumazahn, I should take one waggon, not +two.” + +“Why?” I said. + +“Because you will lose your waggons, and it is better to lose one than +two.” + +“Oh, nonsense!” I said. + +“All right, Macumazahn, live and learn.” And without another word he +walked to the foremost waggon, put his bundle into it, and climbed on +to the front seat. + +So having bid an affectionate adieu to my white friends, including the +old Scotchman who got drunk in honour of the event, and quoted Burns +till the tears ran down his face, at length I started, and travelled +slowly northwards. For the first three weeks nothing very particular +befell me. Such Kaffirs as we came in contact with were friendly, and +game literally swarmed. Nobody living in those parts of South Africa +nowadays can have the remotest idea of what the veldt was like even +thirty years ago. + +Often and often I have crept shivering on to my waggon-box just as the +sun rose and looked out. At first one would see nothing but a vast +field of white mist suffused towards the east by a tremulous golden +glow, through which the tops of stony koppies stood up like gigantic +beacons. From the dense mist would come strange sounds—snorts, +gruntings, bellows, and the thunder of countless hoofs. Presently this +great curtain would grow thinner, then it would melt, as the smoke from +a pipe melts into the air, and for miles on miles the wide rolling +country interspersed with bush opened to the view. But it was not +tenantless as it is now, for as far as the eye could reach it would be +literally black with game. Here to the right might be a herd of +vilderbeeste that could not number less than two thousand. Some were +grazing, some gambolled, whisking their white tails into the air, while +all round the old bulls stood upon hillocks sniffing suspiciously at +the breeze. There, in front, a hundred yards away, though to the +unpractised eye they looked much closer, because of the dazzling +clearness of the atmosphere, was a great herd of springbok trekking +along in single file. Ah, they have come to the waggon-track and do not +like the look of it. What will they do?—go back? Not a bit of it. It is +nearly thirty feet wide, but that is nothing to a springbok. See, the +first of them bounds into the air like a ball. How beautifully the +sunshine gleams upon his golden hide! He has cleared it, and the others +come after him in numberless succession, all except the fawns, who +cannot jump so far, and have to scamper over the doubtful path with a +terrified _bah_. What is that yonder, moving above the tops of the +mimosa, in the little dell at the foot of the koppie? Giraffes, by +George! three of them; there will be marrow-bones for supper to-night. +Hark! the ground shakes behind us, and over the brow of the rise rush a +vast herd of blesbock. On they come at full gallop, their long heads +held low, they look like so many bearded goats. I thought so—behind +them is a pack of wild dogs, their fur draggled, their tongues lolling. +They are in full cry; the giraffes hear them and are away, rolling +round the koppie like a ship in a heavy sea. No marrow-bones after all. +See! the foremost dogs are close on a buck. He has galloped far and is +outworn. One springs at his flank and misses him. The buck gives a kind +of groan, looks wildly round and sees the waggon. He seems to hesitate +a moment, then in his despair rushes up to it, and falls exhausted +among the oxen. The dogs pull up some thirty paces away, panting and +snarling. Now, boy, the gun—no, not the rifle, the shot-gun loaded with +loopers. + +Bang! bang! there, my friends, two of you will never hunt buck again. +No, don’t touch the buck, for he has come to us for shelter, and he +shall have it. + +Ah, how beautiful is nature before man comes to spoil it! + +Such a sight as this have I seen many a hundred times, and I hope to +see it again before I die. + +The first real adventure that befell me on this particular journey was +with elephants, which I will relate because of its curious termination. +Just before we crossed the Orange River we came to a stretch of +forest-land some twenty miles broad. The night we entered this forest +we camped in a lovely open glade. A few yards ahead tambouki grass was +growing to the height of a man, or rather it had been; now, with the +exception of a few stalks here and there, it was crushed quite flat. It +was already dusk when we camped; but after the moon got up I walked +from the fire to see how this had happened. One glance was enough for +me; a great herd of elephants had evidently passed over the tall grass +not many hours before. The sight of their spoor rejoiced me +exceedingly, for though I had seen wild elephants, at that time I had +never shot one. Moreover, the sight of elephant spoor to the African +hunter is what “colour in the pan” is to the prospector of gold. It is +by the ivory that he lives, and to shoot it or trade it is his chief +aim in life. My resolution was soon taken. I would camp the waggons for +a while in the forest, and start on horseback after the elephants. + +I communicated my decision to Indaba-zimbi and the other Kaffirs. The +latter were not loth, for your Kaffir loves hunting, which means plenty +of meat and congenial occupation, but Indaba-zimbi would express no +opinion. I saw him retire to a little fire that he had lit for himself, +and go through some mysterious performances with bones and clay mixed +with ashes, which were watched with the greatest interest by the other +Kaffirs. At length he rose, and, coming forward, informed me that it +was all right, and that I did well to go and hunt the elephants, as I +should get plenty of ivory; but he advised me to go on foot. I said I +should do nothing of the sort, but meant to ride. I am wiser now; this +was the first and last time that I ever attempted to hunt elephants on +horseback. + +Accordingly we started at dawn, I, Indaba-zimbi, and three men; the +rest I left with the waggons. I was on horseback, and so was my driver, +a good rider and a skilful shot for a Kaffir, but Indaba-zimbi and the +others walked. From dawn till mid-day we followed the trail of the +herd, which was as plain as a high road. Then we off-saddled to let the +horses rest and feed, and about three o’clock started on again. Another +hour or so passed, and still there was no sign of elephants. Evidently +the herd had travelled fast and far, and I began to think that we +should have to give it up, when suddenly I caught sight of a brown mass +moving through the thorn-trees on the side of a slope about a quarter +of a mile away. My heart seemed to jump into my mouth. Where is the +hunter who has not felt like this at the sight of his first elephant? + +I called a halt, and then the wind being right, we set to work to stalk +the bull. Very quietly I rode down the hither side of the slope till we +came to the bottom, which was densely covered with bush. Here I saw the +elephants had been feeding, for broken branches and upturned trees lay +all about. I did not take much notice, however, for all my thoughts +were fixed upon the bull I was stalking, when suddenly my horse gave a +violent start that nearly threw me from the saddle, and there came a +mighty rush and upheaval of something in front of me. I looked: there +was the hinder part of a second bull elephant not four yards off. I +could just catch sight of its outstretched ears projecting on either +side. I had disturbed it sleeping, and it was running away. + +Obviously the best thing to do would have been to let it run, but I was +young in those days and foolish, and in the excitement of the moment I +lifted my “roer” or elephant gun and fired at the great brute over my +horse’s head. The recoil of the heavy gun nearly knocked me off the +horse. I recovered myself, however, and, as I did so, saw the bull +lurch forward, for the impact of a three-ounce bullet in the flank will +quicken the movement even of an elephant. By this time I had realized +the folly of the shot, and devoutly hoped that the bull would take no +further notice of it. But he took a different view of the matter. +Pulling himself up in a series of plunges, he spun round and came for +me with outstretched ears and uplifted trunk, screaming terribly. I was +quite defenceless, for my gun was empty, and my first thought was of +escape. I dug my heels into the sides of my horse, but he would not +move an inch. The poor animal was paralyzed with terror, and he simply +stood still, his fore-legs outstretched, and quivering all over like a +leaf. + +On rushed the elephant, awful to see; I made one more vain effort to +stir the horse. Now the trunk of the great bull swung aloft above my +head. A thought flashed through my brain. Quick as light I rolled from +the saddle. By the side of the horse lay a fallen tree, as thick +through as a man’s body. The tree was lifted a little off the ground by +the broken boughs which took its weight, and with a single movement, so +active is one in such necessities, I flung myself beneath it. As I did +so, I heard the trunk of the elephant descend with a mighty thud on the +back of my poor horse, and the next instant I was almost in darkness, +for the horse, whose back was broken, fell over across the tree under +which I lay ensconced. But he did not stop there long. In ten seconds +more the bull had wound his trunk about my dead nag’s neck, and, with a +mighty effort, hurled him clear of the tree. I wriggled backwards as +far as I could towards the roots of the tree, for I knew what he was +after. Presently I saw the red tip of the bull’s trunk stretching +itself towards me. If he could manage to hook it round any part of me I +was lost. But in the position I occupied, that was just what he could +not do, although he knelt down to facilitate his operations. On came +the snapping tip like a great open-mouthed snake; it closed upon my +hat, which vanished. Again it was thrust down, and a scream of rage was +bellowed through it within four inches of my head. Now it seemed to +elongate itself. Oh, heavens! now it had me by the hair, which, luckily +for myself, was not very long. Then it was my turn to scream, for next +instant half a square inch of hair was dragged from my scalp by the +roots. I was being plucked alive, as I have seen cruel Kaffir kitchen +boys pluck a fowl. + +The elephant, however, disappointed with these moderate results, +changed his tactics. He wound his trunk round the fallen tree and +lifted. The tree stirred, but fortunately the broken branches embedded +in the spongy soil, and some roots, which still held, prevented it from +being turned over, though he lifted it so much that, had it occurred to +him, he could now easily have drawn me out with his trunk. Again he +hoisted with all his mighty strength, and I saw that the tree was +coming, and roared aloud for help. Some shots were fired close by in +answer, but if they hit the bull, their only effect was to stir his +energies to more active life. In another few seconds my shelter would +be torn away, and I should be done for. A cold perspiration burst out +over me as I realized that I was lost. Then of a sudden I remembered +that I had a pistol in my belt, which I often used for despatching +wounded game. It was loaded and capped. By this time the tree was +lifted so much that I could easily get my hand down to my middle and +draw the pistol from its case. I drew and cocked it. Now the tree was +coming over, and there, within three feet of my head, was the great +brown trunk of the elephant. I placed the muzzle of the pistol within +an inch of it and fired. The result was instantaneous. Down sunk the +tree again, giving one of my legs a considerable squeeze, and next +instant I heard a crashing sound. The elephant had bolted. + +By this time, what between fright and struggling, I was pretty well +tired. I cannot remember how I got from under the fallen tree, or +indeed anything, until I found myself sitting on the ground drinking +some peach brandy from a flask, and old Indaba-zimbi opposite to me +nodding his white lock sagely, while he fired off moral reflections on +the narrowness of my escape, and my unwisdom in not having taken his +advice to go on foot. That reminded me of my horse—I got up and went to +look at it. It was quite dead, the blow of the elephant’s trunk had +fallen on the saddle, breaking the framework, and rendering it useless. +I reflected that in another two seconds it would have fallen on _me_. +Then I called to Indaba-zimbi and asked which way the elephants had +gone. + +“There!” he said, pointing down the gully, “and we had better go after +them, Macumazahn. We have had the bad luck, now for the good.” + +There was philosophy in this, though, to tell the truth, I did not feel +particularly sharp set on elephants at the moment. I seemed to have had +enough of them. However, it would never do to show the white feather +before the boys, so I assented with much outward readiness, and we +started, I on the second horse, and the others on foot. When we had +travelled for the best part of an hour down the valley, all of a sudden +we came upon the whole herd, which numbered a little more than eighty. +Just in front of them the bush was so thick that they seemed to +hesitate about entering it, and the sides of the valley were so rocky +and steep at this point that they could not climb them. + +They saw us at the same moment as we saw them, and inwardly I was +filled with fears lest they should take it into their heads to charge +back up the gully. But they did not; trumpeting aloud, they rushed at +the thick bush which went down before them like corn before a sickle. I +do not think that in all my experiences I ever heard anything to equal +the sound they made as they crashed through and over the shrubs and +trees. Before them was a dense forest belt from a hundred to a hundred +and fifty feet in width. As they rushed on, it fell, so that behind +them was nothing but a level roadway strewed with fallen trunks, +crushed branches, and here and there a tree, too strong even for them, +left stranded amid the wreck. On they went, and, notwithstanding the +nature of the ground over which they had to travel, they kept their +distance ahead of us. This sort of thing continued for a mile or more, +and then I saw that in front of the elephants the valley opened into a +space covered with reeds and grass—it might have been five or six acres +in extent—beyond which the valley ran on again. + +The herd reached the edge of this expanse, and for a moment pulled up, +hesitating—evidently they mistrusted it. My men yelled aloud, as only +Kaffirs can, and that settled them. Headed by the wounded bull, whose +martial ardour, like my own, was somewhat cooled, they spread out and +dashed into the treacherous swamp—for such it was, though just then +there was no water to be seen. For a few yards all went well with them, +though they clearly found it heavy going; then suddenly the great bull +sank up to his belly in the stiff peaty soil, and remained fixed. The +others, mad with fear, took no heed of his struggles and trumpetings, +but plunged on to meet the same fate. In five minutes the whole herd of +them were hopelessly bogged, and the more they struggled to escape, the +deeper they sunk. There was one exception, indeed, a cow managed to win +back to firm shore, and, lifting her trunk, prepared to charge us as we +came up. But at that moment she heard the scream of her calf, and +rushed back to its assistance, only to be bogged with the others. + +Such a scene I never saw before or since. The swamp was spotted all +over with the large forms of the elephants, and the air rang with their +screams of rage and terror as they waved their trunks wildly to and +fro. Now and then a monster would make a great effort and drag his mass +from its peaty bed, only to stick fast again at the next step. It was a +most pitiable sight, though one that gladdened the hearts of my men. +Even the best natives have little compassion for the sufferings of +animals. + +Well, the rest was easy. The marsh that would not bear the elephants +carried our weight well enough. Before midnight all were dead, for we +shot them by moonlight. I would gladly have spared the young ones and +some of the cows, but to do so would only have meant leaving them to +perish of hunger; it was kinder to kill them at once. The wounded bull +I slew with my own hand, and I cannot say that I felt much compunction +in so doing. He knew me again, and made a desperate effort to get at +me, but I am glad to say that the peat held him fast. + +The pan presented a curious sight when the sun rose next morning. Owing +to the support given by the soil, few of the dead elephants had fallen: +there they stood as though they were asleep. + +I sent back for the waggons, and when they arrived on the morrow, +formed a camp, about a mile away from the pan. Then began the work of +cutting out the elephants’ tusks; it took over a week, and for obvious +reasons was a disgusting task. Indeed, had it not been for the help of +some wandering bushmen, who took their pay in elephant meat, I do not +think we could ever have managed it. + +At last it was done. The ivory was far too cumbersome for us to carry, +so we buried it, having first got rid of our bushmen allies. My boys +wanted me to go back to the Cape with it and sell it, but I was too +much bent on my journey to do this. The tusks lay buried for five +years. Then I came and dug them up; they were but little harmed. +Ultimately I sold the ivory for something over twelve hundred +pounds—not bad pay for one day’s shooting. + +This was how I began my career as an elephant hunter. I have shot many +hundreds of them since, but have never again attempted to do so on +horseback. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +THE ZULU IMPI + + +After burying the elephant tusks, and having taken careful notes of the +bearings and peculiarities of the country so that I might be able to +find the spot again, we proceeded on our journey. For a month or more I +trekked along the line which now divides the Orange Free State from +Griqualand West, and the Transvaal from Bechuanaland. The only +difficulties met with were such as are still common to African +travellers—occasional want of water and troubles about crossing sluits +and rivers. I remember that I outspanned on the spot where Kimberley +now stands, and had to press on again in a hurry because there was no +water. I little dreamed then that I should live to see Kimberley a +great city producing millions of pounds worth of diamonds annually, and +old Indaba-zimbi’s magic cannot have been worth so much after all, or +he would have told me. + +I found the country almost entirely depopulated. Not very long before +Mosilikatze the Lion, Chaka’s General had swept across it in his +progress towards what is now Matabeleland. His footsteps were evident +enough. Time upon time I trekked up to what had evidently been the +sites of Kaffir kraals. Now the kraals were ashes and piles of tumbled +stones, and strewn about among the rank grass were the bones of +hundreds of men, women, and children, all of whom had kissed the Zulu +assegai. I remember that in one of these desolate places I found the +skull of a child in which a ground-lark had built its nest. It was the +twittering of the young birds inside that first called my attention to +it. Shortly after this we met with our second great adventure, a much +more serious and tragic one than the first. + +We were trekking parallel with the Kolong river when a herd of blesbock +crossed the track. I fired at one of them and hit it behind. It +galloped about a hundred yards with the rest of the herd, then lay +down. As we were in want of meat, not having met with any game for a +few days past, I jumped on to my horse, and, telling Indaba-zimbi that +I would overtake the waggons or meet them on the further side of a rise +about an hour’s trek away, I started after the wounded buck. As soon as +I came within a hundred yards of it, however, it jumped up and ran away +as fast as though it were untouched, only to lie down again at a +distance. I followed, thinking that strength would soon fail it. This +happened three times. On the third occasion it vanished behind a ridge, +and, though by now I was out of both temper and patience, I thought I +might as well ride to the crest and see if I could get a shot at it on +the further side. + +I reached the ridge, which was strewn with stones, looked over it, and +saw—a Zulu Impi! + +I rubbed my eyes and looked again. Yes, there was no doubt of it. They +were halted about a thousand yards away, by the water; some were lying +down, some were cooking at fires, others were stalking about with +spears and shields in their hands; there might have been two thousand +or more of them in all. While I was wondering—and that with no little +uneasiness—what on earth they could be doing there, suddenly I heard a +wild cry to the right and left of me. I glanced first one way, then the +other. From either side a great Zulu was bearing down on me, their +broad stabbing assegais aloft, and black shields in their left hands. +The man to the right was about fifteen yards away, he to the left was +not more than ten. On they came, their fierce eyes almost starting out +of their heads, and I felt, with a cold thrill of fear, that in another +three seconds those broad “bangwans” might be buried in my vitals. On +such occasions we act, I suppose, more from instinct than from anything +else—there is no time for thought. At any rate, I dropped the reins +and, raising my gun, fired point blank at the left-hand man. The bullet +struck him in the middle of his shield, pierced it, and passed through +him, and over he rolled upon the veldt. I swung round in the saddle; +most happily my horse was accustomed to standing still when I fired +from his back, also he was so surprised that he did not know which way +to shy. The other savage was almost on me; his outstretched shield +reached the muzzle of my gun as I pulled the trigger of the left +barrel. It exploded, the warrior sprung high into the air, and fell +against my horse dead, his spear passing just in front of my face. + +Without waiting to reload, or even to look if the main body of the +Zulus had seen the death of their two scouts, I turned my horse and +drove my heels into his sides. As soon as I was down the slope of the +rise I pulled a little to the right in order to intercept the waggons +before the Zulus saw them. I had not gone three hundred yards in this +new direction when, to my utter astonishment, I struck a trail marked +with waggon-wheels and the hoofs of oxen. Of waggons there must have +been at least eight, and several hundred cattle. Moreover, they had +passed within twelve hours; I could tell that by the spoor. Then I +understood; the Impi was following the track of the waggons, which, in +all probability, belonged to a party of emigrant Boers. + +The spoor of the waggons ran in the direction I wished to go, so I +followed it. About a mile further on I came to the crest of a rise, and +there, about five furlongs away, I saw the waggons drawn up in a rough +laager upon the banks of the river. There, too, were my own waggons +trekking down the slope towards them. + +In another five minutes I was there. The Boers—for Boers they were—were +standing about outside the little laager watching the approach of my +two waggons. I called to them, and they turned and saw me. The very +first man my eyes fell on was a Boer named Hans Botha, whom I had known +well years ago in the Cape. He was not a bad specimen of his class, but +a very restless person, with a great objection to authority, or, as he +expressed it, “a love of freedom.” He had joined a party of the +emigrant Boers some years before, but, as I learned presently, had +quarrelled with its leader, and was now trekking away into the +wilderness to found a little colony of his own. Poor fellow! It was his +last trek. + +“How do you do, Meinheer Botha?” I said to him in Dutch. + +The man looked at me, looked again, then, startled out of his Dutch +stolidity, cried to his wife, who was seated on the box of the waggon— + +“Come here, Frau, come. Here is Allan Quatermain, the Englishman, the +son of the ‘Predicant.’ How goes it, Heer Quatermain, and what is the +news down in the Cape yonder?” + +“I don’t know what the news is in the Cape, Hans,” I answered, +solemnly; “but the news here is that there is a Zulu Impi upon your +spoor and within two miles of the waggons. That I know, for I have just +shot two of their sentries,” and I showed him my empty gun. + +For a moment there was a silence of astonishment, and I saw the bronzed +faces of the men turn pale beneath their tan, while one or two of the +women gave a little scream, and the children crept to their sides. + +“Almighty!” cried Hans, “that must be the Umtetwa Regiment that Dingaan +sent against the Basutus, but who could not come at them because of the +marshes, and so were afraid to return to Zululand, and struck north to +join Mosilikatze.” + +“Laager up, Carles! Laager up for your lives, and one of you jump on a +horse and drive in the cattle.” + +At this moment my own waggons came up. Indaba-zimbi was sitting on the +box of the first, wrapped in a blanket. I called him and told him the +news. + +“Ill tidings, Macumazahn,” he said; “there will be dead Boers about +to-morrow morning, but they will not attack till dawn, then they will +wipe out the laager _so!_” and he passed his hand before his mouth. + +“Stop that croaking, you white-headed crow,” I said, though I knew his +words were true. What chance had a laager of ten waggons all told +against at least two thousand of the bravest savages in the world? + +“Macumazahn, will you take my advice this time?” Indaba-zimbi said, +presently. + +“What is it?” I asked. + +“This. Leave your waggons here, jump on that horse, and let us two run +for it as hard as we can go. The Zulus won’t follow us, they will be +looking after the Boers.” + +“I won’t leave the other white men,” I said; “it would be the act of a +coward. If I die, I die.” + +“Very well, Macumazahn, then stay and be killed,” he answered, taking a +pinch of snuff. “Come, let us see about the waggons,” and we walked +towards the laager. + +Here everything was in confusion. However, I got hold of Hans Botha and +put it to him if it would not be best to desert the waggons and make a +run for it. + +“How can we do it?” he answered; “two of the women are too fat to go a +mile, one is sick in childbed, and we have only six horses among us. +Besides, if we did we should starve in the desert. No, Heer Allan, we +must fight it out with the savages, and God help us!” + +“God help us, indeed. Think of the children, Hans!” + +“I can’t bear to think,” he answered, in a broken voice, looking at his +own little girl, a sweet, curly-haired, blue-eyed child of six, named +Tota, whom I had often nursed as a baby. “Oh, Heer Allan, your father, +the Predicant, always warned me against trekking north, and I never +would listen to him because I thought him a cursed Englishman; now I +see my folly. Heer Allan, if you can, try to save my child from those +black devils; if you live longer than I do, or if you can’t save her, +kill her,” and he clasped my hand. + +“It hasn’t come to that yet, Hans,” I said. + +Then we set to work on the laager. The waggons, of which, including my +two, there were ten, were drawn into the form of a square, and the +disselboom of each securely lashed with reims to the underworks of that +in front of it. The wheels also were locked, and the space between the +ground and the bed-planks of the waggons was stuffed with branches of +the “wait-a-bit” thorn that fortunately grew near in considerable +quantities. In this way a barrier was formed of no mean strength as +against a foe unprovided with firearms, places being left for the men +to fire from. In a little over an hour everything was done that could +be done, and a discussion arose as to the disposal of the cattle, which +had been driven up close to the camp. Some of the Boers were anxious to +get them into the laager, small as it was, or at least as many of them +as it would hold. I argued strongly against this, pointing out that the +brutes would probably be seized with panic as soon as the firing began, +and trample the defenders of the laager under foot. As an alternative +plan I suggested that some of the native servants should drive the herd +along the valley of the river till they reached a friendly tribe or +some other place of safety. Of course, if the Zulus saw them they would +be taken, but the nature of the ground was favourable, and it was +possible that they might escape if they started at once. The +proposition was promptly agreed to, and, what is more, it was settled +that one Dutchman and such of the women and children as could travel +should go with them. In half an hour’s time twelve of them started with +the natives, the Boer in charge, and the cattle. Three of my own men +went with the latter, the three others and Indaba-zimbi stopped with me +in the laager. + +The parting was a heart-breaking scene, upon which I do not care to +dwell. The women wept, the men groaned, and the children looked on with +scared white faces. At length they were gone, and I for one was +thankful of it. There remained in the laager seventeen white men, four +natives, the two Boer fraus who were too stout to travel, the woman in +childbed and her baby, and Hans Botha’s little daughter Tota, whom he +could not make up his mind to part with. Happily her mother was already +dead. And here I may state that ten of the women and children, together +with about half of the cattle, escaped. The Zulu Impi never saw them, +and on the third day of travel they came to the fortified place of a +Griqua chief, who sheltered them on receiving half the cattle in +payment. Thence by slow degrees they journeyed down to the Cape Colony, +reaching a civilized region within a little more than a year from the +date of the attack on the laager. + +The afternoon was now drawing towards evening, but still there were no +signs of the Impi. A wild hope struck us that they might have gone on +about their business. Ever since Indaba-zimbi had heard that the +regiment was supposed to belong to the Umtetwa tribe, he had, I +noticed, been plunged in deep thought. Presently he came to me and +volunteered to go out and spy upon their movements. At first Hans Botha +was against this idea, saying that he was a “verdomde swartzel”—an +accursed black creature—and would betray us. I pointed out that there +was nothing to betray. The Zulus must know where the waggons were, but +it was important for us to gain information of their movements. So it +was agreed that Indaba-zimbi should go. I told him this. He nodded his +white lock, said “All right, Macumazahn,” and started. I noticed with +some surprise, however, that before he did so he went to the waggon and +fetched his “mouti,” or medicine, which, together with his other +magical apparatus, he always carried in a skin bag. I asked him why he +did this. He answered that it was to make himself invulnerable against +the spears of the Zulus. I did not in the least believe his +explanation, for in my heart I was sure that he meant to take the +opportunity to make a bolt of it, leaving me to my fate. I did not, +however, interfere to prevent this, for I had an affection for the old +fellow, and sincerely hoped that he might escape the doom which +overshadowed us. + +So Indaba-zimbi sauntered off, and as I looked at his retreating form I +thought I should never see it again. But I was mistaken, and little +knew that he was risking his life, not for the Boers whom he hated one +and all, but for me whom in his queer way he loved. + +When he had gone we completed our preparations for defence, +strengthening the waggons and the thorns beneath with earth and stones. +Then at sunset we ate and drank as heartily as we could under the +circumstances, and when we had done, Hans Botha, as head of the party, +offered up prayer to God for our preservation. It was a touching sight +to see the burly Dutchman, his hat off, his broad face lit up by the +last rays of the setting sun, praying aloud in homely, simple language +to Him who alone could save us from the spears of a cruel foe. I +remember that the last sentence of his prayer was, “Almighty, if we +must be killed, save the women and children and my little girl Tota +from the accursed Zulus, and do not let us be tortured.” + +I echoed the request very earnestly in my own heart, that I know, for +in common with the others I was dreadfully afraid, and it must be +admitted not without reason. + +Then the darkness came on, and we took up our appointed places each +with a rifle in his hands and peered out into the gloom in silence. +Occasionally one of the Boers would light his pipe with a brand from +the smouldering fire, and the glow of it would shine for a few moments +on his pale, anxious face. + +Behind me one of the stout “fraus” lay upon the ground. Even the terror +of our position could not keep her heavy eyes from their accustomed +sleep, and she snored loudly. On the further side of her, just by the +fire, lay little Tota, wrapped in a kaross. She was asleep also, her +thumb in her mouth, and from time to time her father would come to look +at her. + +So the hours wore on while we waited for the Zulus. But from my +intimate knowledge of the habits of natives I had little fear that they +would attack us at night, though, had they done so, they could have +compassed our destruction with but small loss to themselves. It is not +the habit of this people, they like to fight in the light of day—at +dawn for preference. + +About eleven o’clock, just as I was nodding a little at my post, I +heard a low whistle outside the laager. Instantly I was wide awake, and +all along the line I heard the clicking of locks as the Boers cocked +their guns. + +“Macumazahn,” said a voice, the voice of Indaba-zimbi, “are you there?” + +“Yes,” I answered. + +“Then hold a light so that I can see how to climb into the laager,” he +said. + +“Yah! yah! hold a light,” put in one of the Boers. “I don’t trust that +black schepsel of yours, Heer Quatermain; he may have some of his +countrymen with him.” Accordingly a lantern was produced and held +towards the voice. There was Indaba-zimbi alone. We let him into the +laager and asked him the news. + +“This is the news, white men,” he said. “I waited till dark, and +creeping up to the place where the Zulus are encamped, hid myself +behind a stone and listened. They are a great regiment of Umtetwas as +Baas Botha yonder thought. They struck the spoor of the waggons three +days ago and followed it. To-night they sleep upon their spears, +to-morrow at daybreak they will attack the laager and kill everybody. +They are very bitter against the Boers, because of the battle at Blood +River and the other fights, and that is why they followed the waggons +instead of going straight north after Mosilikatze.” + +A kind of groan went up from the group of listening Dutchmen. + +“I tell you what it is, Heeren,” I said, “instead of waiting to be +butchered here like buck in a pitfall, let us go out now and fall upon +the Impi while it sleeps.” + +This proposition excited some discussion, but in the end only one man +could be found to vote for it. Boers as a rule lack that dash which +makes great soldiers; such forlorn hopes are not in their line, and +rather than embark upon them they prefer to take their chance in a +laager, however poor that chance may be. For my own part I firmly +believe that had my advice been taken we should have routed the Zulus. +Seventeen desperate white men, armed with guns, would have produced no +small effect upon a camp of sleeping savages. But it was not taken, so +it is no use talking about it. + +After that we went back to our posts, and slowly the weary night wore +on towards the dawn. Only those who have watched under similar +circumstances while they waited the advent of almost certain and cruel +death, can know the torturing suspense of those heavy hours. But they +went somehow, and at last in the far east the sky began to lighten, +while the cold breath of dawn stirred the tilts of the waggons and +chilled me to the bone. The fat Dutchwoman behind me woke with a yawn, +then, remembering all, moaned aloud, while her teeth chattered with +cold and fear. Hans Botha went to his waggon and got a bottle of peach +brandy, from which he poured into a tin pannikin, giving us each a +stiff dram, and making attempts to be cheerful as he did so. But his +affected jocularity only seemed to depress his comrades the more. +Certainly it depressed me. + +Now the light was growing, and we could see some way into the mist +which still hung densely over the river, and now—ah! there it was. From +the other side of the hill, a thousand yards or more from the laager, +came a faint humming sound. It grew and grew till it gathered to a +chant—the awful war chant of the Zulus. Soon I could catch the words. +They were simple enough: + +“We shall slay, we shall slay! Is it not so, my brothers? +Our spears shall blush blood-red. Is it not so, my brothers? +For we are the sucklings of Chaka, blood is our milk, my brothers. +Awake, children of the Umtetwa, awake! +The vulture wheels, the jackal sniffs the air; +Awake, children of the Umtetwa—cry aloud, ye ringed men: +There is the foe, we shall slay them. Is it not so, my brothers? +_S’gee! S’gee! S’gee!_” + + +Such is a rough translation of that hateful chant which to this very +day I often seem to hear. It does not look particularly imposing on +paper, but if, while he waited to be killed, the reader could have +heard it as it rolled through the still air from the throats of nearly +three thousand warriors singing all to time, he would have found it +impressive enough. + +Now the shields began to appear over the brow of the rise. They came by +companies, each company about ninety strong. Altogether there were +thirty-one companies. I counted them. When all were over they formed +themselves into a triple line, then trotted down the slope towards us. +At a distance of a hundred and fifty yards or just out of the shot of +such guns as we had in those days, they halted and began singing again— + +“Yonder is the kraal of the white man—a little kraal, my brothers; +We shall eat it up, we shall trample it flat, my brothers. +But where are the white man’s cattle—where are his oxen, my brothers?” + + +This question seemed to puzzle them a good deal, for they sang the song +again and again. At last a herald came forward, a great man with ivory +rings about his arm, and, putting his hands to his mouth, called out to +us asking where our cattle were. + +Hans Botha climbed on to the top of a waggon and roared out that they +might answer that question themselves. + +Then the herald called again, saying that he saw the cattle had been +sent away. + +“We shall go and find the cattle,” he said, “then we shall come and +kill you, because without cattle you must stop where you are, but if we +wait to kill you before we get the cattle, they may have trekked too +far for us to follow. And if you try to run away we shall easily catch +you white men!” + +This struck me as a very odd speech, for the Zulus generally attack an +enemy first and take his cattle afterwards; still, there was a certain +amount of plausibility about it. While I was still wondering what it +all might mean, the Zulus began to run past us in companies towards the +river. Suddenly a shout announced that they had found the spoor of the +cattle, and the whole Impi of them started down it at a run till they +vanished over a rise about a quarter of a mile away. + +We waited for half an hour or more, but nothing could we see of them. + +“Now I wonder if the devils have really gone,” said Hans Botha to me. +“It is very strange.” + +“I will go and see,” said Indaba-zimbi, “if you will come with me, +Macumazahn. We can creep to the top of the ridge and look over.” + +At first I hesitated, but curiosity overcame me. I was young in those +days and weary with suspense. + +“Very well,” I said, “we will go.” + +So we started. I had my elephant gun and ammunition. Indaba-zimbi had +his medicine bag and an assegai. We crept to the top of the rise like +sportsmen stalking a buck. The slope on the other side was strewn with +rocks, among which grew bushes and tall grass. + +“They must have gone down the Donga,” I said to Indaba-zimbi, “I can’t +see one of them.” + +As I spoke there came a roar of men all round me. From every rock, from +every tuft of grass rose a Zulu warrior. Before I could turn, before I +could lift a gun, I was seized and thrown. + +“Hold him! Hold the White Spirit fast!” cried a voice. “Hold him, or he +will slip away like a snake. Don’t hurt him, but hold him fast. Let +Indaba-zimbi walk by his side.” + +I turned on Indaba-zimbi. “You black devil, you have betrayed me!” I +cried. + +“Wait and see, Macumazahn,” he answered, coolly. “Now the fight is +going to begin.” + + + + +CHAPTER V. +THE END OF THE LAAGER + + +I gasped with wonder and rage. What did that scoundrel Indaba-zimbi +mean? Why had I been drawn out of the laager and seized, and why, being +seized, was I not instantly killed? They called me the “White Spirit.” +Could it be that they were keeping me to make me into medicine? I had +heard of such things being done by Zulus and kindred tribes, and my +blood ran cold at the thought. What an end! To be pounded up, made +medicine of, and eaten! + +However, I had little time for further reflection, for now the whole +Impi was pouring back from the donga and river-banks where it had +hidden while their ruse was carried out, and once more formed up on the +side of the slope. I was taken to the crest of the slope and placed in +the centre of the reserve line in the especial charge of a huge Zulu +named Bombyane, the same man who had come forward as a herald. This +brute seemed to regard me with an affectionate curiosity. Now and again +he poked me in the ribs with the handle of his assegai, as though to +assure himself that I was solid, and several times he asked me to be so +good as to prophesy how many Zulus would be killed before the +“Amaboona,” as they called the Boers, were “eaten up.” + +At first I took no notice of him beyond scowling, but presently, goaded +into anger, I prophesied that he would be dead in an hour! + +He only laughed aloud. “Oh! White Spirit,” he said, “is it so? Well, +I’ve walked a long way from Zululand, and shall be glad of a rest.” + +And he got it shortly, as will be seen. + +Now the Zulus began to sing again— + +“We have caught the White Spirit, my brother! my brother! +Iron-Tongue whispered of him, he smelt him out, my brother. +Now the Maboona are ours—they are already dead, my brother.” + + +So that treacherous villain Indaba-zimbi had betrayed me. Suddenly the +chief of the Impi, a grey-haired man named Sususa, held up his assegai, +and instantly there was silence. Then he spoke to some indunas who +stood near him. Instantly they ran to the right and left down the first +line, saying a word to the captain of each company as they passed him. +Presently they were at the respective ends of the line, and +simultaneously held up their spears. As they did so, with an awful roar +of “Bulala Amaboona”—“Slay the Boers,” the entire line, numbering +nearly a thousand men, bounded forward like a buck startled from its +form, and rushed down upon the little laager. It was a splendid sight +to see them, their assegais glittering in the sunlight as they rose and +fell above their black shields, their war-plumes bending back upon the +wind, and their fierce faces set intently on the foe, while the solid +earth shook beneath the thunder of their rushing feet. I thought of my +poor friends the Dutchmen, and trembled. What chance had they against +so many? + +Now the Zulus, running in the shape of a bow so as to wrap the laager +round on three sides, were within seventy yards, and now from every +waggon broke tongues of fire. Over rolled a number of the Umtetwa, but +the rest cared little. Forward they sped straight to the laager, +striving to force a way in. But the Boers plied them with volley after +volley, and, packed as the Zulus were, the elephant guns loaded with +slugs and small shot did frightful execution. Only one man even got on +to a waggon, and as he did so I saw a Boer woman strike him on the head +with an axe. He fell down, and slowly, amid howls of derision from the +two lines on the hill-side, the Zulus drew back. + +“Let us go, father!” shouted the soldiers on the slope, among whom I +was, to their chief, who had come up. “You have sent out the little +girls to fight, and they are frightened. Let us show them the way.” + +“No, no!” the chief Sususa answered, laughing. “Wait a minute and the +little girls will grow to women, and women are good enough to fight +against Boers!” + +The attacking Zulus heard the mockery of their fellows, and rushed +forward again with a roar. But the Boers in the laager had found time +to load, and they met with a warm reception. Reserving their fire till +the Zulus were packed like sheep in a kraal, they loosed into them with +the roers, and the warriors fell in little heaps. But I saw that the +blood of the Umtetwas was up; they did not mean to be beaten back this +time, and the end was near. See! six men had leapt on to a waggon, +slain the man behind it, and sprung into the laager. They were killed +there, but others followed, and then I turned my head. But I could not +shut my ears to the cries of rage and death, and the terrible _S’gee! +S’gee!_ of the savages as they did their work of murder. Once only I +looked up and saw poor Hans Botha standing on a waggon smiting down men +with the butt of his rifle. The assegais shot up towards him like +tongues of steel, and when I looked again he was gone. + +I turned sick with fear and rage. But alas! what could I do? They were +all dead now, and probably my own turn was coming, only my death would +not be so swift. + +The fight was ended, and the two lines on the slope broke their order, +and moved down to the laager. Presently we were there, and a dreadful +sight it was. Many of the attacking Zulus were dead—quite fifty I +should say, and at least a hundred and fifty were wounded, some of them +mortally. The chief Sususa gave an order, the dead men were picked up +and piled in a heap, while those who were slightly hurt walked off to +find some one to tie up their wounds. But the more serious cases met +with a different treatment. The chief or one of his indunas considered +each case, and if it was in any way bad, the man was taken up and +thrown into the river which ran near. None of them offered any +objection, though one poor fellow swam to shore again. He did not stop +there long, however, for they pushed him back and drowned him by force. + +The strangest case of all was that of the chief’s own brother. He had +been captain of the line, and his ankle was smashed by a bullet. Sususa +came up to him, and, having examined the wound, rated him soundly for +failing in the first onslaught. + +The poor fellow made the excuse that it was not his fault, as the Boers +had hit him in the first rush. His brother admitted the truth of this, +and talked to him amicably. + +“Well,” he said at length, offering him a pinch of snuff, “you cannot +walk again.” + +“No, chief,” said the wounded man, looking at his ankle. + +“And to-morrow we must walk far,” went on Sususa. + +“Yes, chief.” + +“Say, then, will you sit here on the veldt, or——” and he nodded towards +the river. + +The man dropped his head on his breast for a minute as though in +thought. Presently he lifted it and looked Sususa straight in the face. + +“My ankle pains me, my brother,” he said; “I think I will go back to +Zululand, for there is the only kraal I wish to see again, even if I +creep about it like a snake.”[*] + +[*] The Zulus believe that after death their spirits enter into the +bodies of large green snakes, which glide about the kraals. To kill +these snakes is sacrilege. + + +“It is well, my brother,” said the chief. “Rest softly,” and having +shaken hands with him, he gave an order to one of the indunas, and +turned away. + +Then men came, and, supporting the wounded man, led him down to the +banks of the stream. Here, at his request, they tied a heavy stone +round his neck, and then threw him into a deep pool. I saw the whole +sad scene, and the victim never even winced. It was impossible not to +admire the extraordinary courage of the man, or to avoid being struck +with the cold-blooded cruelty of his brother the chief. And yet the act +was necessary from his point of view. The man must either die swiftly, +or be left to perish of starvation, for no Zulu force will encumber +itself with wounded men. Years of merciless warfare had so hardened +these people that they looked on death as nothing, and were, to do them +justice, as willing to meet it themselves as to inflict it on others. +When this very Impi had been sent out by the Zulu King Dingaan, it +consisted of some nine thousand men. Now it numbered less than three; +all the rest were dead. They, too, would probably soon be dead. What +did it matter? They lived by war to die in blood. It was their natural +end. “Kill till you are killed.” That is the motto of the Zulu soldier. +It has the merit of simplicity. + +Meanwhile the warriors were looting the waggons, including my own, +having first thrown all the dead Boers into a heap. I looked at the +heap; all of them were there, including the two stout fraus, poor +things. But I missed one body, that of Hans Botha’s daughter, little +Tota. A wild hope came into my heart that she might have escaped; but +no, it was not possible. I could only pray that she was already at +rest. + +Just then the great Zulu, Bombyane, who had left my side to indulge in +the congenial occupation of looting, came out of a waggon crying that +he had got the “little white one.” I looked; he was carrying the child +Tota, gripping her frock in one of his huge black hands. He stalked up +to where we were, and held the child before the chief. “Is it dead, +father?” he said, with a laugh. + +Now, as I could well see, the child was not dead, but had been hidden +away, and fainted with fear. + +The chief glanced at it carelessly, and said— + +“Find out with your kerrie.” + +Acting on this hint the black devil held up the child, and was about to +kill it with his knobstick. This was more than I could bear. I sprang +at him and struck him with all my force in the face, little caring if I +was speared or not. He dropped Tota on the ground. + +“Ou!” he said, putting his hand to his nose, “the White Spirit has a +hard fist. Come, Spirit, I will fight you for the child.” + +The soldiers cheered and laughed. “Yes! yes!” they said, “let Bombyane +fight the White Spirit for the child. Let them fight with assegais.” + +For a moment I hesitated. What chance had I against this black giant? +But I had promised poor Hans to save the child if I could, and what did +it matter? As well die now as later. However, I had wit enough left to +make a favour of it, and intimated to the chief through Indaba-zimbi +that I was quite willing to condescend to kill Bombyane, on condition +that if I did so the child’s life should be given to me. Indaba-zimbi +interpreted my words, but I noticed that he would not look on me as he +spoke, but covered his face with his hands and spoke of me as “the +ghost” or the “son of the spirit.” For some reason that I have never +quite understood, the chief consented to the duel. I fancy it was +because he believed me to be more than mortal, and was anxious to see +the last of Bombyane. + +“Let them fight,” he said. “Give them assegais and no shields; the +child shall be to him who conquers.” + +“Yes! yes!” cried the soldiers. “Let them fight. Don’t be afraid, +Bombyane; if he is a spirit, he’s a very small one.” + +“I never was frightened of man or beast, and I am not going to run away +from a White Ghost,” answered the redoubtable Bombyane, as he examined +the blade of his great bangwan or stabbing assegai. + +Then they made a ring round us, gave me a similar assegai, and set us +some ten paces apart. I kept my face as calm as I could, and tried to +show no signs of fear, though in my heart I was terribly afraid. +Humanly speaking, my doom was on me. The giant warrior before me had +used the assegai from a child—I had no experience of the weapon. +Moreover, though I was quick and active, he must have been at least +twice as strong as I am. However, there was no help for it, so, setting +my teeth, I grasped the great spear, breathed a prayer, and waited. + +The giant stood awhile looking at me, and, as he stood, Indaba-zimbi +walked across the ring behind me, muttering as he passed, “Keep cool, +Macumazahn, and wait for him. I will make it all right.” + +As I had not the slightest intention of commencing the fray, I thought +this good advice, though how Indaba-zimbi could “make it all right” I +failed to see. + +Heavens! how long that half-minute seemed! It happened many years ago, +but the whole scene rises up before my eyes as I write. There behind us +was the blood-stained laager, and near it lay the piles of dead; round +us was rank upon rank of plumed savages, standing in silence to wait +the issue of the duel, and in the centre stood the grey-haired chief +and general, Sususa, in all his war finery, a cloak of leopard skin +upon his shoulders. At his feet lay the senseless form of little Tota, +to my left squatted Indaba-zimbi, nodding his white lock and muttering +something—probably spells; while in front was my giant antagonist, his +spear aloft and his plumes wavering in the gentle wind. Then over all, +over grassy slope, river, and koppie, over the waggons of the laager, +the piles of dead, the dense masses of the living, the swooning child, +over all shone the bright impartial sun, looking down like the +indifferent eye of Heaven upon the loveliness of nature and the cruelty +of man. Down by the river grew thorn-trees, and from them floated the +sweet scent of the mimosa flower, and came the sound of cooing +turtle-doves. I never smell the one or hear the other without the scene +flashing into my mind again, complete in its every detail. + +Suddenly, without a sound, Bombyane shook his assegai and rushed +straight at me. I saw his huge form come; like a man in a dream, I saw +the broad spear flash on high; now he was on me! Then, prompted to it +by some providential impulse—or had the spells of Indaba-zimbi anything +to do with the matter?—I dropped to my knee, and quick as light +stretched out my spear. He drove at me: the blade passed over my head. +I felt a weight on my assegai; it was wrenched from my hand; his great +limbs knocked against me. I glanced round. Bombyane was staggering +along with head thrown back and outstretched arms from which his spear +had fallen. His spear had fallen, but the blade of mine stood out +between his shoulders—I had transfixed him. He stopped, swung slowly +round as though to look at me: then with a sigh the giant sank +down—_dead_. + +For a moment there was silence; then a great cry rose—a cry of +“Bombyane is dead. The White Spirit has slain Bombyane. Kill the +wizard, kill the ghost who has slain Bombyane by witchcraft.” + +Instantly I was surrounded by fierce faces, and spears flashed before +my eyes. I folded my arms and stood calmly waiting the end. In a moment +it would have come, for the warriors were mad at seeing their champion +overthrown thus easily. But presently through the tumult I heard the +high, cracked voice of Indaba-zimbi. + +“Stand back, you fools!” it cried; “can a spirit then be killed?” + +“Spear him! spear him!” they roared in fury. “Let us see if he is a +spirit. How did a spirit slay Bombyane with an assegai? Spear him, +rain-maker, and we shall see.” + +“Stand back,” cried Indaba-zimbi again, “and I will show you if he can +be killed. I will kill him myself, and call him back to life again +before your eyes.” + +“Macumazahn, trust me,” he whispered in my ear in the Sisutu tongue, +which the Zulus did not understand. “Trust me; kneel on the grass +before me, and when I strike at you with the spear, roll over like one +dead; then, when you hear my voice again, get up. Trust me—it is your +only hope.” + +Having no choice I nodded my head in assent, though I had not the +faintest idea of what he was about to do. The tumult lessened somewhat, +and once more the warriors drew back. + +“Great White Spirit—Spirit of victory,” said Indaba-zimbi, addressing +me aloud, and covering his eyes with his hand, “hear me and forgive me. +These children are blind with folly, and think thee mortal because thou +hast dealt death upon a mortal who dared to stand against thee. Deign +to kneel down before me and let me pierce thy heart with this spear, +then when I call upon thee, arise unhurt.” + +I knelt down, not because I wished to, but because I must. I had not +overmuch faith in Indaba-zimbi, and thought it probable that he was in +truth about to make an end of me. But really I was so worn out with +fears, and the horrors of the night and day had so shaken my nerves, +that I did not greatly care what befell me. When I had been kneeling +thus for about half a minute Indaba-zimbi spoke. + +“People of the Umtetwa, children of T’Chaka,” he said, “draw back a +little way, lest an evil fall on you, for now the air is thick with +ghosts.” + +They drew back a space, leaving us in a circle about twelve yards in +diameter. + +“Look on him who kneels before you,” went on Indaba-zimbi, “and listen +to my words, to the words of the witch-finder, the words of the +rain-maker, Indaba-zimbi, whose fame is known to you. He seems to be a +young man, does he not? I tell you, children of the Umtetwa, he is no +man. He is the Spirit who gives victory to the white men, he it is who +gave them assegais that thunder and taught them how to slay. Why were +the Impis of Dingaan rolled back at the Blood River? Because _he_ was +there. Why did the Amaboona slay the people of Mosilikatze by the +thousand? Because _he_ was there. And so I say to you that, had I not +drawn him from the laager by my magic but three hours ago, you would +have been conquered—yes, you would have been blown away like the dust +before the wind; you would have been burnt up like the dry grass in the +winter when the fire is awake among it. Ay, because he had but been +there many of your bravest were slain in overcoming a few—a pinch of +men who could be counted on the fingers. But because I loved you, +because your chief Sususa is my half-brother—for had we not one +father?—I came to you, I warned you. Then you prayed me and I drew the +Spirit forth. But you were not satisfied when the victory was yours, +when the Spirit, of all you had taken asked but one little thing—a +white child to take away and sacrifice to himself, to make the medicine +of his magic of——” + +Here I could hardly restrain myself from interrupting, but thought +better of it. + +“You said him nay; you said, ‘Let him fight with our bravest man, let +him fight with Bombyane the giant for the child.’ And he deigned to +slay Bombyane as you have seen, and now you say, ‘Slay him; he is no +spirit.’ Now I will show you if he is a spirit, for I will slay him +before your eyes, and call him to life again. But you have brought this +upon yourselves. Had you believed, had you offered no insult to the +Spirit, he would have stayed with you, and you should have become +unconquerable. Now he will arise and leave you, and woe be on you if +you try to stay him. + +“Now all men,” he went on, “look for a space upon this assegai that I +hold up,” and he lifted the bangwan of the deceased Bombyane high above +his head so that all the multitude could see it. Every eye was fixed +upon the broad bright spear. For a while he held it still, then he +moved it round and round in a circle, muttering as he did so, and still +their gaze followed it. For my part, I watched his movements with the +greatest anxiety. That assegai had already been nearer my person than I +found at all pleasant, and I had no desire to make a further +acquaintance with it. Nor, indeed, was I sure that Indaba-zimbi was not +really going to kill me. I could not understand his proceedings at all, +and at the best I did not relish playing the _corpus vile_ to his +magical experiments. + +“_Look! look! look!_” he screamed. + +Then suddenly the great spear flashed down towards my breast. I felt +nothing, but, to my sight, it seemed as though it had passed through +me. + +“See!” roared the Zulus. “Indaba-zimbi has speared him; the red assegai +stands out behind his back.” + +“Roll over, Macumazahn,” Indaba-zimbi hissed in my ear, “roll over and +pretend to die—quick! quick!” + +I lost no time in following these strange instructions, but falling on +to my side, threw my arms wide, kicked my legs about, and died as +artistically as I could. Presently I gave a stage shiver and lay still. + +“See!” said the Zulus, “he is dead, the Spirit is dead. Look at the +blood upon the assegai!” + +“Stand back! stand back!” cried Indaba-zimbi, “or the ghost will haunt +you. Yes, he is dead, and now I will call him back to life again. +Look!” and putting down his hand, he plucked the spear from wherever it +was fixed, and held it aloft. “The spear is red, is it not? Watch, men, +watch! _it grows white!_” + +“Yes, it grows white,” they said. “Ou! it grows white.” + +“It grows white because the blood returns to whence it came,” said +Indaba-zimbi. “Now, great Spirit, hear me. Thou art dead, the breath +has gone out of thy mouth. Yet hear me and arise. Awake, White Spirit, +awake and show thy power. Awake! arise unhurt!” + +I began to respond cheerfully to this imposing invocation. + +“Not so fast, Macumazahn,” whispered Indaba-zimbi. + +I took the hint, and first held up my arm, then lifted my head and let +it fall again. + +“He lives! by the head of T’Chaka he lives!” roared the soldiers, +stricken with mortal fear. + +Then slowly and with the greatest dignity I gradually arose, stretched +my arms, yawned like one awaking from heavy sleep, turned and looked +upon them unconcernedly. While I did so, I noticed that old +Indaba-zimbi was almost fainting from exhaustion. Beads of perspiration +stood upon his brow, his limbs trembled, and his breast heaved. + +As for the Zulus, they waited for no more. With a howl of terror the +whole regiment turned and fled across the rise, so that presently we +were left alone with the dead, and the swooning child. + +“How on earth did you do that, Indaba-zimbi?” I asked in amaze. + +“Do not ask me, Macumazahn,” he gasped. “You white men are very clever, +but you don’t quite know everything. There are men in the world who can +make people believe they see things which they do not see. Let us be +going while we may, for when those Umtetwas have got over their fright, +they will come back to loot the waggons, and then perhaps _they_ will +begin asking questions that I can’t answer.” + +And here I may as well state that I never got any further information +on this matter from old Indaba-zimbi. But I have my theory, and here it +is for whatever it may be worth. I believe that Indaba-zimbi +_mesmerized_ the whole crowd of onlookers, myself included, making them +believe that they saw the assegai in my heart, and the blood upon the +blade. The reader may smile and say, “Impossible;” but I would ask him +how the Indian jugglers do their tricks unless it is by mesmerism. The +spectators _seem_ to see the boy go under the basket and there pierced +with daggers, they _seem_ to see women in a trance supported in mid-air +upon the point of a single sword. In themselves these things are not +possible, they violate the laws of nature, as those laws are known to +us, and therefore must surely be illusion. And so through the glamour +thrown upon them by Indaba-zimbi’s will, that Zulu Impi seemed to see +me transfixed with an assegai which never touched me. At least, that is +my theory; if any one has a better, let him adopt it. The explanation +lies between illusion and magic of a most imposing character, and I +prefer to accept the first alternative. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +STELLA + + +I was not slow to take Indaba-zimbi’s hint. About a hundred and fifty +yards to the left of the laager was a little dell where I had hidden my +horse, together with one belonging to the Boers, and my saddle and +bridle. Thither we went, I carrying the swooning Tota in my arms. To +our joy we found the horses safe, for the Zulus had not seen them. Now, +of course, they were our only means of locomotion, for the oxen had +been sent away, and even had they been there we could not have found +time to inspan them. I laid Tota down, caught my horse, undid his knee +halter, and saddled up. As I was doing so a thought struck me, and I +told Indaba-zimbi to run to the laager and see if he could find my +double-barrelled gun and some powder and shot, for I had only my +elephant “roer” and a few charges of powder and ball with me. + +He went, and while he was away, poor little Tota came to herself and +began to cry, till she saw my face. + +“Ah, I have had such a bad dream,” she said, in Dutch: “I dreamed that +the black Kaffirs were going to kill me. Where is my papa?” + +I winced at the question. “Your papa has gone on a journey, dear,” I +said, “and left me to look after you. We shall find him one day. You +don’t mind going with Heer Allan, do you?” + +“No,” she said, a little doubtfully, and began to cry again. Presently +she remembered that she was thirsty, and asked for water. I led her to +the river and she drank. “Why is my hand red, Heer Allan?” she asked, +pointing to the smear of Bombyane’s blood-stained fingers. + +At this moment I felt very glad that I had killed Bombyane. + +“It is only paint, dear,” I said; “see, we will wash it and your face.” + +As I was doing this, Indaba-zimbi returned. The guns were all gone; he +said the Zulus had taken them and the powder. But he had found some +things and brought them in a sack. There was a thick blanket, about +twenty pounds weight of biltong or sun-dried meat, a few +double-handfuls of biscuits, two water-bottles, a tin pannikin, some +matches and sundries. + +“And now, Macumazahn,” he said, “we had best be going, for those +Umtetwas are coming back. I saw one of them on the brow of the rise.” + +That was enough for me. I lifted little Tota on to the bow of my +saddle, climbed into it, and rode off, holding her in front of me. +Indaba-zimbi slipped a reim into the mouth of the best of the Boer +horses, threw the sack of sundries on to its back and mounted also, +holding the elephant gun in his hand. We went eight or nine hundred +yards in silence till we were quite out of range of sight from the +waggons, which were in a hollow. Then I pulled up, with such a feeling +of thankfulness in my heart as cannot be told in words; for now I knew +that, mounted as we were, those black demons could never catch us. But +where were we to steer for? I put the question to Indaba-zimbi, asking +him if he thought that we had better try and follow the oxen which we +had sent away with the Kaffirs and women on the preceding night. He +shook his head. + +“The Umtetwas will go after the oxen presently,” he answered, “and we +have seen enough of them.” + +“Quite enough,” I answered, with enthusiasm; “I never want to see +another; but where are we to go? Here we are alone with one gun and a +little girl in the vast and lonely veldt. Which way shall we turn?” + +“Our faces were towards the north before we met the Zulus,” answered +Indaba-zimbi; “let us still keep them to the north. Ride on, +Macumazahn; to-night when we off-saddle I will look into the matter.” + +So all that long afternoon we rode on, following the course of the +river. From the nature of the ground we could only go slowly, but +before sunset I had the satisfaction of knowing that there must be at +least twenty-five miles between us and those accursed Zulus. Little +Tota slept most of the way, the motion of the horse was easy, and she +was worn out. + +At last the sunset came, and we off-saddled in a dell by the river. +There was not much to eat, but I soaked some biscuit in water for Tota, +and Indaba-zimbi and I made a scanty meal of biltong. When we had done +I took off Tota’s frock, wrapped her up in a blanket near the fire we +had made, and lit a pipe. I sat there by the side of the sleeping +orphaned child, and from my heart thanked Providence for saving her +life and mine from the slaughter of that day. What a horrible +experience it had been! It seemed like a nightmare to look back upon. +And yet it was sober fact, one among those many tragedies which dotted +the paths of the emigrant Boers with the bones of men, women, and +children. These horrors are almost forgotten now; people living in +Natal now, for instance, can scarcely realize that some forty years ago +six hundred white people, many of them women and children, were thus +massacred by the Impis of Dingaan. But it was so, and the name of the +district, _Weenen_, or the Place of Weeping, will commemorate them for +ever. + +Then I fell to reflecting on the extraordinary adroitness old +Indaba-zimbi had shown in saving my life. It appeared that he himself +had lived among the Umtetwa Zulus in his earlier manhood, and was a +noted rain-doctor and witch-finder. But when T’Chaka, Dingaan’s +brother, ordered a general massacre of the witch-finders, he alone had +saved his life by his skill in magic, and ultimately fled south for +reasons too long to set out here. When he heard, therefore, that the +regiment was an Umtetwa regiment, which, leaving their wives and +children, had broken away from Zululand to escape the cruelties of +Dingaan; under pretence of spying on them, he took the bold course of +going straight up to the chief, Sususa, and addressing him as his +brother, which he was. The chief knew him at once, and so did the +soldiers, for his fame was still great among them. Then he told them +his cock and bull story about my being a white spirit, whose presence +in the laager would render it invincible, and with the object of saving +my life in the slaughter which he knew must ensue, agreed to charm me +out of the laager and deliver me into their keeping. How the plan +worked has already been told; it was a risky one; still, but for it my +troubles would have been done with these many days. + +So I lay and thought with a heart full of gratitude, and as I did so +saw old Indaba-zimbi sitting by the fire and going through some +mysterious performances with bones which he produced from his bag, and +ashes mixed with water. I spoke to him and asked what he was about. He +replied that he was tracing out the route that we should follow. I felt +inclined to answer “bosh!” but remembering the very remarkable +instances which he had given of his prowess in occult matters I held my +tongue, and taking little Tota into my arms, worn out with toil and +danger and emotion, I went to sleep. + +I awoke just as the dawn was beginning to flame across the sky in +sheets of primrose and of gold, or rather it was little Tota who woke +me by kissing me as she lay between sleep and waking, and calling me +“papa.” It wrung my heart to hear her, poor orphaned child. I got up, +washed and dressed her as best I could, and we breakfasted as we had +supped, on biltong and biscuit. Tota asked for milk, but I had none to +give her. Then we caught the horses, and I saddled mine. + +“Well, Indaba-zimbi,” I said, “now what path do your bones point to?” + +“Straight north,” he said. “The journey will be hard, but in about four +days we shall come to the kraal of a white man, an Englishman, not a +Boer. His kraal is in a beautiful place, and there is a great peak +behind it where there are many baboons.” + +I looked at him. “This is all nonsense, Indaba-zimbi,” I said. “Whoever +heard of an Englishman building a house in these wilds, and how do you +know anything about it? I think that we had better strike east towards +Port Natal.” + +“As you like, Macumazahn,” he answered, “but it will take us three +months’ journey to get to Port Natal, if we ever get there, and the +child will die on the road. Say, Macumazahn, have my words come true +heretofore, or have they not? Did I not tell you not to hunt the +elephants on horseback? Did I not tell you to take one waggon with you +instead of two, as it is better to lose one than two?” + +“You told me all these things,” I answered. + +“And so I tell you now to ride north, Macumazahn, for there you will +find great happiness—yes, and great sorrow. But no man should run away +from happiness because of the sorrow. As you will, as you will!” + +Again I looked at him. In his divinations I did not believe, yet I came +to the conclusion that he was speaking what he knew to be the truth. It +struck me as possible that he might have heard of some white man living +like a hermit in the wilds, but preferring to keep up his prophetic +character would not say so. + +“Very well, Indaba-zimbi,” I said, “let us ride north.” + +Shortly after we started, the river we had followed hitherto turned off +in a westerly direction, so we left it. All that day we rode across +rolling uplands, and about an hour before sunset halted at a little +stream which ran down from a range of hills in front of us. By this +time I was heartily tired of the biltong, so taking my elephant +rifle—for I had nothing else—I left Tota with Indaba-zimbi, and started +to try if I could shoot something. Oddly enough we had seen no game all +the day, nor did we see any on the subsequent days. For some mysterious +reason they had temporarily left the district. I crossed the little +streamlet in order to enter the belt of thorns which grew upon the +hill-side beyond, for there I hoped to find buck. As I did so I was +rather disturbed to see the spoor of two lions in the soft sandy edge +of a pool. Breathing a hope that they might not still be in the +neighbourhood, I went on into the belt of scattered thorns. For a long +while I hunted about without seeing anything, except one duiker buck, +which bounded off with a crash from the other side of a stone without +giving me a chance. At length, just as it grew dusk, I spied a Petie +buck, a graceful little creature, scarcely bigger than a large hare, +standing on a stone, about forty yards from me. Under ordinary +circumstances I should never have dreamed of firing at such a thing, +especially with an elephant gun, but we were hungry. So I sat down with +my back against a rock, and aimed steadily at its head. I did this +because if I struck it in the body the three-ounce ball would have +knocked it to bits. At last I pulled the trigger, the gun went off with +the report of a small cannon, and the buck disappeared. I ran to the +spot with more anxiety than I should have felt in an ordinary way over +a koodoo or an eland. To my delight there the little creature lay—the +huge bullet had decapitated it. Considering all the circumstances I do +not think I have often made a better shot than this, but if any one +doubts, let him try his hand at a rabbit’s head fifty yards away with +an elephant gun and a three-ounce ball. + +I picked up the Petie in triumph, and returned to the camp. There we +skinned him and toasted his flesh over the fire. He just made a good +meal for us, though we kept the hind legs for breakfast. + +There was no moon this night, and so it chanced that when I suddenly +remembered about the lion spoor, and suggested that we had better tie +up the horses quite close to us, we could not find them, though we knew +they were grazing within fifty yards. This being so we could only make +up the fire and take our chance. Shortly afterwards I went to sleep +with little Tota in my arms. Suddenly I was awakened by hearing that +peculiarly painful sound, the scream of a horse, quite close to the +fire, which was still burning brightly. Next second there came a noise +of galloping hoofs, and before I could even rise my poor horse appeared +in the ring of firelight. As in a flash of lightning I saw his staring +eyes and wide-stretched nostrils, and the broken reim with which he had +been knee-haltered, flying in the air. Also I saw something else, for +on his back was a great dark form with glowing eyes, and from the form +came a growling sound. It was a lion. + +The horse dashed on. He galloped right through the fire, for which he +had run in his terror, fortunately, however, without treading on us, +and vanished into the night. We heard his hoofs for a hundred yards or +more, then there was silence, broken now and again by distant growls. +As may be imagined, we did not sleep any more that night, but waited +anxiously till the dawn broke, two hours later. + +As soon as there was sufficient light we rose, and, leaving Tota still +asleep, crept cautiously in the direction in which the horse had +vanished. When we had gone fifty yards or so, we made out its remains +lying on the veldt, and caught sight of two great cat-like forms +slinking away in the grey light. + +To go any further was useless; we knew all about it now, so we turned +to look for the other horse. But our cup of misfortune was not yet +full; the horse was nowhere to be found. Terrified by the sight and +smell of the lions, it had with a desperate effort also burst the reim +with which it had been knee-haltered, and galloped far away. I sat +down, feeling as though I could cry like a woman. For now we were left +alone in these vast solitudes without a horse to carry us, and with a +child who was not old enough to walk for more than a little way at a +time. + +Well, it was no use giving in, so with a few words we went back to our +camp, where I found Tota crying because she had woke to find herself +alone. Then we ate a little food and prepared to start. First we +divided such articles as we must take with us into two equal parts, +rejecting everything that we could possibly do without. Then, by an +afterthought, we filled our water-bottles, though at the time I was +rather against doing so, because of the extra weight. But Indaba-zimbi +overruled me in the matter, fortunately for all three of us. I settled +to look after Tota for the first march, and to give the elephant gun to +Indaba-zimbi. At length all was ready, and we set out on foot. By the +help of occasional lifts over rough places, Tota managed to walk up the +slope of the hill-side where I had shot the Petie buck. At length we +reached it, and, looking at the country beyond, I gave an exclamation +of dismay. To say that it was desert would be saying too much; it was +more like the Karroo in the Cape—a vast sandy waste, studded here and +there with low shrubs and scattered rocks. But it was a great expanse +of desolate land, stretching further than the eye could reach, and +bordered far away by a line of purple hills, in the centre of which a +great solitary peak soared high into the air. + +“Indaba-zimbi,” I said, “we can never cross this if we take six days.” + +“As you will, Macumazahn,” he answered; “but I tell you that there”—and +he pointed to the peak—“there the white man lives. Turn which way you +like, but if you turn you will perish.” + +I reflected for a moment, Our case was, humanly speaking, almost +hopeless. It mattered little which way we went. We were alone, almost +without food, with no means of transport, and a child to carry. As well +perish in the sandy waste as on the rolling veldt or among the trees of +the hill-side. Providence alone could save us, and we must trust to +Providence. + +“Come on,” I said, lifting Tota on to my back, for she was already +tired. “All roads lead to rest.” + +How am I to describe the misery of the next four days? How am I to tell +how we stumbled on through that awful desert, almost without food, and +quite without water, for there were no streams, and we saw no springs? +We soon found how the case was, and saved almost all the water in our +bottles for the child. To look back on it is like a nightmare. I can +scarcely bear to dwell on it. Day after day, by turns carrying the +child through the heavy sand; night after night lying down in the +scrub, chewing the leaves, and licking such dew as there was from the +scanty grass! Not a spring, not a pool, not a head of game! It was the +third night; we were nearly mad with thirst. Tota was in a comatose +condition. Indaba-zimbi still had a little water in his bottle—perhaps +a wine-glassful. With it we moistened our lips and blackened tongues. +Then we gave the rest to the child. It revived her. She awoke from her +swoon to sink into sleep. + +See, the dawn was breaking. The hills were not more than eight miles or +so away now, and they were green. There must be water there. + +“Come,” I said. + +Indaba-zimbi lifted Tota into the kind of sling that we had made out of +the blanket in which to carry her on our backs, and we staggered on for +an hour through the sand. She awoke crying for water, and alas! we had +none to give her; our tongues were hanging from our lips, we could +scarcely speak. + +We rested awhile, and Tota mercifully swooned away again. Then +Indaba-zimbi took her. Though he was so thin the old man’s strength was +wonderful. + +Another hour; the slope of the great peak could not be more than two +miles away now. A couple of hundred yards off grew a large baobab tree. +Could we reach its shade? We had done half the distance when +Indaba-zimbi fell from exhaustion. We were now so weak that neither of +us could lift the child on to our backs. He rose again, and we each +took one of her hands and dragged her along the road. Fifty yards—they +seemed to be fifty miles. Ah, the tree was reached at last; compared +with the heat outside, the shade of its dense foliage seemed like the +dusk and cool of a vault. I remember thinking that it was a good place +to die in. Then I remember no more. + +I woke with a feeling as though the blessed rain were falling on my +face and head. Slowly, and with great difficulty, I opened my eyes, +then shut them again, having seen a vision. For a space I lay thus, +while the rain continued to fall; I saw now that I must be asleep, or +off my head with thirst and fever. If I were not off my head how came I +to imagine that a lovely dark-eyed girl was bending over me sprinkling +water on my face? A white girl, too, not a Kaffir woman. However, the +dream went on. + +“Hendrika,” said a voice in English, the sweetest voice that I had ever +heard; somehow it reminded me of wind whispering in the trees at night. +“Hendrika, I fear he dies; there is a flask of brandy in my saddle-bag; +get it.” + +“Ah! ah!” grunted a harsh voice in answer; “let him die, Miss Stella. +He will bring you bad luck—let him die, I say.” I felt a movement of +air above me as though the woman of my vision turned swiftly, and once +again I opened my eyes. She had risen, this dream woman. Now I saw that +she was tall and graceful as a reed. She was angry, too; her dark eyes +flashed, and she pointed with her hand at a female who stood before +her, dressed in nondescript kind of clothes such as might be worn by +either a man or a woman. The woman was young, of white blood, very +short, with bowed legs and enormous shoulders. In face she was not +bad-looking, but the brow receded, the chin and ears were prominent—in +short, she reminded me of nothing so much as a very handsome monkey. +She might have been the missing link. + +The lady was pointing at her with her hand. “How dare you?” she said. +“Are you going to disobey me again? Have you forgotten what I told you, +Babyan?”[*] + +[*] Baboon. + +“Ah! ah!” grunted the woman, who seemed literally to curl and shrivel +up beneath her anger. “Don’t be angry with me, Miss Stella, because I +can’t bear it. I only said it because it was true. I will fetch the +brandy.” + +Then, dream or no dream, I determined to speak. + +“Not brandy,” I gasped in English as well as my swollen tongue would +allow; “give me water.” + +“Ah, he lives!” cried the beautiful girl, “and he talks English. See, +sir, here is water in your own bottle; you were quite close to a +spring, it is on the other side of the tree.” + +I struggled to a sitting position, lifted the bottle to my lips, and +drank from it. Oh! that drink of cool, pure water! never had I tasted +anything so delicious. With the first gulp I felt life flow back into +me. But wisely enough she would not let me have much. “No more! no +more!” she said, and dragged the bottle from me almost by force. + +“The child,” I said—“is the child dead?” + +“I do not know yet,” she answered. “We have only just found you, and I +tried to revive you first.” + +I turned and crept to where Tota lay by the side of Indaba-zimbi. It +was impossible to say if they were dead or swooning. The lady sprinkled +Tota’s face with the water, which I watched greedily, for my thirst was +still awful, while the woman Hendrika did the same office for +Indaba-zimbi. Presently, to my vast delight, Tota opened her eyes and +tried to cry, but could not, poor little thing, because her tongue and +lips were so swollen. But the lady got some water into her mouth, and, +as in my case, the effect was magical. We allowed her to drink about a +quarter of a pint, and no more, though she cried bitterly for it. Just +then old Indaba-zimbi came to with a groan. He opened his eyes, glanced +round, and took in the situation. + +“What did I tell you, Macumazahn?” he gasped, and seizing the bottle, +he took a long pull at it. + +Meanwhile I sat with my back against the trunk of the great tree and +tried to realize the situation. Looking to my left I saw too good +horses—one bare-backed, and one with a rudely made lady’s saddle on it. +By the side of the horses were two dogs, of a stout greyhound breed, +that sat watching us, and near the dogs lay a dead Oribé buck, which +they had evidently been coursing. + +“Hendrika,” said the lady presently, “they must not eat meat just yet. +Go look up the tree and see if there is any ripe fruit on it.” + +The woman ran swiftly into the plain and obeyed. Presently she +returned. “I see some ripe fruit,” she said, “but it is high, quite at +the top.” + +“Fetch it,” said the lady. + +“Easier said than done,” I thought to myself; but I was much mistaken. +Suddenly the woman bounded at least three feet into the air and caught +one of the spreading boughs in her large flat hands; then came a swing +that would have filled an acrobat with envy—and she was on it. + +“Now there is an end,” I thought again, for the next bough was beyond +her reach. But again I was mistaken. She stood up on the bough, +gripping it with her bare feet, and once more sprang at the one above, +caught it and swung herself into it. + +I suppose that the lady saw my expression of astonishment. “Do not +wonder, sir,” she said, “Hendrika is not like other people. She will +not fall.” + +I made no answer, but watched the progress of this extraordinary person +with the most breathless interest. On she went, swinging herself from +bough to bough, and running along them like a monkey. At last she +reached the top, and began to swarm up a thin branch towards the ripe +fruit. When she was near enough she shook the branch violently. There +was a crack—a crash—it broke. I shut my eyes, expecting to see her +crushed on the ground before me. + +“Don’t be afraid,” said the lady again, laughing gently. “Look, she is +quite safe.” + +I looked, and so she was. She had caught a bough as she fell, clung to +it, and was now calmly dropping to another. Old Indaba-zimbi had also +watched this performance with interest, but it did not seem to astonish +him over-much. “Baboon-woman?” he said, as though such people were +common, and then turned his attention to soothing Tota, who was moaning +for more water. Meanwhile Hendrika came down the tree with +extraordinary rapidity, and swinging by one hand from a bough, dropped +about eight feet to the ground. + +In another two minutes we were all three sucking the pulpy fruit. In an +ordinary way we should have found it tasteless enough: as it was I +thought it the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. After three days +spent without food or water, in the desert, one is not particular. +While we were still eating the fruit, the lady of my vision set her +companion to work to partially flay the oribé which her dogs had +killed, and busied herself in making a fire of fallen boughs. As soon +as it burned brightly she took strips of the oribé flesh, toasted them, +and gave them to us on leaves. We ate, and now were allowed a little +more water. After that she took Tota to the spring and washed her, +which she sadly needed, poor child! Next came our turn to wash, and oh, +the joy of it! + +I came back to the tree, walking painfully, indeed, but a changed man. +There sat the beautiful girl with Tota on her knees. She was lulling +her to sleep, and held up her finger to me enjoining silence. At last +the child went off into a sound natural slumber—an example that I +should have been glad to follow had it not been for my burning +curiosity. Then I spoke. + +“May I ask what your name is?” I said. + +“Stella,” she answered. + +“Stella what?” I said. + +“Stella nothing,” she answered, in some pique; “Stella is my name; it +is short and easy to remember at any rate. My father’s name is Thomas, +and we live up there,” and she pointed round the base of the great +peak. I looked at her astonished. “Have you lived there long?” I asked. + +“Ever since I was seven years old. We came there in a waggon. Before +that we came from England—from Oxfordshire; I can show you the place on +a big map. It is called Garsingham.” + +Again I thought I must be dreaming. “Do you know, Miss Stella,” I said, +“it is very strange—so strange that it almost seems as though it could +not be true—but I also came from Garsingham in Oxfordshire many years +ago.” + +She started up. “Are you an English gentleman?” she said. “Ah, I have +always longed to see an English gentleman. I have never seen but one +Englishman since we lived here, and he certainly was not a gentleman—no +white people at all, indeed, except a few wandering Boers. We live +among black people and baboons—only I have read about English +people—lots of books—poetry and novels. But tell me what is your name? +Macumazahn the black man called you, but you must have a white name, +too.” + +“My name is Allan Quatermain,” I said. + +Her face turned quite white, her rosy lips parted, and she looked at me +wildly with her beautiful dark eyes. + +“It is wonderful,” she said, “but I have often heard that name. My +father has told me how a little boy called Allan Quatermain once saved +my life by putting out my dress when it was on fire—see!”—and she +pointed to a faint red mark upon her neck—“here is the scar of the +burn.” + +“I remember it,” I said. “You were dressed up as Father Christmas. It +was I who put out the fire; my wrists were burnt in doing so.” + +Then for a space we sat silent, looking at each other, while Stella +slowly fanned herself with her wide felt hat, in which some white +ostrich plumes were fixed. + +“This is God’s doing,” she said at last. “You saved my life when I was +a child; now I have saved yours and the little girl’s. Is she your own +daughter?” she added, quickly. + +“No,” I answered; “I will tell you the tale presently.” + +“Yes,” she said, “you shall tell me as we go home. It is time to be +starting home, it will take us three hours to get there. Hendrika, +Hendrika, bring the horses here!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. +THE BABOON-WOMAN + + +Hendrika obeyed, leading the horses to the side of the tree. + +“Now, Mr. Allan,” said Stella, “you must ride on my horse, and the old +black man must ride on the other. I will walk, and Hendrika will carry +the child. Oh, do not be afraid, she is very strong, she could carry +you or me.” + +Hendrika grunted assent. I am sorry that I cannot express her method of +speech by any more polite term. Sometimes she grunted like a monkey, +sometimes she clicked like a Bushman, and sometimes she did both +together, when she became quite unintelligible. + +I expostulated against this proposed arrangement, saying that we could +walk, which was a fib, for I do not think that I could have done a +mile; but Stella would not listen, she would not even let me carry my +elephant gun, but took it herself. So we mounted with some difficulty, +and Hendrika took up the sleeping Tota in her long, sinewy arms. + +“See that the ‘Baboon-woman’ does not run away into the mountains with +the little white one,” said Indaba-zimbi to me in Kaffir, as he climbed +slowly on to the horse. + +Unfortunately Hendrika understood his speech. Her face twisted and grew +livid with fury. She put down Tota and literally sprang at Indaba-zimbi +as a monkey springs. But weary and worn as he was, the old gentleman +was too quick for her. With an exclamation of genuine fright he threw +himself from the horse on the further side, with the somewhat ludicrous +result that all in a moment Hendrika was occupying the seat which he +had vacated. Just then Stella realized the position. + +“Come down, you savage, come down!” she said, stamping her foot. + +The extraordinary creature flung herself from the horse and literally +grovelled on the ground before her mistress and burst into tears. + +“Pardon, Miss Stella,” she clicked and grunted in villainous English, +“but he called me ‘Babyan-frau’ (Baboon-woman).” + +“Tell your servant that he must not use such words to Hendrika, Mr. +Allan,” Stella said to me. “If he does,” she added, in a whisper, +“Hendrika will certainly kill him.” + +I explained this to Indaba-zimbi, who, being considerably frightened, +deigned to apologize. But from that hour there was hate and war between +these two. + +Harmony having been thus restored, we started, the dogs following us. A +small strip of desert intervened between us and the slope of the +peak—perhaps it was two miles wide. We crossed it and reached rich +grass lands, for here a considerable stream gathered from the hills; +but it did not flow across the barren lands, it passed to the east +along the foot of the hills. This stream we had to cross by a ford. +Hendrika walked boldly through it, holding Tota in her arms. Stella +leapt across from stone to stone like a roebuck; I thought to myself +that she was the most graceful creature that I had ever seen. After +this the track passed around a pleasantly-wooded shoulder of the peak, +which was, I found, known as Babyan Kap, or Baboon Head. Of course we +could only go at a foot pace, so our progress was slow. Stella walked +for some way in silence, then she spoke. + +“Tell me, Mr. Allan,” she said, “how it was that I came to find you +dying in the desert?” + +So I began and told her all. It took an hour or more to do so, and she +listened intently, now and again asking a question. + +“It is all very wonderful,” she said when I had done, “very wonderful +indeed. Do you know I went out this morning with Hendrika and the dogs +for a ride, meaning to get back home by mid-day, for my father is ill, +and I do not like to leave him for long. But just as I was going to +turn, when we were about where we are now—yes, that was the very +bush—an oribé got up, and the dogs chased it. I followed them for the +gallop, and when we came to the river, instead of turning to the left +as bucks generally do, the oribé swam the stream and took to the Bad +Lands beyond. I followed it, and within a hundred yards of the big tree +the dogs killed it. Hendrika wanted to turn back at once, but I said +that we would rest under the shade of the tree, for I knew that there +was a spring of water near. Well, we went; and there I saw you all +lying like dead; but Hendrika, who is very clever in some ways, said +no—and you know the rest. Yes, it is very wonderful.” + +“It is indeed,” I said. “Now tell me, Miss Stella, who is Hendrika?” + +She looked round before answering to see that the woman was not near. + +“Hers is a strange story, Mr. Allan. I will tell you. You must know +that all these mountains and the country beyond are full of baboons. +When I was a girl of about ten I used to wander a great deal alone in +the hills and valleys, and watch the baboons as they played among the +rocks. There was one family of baboons that I watched especially—they +used to live in a kloof about a mile from the house. The old man baboon +was very large, and one of the females had a grey face. But the reason +why I watched them so much was because I saw that they had with them a +creature that looked like a girl, for her skin was quite white, and, +what was more, that she was protected from the weather when it happened +to be cold by a fur belt of some sort, which was tied round her throat. +The old baboons seemed to be especially fond of her, and would sit with +their arms round her neck. For nearly a whole summer I watched this +particular white-skinned baboon till at last my curiosity quite +overmastered me. I noticed that, though she climbed about the cliffs +with the other monkeys, at a certain hour a little before sundown they +used to put her with one or two other much smaller ones into a little +cave, while the family went off somewhere to get food, to the mealie +fields, I suppose. Then I got an idea that I would catch this white +baboon and bring it home. But of course I could not do this by myself, +so I took a Hottentot—a very clever man when he was not drunk—who lived +on the stead, into my confidence. He was called Hendrik, and was very +fond of me; but for a long while he would not listen to my plan, +because he said that the babyans would kill us. At last I bribed him +with a knife that had four blades, and one afternoon we started, +Hendrik carrying a stout sack made of hide, with a rope running through +it so that the mouth could be drawn tight. + +“Well, we got to the place, and, hiding ourselves carefully in the +trees at the foot of the kloof, watched the baboons playing about and +grunting to each other, till at length, according to custom, they took +the white one and three other little babies and put them in the cave. +Then the old man came out, looked carefully round, called to his +family, and went off with them over the brow of the kloof. Now very +slowly and cautiously we crept up over the rocks till we came to the +mouth of the cave and looked in. All the four little baboons were fast +asleep, with their backs towards us, and their arms round each other’s +necks, the white one being in the middle. Nothing could have been +better for our plans. Hendrik, who by this time had quite entered into +the spirit of the thing, crept along the cave like a snake, and +suddenly dropped the mouth of the hide bag over the head of the white +baboon. The poor little thing woke up and gave a violent jump which +caused it to vanish right into the bag. Then Hendrik pulled the string +tight, and together we knotted it so that it was impossible for our +captive to escape. Meanwhile the other baby baboons had rushed from the +cave screaming, and when we got outside they were nowhere to be seen. + +“‘Come on, Missie,’ said Hendrik; ‘the babyans will soon be back.’ He +had shouldered the sack, inside of which the white baboon was kicking +violently, and screaming like a child. It was dreadful to hear its +shrieks. + +“We scrambled down the sides of the kloof and ran for home as fast as +we could manage. When we were near the waterfall, and within about +three hundred yards of the garden wall, we heard a voice behind us, and +there, leaping from rock to rock, and running over the grass, was the +whole family of baboons headed by the old man. + +“‘Run, Missie, run!’ gasped Hendrik, and I did, like the wind, leaving +him far behind. I dashed into the garden, where some Kaffirs were +working, crying, ‘The babyans! the babyans!’ Luckily the men had their +sticks and spears by them and ran out just in time to save Hendrik, who +was almost overtaken. The baboons made a good fight for it, however, +and it was not till the old man was killed with an assegai that they +ran away. + +“Well, there is a stone hut in the kraal at the stead where my father +sometimes shuts up natives who have misbehaved. It is very strong, and +has a barred window. To this hut Hendrik carried the sack, and, having +untied the mouth, put it down on the floor, and ran from the place, +shutting the door behind him. In another moment the poor little thing +was out and dashing round the stone hut as though it were mad. It +sprung at the bars of the window, clung there, and beat its head +against them till the blood came. Then it fell to the floor, and sat +upon it crying like a child, and rocking itself backwards and forwards. +It was so sad to see it that I began to cry too. + +“Just then my father came in and asked what all the fuss was about. I +told him that we had caught a young white baboon, and he was angry, and +said that it must be let go. But when he looked at it through the bars +of the window he nearly fell down with astonishment. + +“‘Why!’ he said, ‘this is not a baboon, it is a white child that the +baboons have stolen and brought up!’ + +“Now, Mr. Allan, whether my father is right or wrong, you can judge for +yourself. You see Hendrika—we named her that after Hendrik, who caught +her—she is a woman, not a monkey, and yet she has many of the ways of +monkeys, and looks like one too. You saw how she can climb, for +instance, and you hear how she talks. Also she is very savage, and when +she is angry or jealous she seems to go mad, though she is as clever as +anybody. I think that she must have been stolen by the baboons when she +was quite tiny and nurtured by them, and that is why she is so like +them. + +“But to go on. My father said that it was our duty to keep Hendrika at +any cost. The worst of it was, that for three days she would eat +nothing, and I thought that she would die, for all the while she sat +and wailed. On the third day, however, I went to the bars of the window +place, and held out a cup of milk and some fruit to her. She looked at +it for a long while, then crept up moaning, took the milk from my hand, +drank it greedily, and afterwards ate the fruit. From that time forward +she took food readily enough, but only if I would feed her. + +“But I must tell you of the dreadful end of Hendrik. From the day that +we captured Hendrika the whole place began to swarm with baboons which +were evidently employed in watching the kraals. One day Hendrik went +out towards the hills alone to gather some medicine. He did not come +back again, so the next day search was made. By a big rock which I can +show you, they found his scattered and broken bones, the fragments of +his assegai, and four dead baboons. They had set upon him and torn him +to pieces. + +“My father was very much frightened at this, but still he would not let +Hendrika go, because he said that she was human, and that it was our +duty to reclaim her. And so we did—to a certain extent, at least. After +the murder of Hendrik, the baboons vanished from the neighbourhood, and +have only returned quite recently, so at length we ventured to let +Hendrika out. By this time she had grown very fond of me; still, on the +first opportunity she ran away. But in the evening she returned again. +She had been seeking the baboons, and could not find them. Shortly +afterwards she began to speak—I taught her—and from that time she has +loved me so that she will not leave me. I think it would kill her if I +went away from her. She watches me all day, and at night sleeps on the +floor of my hut. Once, too, she saved my life when I was swept down the +river in flood; but she is jealous, and hates everybody else. Look, how +she is glaring at you now because I am talking to you!” + +I looked. Hendrika was tramping along with the child in her arms and +staring at me in a most sinister fashion out of the corners of her +eyes. + +While I was reflecting on the Baboon-woman’s strange story, and +thinking that she was an exceedingly awkward customer, the path took a +sudden turn. + +“Look!” said Stella, “there is our home. Is it not beautiful?” + +It was beautiful indeed. Here on the western side of the great peak a +bay had been formed in the mountain, which might have measured eight +hundred or a thousand yards across by three-quarters of a mile in +depth. At the back of this indentation the sheer cliff rose to the +height of several hundred feet, and behind it and above it the great +Babyan Peak towered up towards the heavens. The space of ground, +embraced thus in the arms of the mountain, as it were, was laid out, as +though by the cunning hand of man, in three terraces that rose one +above the other. To the right and left of the topmost terrace were +chasms in the cliff, and down each chasm fell a waterfall, from no +great height, indeed, but of considerable volume. These two streams +flowed away on either side of the enclosed space, one towards the +north, and the other, the course of which we had been following, round +the base of the mountain. At each terrace they made a cascade, so that +the traveller approaching had a view of eight waterfalls at once. Along +the edge of the stream to our left were placed Kaffir kraals, built in +orderly groups with verandahs, after the Basutu fashion, and a very +large part of the entire space of land was under cultivation. All of +this I noted at once, as well as the extraordinary richness and depth +of the soil, which for many ages past had been washed down from the +mountain heights. Then following the line of an excellent waggon road, +on which we now found ourselves, that wound up from terrace to terrace, +my eye lit upon the crowning wonder of the scene. For in the centre of +the topmost platform or terrace, which may have enclosed eight or ten +acres of ground, and almost surrounded by groves of orange trees, +gleamed buildings of which I had never seen the like. There were three +groups of them, one in the middle, and one on either side, and a little +to the rear, but, as I afterwards discovered, the plan of all was the +same. In the centre was an edifice constructed like an ordinary Zulu +hut—that is to say, in the shape of a beehive, only it was five times +the size of any hut I ever saw, and built of blocks of hewn white +marble, fitted together with extraordinary knowledge of the principles +and properties of arch building, and with so much accuracy and finish +that it was often difficult to find the joints of the massive blocks. +From this centre hut ran three covered passages, leading to other +buildings of an exactly similar character, only smaller, and each whole +block was enclosed by a marble wall about four feet in height. + +Of course we were as yet too far off to see all these details, but the +general outline I saw at once, and it astonished me considerably. Even +old Indaba-zimbi, whom the Baboon-woman had been unable to move, +deigned to show wonder. + +“Ou!” he said; “this is a place of marvels. Who ever saw kraals built +of white stone?” + +Stella watched our faces with an expression of intense amusement, but +said nothing. + +“Did your father build those kraals?” I gasped, at length. + +“My father! no, of course not,” she answered. “How would it have been +possible for one white man to do so, or to have made this road? He +found them as you see.” + +“Who built them, then?” I said again. + +“I do not know. My father thinks that they are very ancient, for the +people who live here now do not know how to lay one stone upon another, +and these huts are so wonderfully constructed that, though they must +have stood for ages, not a stone of them had fallen. But I can show you +the quarry where the marble was cut; it is close by and behind it is +the entrance to an ancient mine, which my father thinks was a silver +mine. Perhaps the people who worked the mine built the marble huts. The +world is old, and no doubt plenty of people have lived in it and been +forgotten.”[*] + +[*] Kraals of a somewhat similar nature to those described by Mr. +Quatermain have been discovered in the Marico district of the +Transvaal, and an illustration of them is to be found in Mr. Anderson’s +“Twenty-five Years in a Waggon,” vol. ii. p. 55. Mr. Anderson says, “In +this district are the ancient stone kraals mentioned in an early +chapter; but it requires a fuller description to show that these +extensive kraals must have been erected by a white race who understood +building in stone and at right angles, with door-posts, lintels, and +sills, and it required more than Kaffir skill to erect the stone huts, +with stone circular roofs, beautifully formed and most substantially +erected; strong enough, if not disturbed, to last a thousand years.” +—Editor. + + +Then we rode on in silence. I have seen many beautiful sights in +Africa, and in such matters, as in others, comparisons are odious and +worthless, but I do not think that I ever saw a lovelier scene. It was +no one thing—it was the combination of the mighty peak looking forth on +to the everlasting plains, the great cliffs, the waterfalls that +sparkled in rainbow hues, the rivers girdling the rich cultivated +lands, the gold-specked green of the orange trees, the flashing domes +of the marble huts, and a thousand other things. Then over all brooded +the peace of evening, and the infinite glory of the sunset that filled +heaven with changing hues of splendour, that wrapped the mountain and +cliffs in cloaks of purple and of gold, and lay upon the quiet face of +the water like the smile of a god. + +Perhaps also the contrast, and the memory of those three awful days and +nights in the hopeless desert, enhanced the charm, and perhaps the +beauty of the girl who walked beside me completed it. For of this I am +sure, that of all sweet and lovely things that I looked on then, she +was the sweetest and the loveliest. + +Ah, it did not take me long to find my fate. How long will it be before +I find her once again? + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE MARBLE KRAALS + + +At length the last platform, or terrace, was reached, and we pulled up +outside the wall surrounding the central group of marble huts—for so I +must call them, for want of a better name. Our approach had been +observed by a crowd of natives, whose race I have never been able to +determine accurately; they belonged to the Basutu and peaceful section +of the Bantu peoples rather than to the Zulu and warlike. Several of +these ran up to take the horses, gazing on us with astonishment, not +unmixed with awe. We dismounted—speaking for myself, not without +difficulty—indeed, had it not been for Stella’s support I should have +fallen. + +“Now you must come and see my father,” she said. “I wonder what he will +think of it, it is all so strange. Hendrika, take the child to my hut +and give her milk, then put her into my bed; I will come presently.” + +Hendrika went off with a somewhat ugly grin to do her mistress’s +bidding, and Stella led the way through the narrow gateway in the +marble wall, which may have enclosed nearly half an “erf,” or +three-quarters of an acre of ground in all. It was beautifully planted +as a garden, many European vegetables and flowers were growing in it, +besides others with which I was not acquainted. Presently we came to +the centre hut, and it was then that I noticed the extraordinary beauty +and finish of the marble masonry. In the hut, and facing the gateway, +was a modern door, rather rudely fashioned of Buckenhout, a beautiful +reddish wood that has the appearance of having been sedulously pricked +with a pin. Stella opened it, and we entered. The interior of the hut +was the size of a large and lofty room, the walls being formed of plain +polished marble. It was lighted somewhat dimly, but quite effectively, +by peculiar openings in the roof, from which the rain was excluded by +overhanging eaves. The marble floor was strewn with native mats and +skins of animals. Bookcases filled with books were placed against the +walls, there was a table in the centre, chairs seated with rimpi or +strips of hide stood about, and beyond the table was a couch on which a +man was lying reading. + +“Is that you, Stella?” said a voice, that even after so many years +seemed familiar to me. “Where have you been, my dear? I began to think +that you had lost yourself again.” + +“No, father, dear, I have not lost myself, but I have found somebody +else.” + +At that moment I stepped forward so that the light fell on me. The old +gentleman on the couch rose with some difficulty and bowed with much +courtesy. He was a fine-looking old man, with deep-set dark eyes, a +pale face that bore many traces of physical and mental suffering, and a +long white beard. + +“Be welcome, sir,” he said. “It is long since we have seen a white face +in these wilds, and yours, if I am not mistaken, is that of an +Englishman. There has been but one Englishman here for twelve years, +and he, I grieve to say, was an outcast flying from justice,” and he +bowed again and stretched out his hand. + +I looked at him, and then of a sudden his name flashed back into my +mind. I took his hand. + +“How do you do, Mr. Carson?” I said. + +He started as though he had been stung. + +“Who told you that name?” he cried. “It is a dead name. Stella, is it +you? I forbade you to let it pass your lips.” + +“I did not speak it, father. I have never spoken it,” she answered. + +“Sir,” I broke in, “if you will allow me I will show you how I came to +know your name. Do you remember many years ago coming into the study of +a clergyman in Oxfordshire and telling him that you were going to leave +England for ever?” + +He bowed his head. + +“And do you remember a little boy who sat upon the hearthrug writing +with a pencil?” + +“I do,” he said. + +“Sir, I was that boy, and my name is Allan Quatermain. Those children +who lay sick are all dead, their mother is dead, and my father, your +old friend, is dead also. Like you he emigrated, and last year he died +in the Cape. But that is not all the story. After many adventures, I, +one Kaffir, and a little girl, lay senseless and dying in the Bad +Lands, where we had wandered for days without water, and there we +should have perished, but your daughter, Miss——” + +“Call her Stella,” he broke in, hastily. “I cannot bear to hear that +name. I have forsworn it.” + +“Miss Stella found us by chance and saved our lives.” + +“By chance, did you say, Allan Quatermain?” he answered. “There is +little chance in all this; such chances spring from another will than +ours. Welcome, Allan, son of my old friend. Here we live as it were in +a hermitage, with Nature as our only friend, but such as we have is +yours, and for as long as you will take it. But you must be starving; +talk no more now. Stella, it is time to eat. To-morrow we will talk.” + +To tell the truth I can recall very little of the events of that +evening. A kind of dizzy weariness overmastered me. I remember sitting +at a table next to Stella, and eating heartily, and then I remember +nothing more. + +I awoke to find myself lying on a comfortable bed in a hut built and +fashioned on the same model as the centre one. While I was wondering +what time it was, a native came bringing some clean clothes on his arm, +and, luxury of luxuries, produced a bath hollowed from wood. I rose, +feeling a very different man, my strength had come back again to me; I +dressed, and following a covered passage found myself in the centre +hut. Here the table was set for breakfast with all manner of good +things, such as I had not seen for many a month, which I contemplated +with healthy satisfaction. Presently I looked up, and there before me +was a more delightful sight, for standing in one of the doorways which +led to the sleeping huts was Stella, leading little Tota by the hand. + +She was very simply dressed in a loose blue gown, with a wide collar, +and girdled in at the waist by a little leather belt. In the bosom of +her robe was a bunch of orange blooms, and her rippling hair was tied +in a single knot behind her shapely head. She greeted me with a smile, +asking how I had slept, and then held Tota up for me to kiss. Under her +loving care the child had been quite transformed. She was neatly +dressed in a garment of the same blue stuff that Stella wore, her fair +hair was brushed; indeed, had it not been for the sun blisters on her +face and hands, one would scarcely have believed that this was the same +child whom Indaba-zimbi and I had dragged for hour after hour through +the burning, waterless desert. + +“We must breakfast alone, Mr. Allan,” she said; “my father is so upset +by your arrival that he will not get up yet. Oh, you cannot tell how +thankful I am that you have come. I have been so anxious about him of +late. He grows weaker and weaker; it seems to me as though the strength +were ebbing away from him. Now he scarcely leaves the kraal, I have to +manage everything about the farm; he does nothing but read and think.” + +Just then Hendrika entered, bearing a jug of coffee in one hand and of +milk in the other, which she set down upon the table, casting a look of +little love at me as she did so. + +“Be careful, Hendrika; you are spilling the coffee,” said Stella. +“Don’t you wonder how we come to have coffee here, Mr. Allan? I will +tell you—we grow it. That was my idea. Oh, I have lots of things to +show you. You don’t know what we have managed to do in the time that we +have been here. You see we have plenty of labour, for the people about +look upon my father as their chief.” + +“Yes,” I said, “but how do you get all these luxuries of civilization?” +and I pointed to the books, the crockery, and the knives and forks. + +“Very simply. Most of the books my father brought with him when we +first trekked into the wilds; there was nearly a waggon load of them. +But every few years we have sent an expedition of three waggons right +down to Port Natal. The waggons are loaded with ivory and other goods, +and come back with all kinds of things that have been sent out from +England for us. So you see, although we live in this wild place, we are +not altogether cut off. We can send runners to Natal and back in three +months, and the waggons get there and back in a year. The last lot +arrived quite safe about three months ago. Our servants are very +faithful, and some of them speak Dutch well.” + +“Have you ever been with the waggons?” I asked. + +“Since I was a child I have never been more than thirty miles from +Babyan’s Peak,” she answered. “Do you know, Mr. Allan, that you are, +with one exception, the first Englishman that I have known out of a +book. I suppose that I must seem very wild and savage to you, but I +have had one advantage—a good education. My father has taught me +everything, and perhaps I know some things that you don’t. I can read +French and German, for instance. I think that my father’s first idea +was to let me run wild altogether, but he gave it up.” + +“And don’t you wish to go into the world?” I asked. + +“Sometimes,” she said, “when I get lonely. But perhaps my father is +right—perhaps it would frighten and bewilder me. At any rate he would +never return to civilization; it is his idea, you know, although I am +sure I do not know where he got it from, nor why he cannot bear that +our name should be spoken. In short, Mr. Quatermain, we do not make our +lives, we must take them as we find them. Have you done your breakfast? +Let us go out, and I will show you our home.” + +I rose and went to my sleeping-place to fetch my hat. When I returned, +Mr. Carson—for after all that was his name, though he would never allow +it to be spoken—had come into the hut. He felt better now, he said, and +would accompany us on our walk if Stella would give him an arm. + +So we started, and after us came Hendrika with Tota and old +Indaba-zimbi whom I found sitting outside as fresh as paint. Nothing +could tire that old man. + +The view from the platform was almost as beautiful as that from the +lower ground looking up to the peak. The marble kraals, as I have said, +faced west, consequently all the upper terrace lay in the shadow of the +great peak till nearly eleven o’clock in the morning—a great advantage +in that warm latitude. First we walked through the garden, which was +beautifully cultivated, and one of the most productive that I ever saw. +There were three or four natives working in it, and they all saluted my +host as “Baba,” or father. Then we visited the other two groups of +marble huts. One of these was used for stables and outbuildings, the +other as storehouses, the centre hut having been, however, turned into +a chapel. Mr. Carson was not ordained, but he earnestly tried to +convert the natives, most of whom were refugees who had come to him for +shelter, and he had practised the more elementary rites of the church +for so long that I think he began to believe that he really was a +clergyman. For instance, he always married those of his people who +would consent to a monogamous existence, and baptized their children. + +When we had examined those wonderful remains of antiquity, the marble +huts, and admired the orange trees, the vines and fruits which thrive +like weeds in this marvellous soil and climate, we descended to the +next platform, and saw the farming operations in full swing. I think +that it was the best farm I have ever seen in Africa. There was ample +water for purposes of irrigation, the grass lands below gave pasturage +for hundreds of head of cattle and horses, and, for natives, the people +were most industrious. Moreover, the whole place was managed by Mr. +Carson on the co-operative system; he only took a tithe of the +produce—indeed, in this land of teeming plenty, what was he to do with +more? Consequently the tribesmen, who, by the way, called themselves +the “Children of Thomas,” were able to accumulate considerable wealth. +All their disputes were referred to their “father,” and he also was +judge of offences and crimes. Some were punished by imprisonment, +whipping, and loss of goods, other and graver transgressions by +expulsion from the community, a fiat which to one of these favoured +natives must have seemed as heavy as the decree that drove Adam from +the Garden of Eden. + +Old Mr. Carson leaned upon his daughter’s arm and contemplated the +scene with pride. + +“I have done all this, Allan Quatermain,” he said. “When renouncing +civilization, I wandered here by chance; seeking a home in the remotest +places of the world, I found this lonely spot a wilderness. Nothing was +to be seen except the site, the domes of the marble huts, and the +waterfalls. I took possession of the huts. I cleared the path of garden +land and planted the orange grove. I had only six natives then, but by +degrees others joined me, now my tribe is a thousand strong. Here we +live in profound peace and plenty. I have all I need, and I seek no +more. Heaven has prospered me so far—may it do so to the end, which for +me draws nigh. And now I am tired and will go back. If you wish to see +the old quarry and the mouth of the ancient mines, Stella will show +them to you. No, my love, you need not trouble to come, I can manage. +Look! some of the headmen are waiting to see me.” + +So he went; but still followed by Hendrika and Indaba-zimbi, we turned, +and, walking along the bank of one of the rivers, passed up behind the +marble kraals, and came to the quarry, whence the material of which +they were built had been cut in some remote age. The pit opened up a +very thick seam of the whitest and most beautiful marble. I know +another like it in Natal. But by whom it had been worked I cannot say; +not by natives, that is certain, though the builders of these kraals +had condescended to borrow the shape of native huts for their model. By +the way, the only relic of those builders that I ever saw was a highly +finished bronze pick-axe which Stella had found one day in the quarry. + +After we had examined this quarry we climbed the slope of the hill till +we came to the mouth of the ancient mines which were situated in a +gorge. I believe them to have been silver mines. The gorge was long and +narrow, and the moment we entered it there rose from every side a sound +of groaning and barking that was almost enough to deafen us. I knew +what it was at once: the whole place was filled with baboons, which +clambered down the rocks towards us from every direction, and in a +manner that struck me as being unnaturally fearless. Stella turned a +little pale and clung to my arm. + +“It is very silly of me,” she whispered. “I am not at all nervous, but +ever since they killed Hendrik I cannot bear the sight of those +animals. I always think that there is something human about them.” + +Meanwhile the baboons drew nearer, talking to each other as they came. +Tota began to cry, and clung to Stella. Stella clung to me, while I and +Indaba-zimbi put as bold a front on the matter as we could. Only +Hendrika stood looking at the brutes with an unconcerned smile on her +monkey face. When the great apes were quite near, she suddenly called +aloud. Instantly they stopped their hideous clamour as though at a word +of command. Then Hendrika addressed them: I can only describe it so. +That is to say, she began to make a noise such as baboons do when they +converse with each other. I have known Hottentots and Bushmen who said +that they could talk with the baboons and understand their language, +but I confess I never heard it done before or since. + +From the mouth of Hendrika came a succession of grunts, groans, +squeals, clicks, and every other abominable noise that can be +conceived, conveying to my mind a general idea of expostulation. At any +rate the baboons listened. One of them grunted back some answer, and +then the whole mob drew off to the rocks. + +I stood astonished, and without a word we turned back to the kraal, for +Hendrika was too close to allow me to speak. When we reached the dining +hut Stella went in, followed by Hendrika. But Indaba-zimbi plucked me +by the sleeve, and I stopped outside. + +“Macumazahn,” he said. “Baboon-woman—devil-woman. Be careful, +Macumazahn. She loves that Star (the natives aptly enough called Stella +the Star), and is jealous. Be careful, Macumazahn, or the Star will +set!” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. +“LET US GO IN, ALLAN!” + + +It is very difficult for me to describe the period of time which +elapsed between my arrival at Babyan’s Peak and my marriage with +Stella. When I look back on it, it seems sweet as with the odour of +flowers, and dim as with the happy dusk of summer eves, while through +the sweetness comes the sound of Stella’s voice, and through the gloom +shines the starlight of her eyes. I think that we loved each other from +the first, though for a while we said no word of love. Day by day I +went about the place with her, accompanied by little Tota and Hendrika +only, while she attended to the thousand and one matters which her +father’s ever-growing weakness had laid upon her; or rather, as time +drew on, I attended to the business, and she accompanied me. All day +through we were together. Then after supper, when the night had fallen, +we would walk together in the garden and come at length to hear her +father read aloud sometimes from the works of a poet, sometimes from +history. Or, if he did not feel well, Stella would read, and when this +was done, Mr. Carson would celebrate a short form of prayer, and we +would separate till the morning once more brought our happy hour of +meeting. + +So the weeks went by, and with every week I grew to know my darling +better. Often, I wonder now, if my fond fancy deceives me, or if indeed +there are women as sweet and dear as she. Was it solitude that had +given such depth and gentleness to her? Was it the long years of +communing with Nature that had endowed her with such peculiar grace, +the grace we find in opening flowers and budding trees? Had she caught +that murmuring voice from the sound of the streams which fall +continually about her rocky home? Was it the tenderness of the evening +sky beneath which she loved to walk, that lay like a shadow on her +face, and the light of the evening stars that shone in her quiet eyes? +At the least to me she was the realization of that dream which haunts +the sleep of sin-stained men; so my memory paints her, so I hope to +find her when at last the sleep has rolled away and the fevered dreams +are done. + +At last there came a day—the most blessed of my life, when we told our +love. We had been together all the morning, but after dinner Mr. Carson +was so unwell that Stella stopped in with him. At supper we met again, +and after supper, when she had put little Tota, to whom she had grown +much attached, to bed, we went out, leaving Mr. Carson dozing on the +couch. + +The night was warm and lovely, and without speaking we walked up the +garden to the orange grove and sat down upon a rock. There was a little +breeze which shook the petals of the orange blooms over us in showers, +and bore their delicate fragrance far and wide. Silence reigned around, +broken only by the sound of the falling waterfalls that now died to a +faint murmur, and now, as the wavering breeze turned, boomed loudly in +our ears. The moon was not yet visible, but already the dark clouds +which floated through the sky above us—for there had been rain—showed a +glow of silver, telling us that she shone brightly behind the peak. +Stella began to talk in her low, gentle voice, speaking to me of her +life in the wilderness, how she had grown to love it, how her mind had +gone on from idea to idea, and how she pictured the great rushing world +that she had never seen as it was reflected to her from the books which +she had read. It was a curious vision of life that she had: things were +out of proportion to it; it was more like a dream than a reality—a +mirage than the actual face of things. The idea of great cities, and +especially of London, had a kind of fascination for her: she could +scarcely realize the rush, the roar and hurry, the hard crowds of men +and women, strangers to each other, feverishly seeking for wealth and +pleasure beneath a murky sky, and treading one another down in the fury +of their competition. + +“What is it all for?” she asked earnestly. “What do they seek? Having +so few years to live, why do they waste them thus?” + +I told her that in the majority of instances it was actual hard +necessity that drove them on, but she could barely understand me. +Living as she had done, in the midst of the teeming plenty of a +fruitful earth, she did not seem to be able to grasp the fact that +there were millions who from day to day know not how to stay their +hunger. + +“I never want to go there,” she went on; “I should be bewildered and +frightened to death. It is not natural to live like that. God put Adam +and Eve in a garden, and that is how he meant their children to live—in +peace, and looking always on beautiful things. This is my idea of +perfect life. I want no other.” + +“I thought you once told me that you found it lonely,” I said. + +“So I did,” she answered, innocently, “but that was before you came. +Now I am not lonely any more, and it is perfect—perfect as the night.” + +Just then the full moon rose above the elbow of the peak, and her rays +stole far and wide down the misty valley, gleaming on the water, +brooding on the plain, searching out the hidden places of the rocks, +wrapping the fair form of nature as in a silver bridal veil through +which her beauty shone mysteriously. + +Stella looked down the terraced valley; she turned and looked up at the +scarred face of the golden moon, and then she looked at me. The beauty +of the night was about her face, the scent of the night was on her +hair, the mystery of the night shone in her shadowed eyes. She looked +at me, I looked on her, and all our hearts’ love blossomed within us. +We spoke no word—we had no words to speak, but slowly we drew near, +till lips were pressed to lips as we kissed our eternal troth. + +It was she who broke that holy silence, speaking in a changed voice, in +soft deep notes that thrilled me like the lowest chords of a smitten +harp. + +“Ah, now I understand,” she said, “now I know why we are lonely, and +how we can lose our loneliness. Now I know what it is that stirs us in +the beauty of the sky, in the sound of water and in the scent of +flowers. It is Love who speaks in everything, though till we hear his +voice we understand nothing. But when we hear, then the riddle is +answered and the gates of our heart are opened, and, Allan, we see the +way that wends through death to heaven, and is lost in the glory of +which our love is but a shadow. + +“Let us go in, Allan. Let us go before the spell breaks, so that +whatever overtakes us, sorrow, death, or separation, we may always have +this perfect memory to save us. Come, dearest, let us go!” + +I rose like a man in a dream, still holding her by the hand. But as I +rose my eye fell upon something that gleamed white among the foliage of +the orange bush at my side. I said nothing, but looked. The breeze +stirred the orange leaves, the moonlight struck for a moment full upon +the white object. + +It was the face of Hendrika, the Babyan-woman, as Indaba-zimbi had +called her, and on it was a glare of hate that made me shudder. + +I said nothing; the face vanished, and just then I heard a baboon bark +in the rocks behind. + +Then we went down the garden, and Stella passed into the centre hut. I +saw Hendrika standing in the shadow near the door, and went up to her. + +“Hendrika,” I said, “why were you watching Miss Stella and myself in +the garden?” + +She drew her lips up till her teeth gleamed in the moonlight. + +“Have I not watched her these many years, Macumazahn? Shall I cease to +watch because a wandering white man comes to steal her? Why were you +kissing her in the garden, Macumazahn? How dare you kiss her who is a +star?” + +“I kissed her because I love her, and because she loves me,” I +answered. “What has that to do with you, Hendrika?” + +“Because you love her,” she hissed in answer; “and do I not love her +also, who saved me from the babyans? I am a woman as she is, and you +are a man, and they say in the kraals that men love women better than +women love women. But it is a lie, though this is true, that if a woman +loves a man she forgets all other love. Have I not seen it? I gather +her flowers—beautiful flowers; I climb the rocks where you would never +dare to go to find them; you pluck a piece of orange bloom in the +garden and give it to her. What does she do?—she takes the orange +bloom, she puts it in her breast, and lets my flowers die. I call to +her—she does not hear me—she is thinking. You whisper to some one far +away, and she hears and smiles. She used to kiss me sometimes; now she +kisses that white brat you brought, because you brought it. Oh, I see +it all—all; I have seen it from the first; you are stealing her from +us, stealing her to yourself, and those who loved her before you came +are forgotten. Be careful, Macumazahn, be careful, lest I am revenged +upon you. You, you hate me; you think me half a monkey; that servant of +yours calls me Baboon-woman. Well, I have lived with baboons, and they +are clever—yes, they can play tricks and know things that you don’t, +and I am cleverer than they, for I have learnt the wisdom of white +people also, and I say to you, Walk softly, Macumazahn, or you will +fall into a pit,” and with one more look of malice she was gone. + +I stood for a moment reflecting. I was afraid of this strange creature +who seemed to combine the cunning of the great apes that had reared her +with the passions and skill of human kind. I foreboded evil at her +hands. And yet there was something almost touching in the fierceness of +her jealousy. It is generally supposed that this passion only exists in +strength when the object loved is of another sex from the lover, but I +confess that, both in this instance and in some others which I have met +with, this has not been my experience. I have known men, and especially +uncivilized men, who were as jealous of the affection of their friend +or master as any lover could be of that of his mistress; and who has +not seen cases of the same thing where parents and their children are +concerned? But the lower one gets in the scale of humanity, the more +readily this passion thrives; indeed, it may be said to come to its +intensest perfection in brutes. Women are more jealous than men, +small-hearted men are more jealous than those of larger mind and wider +sympathy, and animals are the most jealous of all. Now Hendrika was in +some ways not far removed from animal, which may perhaps account for +the ferocity of her jealousy of her mistress’s affection. + +Shaking off my presentiments of evil, I entered the centre hut. Mr. +Carson was resting on the sofa, and by him knelt Stella holding his +hand, and her head resting on his breast. I saw at once that she had +been telling him of what had come about between us; nor was I sorry, +for it is a task that a would-be son-in-law is generally glad to do by +deputy. + +“Come here, Allan Quatermain,” he said, almost sternly, and my heart +gave a jump, for I feared lest he might be about to require me to go +about my business. But I came. + +“Stella tells me,” he went on, “that you two have entered into a +marriage engagement. She tells me also that she loves you, and that you +say that you love her.” + +“I do indeed, sir,” I broke in; “I love her truly; if ever a woman was +loved in this world, I love her.” + +“I thank Heaven for it,” said the old man. “Listen, my children. Many +years ago a great shame and sorrow fell upon me, so great a sorrow +that, as I sometimes think, it affected my brain. At any rate, I +determined to do what most men would have considered the act of a +madman, to go far away into the wilderness with my only child, there to +live remote from civilization and its evils. I did so; I found this +place, and here we have lived for many years, happily enough, and +perhaps not without doing good in our generation, but still in a way +unnatural to our race and status. At first I thought I would let my +daughter grow up in a state of complete ignorance, that she should be +Nature’s child. But as time went on, I saw the folly and the wickedness +of my plan. I had no right to degrade her to the level of the savages +around me, for if the fruit of the tree of knowledge is a bitter fruit, +still it teaches good from evil. So I educated her as well as I was +able, till in the end I knew that in mind, as in body, she was in no +way inferior to her sisters, the children of the civilized world. She +grew up and entered into womanhood, and then it came into my mind that +I was doing her a bitter wrong, that I was separating her from her kind +and keeping her in a wilderness where she could find neither mate nor +companion. But though I knew this, I could not yet make up my mind to +return to active life; I had grown to love this place. I dreaded to +return into the world I had abjured. Again and again I put my +resolutions aside. Then at the commencement of this year I fell ill. +For a while I waited, hoping that I might get better, but at last I +realized that I should never get better, that the hand of Death was +upon me.” + +“Ah, no, father, not that!” Stella said, with a cry. + +“Yes, love, that, and it is true. Now you will be able to forget our +separation in the happiness of a new meeting,” and he glanced at me and +smiled. “Well, when this knowledge came home to me, I determined to +abandon this place and trek for the coast, though I well knew that the +journey would kill me. I should never live to reach it. But Stella +would, and it would be better than leaving her here alone with savages +in the wilderness. On the very day that I had made up my mind to take +this step Stella found you dying in the Bad Lands, Allan Quatermain, +and brought you here. She brought you, of all men in the world, you, +whose father had been my dear friend, and who once with your baby hands +had saved her life from fire, that she might live to save yours from +thirst. At the time I said little, but I saw the hand of Providence in +this, and I determined to wait and see what came about between you. At +the worst, if nothing came about, I soon learned that I could trust you +to see her safely to the coast after I was gone. But many days ago I +knew how it stood between you, and now things are determined as I +prayed they might be. God bless you both, my children; may you be happy +in your love; may it endure till death and beyond it. God bless you +both!” and he stretched out his hand towards me. + +I took it, and Stella kissed him. + +Presently he spoke again— + +“It is my intention,” he said, “if you two consent, to marry you next +Sunday. I wish to do so soon, for I do not know how much longer will be +allowed to me. I believe that such a ceremony, solemnly celebrated and +entered into before witnesses, will, under the circumstances, be +perfectly legal; but of course you will repeat it with every formality +the first moment it lies in your power so to do. And now, there is one +more thing: when I left England my fortunes were in a shattered +condition; in the course of years they have recovered themselves, the +accumulated rents, as I heard but recently, when the waggons last +returned from Port Natal, have sufficed to pay off all charges, and +there is a considerable balance over. Consequently you will not marry +on nothing, for of course you, Stella, are my heiress, and I wish to +make a stipulation. It is this. That so soon as my death occurs you +should leave this place and take the first opportunity of returning to +England. I do not ask you to live there always; it might prove too much +for people reared in the wilds, as both of you have been; but I do ask +you to make it your permanent home. Do you consent and promise this?” + +“I do,” I answered. + +“And so do I,” said Stella. + +“Very well,” he answered; “and now I am tired out. Again God bless you +both, and good-night.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. +HENDRIKA PLOTS EVIL + + +On the following morning I had a conversation with Indaba-zimbi. First +of all I told him that I was going to marry Stella. + +“Oh!” he said, “I thought so, Macumazahn. Did I not tell you that you +would find happiness on this journey? Most men must be content to watch +the Star from a long way off, to you it is given to wear her on your +heart. But remember, Macumazahn, remember that stars set.” + +“Can you not stop your croaking even for a day?” I answered, angrily, +for his words sent a thrill of fear through me. + +“A true prophet must tell the ill as well as the good, Macumazahn. I +only speak what is on my mind. But what of it? What is life but loss, +loss upon loss, till life itself be lost? But in death we may find all +the things that we have lost. So your father taught, Macumazahn, and +there was wisdom in his gentleness. Ou! I do not believe in death; it +is change, that is all, Macumazahn. Look now, the rain falls, the drops +of rain that were one water in the clouds fall side by side. They sink +into the ground; presently the sun will come out, the earth will be +dry, the drops will be gone. A fool looks and says the drops are dead, +they will never be one again, they will never again fall side by side. +But I am a rain-maker, and I know the ways of rain. It is not true. The +drops will drain by many paths into the river, and will be one water +there. They will go up to the clouds again in the mists of morning, and +there will again be as they have been. We are the drops of rain, +Macumazahn. When we fall that is our life. When we sink into the ground +that is death, and when we are drawn up again to the sky, what is that, +Macumazahn? No! no! when we find we lose, and when we seem to lose, +then we shall really find. I am not a Christian, Macumazahn, but I am +old, and have watched and seen things that perhaps Christians do not +see. There, I have spoken. Be happy with your star, and if it sets, +wait, Macumazahn, wait till it rises again. It will not be long; one +day you will go to sleep, then your eyes will open on another sky, and +there your star will be shining, Macumazahn.” + +I made no answer at the time. I could not bear to talk of such a thing. +But often and often in the after years I have thought of Indaba-zimbi +and his beautiful simile and gathered comfort from it. He was a strange +man, this old rain-making savage, and there was more wisdom in him than +in many learned atheists—those spiritual destroyers who, in the name of +progress and humanity, would divorce hope from life, and leave us +wandering in a lonesome, self-consecrated hell. + +“Indaba-zimbi,” I said, changing the subject, “I have something to +say,” and I told him of the threats of Hendrika. + +He listened with an unmoved face, nodding his white lock at intervals +as the narrative went on. But I saw that he was disturbed by it. + +“Macumazahn,” he said at length, “I have told you that this is an evil +woman. She was nourished on baboon milk, and the baboon nature is in +her veins. Such creatures should be killed, not kept. She will make you +mischief if she can. But I will watch her, Macumazahn. Look, the Star +is waiting for you; go, or she will hate me as Hendrika hates you.” + +So I went, nothing loth, for attractive as was the wisdom of +Indaba-zimbi, I found a deeper meaning in Stella’s simplest word. All +the rest of that day I passed in her company, and the greater part of +the two following days. At last came Saturday night, the eve of our +marriage. It rained that night, so we did not go out, but spent the +evening in the hut. We sat hand in hand, saying little, but Mr. Carson +talked a good deal, telling us tales of his youth, and of countries +that he had visited. Then he read aloud from the Bible, and bade us +goodnight. I also kissed Stella and went to bed. I reached my hut by +the covered way, and before I undressed opened the door to see what the +night was like. It was very dark, and rain was still falling, but as +the light streamed out into the gloom I fancied that I caught sight of +a dusky form gliding away. The thought of Hendrika flashed into my +mind; could she be skulking about outside there? Now I had said nothing +of Hendrika and her threats either to Mr. Carson or Stella, because I +did not wish to alarm them. Also I knew that Stella was attached to +this strange person, and I did not wish to shake her confidence in her +unless it was absolutely necessary. For a minute or two I stood +hesitating, then, reflecting that if it was Hendrika, there she should +stop, I went in and put up the stout wooden bar that was used to secure +the door. For the last few nights old Indaba-zimbi had made a habit of +sleeping in the covered passage, which was the only other possible way +of access. As I came to bed I had stepped over him rolled up in his +blanket, and to all appearances fast asleep. So it being evident that I +had nothing to fear, I promptly dismissed the matter from my mind, +which, as may be imagined, was indeed fully occupied with other +thoughts. + +I got into bed, and for awhile lay awake thinking of the great +happiness in store for me, and of the providential course of events +that had brought it within my reach. A few weeks since and I was +wandering in the desert a dying man, bearing a dying child, and with +scarcely a possession left in the world except a store of buried ivory +that I never expected to see again. And now I was about to wed one of +the sweetest and loveliest women on the whole earth—a woman whom I +loved more than I could have thought possible, and who loved me back +again. Also, as though that were not good fortune enough, I was to +acquire with her very considerable possessions, quite sufficiently +large to enable us to follow any plan of life we found agreeable. As I +lay and reflected on all this I grew afraid of my good fortune. Old +Indaba-zimbi’s melancholy prophecies came into my mind. Hitherto he had +always prophesied truly. What if these should be true also? I turned +cold as I thought of it, and prayed to the Power above to preserve us +both to live and love together. Never was prayer more needed. While its +words were still upon my lips I dropped asleep and dreamed a most +dreadful dream. + +I dreamed that Stella and I were standing together to be married. She +was dressed in white, and radiant with beauty, but it was a wild, +spiritual beauty which frightened me. Her eyes shone like stars, a pale +flame played about her features, and the wind that blew did not stir +her hair. Nor was this all, for her white robes were death wrappings, +and the altar at which we stood was formed of the piled-up earth from +an open grave that yawned between us. So we stood waiting for one to +wed us, but no one came. Presently from the open grave sprang the form +of Hendrika. In her hand was a knife, with which she stabbed at me, but +pierced the heart of Stella, who, without a cry, fell backwards into +the grave, still looking at me as she fell. Then Hendrika leaped after +her into the grave. I heard her feet strike heavily. + +“_Awake, Macumazahn! awake!_” cried the voice of Indaba-zimbi. + +I awoke and bounded from the bed, a cold perspiration pouring from me. +In the darkness on the other side of the hut I heard sounds of furious +struggling. Luckily I kept my head. Just by me was a chair on which +were matches and a rush taper. I struck a match and held it to the +taper. Now in the growing light I could see two forms rolling one over +the other on the floor, and from between them came the flash of steel. +The fat melted and the light burnt up. It was Indaba-zimbi and the +woman Hendrika who were struggling, and, what is more, the woman was +getting the better of the man, strong as he was. I rushed towards them. +Now she was uppermost, now she had wrenched herself from his fierce +grip, and now the great knife she had in her hand flashed up. + +But I was behind her, and, placing my hands beneath her arms, jerked +with all my strength. She fell backwards, and, in her effort to save +herself, most fortunately dropped the knife. Then we flung ourselves +upon her. Heavens! the strength of that she-devil! Nobody who has not +experienced it could believe it. She fought and scratched and bit, and +at one time nearly mastered the two of us. As it was she did break +loose. She rushed at the bed, sprung on it, and bounded thence straight +up at the roof of the hut. I never saw such a jump, and could not +conceive what she meant to do. In the roof were the peculiar holes +which I have described. They were designed to admit light, and covered +with overhanging eaves. She sprung straight and true like a monkey, +and, catching the edge of the hole with her hands, strove to draw +herself through it. But here her strength, exhausted with the long +struggle, failed her. For a moment she swung, then dropped to the +ground and fell senseless. + +“Ou!” gasped Indaba-zimbi. “Let us tie the devil up before she comes to +life again.” + +I thought this a good counsel, so we took a reim that lay in the corner +of the room, and lashed her hands and feet in such a fashion that even +she could scarcely escape. Then we carried her into the passage, and +Indaba-zimbi sat over her, the knife in his hand, for I did not wish to +raise an alarm at that hour of the night. + +“Do you know how I caught her, Macumazahn?” he said. “For several +nights I have slept here with one eye open, for I thought she had made +a plan. To-night I kept wide awake, though I pretended to be asleep. An +hour after you got into the blankets the moon rose, and I saw a beam of +light come into the hut through the hole in the roof. Presently I saw +the beam of light vanish. At first I thought that a cloud was passing +over the moon, but I listened and heard a noise as though some one was +squeezing himself through a narrow space. Presently he was through, and +hanging by his hands. Then the light came in again, and in the middle +of it I saw the Babyan-frau swinging from the roof, and about to drop +into the hut. She clung by both hands, and in her mouth was a great +knife. She dropped, and I ran forward to seize her as she dropped, and +gripped her round the middle. But she heard me come, and, seizing the +knife, struck at me in the dark and missed me. Then we struggled, and +you know the rest. You were very nearly dead to-night, Macumazahn.” + +“Very nearly indeed,” I answered, still panting, and arranging the rags +of my night-dress round me as best I might. Then the memory of my +horrid dream flashed into my mind. Doubtless it had been conjured up by +the sound of Hendrika dropping to the floor—in my dream it had been a +grave that she dropped into. All of it, then, had been experienced in +that second of time. Well, dreams are swift; perhaps Time itself is +nothing but a dream, and events that seem far apart really occur +simultaneously. + +We passed the rest of the night watching Hendrika. Presently she came +to herself and struggled furiously to break the reim. But the untanned +buffalo hide was too strong even for her, and, moreover, Indaba-zimbi +unceremoniously sat upon her to keep her quiet. At last she gave it up. + +In due course the day broke—my marriage day. Leaving Indaba-zimbi to +watch my would-be murderess, I went and fetched some natives from the +stables, and with their aid bore Hendrika to the prison hut—that same +hut in which she had been confined when she had been brought a +baboon-child from the rocks. Here we shut her up, and, leaving +Indaba-zimbi to watch outside, I returned to my sleeping-place and +dressed in the best garments that the Babyan Kraals could furnish. But +when I looked at the reflection of my face, I was horrified. It was +covered with scratches inflicted by the nails of Hendrika. I doctored +them up as best I could, then went out for a walk to calm my nerves, +which, what between the events of the past night, and of those pending +that day, were not a little disturbed. + +When I returned it was breakfast time. I went into the dining hut, and +there Stella was waiting to greet me, dressed in simple white and with +orange flowers on her breast. She came forward to me shyly enough; +then, seeing the condition of my face, started back. + +“Why, Allan! what have you been doing to yourself?” she asked. + +As I was about to answer, her father came in leaning on his stick, and, +catching sight of me, instantly asked the same question. + +Then I told them everything, both of Hendrika’s threats and of her +fierce attempt to carry them into execution. But I did not tell my +horrid dream. + +Stella’s face grew white as the flowers on her breast, but that of her +father became very stern. + +“You should have spoken of this before, Allan,” he said. “I now see +that I did wrong to attempt to civilize this wicked and revengeful +creature, who, if she is human, has all the evil passions of the brutes +that reared her. Well, I will make an end of it this very day.” + +“Oh, father,” said Stella, “don’t have her killed. It is all dreadful +enough, but that would be more dreadful still. I have been very fond of +her, and, bad as she is, she has loved me. Do not have her killed on my +marriage day.” + +“No,” her father answered, “she shall not be killed, for though she +deserves to die, I will not have her blood upon our hands. She is a +brute, and has followed the nature of brutes. She shall go back whence +she came.” + +No more was said on the matter at the time, but when breakfast—which +was rather a farce—was done, Mr. Carson sent for his headman and gave +him certain orders. + +We were to be married after the service which Mr. Carson held every +Sunday morning in the large marble hut set apart for that purpose. The +service began at ten o’clock, but long before that hour all the natives +on the place came up in troops, singing as they came, to be present at +the wedding of the “Star.” It was a pretty sight to see them, the men +dressed in all their finery, and carrying shields and sticks in their +hands, and the women and children bearing green branches of trees, +ferns, and flowers. At length, about half-past nine, Stella rose, +pressed my hand, and left me to my reflections. A few minutes to ten +she reappeared again with her father, dressed in a white veil, a wreath +of orange flowers on her dark curling hair, a bouquet of orange flowers +in her hand. To me she seemed like a dream of loveliness. With her came +little Tota in a high state of glee and excitement. She was Stella’s +only bridesmaid. Then we all passed out towards the church hut. The +bare space in front of it was filled with hundreds of natives, who set +up a song as we came. But we went on into the hut, which was crowded +with such of the natives as usually worshipped there. Here Mr. Carson, +as usual, read the service, though he was obliged to sit down in order +to do so. When it was done—and to me it seemed interminable—Mr. Carson +whispered that he meant to marry us outside the hut in sight of all the +people. So we went out and took our stand under the shade of a large +tree that grew near the hut facing the bare space where the natives +were gathered. + +Mr. Carson held up his hand to enjoin silence. Then, speaking in the +native dialect, he told them that he was about to make us man and wife +after the Christian fashion and in the sight of all men. This done, he +proceeded to read the marriage service over us, and very solemnly and +beautifully he did it. We said the words, I placed the ring—it was her +father’s signet ring, for we had no other—upon Stella’s finger, and it +was done. + +Then Mr. Carson spoke. “Allan and Stella,” he said, “I believe that the +ceremony which has been performed makes you man and wife in the sight +of God and man, for all that is necessary to make a marriage binding +is, that it should be celebrated according to the custom of the country +where the parties to it reside. It is according to the custom that has +been in force here for fifteen years or more that you have been married +in the face of all the people, and in token of it you will both sign +the register that I have kept of such marriages, among those of my +people who have adopted the Christian Faith. Still, in case there +should be any legal flaw I again demand the solemn promise of you both +that on the first opportunity you will cause this marriage to be +re-celebrated in some civilized land. Do you promise?” + +“We do,” we answered. + +Then the book was brought out and we signed our names. At first my wife +signed hers “Stella” only, but her father bade her write it Stella +Carson for the first and last time in her life. Then several of the +indunas, or headmen, including old Indaba-zimbi, put their marks in +witness. Indaba-zimbi drew his mark in the shape of a little star, in +humorous allusion to Stella’s native name. That register is before me +now as I write. That, with a lock of my darling’s hair which lies +between its leaves, is my dearest possession. There are all the names +and marks as they were written many years ago beneath the shadow of the +tree at Babyan Kraals in the wilderness, but alas! and alas! where are +those who wrote them? + +“My people,” said Mr. Carson, when the signing was done, and we had +kissed each other before them all—“My people, Macumazahn and the Star, +my daughter, are now man and wife, to live in one kraal, to eat of one +bowl, to share one fortune till they reach the grave. Hear now, my +people, you know this woman,” and turning he pointed to Hendrika, who, +unseen by us, had been led out of the prison hut. + +“Yes, yes, we know her,” said a little ring of headmen, who formed the +primitive court of justice, and after the fashion of natives had +squatted themselves in a circle on the ground in front of us. “We know +her, she is the white Babyan-woman, she is Hendrika, the body servant +of the Star.” + +“You know her,” said Mr. Carson, “but you do not know her altogether. +Stand forward, Indaba-zimbi, and tell the people what came about last +night in the hut of Macumazahn.” + +Accordingly old Indaba-zimbi came forward, and, squatting down, told +his moving tale with much descriptive force and many gestures, +finishing up by producing the great knife from which his watchfulness +had saved me. + +Then I was called upon, and in a few brief words substantiated his +story: indeed my face did that in the sight of all men. + +Then Mr. Carson turned to Hendrika, who stood in sullen silence, her +eyes fixed upon the ground, and asked her if she had anything to say. + +She looked up boldly and answered— + +“Macumazahn has robbed me of the love of my mistress. I would have +robbed him of his life, which is a little thing compared to that which +I have lost at his hands. I have failed, and I am sorry for it, for had +I killed him and left no trace the Star would have forgotten him and +shone on me again.” + +“Never,” murmured Stella in my ear; but Mr. Carson turned white with +wrath. + +“My people,” he said, “you hear the words of this woman. You hear how +she pays me back, me and my daughter whom she swears she loves. She +says that she would have murdered a man who has done her no evil, the +man who is the husband of her mistress. We saved her from the babyans, +we tamed her, we fed her, we taught her, and this is how she pays us +back. Say, my people, what reward should be given to her?” + +“Death,” said the circle of indunas, pointing their thumbs downwards, +and all the multitude beyond echoed the word “Death.” + +“Death,” repeated the head induna, adding, “If you save her, my father, +we will slay her with our own hands. She is a Babyan-woman, a +devil-woman; ah, yes, we have heard of such before; let her be slain +before she works more evil.” + +Then it was that Stella stepped forward and begged for Hendrika’s life +in moving terms. She pleaded the savagery of the woman’s nature, her +long service, and the affection that she had always shown towards +herself. She said that I, whose life had been attempted, forgave her, +and she, my wife, who had nearly been left a widow before she was made +a bride, forgave her; let them forgive her also, let her be sent away, +not slain, let not her marriage day be stained with blood. + +Now her father listened readily enough, for he had no intention of +killing Hendrika—indeed, he had already promised not to do so. But the +people were in a different humour, they looked upon Hendrika as a +devil, and would have torn her to pieces there and then, could they +have had their way. Nor were matters mended by Indaba-zimbi, who had +already gained a great reputation for wisdom and magic in the place. +Suddenly the old man rose and made quite an impassioned speech, urging +them to kill Hendrika at once or mischief would come of it. + +At last matters got very bad, for two of the Indunas came forward to +drag her off to execution, and it was not until Stella burst into tears +that the sight of her grief, backed by Mr. Carson’s orders and my own +remonstrances, carried the day. + +All this while Hendrika had been standing quite unmoved. At last the +tumult ceased, and the leading induna called to her to go, promising +that if ever she showed her face near the kraals again she should be +stabbed like a jackal. Then Hendrika spoke to Stella in a low voice and +in English— + +“Better let them kill me, mistress, better for all. Without you to love +I shall go mad and become a babyan again.” + +Stella did not answer, and they loosed her. She stepped forward and +looked at the natives with a stare of hate. Then she turned and walked +past me, and as she passed whispered a native phrase in my ear, that, +being literally translated, means, “Till another moon,” but which has +the same significance as the French “au revoir.” + +It frightened me, for I knew she meant that she had not done with me, +and saw that our mercy was misplaced. Seeing my face change she ran +swiftly from me, and as she passed Indaba-zimbi, with a sudden movement +snatched her great knife from his hand. When she had gone about twenty +paces she halted, looked long and earnestly on Stella, gave one loud +cry of anguish, and fled. A few minutes later we saw her far away, +bounding up the face of an almost perpendicular cliff—a cliff that +nobody except herself and the baboons could possibly climb. + +“Look,” said Indaba-zimbi in my ear—“Look, Macumazahn, there goes the +Babyan-frau. But, Macumazahn, _she will come back again_. Ah, why will +you not listen to my words. Have they not always been true words, +Macumazahn?” and he shrugged his shoulders and turned away. + +For a while I was much disturbed, but at any rate Hendrika was gone for +the present, and Stella, my dear and lovely wife, was there at my side, +and in her smiles I forgot my fears. + +For the rest of that day, why should I write of it?—there are things +too happy and too sacred to be written of. + +At last I had, if only for a little while, found that rest, that +perfect joy which we seek so continually and so rarely clasp. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. +GONE! + + +I wonder if many married couples are quite as happy as we found +ourselves. Cynics, a growing class, declare that few illusions can +survive a honeymoon. Well, I do not know about it, for I only married +once, and can but speak from my limited experience. But certainly our +illusion, or rather the great truth of which it is the shadow, did +survive, as to this day it survives in my heart across all the years of +utter separation, and across the unanswering gulf of gloom. + +But complete happiness is not allowed in this world even for an hour. +As our marriage day had been shadowed by the scene which has been +described, so our married life was shadowed by its own sorrow. + +Three days after our wedding Mr. Carson had a stroke. It had been long +impending, now it fell. We came into the centre hut to dinner and found +him lying speechless on the couch. At first I thought that he was +dying, but this was not so. On the contrary, within four days he +recovered his speech and some power of movement. But he never recovered +his memory, though he still knew Stella, and sometimes myself. +Curiously enough he remembered little Tota best of all three, though +occasionally he thought that she was his own daughter in her childhood, +and would ask her where her mother was. This state of affairs lasted +for some seven months. The old man gradually grew weaker, but he did +not die. Of course his condition quite precluded the idea of our +leaving Babyan Kraals till all was over. This was the more distressing +to me because I had a nervous presentiment that Stella was incurring +danger by staying there, and also because the state of her health +rendered it desirable that we should reach a civilized region as soon +as possible. However, it could not be helped. + +At length the end came very suddenly. We were sitting one evening by +Mr. Carson’s bedside in his hut, when to our astonishment he sat up and +spoke in a strong, full voice. + +“I hear you,” he said. “Yes, yes, I forgive you. Poor woman! you too +have suffered,” and he fell back dead. + +I have little doubt that he was addressing his lost wife, some vision +of whom had flashed across his dying sense. Stella, of course, was +overwhelmed with grief at her loss. Till I came her father had been her +sole companion, and therefore, as may be imagined, the tie between them +was much closer than is usual even in the case of father and daughter. +So deeply did she mourn that I began to fear for the effect upon her +health. Nor were we the only ones to grieve; all the natives on the +settlement called Mr. Carson “father,” and as a father they lamented +him. The air resounded with the wailing of women, and the men went +about with bowed heads, saying that “the sun had set in the heavens, +now only the Star (Stella) remained.” Indaba-zimbi alone did not mourn. +He said that it was best that the Inkoos should die, for what was life +worth when one lay like a log?—moreover, that it would have been well +for all if he had died sooner. + +On the following day we buried him in the little graveyard near the +waterfall. It was a sad business, and Stella cried very much, in spite +of all I could do to comfort her. + +That night as I sat outside the hut smoking—for the weather was hot, +and Stella was lying down inside—old Indaba-zimbi came up, saluted, and +squatted at my feet. + +“What is it, Indaba-zimbi?” I said. + +“This, Macumazahn. When are you going to trek towards the coast?” + +“I don’t know,” I answered. “The Star is not fit to travel now, we must +wait awhile.” + +“No, Macumazahn, you must not wait, you must go, and the Star must take +her chance. She is strong. It is nothing. All will be well.” + +“Why do you say so? why must we go?” + +“For this reason, Macumazahn,” and he looked cautiously round and spoke +low. “The baboons have come back in thousands. All the mountain is full +of them.” + +“I did not know that they had gone,” I said. + +“Yes,” he answered, “they went after the marriage, all but one or two; +now they are back, all the baboons in the world, I think. I saw a whole +cliff black with them.” + +“Is that all?” I said, for I saw that he had something behind. “I am +not afraid of a pack of baboons.” + +“No, Macumazahn, it is not all. The Babyan-frau, Hendrika, is with +them.” + +Now nothing had been heard or seen of Hendrika since her expulsion, and +though at first she and her threats had haunted me somewhat, by degrees +she to a great extent had passed out of my mind, which was fully +preoccupied with Stella and my father-in-law’s illness. I started +violently. “How do you know this?” I asked. + +“I know it because I saw her, Macumazahn. She is disguised, she is +dressed up in baboon skins, and her face is stained dark. But though +she was a long way off, I knew her by her size, and I saw the white +flesh of her arm when the skins slipped aside. She has come back, +Macumazahn, with all the baboons in the world, and she has come back to +do evil. Now do you understand why you should trek?” + +“Yes,” I said, “though I don’t see how she and the baboons can harm us, +I think that it will be better to go. If necessary we can camp the +waggons somewhere for a while on the journey. Hearken, Indaba-zimbi: +say nothing of this to the Star; I will not have her frightened. And +hearken again. Speak to the headmen, and see that watchers are set all +round the huts and gardens, and kept there night and day. To-morrow we +will get the waggons ready, and next day we will trek.” + +He nodded his white lock and went to do my bidding, leaving me not a +little disturbed—unreasonably so, indeed. It was a strange story. That +this woman had the power of conversing with baboons I knew.[*] That was +not so very wonderful, seeing that the Bushmen claim to be able to do +the same thing, and she had been nurtured by them. But that she had +been able to muster them, and by the strength of her human will and +intelligence muster them in order to forward her ends of revenge, +seemed to me so incredible that after reflection my fears grew light. +Still I determined to trek. After all, a journey in an ox waggon would +not be such a very terrible thing to a strong woman accustomed to +roughing it, whatever her state of health. And when all was said and +done I did not like this tale of the presence of Hendrika with +countless hosts of baboons. + +[*] For an instance of this, see Anderson’s “Twenty-five Years in a +Waggon,” vol. i. p. 262.—Editor. + + +So I went in to Stella, and without saying a word to her of the baboon +story, told her I had been thinking matters over, and had come to the +conclusion that it was our duty to follow her father’s instructions to +the letter, and leave Babyan Kraals at once. Into all our talk I need +not enter, but the end of it was that she agreed with me, and declared +that she could quite well manage the journey, saying, moreover, that +now that her dear father was dead she would be glad to get away. + +Nothing happened to disturb us that night, and on the following morning +I was up early making preparations. The despair of the people when they +learned that we were going to leave them was something quite pitiable. +I could only console them by declaring that we were but on a journey, +and would return the following year. + +“They had lived in the shadow of their father, who was dead,” they +declared; “ever since they were little they had lived in his shadow. He +had received them when they were outcasts and wanderers without a mat +to lie on, or a blanket to cover them, and they had grown fat in his +shadow. Then he had died, and the Star, their father’s daughter, had +married me, Macumazahn, and they had believed that I should take their +father’s place, and let them live in my shadow. What should they do +when there was no one to protect them? The tribes were kept from +attacking them by fear of the white man. If we went they would be eaten +up,” and so on. Alas! there was but too much foundation for their +fears. + +I returned to the huts at mid-day to get some dinner. Stella said that +she was going to pack during the afternoon, so I did not think it +necessary to caution her about going out alone, as I did not wish to +allude to the subject of Hendrika and the baboons unless I was obliged +to. I told her, however, that I would come back to help her as soon as +I could get away. Then I went down to the native kraals to sort out +such cattle as had belonged to Mr. Carson from those which belonged to +the Kaffirs, for I proposed to take them with us. It was a large herd, +and the business took an incalculable time. At length, a little before +sundown, I gave it up, and leaving Indaba-zimbi to finish the job, got +on my horse and rode homewards. + +Arriving, I gave the horse to one of the stable boys, and went into the +central hut. There was no sign of Stella, though the things she had +been packing lay about the floor. I passed first into our sleeping hut, +thence one by one into all the others, but still saw no sign of her. +Then I went out, and calling to a Kaffir in the garden asked him if he +had seen his mistress. + +He answered “yes.” He had seen her carrying flowers and walking towards +the graveyard, holding the little white girl—my daughter—as he called +her, by the hand, when the sun stood “there,” and he pointed to a spot +on the horizon where it would have been about an hour and a half +before. “The two dogs were with them,” he added. I turned and ran +towards the graveyard, which was about a quarter of a mile from the +huts. Of course there was no reason to be anxious—evidently she had +gone to lay the flowers on her father’s grave. And yet I was anxious. + +When I got near the graveyard I met one of the natives, who, by my +orders, had been set round the kraals to watch the place, and noticed +that he was rubbing his eyes and yawning. Clearly he had been asleep. I +asked him if he had seen his mistress, and he answered that he had not, +which under the circumstances was not wonderful. Without stopping to +reproach him, I ordered the man to follow me, and went on to the +graveyard. There, on Mr. Carson’s grave, lay the drooping flowers which +Stella had been carrying, and there in the fresh mould was the spoor of +Tota’s veldschoon, or hide slipper. But where were they? + +I ran from the graveyard and called aloud at the top of my voice, but +no answer came. Meanwhile the native was more profitably engaged in +tracing their spoor. He followed it for about a hundred yards till he +came to a clump of mimosa bush that was situated between the stream and +the ancient marble quarries just over the waterfall, and at the mouth +of the ravine. Here he stopped, and I heard him give a startled cry. I +rushed to the spot, passed through the trees, and saw this. The little +open space in the centre of the glade had been the scene of a struggle. +There, in the soft earth, were the marks of three pairs of human +feet—two shod, one naked—Stella’s, Tota’s, and _Hendrika’s_. Nor was +this all. There, close by, lay the fragments of the two dogs—they were +nothing more—and one baboon, not yet quite dead, which had been bitten +in the throat by the dogs. All round was the spoor of numberless +baboons. The full horror of what had happened flashed into my mind. + +My wife and Tota had been carried off by the baboons. As yet they had +not been killed, for if so their remains would have been found with +those of the dogs. They had been carried off. The brutes, acting under +the direction of that woman-monkey, Hendrika, had dragged them away to +some secret den, there to keep them till they died—or kill them! + +For a moment I literally staggered beneath the terror of the shock. +Then I roused myself from my despair. I bade the native run and alarm +the people at the kraals, telling them to come armed, and bring me guns +and ammunition. He went like the wind, and I turned to follow the +spoor. For a few yards it was plain enough—Stella had been dragged +along. I could see where her heels had struck the ground; the child +had, I presumed, been carried—at least there were no marks of her feet. +At the water’s edge the spoor vanished. The water was shallow, and they +had gone along in it, or at least Hendrika and her victim had, in order +to obliterate the trail. I could see where a moss-grown stone had been +freshly turned over in the water-bed. I ran along the bank some way up +the ravine, in the vain hope of catching a sight of them. Presently I +heard a bark in the cliffs above me; it was answered by another, and +then I saw that scores of baboons were hidden about among the rocks on +either side, and were softly swinging themselves down to bar the path. +To go on unarmed as I was would be useless. I should only be torn to +pieces as the dogs had been. So I turned and fled back towards the +huts. As I drew near I could see that my messenger had roused the +settlement, for natives with spears and kerries in their hands were +running up towards the kraals. When I reached the hut I met old +Indaba-zimbi, who wore a very serious face. + +“So the evil has fallen, Macumazahn,” he said. + +“It has fallen,” I answered. + +“Keep a good heart, Macumazahn,” he said again. “She is not dead, nor +is the little maid, and before they die we shall find them. Remember +this, Hendrika loves her. She will not harm her, or allow the babyans +to harm her. She will try to hide her away from you, that is all.” + +“Pray God that we may find her,” I groaned. “The light is going fast.” + +“The moon rises in three hours,” he answered; “we will search by +moonlight. It is useless to start now; see, the sun sinks. Let us get +the men together, eat, and make things ready. _Hamba gachla_. Hasten +slowly, Macumazahn.” + +As there was no help, I took his advice. I could eat no food, but I +packed some up to take with us, and made ready ropes, and a rough kind +of litter. If we found them they would scarcely be able to walk. Ah! if +we found them! How slowly the time passed! It seemed hours before the +moon rose. But at last it did rise. + +Then we started. In all we were about a hundred men, but we only +mustered five guns between us, my elephant roer and four that had +belonged to Mr. Carson. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. +THE MAGIC OF INDABA-ZIMBI + + +We gained the spot by the stream where Stella had been taken. The +natives looked at the torn fragments of the dogs, and at the marks of +violence, and I heard them swearing to each other, that whether the +Star lived or died they would not rest till they had exterminated every +baboon on Babyan’s Peak. I echoed the oath, and, as shall be seen, we +kept it. + +We started on along the stream, following the spoor of the baboons as +we best could. But the stream left no spoor, and the hard, rocky banks +very little. Still we wandered on. All night we wandered through the +lonely moonlit valleys, startling the silence into a thousand echoes +with our cries. But no answer came to them. In vain our eyes searched +the sides of precipices formed of water-riven rocks fantastically piled +one upon another; in vain we searched through endless dells and +fern-clad crannies. There was nothing to be found. How could we expect +to find two human beings hidden away in the recesses of this vast +stretch of mountain ground, which no man yet had ever fully explored. +They were lost, and in all human probability lost for ever. + +To and fro we wandered hopelessly, till at last dawn found us footsore +and weary nearly at the spot whence we had started. We sat down waiting +for the sun to rise, and the men ate of such food as they had brought +with them, and sent to the kraals for more. + +I sat upon a stone with a breaking heart. I cannot describe my +feelings. Let the reader put himself in my position and perhaps he may +get some idea of them. Near me was old Indaba-zimbi, who sat staring +straight before him as though he were looking into space, and taking +note of what went on there. An idea struck me. This man had some occult +power. Several times during our adventures he had prophesied, and in +every case his prophecies had proved true. He it was who, when we +escaped from the Zulu Impi, had told me to steer north, because there +we should find the place of a white man who lived under the shadow of a +great peak that was full of baboons. Perhaps he could help in this +extremity—at any rate it was worth trying. + +“Indaba-zimbi,” I said, “you say that you can send your spirit through +the doors of space and see what we cannot see. At the least I know that +you can do strange things. Can you not help me now? If you can, and +will save her, I will give you half the cattle that we have here.” + +“I never said anything of the sort, Macumazahn,” he answered. “I do +things, I do not talk about them. Neither do I seek reward for what I +do like a common witch-doctor. It is well that you have asked me to use +my wisdom, Macumazahn, for I should not have used it again without +being asked—no, not even for the sake of the Star and yourself, whom I +love, for if so my Spirit would have been angry. In the other matters I +had a part, for my life was concerned as well as yours; but in this +matter I have no part, and therefore I might not use my wisdom unless +you thought well to call upon my Spirit. However, it would have been no +good to ask me before, for I have only just found the herb I want,” and +he produced a handful of the leaves of a plant that was unfamiliar to +me. It had prickly leaves, shaped very much like those of the common +English nettle. + +“Now, Macumazahn,” he went on, “bid the men leave us alone, and then +follow me presently to the little glade down there by the water.” + +I did so. When I reached the glade I found Indaba-zimbi kindling a +small fire under the shadow of a tree by the edge of the water. + +“Sit there, Macumazahn,” he said, pointing to a stone near the fire, +“and do not be surprised or frightened at anything you see. If you move +or call out we shall learn nothing.” + +I sat down and watched. When the fire was alight and burning brightly, +the old fellow stripped himself stark naked, and, going to the foot of +the pool, dipped himself in the water. Then he came back shivering with +the cold, and, leaning over the little fire, thrust leaves of the plant +I have mentioned into his mouth and began to chew them, muttering as he +chewed. Most of the remaining leaves he threw on to the fire. A dense +smoke rose from them, but he held his head in this smoke and drew it +down his lungs till I saw that he was exhibiting every sign of +suffocation. The veins in his throat and chest swelled, he gasped +loudly, and his eyes, from which tears were streaming, seemed as though +they were going to start from his head. Presently he fell over on his +side, and lay senseless. I was terribly alarmed, and my first impulse +was to run to his assistance, but fortunately I remembered his caution, +and sat quiet. + +Indaba-zimbi lay on the ground like a person quite dead. His limbs had +all the utter relaxation of death. But as I watched I saw them begin to +stiffen, exactly as though _rigor mortis_ had set in. Then, to my +astonishment, I perceived them once more relax, and this time there +appeared upon his chest the stain of decomposition. It spread and +spread; in three minutes the man, to all appearance, was a livid +corpse. + +I sat amazed watching this uncanny sight, and wondering if any further +natural process was about to be enacted. Perhaps Indaba-zimbi was going +to fall to dust before my eyes. As I watched I observed that the +discoloration was beginning to fade. First it vanished from the +extremities, then from the larger limbs, and lastly from the trunk. +Then in turn came the third stage of relaxation, the second stage of +stiffness or _rigor_, and the first stage of after-death collapse. When +all these had rapidly succeeded each other, Indaba-zimbi quietly woke +up. + +I was too astonished to speak; I simply looked at him with my mouth +open. + +“Well, Macumazahn,” he said, putting his head on one side like a bird, +and nodding his white lock in a comical fashion, “it is all right; I +have seen her.” + +“Seen who?” I said. + +“The Star, your wife, and the little maid. They are much frightened, +but unharmed. The Babyan-frau watches them. She is mad, but the baboons +obey her, and do not hurt them. The Star was sleeping from weariness, +so I whispered in her ear and told her not to be frightened, for you +would soon rescue her, and that meanwhile she must seem to be pleased +to have Hendrika near her.” + +“You whispered in her ear?” I said. “How could you whisper in her ear?” + +“Bah! Macumazahn. How could I seem to die and go rotten before your +eyes? You don’t know, do you? Well, I will tell you one thing. I had to +die to pass the doors of space, as you call them. I had to draw all the +healthy strength and life from my body in order to gather power to +speak with the Star. It was a dangerous business, Macumazahn, for if I +had let things go a little further they must have stopped so, and there +would have been an end of Indaba-zimbi. Ah, you white men, you know so +much that you think you know everything. But you don’t! You are always +staring at the clouds and can’t see the things that lie at your feet. +You hardly believe me now, do you, Macumazahn? Well, I will show you. +Have you anything on you that the Star has touched or worn?” + +I thought for a moment, and said that I had a lock of her hair in my +pocket-book. He told me to give it him. I did so. Going to the fire, he +lit the lock of hair in the flame, and let it burn to ashes, which he +caught in his left hand. These ashes he mixed up in a paste with the +juice of one of the leaves of the plant I have spoken of. + +“Now, Macumazahn, shut your eyes,” he said. + +I did so, and he rubbed his paste on to my eyelids. At first it burnt +me, then my head swam strangely. Presently this effect passed off, and +my brain was perfectly clear again, but I could not feel the ground +with my feet. Indaba-zimbi led me to the side of the stream. Beneath us +was a pool of beautifully clear water. + +“Look into the pool, Macumazahn,” said Indaba-zimbi, and his voice +sounded hollow and far away in my ears. + +I looked. The water grew dark; it cleared, and in it was a picture. I +saw a cave with a fire burning in it. Against the wall of the cave +rested Stella. Her dress was torn almost off her, she looked dreadfully +pale and weary, and her eyelids were red as though with weeping. But +she slept, and I could almost think that I saw her lips shape my name +in her sleep. Close to her, her head upon Stella’s breast, was little +Tota; she had a skin thrown over her to keep out the night cold. The +child was awake, and appeared to be moaning with fear. By the fire, and +in such a position that the light fell full upon her face, and engaged +in cooking something in a rough pot shaped from wood, sat the +Baboon-woman, Hendrika. She was clothed in baboon skins, and her face +had been rubbed with some dark stain, which was, however, wearing off +it. In the intervals of her cooking she would turn on Stella her wild +eyes, in which glared visible madness, with an expression of tenderness +that amounted to worship. Then she would stare at the child and gnash +her teeth as though with hate. Clearly she was jealous of it. Round the +entrance arch of the cave peeped and peered the heads of many baboons. +Presently Hendrika made a sign to one of them; apparently she did not +speak, or rather grunt, in order not to wake Stella. The brute hopped +forward, and she gave it a second rude wooden pot which was lying by +her. It took it and went. The last thing that I saw, as the vision +slowly vanished from the pool, was the dim shadow of the baboon +returning with the pot full of water. + +Presently everything had gone. I ceased to feel strange. There beneath +me was the pool, and at my side stood Indaba-zimbi, smiling. + +“You have seen things,” he said. + +“I have,” I answered, and made no further remark on the matter. What +was there to say?[*] “Do you know the path to the cave?” I added. + +[*] For some almost equally remarkable instances of Kaffir magic the +reader is referred to a work named “Among the Zulus,” by David +Leslie.—Editor. + + +He nodded his head. “I did not follow it all just now, because it +winds,” he said. “But I know it. We shall want the ropes.” + +“Then let us be starting; the men have eaten.” + +He nodded his head again, and going to the men I told them to make +ready, adding that Indaba-zimbi knew the way. They said that was all +right, if Indaba-zimbi had “smelt her out,” they should soon find the +Star. So we started cheerfully enough, and my spirits were so much +improved that I was able to eat a boiled mealie cob or two as we +walked. + +We went up the valley, following the course of the stream for about a +mile; then Indaba-zimbi made a sudden turn to the right, along another +kloof, of which there were countless numbers in the base of the great +hill. + +On we went through kloof after kloof. Indaba-zimbi, who led us, was +never at a loss, he turned up gulleys and struck across necks of hills +with the certainty of a hound on a hot scent. At length, after about +three hours’ march, we came to a big silent valley on the northern +slope of the great peak. On one side of this valley was a series of +stony koppies, on the other rose a sheer wall of rock. We marched along +the wall for a distance of some two miles. Then suddenly Indaba-zimbi +halted. + +“There is the place,” he said, pointing to an opening in the cliff. +This opening was about forty feet from the ground, and ellipse-shaped. +It cannot have been more than twenty feet high by ten wide, and was +partially hidden by ferns and bushes that grew about it in the surface +of the cliff. Keen as my eyes were, I doubt if I should ever have +noticed it, for there were many such cracks and crannies in the rocky +face of the great mountain. + +We drew near and looked carefully at the place. The first thing I +noticed was that the rock, which was not quite perpendicular, had been +worn by the continual passage of baboons; the second, that something +white was hanging on a bush near the top of the ascent. + +It was a pocket-handkerchief. + +Now there was no more doubt about the matter. With a beating heart I +began the ascent. For the first twenty feet it was comparatively easy, +for the rock shelved; the next ten feet was very difficult, but still +possible to an active man, and I achieved it, followed by Indaba-zimbi. +But the last twelve or fifteen feet could only be scaled by throwing a +rope over the trunk of a stunted tree, which grew at the bottom of the +opening. This we accomplished with some trouble, and the rest was easy. +A foot or two above my head the handkerchief fluttered in the wind. +Hanging to the rope, I grasped it. It was my wife’s. As I did so I +noticed the face of a baboon peering at me over the edge of the cleft, +the first baboon we had seen that morning. The brute gave a bark and +vanished. Thrusting the handkerchief into my breast, I set my feet +against the cliff and scrambled up as hard as I could go. I knew that +we had no time to lose, for the baboon would quickly alarm the others. +I gained the cleft. It was a mere arched passage cut by water, ending +in a gulley, which led to a wide open space of some sort. I looked +through the passage and saw that the gulley was black with baboons. On +they came by the hundred. I unslung my elephant gun from my shoulders +and waited, calling to the men below to come up with all possible +speed. The brutes streamed on down the gloomy gulf towards me, barking, +grunting, and showing their huge teeth. I waited till they were within +fifteen yards. Then I fired the elephant gun, which was loaded with +slugs, right into the thick of them. In that narrow place the report +echoed like a cannon shot, but its sound was quickly swallowed in the +volley of piercing human-sounding groans and screams that followed. The +charge of heavy slugs had ploughed through the host of baboons, of +which at least a dozen lay dead or dying in the passage. For a moment +they hesitated, then they came on again with a hideous clamour. +Fortunately by this time Indaba-zimbi, who also had a gun, was standing +by my side, otherwise I should have been torn to pieces before I could +re-load. He fired both barrels into them, and again checked the rush. +But they came on again, and notwithstanding the appearance of two other +natives with guns, which they let off with more or less success, we +should have been overwhelmed by the great and ferocious apes had I not +by this time succeeded in re-loading the elephant gun. When they were +right on us, I fired, with even more deadly effect than before, for at +that distance every slug told on their long line. The howls and screams +of pain and rage were now something inconceivable. One might have +thought that we were doing battle with a host of demons; indeed in that +light—for the overhanging arch of rock made it very dark—the gnashing +snouts and sombre glowing eyes of the apes looked like those of devils +as they are represented by monkish fancy. But the last shot was too +much for them; they withdrew, dragging some of their wounded with them, +and thus gave us time to get our men up the cliff. In a few minutes all +were there, and we advanced down the passage, which presently opened +into a rocky gulley with shelving sides. This gulley had a water-way at +the bottom of it; it was about a hundred yards long, and the slopes on +either side were topped by precipitous cliffs. I looked at these +slopes; they literally swarmed with baboons, grunting, barking, +screaming, and beating their breasts with their long arms, in fury. I +looked up the water-way; along it, accompanied by a mob, or, as it +were, a guard of baboons, ran Hendrika, her long hair flying, madness +written on her face, and in her arms was the senseless form of little +Tota. + +She saw us, and a foam of rage burst from her lips. She screamed aloud. +To me the sound was a mere inarticulate cry, but the baboons clearly +understood it, for they began to roll rocks down on to us. One boulder +leaped past me and struck down a Kaffir behind; another fell from the +roof of the arch on to a man’s head and killed him. Indaba-zimbi lifted +his gun to shoot Hendrika; I knocked it up, so that the shot went over +her, crying that he would kill the child. Then I shouted to the men to +open out and form a line from side to side of the shelving gulley. +Furious at the loss of their two comrades, they obeyed me, and keeping +in the water-way myself, together with Indaba-zimbi and the other guns, +I gave the word to charge. + +Then the real battle began. It is difficult to say who fought the most +fiercely, the natives or the baboons. The Kaffirs charged along the +slopes, and as they came, encouraged by the screams of Hendrika, who +rushed to and fro holding the wretched Tota before her as a shield, the +apes bounded at them in fury. Scores were killed by the assegais, and +many more fell beneath our gun-shots; but still they came on. Nor did +we go scathless. Occasionally a man would slip, or be pulled over in +the grip of a baboon. Then the others would fling themselves upon him +like dogs on a rat, and worry him to death. We lost five men in this +way, and I myself received a bite through the fleshy part of the left +arm, but fortunately a native near me assegaied the animal before I was +pulled down. + +At length, and all of a sudden, the baboons gave up. A panic seemed to +seize them. Notwithstanding the cries of Hendrika they thought no more +of fight, but only of escape; some even did not attempt to get away +from the assegais of the Kaffirs, they simply hid their horrible faces +in their paws, and, moaning piteously, waited to be slain. + +Hendrika saw that the battle was lost. Dropping the child from her +arms, she rushed straight at us, a very picture of horrible insanity. I +lifted my gun, but could not bear to shoot. After all she was but a mad +thing, half ape, half woman. So I sprang to one side, and she landed +full on Indaba-zimbi, knocking him down. But she did not stay to do any +more. Wailing terribly, she rushed down the gulley and through the +arch, followed by a few of the surviving baboons, and vanished from our +sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. +WHAT HAPPENED TO STELLA + + +The fight was over. In all we had lost seven men killed, and several +more severely bitten, while but few had escaped without some tokens +whereby he might remember what a baboon’s teeth and claws are like. How +many of the brutes we killed I never knew, because we did not count, +but it was a vast number. I should think that the stock must have been +low about Babyan’s Peak for many years afterwards. From that day to +this, however, I have always avoided baboons, feeling more afraid of +them than any beast that lives. + +The path was clear, and we rushed forward along the water-course. But +first we picked up little Tota. The child was not in a swoon, as I had +thought, but paralyzed by terror, so that she could scarcely speak. +Otherwise she was unhurt, though it took her many a week to recover her +nerve. Had she been older, and had she not remembered Hendrika, I doubt +if she would have recovered it. She knew me again, and flung her little +arms about my neck, clinging to me so closely that I did not dare to +give her to any one else to carry lest I should add to her terrors. So +I went on with her in my arms. The fears that pierced my heart may well +be imagined. Should I find Stella living or dead? Should I find her at +all? Well, we should soon know now. We stumbled on up the stony +watercourse; notwithstanding the weight of Tota I led the way, for +suspense lent me wings. Now we were through, and an extraordinary scene +lay before us. We were in a great natural amphitheatre, only it was +three times the size of any amphitheatre ever shaped by man, and the +walls were formed of precipitous cliffs, ranging from one to two +hundred feet in height. For the rest, the space thus enclosed was +level, studded with park-like trees, brilliant with flowers, and having +a stream running through the centre of it, that, as I afterwards +discovered, welled up from the ground at the head of the open space. + +We spread ourselves out in a line, searching everywhere, for Tota was +too overcome to be able to tell us where Stella was hidden away. For +nearly half an hour we searched and searched, scanning the walls of +rock for any possible openings to a cave. In vain, we could find none. +I applied to old Indaba-zimbi, but his foresight was at fault here. All +he could say was that this was the place, and that the “Star” was +hidden somewhere in a cave, but where the cave was he could not tell. +At last we came to the top of the amphitheatre. There before us was a +wall of rock, of which the lower parts were here and there clothed in +grasses, lichens, and creepers. I walked along it, calling at the top +of my voice. + +Presently my heart stood still, for I thought I heard a faint answer. I +drew nearer to the place from which the sound seemed to come, and again +called. Yes, there was an answer in my wife’s voice. It seemed to come +from the rock. I went up to it and searched among the creepers, but +still could find no opening. + +“Move the stone,” cried Stella’s voice, “the cave is shut with a +stone.” + +I took a spear and prodded at the cliff whence the sound came. Suddenly +the spear sunk in through a mass of lichen. I swept the lichen aside, +revealing a boulder that had been rolled into the mouth of an opening +in the rock, which it fitted so accurately that, covered as it was by +the overhanging lichen, it might well have escaped the keenest eye. We +dragged the boulder out; it was two men’s work to do it. Beyond was a +narrow, water-worn passage, which I followed with a beating heart. +Presently the passage opened into a small cave, shaped like a pickle +bottle, and coming to a neck at the top end. We passed through and +found ourselves in a second, much larger cave, that I at once +recognized as the one of which Indaba-zimbi had shown me a vision in +the water. Light reached it from above—how I know not—and by it I could +see a form half-sitting, half lying on some skins at the top end of the +cave. I rushed to it. It was Stella! Stella bound with strips of hide, +bruised, torn, but still Stella, and alive. + +She saw me, she gave one cry, then, as I caught her in my arms, she +fainted. It was happy indeed that she did not faint before, for had it +not been for the sound of her voice I do not believe we should ever +have found that cunningly hidden cave, unless, indeed, Indaba-zimbi’s +magic (on which be blessings) had come to our assistance. + +We bore her to the open air, laid her beneath the shade of a tree, and +cut the bonds loose from her ankles. As we went I glanced at the cave. +It was exactly as I had seen it in the vision. There burnt the fire, +there were the rude wooden vessels, one of them still half full of the +water which I had seen the baboon bring. I felt awed as I looked, and +marvelled at the power wielded by a savage who could not even read and +write. + +Now I could see Stella clearly. Her face was scratched, and haggard +with fear and weeping, her clothes were almost torn off her, and her +beautiful hair was loose and tangled. I sent for water, and we +sprinkled her face. Then I forced a little of the brandy which we +distilled from peaches at the kraals between her lips, and she opened +her eyes, and throwing her arms about me clung to me as little Tota had +done, sobbing, “Thank God! thank God!” + +After a while she grew quieter, and I made her and Tota eat some food +from the store that we had brought with us. I too ate and was thankful, +for with the exception of the mealie cobs I had tasted nothing for +nearly four-and-twenty hours. Then she washed her face and hands, and +tidied her rags of dress as well as she was able. As she did so by +degrees I drew her story from her. + +It seemed that on the previous afternoon, being wearied with packing, +she went out to visit her father’s grave, taking Tota with her, and was +followed there by the two dogs. She wished to lay some flowers on the +grave and take farewell of the dust it covered, for as we had expected +to trek early on the morrow she did not know if she would find a later +opportunity. They passed up the garden, and gathering some flowers from +the orange trees and elsewhere, went on to the little graveyard. Here +she laid them on the grave as we had found them, and then sitting down, +fell into a deep and sad reverie, such as the occasion would naturally +induce. While she sat thus, Tota, who was a lively child and active as +a kitten, strayed away without Stella observing it. With her went the +dogs, who also had grown tired of inaction; a while passed, and +suddenly she heard the dogs barking furiously about a hundred and fifty +yards away. Then she heard Tota scream, and the dogs also yelling with +fear and pain. She rose and ran as swiftly as she could towards the +spot whence the sound came. Presently she was there. Before her in the +glade, holding the screaming Tota in her arms, was a figure in which, +notwithstanding the rough disguise of baboon skins and colouring +matter, she had no difficulty in recognizing Hendrika, and all about +her were numbers of baboons, rolling over and over in two hideous +heaps, of which the centres were the unfortunate dogs now in process of +being rent to fragments. + +“Hendrika,” Stella cried, “what does this mean? What are you doing with +Tota and those brutes?” + +The woman heard her and looked up. Then Stella saw that she was mad; +madness stared from her eyes. She dropped the child, which instantly +flew to Stella for protection. Stella clasped it, only to be herself +clasped by Hendrika. She struggled fiercely, but it was of no use—the +Babyan-frau had the strength of ten. She lifted her and Tota as though +they were nothing, and ran off with them, following the bed of the +stream in order to avoid leaving a spoor. Only the baboons who came +with her, minus the one the dogs had killed, would not take to the +water, but kept pace with them on the bank. + +Stella said that the night which followed was more like a hideous +nightmare than a reality. She was never able to tell me all that +occurred in it. She had a vague recollection of being borne over rocks +and along kloofs, while around her echoed the horrible grunts and +clicks of the baboons. She spoke to Hendrika in English and Kaffir, +imploring her to let them go; but the woman, if I may call her so, +seemed in her madness to have entirely forgotten these tongues. When +Stella spoke she would kiss her and stroke her hair, but she did not +seem to understand what it was she said. On the other hand, she could, +and did, talk to the baboons, that seemed to obey her implicitly. +Moreover, she would not allow them to touch either Stella or the child +in her arms. Once one of them tried to do so, and she seized a dead +stick and struck it so heavily on the head that it fell senseless. +Thrice Stella made an attempt to escape, for sometimes even Hendrika’s +giant strength waned and she had to set them down. But on each occasion +she caught them, and it was in these struggles that Stella’s clothes +were so torn. At length before daylight they reached the cliff, and +with the first break of light the ascent began. Hendrika dragged them +up the first stages, but when they came to the precipitous place she +tied the strips of hide, of which she had a supply wound round her +waist, beneath Stella’s arms. Steep as the place was the baboons +ascended it easily enough, springing from a knob of rock to the trunk +of the tree that grew on the edge of the crevasse. Hendrika followed +them, holding the end of the hide reim in her teeth, one of the baboons +hanging down from the tree to assist her ascent. It was while she was +ascending that Stella bethought of letting fall her handkerchief in the +faint hope that some searcher might see it. + +By this time Hendrika was on the tree, and grunting out orders to the +baboons which clustered about Stella below. Suddenly these seized her +and little Tota who was in her arms, and lifted her from the ground. +Then Hendrika above, aided by other baboons, put out all her great +strength and pulled the two of them up the rock. Twice Stella swung +heavily against the cliff. After the second blow she felt her senses +going, and was consumed with terror lest she should drop Tota. But she +managed to cling to her, and together they reached the cleft. + +“From that time,” Stella went on, “I remember no more till I woke to +find myself in a gloomy cave resting on a bed of skins. My legs were +bound, and Hendrika sat near me watching me, while round the edge of +the cave peered the heads of those horrible baboons. Tota was still in +my arms, and half dead from terror; her moans were pitiful to hear. I +spoke to Hendrika, imploring her to release us; but either she has lost +all understanding of human speech, or she pretends to have done so. All +she would do was to caress me, and even kiss my hands and dress with +extravagant signs of affection. As she did so, Tota shrunk closer to +me. This Hendrika saw and glared so savagely at the child that I feared +lest she was going to kill her. I diverted her attention by making +signs that I wanted water, and this she gave me in a wooden bowl. As +you saw, the cave was evidently Hendrika’s dwelling-place. There are +stores of fruit in it and some strips of dried flesh. She gave me some +of the fruit and Tota a little, and I made Tota eat some. You can never +know what I went through, Allan. I saw now that Hendrika was quite mad, +and but little removed from the brutes to which she is akin, and over +which she has such unholy power. The only trace of humanity left about +her was her affection for me. Evidently her idea was to keep me here +with her, to keep me away from you, and to carry out this idea she was +capable of the exercise of every artifice and cunning. In this way she +was sane enough, but in every other way she was mad. Moreover, she had +not forgotten her horrible jealousy. Already I saw her glaring at Tota, +and knew that the child’s murder was only a matter of time. Probably +within a few hours she would be killed before my eyes. Of escape, even +if I had the strength, there was absolutely no chance, and little +enough of our ever being found. No, we should be kept here guarded by a +mad thing, half ape, half woman, till we perished miserably. Then I +thought of you, dear, and of all that you must be suffering, and my +heart nearly broke. I could only pray to God that I might either be +rescued or die swiftly. + +“As I prayed I dropped into a kind of doze from utter weariness, and +then I had the strangest dream. I dreamed that Indaba-zimbi stood over +me nodding his white lock, and spoke to me in Kaffir, telling me not to +be frightened, for you would soon be with me, and that meanwhile I must +humour Hendrika, pretending to be pleased to have her near me. The +dream was so vivid that I actually seemed to see and hear him, as I see +and hear him now.” + +Here I looked up and glanced at old Indaba-zimbi, who was sitting near. +But it was not till afterwards that I told Stella of how her vision was +brought about. + +“At any rate,” she went on, “when I awoke I determined to act on my +dream. I took Hendrika’s hand, and pressed it. She actually laughed in +a wild kind of way with happiness, and laid her head upon my knee. Then +I made signs that I wanted food, and she threw wood on the fire, which +I forgot to tell you was burning in the cave, and began to make some of +the broth that she used to cook very well, and she did not seem to have +forgotten all about it. At any rate the broth was not bad, though +neither Tota nor I could drink much of it. Fright and weariness had +taken away our appetites. + +“After the meal was done—and I prolonged it as much as possible—I saw +Hendrika was beginning to get jealous of Tota again. She glared at her +and then at the big knife which was tied round her own body. I knew the +knife again, it was the one with which she had tried to murder you, +dear. At last she went so far as to draw the knife. I was paralyzed +with fear, then suddenly I remembered that when she was our servant, +and used to get out of temper and sulk, I could always calm her by +singing to her. So I began to sing hymns. Instantly she forgot her +jealousy and put the knife back into its sheath. She knew the sound of +the singing, and sat listening to it with a rapt face; the baboons, +too, crowded in at the entrance of the cave to listen. I must have sung +for an hour or more, all the hymns that I could remember. It was so +very strange and dreadful sitting there singing to mad Hendrika and +those hideous man-like apes that shut their eyes and nodded their great +heads as I sang. It was a horrible nightmare; but I believe that the +baboons are almost as human as the Bushmen. + +“Well, this went on for a long time till my voice was getting +exhausted. Then suddenly I heard the baboons outside raise a loud +noise, as they do when they are angry. Then, dear, I heard the boom of +your elephant gun, and I think it was the sweetest sound that ever came +to my ears. Hendrika heard it too. She sprang up, stood for a moment, +then, to my horror, swept Tota into her arms and rushed down the cave. +Of course I could not stir to follow her, for my feet were tied. Next +instant I heard the sound of a rock being moved, and presently the +lessening of the light in the cave told me that I was shut in. Now the +sound even of the elephant gun only reached me very faintly, and +presently I could hear nothing more, straining my ears as I would. + +“At last I heard a faint shouting that reached me through the wall of +rock. I answered as loud as I could. You know the rest; and oh, my dear +husband, thank God! thank God!” and she fell weeping into my arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. +FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER + + +Both Stella and Tota were too weary to be moved, so we camped that +night in the baboons’ home, but were troubled by no baboons. Stella +would not sleep in the cave; she said the place terrified her, so I +made her up a kind of bed under a thorn-tree. As this rock-bound valley +was one of the hottest places I ever was in, I thought that this would +not matter; but when at sunrise on the following morning I saw a veil +of miasmatic mist hanging over the surface of the ground, I changed my +opinion. However, neither Stella nor Tota seemed the worse, so as soon +as was practical we started homewards. I had already on the previous +day sent some of the men back to the kraals to fetch a ladder, and when +we reached the cliff we found them waiting for us beneath. With the +help of the ladder the descent was easy. Stella simply got out of her +rough litter at the top of the cliff, for we found it necessary to +carry her, climbed down the ladder, and got into it again at the +bottom. + +Well, we reached the kraals safely enough, seeing nothing more of +Hendrika, and, were this a story, doubtless I should end it here +with—“and lived happily ever after.” But alas! it is not so. How am I +to write it? + +My dearest wife’s vital energy seemed completely to fail her now that +the danger was past, and within twelve hours of our return I saw that +her state was such as to necessitate the abandonment of any idea of +leaving Babyan Kraals at present. The bodily exertion, the anguish of +mind, and the terror which she had endured during that dreadful night, +combined with her delicate state of health, had completely broken her +down. To make matters worse, also, she was taken with an attack of +fever, contracted no doubt in the unhealthy atmosphere of that accursed +valley. In time she shook the fever off, but it left her dreadfully +weak, and quite unfit to face the trial before her. + +I think she knew that she was going to die; she always spoke of my +future, never of _our_ future. It is impossible for me to tell how +sweet she was; how gentle, how patient and resigned. Nor, indeed, do I +wish to tell it, it is too sad. But this I will say, I believe that if +ever a woman drew near to perfection while yet living on the earth, +Stella Quatermain did so. + +The fatal hour drew on. My boy Harry was born, and his mother lived to +kiss and bless him. Then she sank. We did what we could, but we had +little skill, and might not hold her back from death. All through one +weary night I watched her with a breaking heart. + +The dawn came, the sun rose in the east. His rays falling on the peak +behind were reflected in glory upon the bosom of the western sky. +Stella awoke from her swoon and saw the light. She whispered to me to +open the door of the hut. I did so, and she fixed her dying eyes on the +splendour of the morning sky. She looked on me and smiled as an angel +might smile. Then with a last effort she lifted her hand, and, pointing +to the radiant heavens, whispered: + +“_There, Allan, there!_” + +It was done, and I was broken-hearted, and broken-hearted I must wander +to the end. Those who have endured my loss will know my sorrow; it +cannot be written. In such peace and at such an hour may I also die! + +Yes, it is a sad story, but wander where we will about the world we can +never go beyond the sound of the passing bell. For me, as for my father +before me, and for the millions who have been and who shall be, there +is but one word of comfort. “The Lord hath given, and the Lord hath +taken away.” Let us, then, bow our heads in hope, and add with a humble +heart, “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” + +I buried her by her father’s side, and the weeping of the people who +had loved her went up to heaven. Even Indaba-zimbi wept, but I could +weep no more. + +On the second night from her burial I could not sleep. I rose, dressed +myself, and went out into the night. The moon was shining brightly, and +by its rays I shaped my course towards the graveyard. I drew near +silently, and as I came I thought that I heard a sound of moaning on +the further side of the wall. I looked over it. Crouched by Stella’s +grave, and tearing at its sods with her hands, as though she would +unearth that which lay within, was _Hendrika_. Her face was wild and +haggard, her form was so emaciated that when the pelts she wore slipped +aside, the shoulder-blades seemed to project almost through her skin. +Suddenly she looked up and saw me. Laughing a dreadful maniac laugh, +she put her hand to her girdle and drew her great knife from it. I +thought that she was about to attack me, and prepared to defend myself +as I best could, for I was unarmed. But she made no effort to do so. +Lifting the knife on high, for a moment she held it glittering in the +moonlight, then plunged it into her own breast, and fell headlong to +the ground. + +I sprang over the wall and ran to her. She was not yet dead. Presently +she opened her eyes, and I saw that the madness had gone out of them. + +“Macumazahn,” she said, speaking in English and in a thick difficult +voice like one who half forgot and half remembered—“Macumazahn, I +remember now. I have been mad. Is she really dead, Macumazahn?” + +“Yes,” I said, “she is dead, and you killed her.” + +“I killed her!” the dying woman faltered, “and I loved her. Yes, yes, I +know now. I became a brute again and dragged her to the brutes, and now +once more I am a woman, and she is dead, and I killed her—because I +loved her so. I killed her who saved me from the brutes. I am not dead +yet, Macumazahn. Take me and torture me to death, slowly, very slowly. +It was jealousy of you that drove me mad, and I have killed her, and +now she never can forgive me.” + +“Ask forgiveness from above,” I said, for Hendrika had been a +Christian, and the torment of her remorse touched me. + +“I ask no forgiveness,” she said. “May God torture me for ever, because +I killed her; may I become a brute for ever till she comes to find me +and forgives me! I only want her forgiveness.” And wailing in an +anguish of the heart so strong that her bodily suffering seemed to be +forgotten, Hendrika, the Baboon-woman, died. + +I went back to the kraals, and, waking Indaba-zimbi, told him what had +happened, asking him to send some one to watch the body, as I proposed +to give it burial. But next morning it was gone, and I found that the +natives, hearing of the event, had taken the corpse and thrown it to +the vultures with every mark of hate. Such, then, was the end of +Hendrika. + +A week after Hendrika’s death I left Babyan Kraals. The place was +hateful to me now; it was a haunted place. I sent for old Indaba-zimbi +and told him that I was going. He answered that it was well. “The place +has served your turn,” he said; “here you have won that joy which it +was fated you should win, and have suffered those things that it was +fated you should suffer. Yes, and though you know it not now, the joy +and the suffering, like the sunshine and the storm, are the same thing, +and will rest at last in the same heaven, the heaven from which they +came. Now go, Macumazahn.” + +I asked him if he was coming with me. + +“No,” he answered, “our paths lie apart henceforth, Macumazahn. We met +together for certain ends. Those ends are fulfilled. Now each one goes +his own way. You have still many years before you, Macumazahn; my years +are few. When we shake hands here it will be for the last time. Perhaps +we may meet again, but it will not be in this world. Henceforth we have +each of us a friend the less.” + +“Heavy words,” I said. + +“True words,” he answered. + +Well, I have little heart to write the rest of it. I went, leaving +Indaba-zimbi in charge of the place, and making him a present of such +cattle and goods as I did not want. + +Tota, I of course took with me. Fortunately by this time she had almost +recovered the shock to her nerves. The baby Harry, as he was afterwards +named, was a fine healthy child, and I was lucky in getting a +respectable native woman, whose husband had been killed in the fight +with the baboons, to accompany me as his nurse. + +Slowly, and followed for a distance by all the people, I trekked away +from Babyan Kraals. My route towards Natal was along the edge of the +Bad Lands, and my first night’s outspan was beneath that very tree +where Stella, my lost wife, had found us as we lay dying of thirst. + +I did not sleep much that night. And yet I was glad that I had not died +in the desert about eleven months before. I felt then, as from year to +year I have continued to feel while I wander through the lonely +wilderness of life, that I had been preserved to an end. I had won my +darling’s love, and for a little while we had been happy together. Our +happiness was too perfect to endure. She is lost to me now, but she is +lost to be found again. + +Here on the following morning I bade farewell to Indaba-zimbi. + +“Good-bye, Macumazahn,” he said, nodding his white lock at me. +“Good-bye for a while. I am not a Christian; your father could not make +me that. But he was a wise man, and when he said that those who loved +each other shall meet again, he did not lie. And I too am a wise man in +my way, Macumazahn, and I say it is true that we shall meet again. All +my prophecies to you have come true, Macumazahn, and this one shall +come true also. I tell you that you shall return to Babyan Kraals and +shall not find me. I tell you that you shall journey to a further land +than Babyan Kraals and shall find me. Farewell!” and he took a pinch of +snuff, turned, and went. + +Of my journey down to Natal there is little to tell. I met with many +adventures, but they were of an every-day kind, and in the end arrived +safely at Port Durban, which I now visited for the first time. Both +Tota and my baby boy bore the journey well. And here I may as well +chronicle the destiny of Tota. For a year she remained under my charge. +Then she was adopted by a lady, the wife of an English colonel, who was +stationed at the Cape. She was taken by her adopted parents to England, +where she grew up a very charming and pretty girl, and ultimately +married a clergyman in Norfolk. But I never saw her again, though we +often wrote to each other. + +Before I returned to the country of my birth, she too had been gathered +to the land of shadows, leaving three children behind her. Ah me! all +this took place so long ago, when I was young who now am old. + +Perhaps it may interest the reader to know the fate of Mr. Carson’s +property, which should of course have gone to his grandson Harry. I +wrote to England to claim the estate on his behalf, but the lawyer to +whom the matter was submitted said that my marriage to Stella, not +having been celebrated by an ordained priest, was not legal according +to English law, and therefore Harry could not inherit. Foolishly enough +I acquiesced in this, and the property passed to a cousin of my +father-in-law’s; but since I have come to live in England I have been +informed that this opinion is open to great suspicion, and that there +is every probability that the courts would have declared the marriage +perfectly binding as having been solemnly entered into in accordance +with the custom of the place where it was contracted. But I am now so +rich that it is not worth while to move in the matter. The cousin is +dead, his son is in possession, so let him keep it. + +Once, and once only, did I revisit Babyan Kraals. Some fifteen years +after my darling’s death, when I was a man in middle life, I undertook +an expedition to the Zambesi, and one night outspanned at the mouth of +the well-known valley beneath the shadow of the great peak. I mounted +my horse, and, quite alone, rode up the valley, noticing with a strange +prescience of evil that the road was overgrown, and, save for the music +of the waterfalls, the place silent as death. The kraals that used to +be to the left of the road by the river had vanished. I rode towards +their site; the mealie fields were choked with weeds, the paths were +dumb with grass. Presently I reached the place. There, overgrown with +grass, were the burnt ashes of the kraals, and there among the ashes, +gleaming in the moonlight, lay the white bones of men. Now it was clear +to me. The settlement had been fallen on by some powerful foe, and its +inhabitants put to the assegai. The forebodings of the natives had come +true; Babyan Kraals were peopled by memories alone. + +I passed on up the terraces. There shone the roofs of the marble huts. +They would not burn, and were too strong to be easily pulled down. I +entered one of them—it had been our sleeping hut—and lit a candle which +I had with me. The huts had been sacked; leaves of books and broken +mouldering fragments of the familiar furniture lay about. Then I +remembered that there was a secret place hollowed in the floor and +concealed by a stone, where Stella used to hide her little treasures. I +went to the stone and dragged it up. There was something within wrapped +in rotting native cloth. I undid it. It was the dress my wife had been +married in. In the centre of the dress were the withered wreath and +flowers she had worn, and with them a little paper packet. I opened it; +it contained a lock of my own hair! + +I remembered then that I had searched for this dress when I came away +and could not find it, for I had forgotten the secret recess in the +floor. + +Taking the dress with me, I left the hut for the last time. Leaving my +horse tied to a tree, I walked to the graveyard, through the ruined +garden. There it was a mass of weeds, but over my darling’s grave grew +a self-sown orange bush, of which the scented petals fell in showers on +to the mound beneath. As I drew near, there was a crash and a rush. A +great baboon leapt from the centre of the graveyard and vanished into +the trees. I could almost believe that it was the wraith of Hendrika +doomed to keep an eternal watch over the bones of the woman her jealous +rage had done to death. + +I tarried there a while, filled with such thoughts as may not be +written. Then, leaving my dead wife to her long sleep where the waters +fall in melancholy music beneath the shadow of the everlasting +mountain, I turned and sought that spot where first we had told our +love. Now the orange grove was nothing but a tangled thicket; many of +the trees were dead, choked with creepers, but some still flourished. +There stood the one beneath which we had lingered, there was the rock +that had been our seat, and there on the rock sat the wraith of +_Stella_, the Stella whom I had wed! Ay! there she sat, and on her +upturned face was that same spiritual look which I saw upon it in the +hour when we first had kissed. The moonlight shone in her dark eyes, +the breeze wavered in her curling hair, her breast rose and fell, a +gentle smile played about her parted lips. I stood transfixed with awe +and joy, gazing on that lost loveliness which once was mine. I could +not speak, and she spoke no word; she did not even seem to see me. Now +her eyes fell. For a moment they met mine, and their message entered +into me. + +Then she was gone. She was gone; nothing was left but the tremulous +moonlight falling where she had been, the melancholy music of the +waters, the shadow of the everlasting mountain, and, in my heart, the +sorrow and the hope. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALLAN’S WIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 2727-0.txt or 2727-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/2/2727/ + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the +person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph +1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the +Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work +on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and + most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no + restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it + under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this + eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the + United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where + you are located before using this eBook. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format +other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain +Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +provided that: + +* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation." + +* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm + works. + +* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + +* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at +www.gutenberg.org + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without +widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular +state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + |