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diff --git a/38168-h/38168-h.htm b/38168-h/38168-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1941352 --- /dev/null +++ b/38168-h/38168-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9872 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of From Veldt Camp Fires, by H.A. Bryden</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of From Veldt Camp Fires, by H.A. Bryden</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: From Veldt Camp Fires<br /> + Stories of Southern Africa</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: H.A. Bryden</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 29, 2011 [eBook #38168]<br /> +[Most recently updated: January 19, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Nick Hodson</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM VELDT CAMP FIRES ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>From Veldt Camp Fires</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by H.A. Bryden</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">Chapter 1. A Secret of the Orange River.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">Chapter 2. The Story of a Tusk.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">Chapter 3. Jan Prinsloo’s Kloof.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">Chapter 4. The Bushman’s Fortune.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">Chapter 5. The Conquest of Christina De Klerk.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">Chapter 6. A Christmas in the Veldt.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">Chapter 7. Their Last Trek.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">Chapter 8. The Luck of Tobias De La Rey.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">Chapter 9. The Mahalapsi Diamond.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">Chapter 10. A Tragedy of the Veldt.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">Chapter 11. Queen’s Service.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">Chapter 12. A Transvaal Morning.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">Chapter 13. The Mystery of Hartebeest Fontein.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">Chapter 14. Charlie Thirlmere’s Lion.</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>Chapter One.<br/> +A Secret of the Orange River.</h2> + +<p> +Many are the stories told at the outspan fires of the South African transport +riders—some weird, some romantic, some of native wars, some of fierce +encounters with the wild beasts of the land. Often have we stopped for a chat +with the rugged transport riders, and some strange and interesting information +is obtained in this way. +</p> + +<p> +The transport rider—the carrier of Africa—with his stout waggon and +span of oxen, travels, year after year, over the rough roads of Cape Colony and +beyond, in all directions, and is constantly encountering all sorts and +conditions of men—white, black and off-coloured; and in his wanderings, +or over his evening camp fire, he picks up great store of legend and adventure +from the passing hunters, explorers and traders. +</p> + +<p> +One night, after a day’s journey through the bush-veldt, we lay at a +farmhouse, near which was a public outspan. At this outspan two transport +riders were sitting snugly over their evening meal; they seemed a couple of +cheery, good fellows—one an English Afrikander, the other an Englishman, +an old University man, and well-read, as we afterwards discovered—and +nothing would suit them but that we should join them and take pot-luck. +Attracted by their hospitable ways and the enticing smell of their game stow, +for we were none of us anthobians, we sat us down and ate and drank with +vigorous appetites. Their camp-pot contained the best part of a tender +steinbok, and a brace or two of pheasants (francolins); and we heartily enjoyed +the meal, washed down with the inevitable coffee. +</p> + +<p> +Supper finished, some good old Cango (the best home-manufactured brandy of the +Cape, made in the Oudtshoorn district) was produced, pipes were lighted, and +then we began to “yarn.” For an hour or more we talked upon a +variety of topics—old days in England, the voyage to the Cape, the +Colony, its prospects and its sport. +</p> + +<p> +From these, our conversation wandered up-country, and we soon found that our +acquaintances were old interior traders, who in the days when ivory and +feathers were more plentiful and more accessible than now, had over and over +again made the journey to ’Mangwato and back. ’Mangwato, it may be +explained, is the trader’s abbreviation for Bamangwato, Khama’s +country, the most northerly of the Bechuana States; and of Bamangwato, Shoshong +was formerly the capital and seat of trade. Then we wandered in our talk to the +Kalahari, that mysterious and little known desert land, and from the Kalahari +back to the Orange River again. +</p> + +<p> +“’Tis strange,” said one of our number, “how little is +known of the Orange River—at all events west of the falls; I don’t +think I ever met a man who had been down it. One would think the colonists +would know something of their northern boundary; as a matter of fact they +don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! talking of the Orange River, reminds me,” said the younger of +the transport riders, the ex-Oxonian, and the more loquacious of the two, +“of a most extraordinary yarn I heard from a man I fell in with some +years back, stranded in the ‘thirstland,’ north-west of Shoshong. +Poor chap! he was in a sorry plight; he was an English gentleman, who for years +had, from sheer love of sport and a wild life, been hunting big game in the +interior. That season he had stayed too late on the Chobi River, near where it +runs into the Zambesi, and with most of his people had got fever badly. They +had had a disastrous trek out, losing most of their oxen and all their horses, +and when I came across them they were stuck fast in the doorst-land +(thirstland) unable to move forward or back. For two and a half days they had +been without water, and from being in bad health to begin with, hadn’t +half a chance; and, if I had not stumbled upon them, they must all have been +dead within fifteen hours. I had luckily some water in my vatjes, and managed +to pull them round, and that night, leaving their waggon in the desert in hopes +of being saved subsequently, and taking as much of the ivory and valuables as +we could manage and Mowbray’s (the Englishman’s) guns and +ammunition, we made a good trek, and reached water on the afternoon of the next +day. I never saw a man so grateful as Mowbray; I believe he would have done +anything in the world for me after he had pulled round a bit. Poor chap! during +the short time I knew him I found him one of the best fellows and most +delightful companions I ever met. Unlike most hunters, he had read much and +could talk well upon almost any subject, and his stories of life and adventure +in the far interior interested and impressed me wonderfully. But the Zambesi +fever had got too strong a hold upon him. I dosed him with quinine and pulled +him together till we got to Shoshong, where I wanted him to rest, but he seemed +restless and anxious to get out into the open veldt again, and after a few days +we started away. Before we had got half-way down to Griqualand, Mowbray grew +suddenly worse and died one evening in my waggon just at sunset. We buried him +under a kameel doom tree, covering the grave with heavy stones, and fencing it +strongly with thorns to keep away the jackals and hyenas. +</p> + +<p> +“Many and many a talk I had with poor Mowbray before he died; sometimes +he would brighten up wonderfully and insist on talking to me for hours, as he +lay well wrapped up, in the evening, underneath my waggon sail. One evening, in +particular, he had seemed so much stronger and better, and, later on, as we sat +before the camp fire on the dewless ground, where I had propped him up and made +him comfortable, he told me a most strange story, a story so wonderful that +most people would scout and laugh at it as wildly improbable; yet, remembering +well the narrator and the circumstances under which he told it to me, with the +shadow of death creeping over the short remaining vista of his life, I believe +most firmly his story to be true as gospel. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor chap! He began in this way: ‘Felton, you have been a +thundering kind friend to me, kind and tender as any woman (which, by the way, +was all nonsense), and I feel I owe you more than I am ever likely to repay; +yet, if you want wealth, I believe I can put it in your way. Do you know the +northern bank of the Orange River, between the great falls and the sea? No! I +don’t suppose you do, for very few people have ever trekked down it; +still fewer have ever got down to the water from the great walls of desolate +and precipitous mountain that environ its course, and, except myself and two +others, neither of whom can ever reveal its whereabouts, I believe no mortal +soul upon this earth has ever set eyes upon the place I am going to tell you +about. Listen! +</p> + +<p> +“In 1871, about the time the diamond fields were discovered, and people +began to flock to Griqualand West, I was rather bitten with the mania, and for +some months worked like a nigger on the fields; during that time I got to know +a good deal about stones. I soon tired of the life, however, and finally sold +my claim and what diamonds I had acquired, fitted up a waggon, gathered +together some native servants, and trekked again for those glorious hunting +grounds of the interior, glad enough to resume my old and ever-charming life. +Amongst my servants was a little Bushman, Klaas by name, whom I afterwards +found a perfect treasure at spooring and hunting. Like all true Bushmen, he was +dauntless as a wounded lion, and determined as a rhinoceros, which is saying a +good deal. I suppose Klaas had had more varied experience of South African life +than any native I ever met. Originally, he had come as a child from the borders +of the Orange River, where he had been taken prisoner in a Boer foray, in which +nearly all his relations were shot down. He had then been +‘apprenticed’ in the family of one of his captors, where he had +acquired a certain knowledge of semi-civilised life. From the Boer family of +the back-country, he had subsequently drifted farther down into the colony, and +thence into an elephant hunter’s retinue. He had accompanied expeditions +with Griquas, Dutch and Englishmen all over the far interior. The Kalahari +desert, Ovampo-land, Lake Ngami, the Mababi veldt, and the Zambesi country, +were all well known to him, for in all of them he had traded, hunted and, on +occasion, fought. As for the Western Orange River and its mysteries—for +it is a mysterious region—he knew it, as I afterwards discovered, better +than any man in the world. Well, we trekked up to Matabeleland and, after some +trouble, got permission to hunt there; and a fine time we had, getting a +quantity of ivory, and magnificent sport among lions, elephants, buffaloes, +rhinoceros, sable and roan antelopes, koodoo, eland, Burchell’s zebras, +pallah and all manner of smaller game. +</p> + +<p> +“One day, Klaas, who was sometimes a bit too venturesome, got caught in +the open by a black rhinoceros, a savage old bull. The old brute charged and +slightly tossed him, making a nasty gash in his right thigh, but not fairly +getting his horn under him, and was just turning to finish the poor little, +beggar, when I luckily nicked in. I had seen the business and had had time to +rush out on to the plain, and, just as Borele charged at poor Klaas to finish +him off as he lay, I got up within forty yards, let drive, and, as luck would +have it, dropped him with a 500 Express bullet behind the shoulder. Even then +the fierce brute recovered himself and tried to charge me in turn, but he was +now disabled and I soon settled his game. After that episode Klaas proved +himself about the only grateful native I ever heard of, and seemed as if he +couldn’t do enough for me. +</p> + +<p> +“One day, after he had got over his wound, he came to me, and said, +‘Sieur! you said one day that you would like to know whether there are +diamonds anywhere else than at New Rush (as Kimberley was then called). Well, +sieur, I have been working at New Rush and I know what diamonds are like; and I +can tell you where you can find as many of them in a week’s search as you +may like to pick up. Allemaghte! Ja, it is as true, sieur, as a wilde honde on +a hartebeest’s spoor.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘What the devil do you mean, Klaas!’ said I, turning sharply +round—for I was mending the disselboom (waggon-pole)—to see if the +Bushman was joking. But on the contrary, Klaas’s little weazened monkey +face wore an expression perfectly serious and apparently truthful. The +statement seemed strange, for I knew the little beggar was not given to +‘blowing,’ as so many of the Kaffirs and Totties are. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ja, sieur, it is truth; if ye will so trek with me to the Groote +(Orange) River, three or four days beyond the falls, I will show you a place +where there are hundreds and hundreds of diamonds, big ones, too, many of them +to be found lying about in the gravel. I have played with them and with other +“mooi steins” too, often and often as a boy, when I used to poke +about here and there, up and down the Groote River. My father and grandfather +lived near the place I speak of, and I know the way to the “vallei” +where these diamonds are well, though no one but myself knows of them; for I +found them by a chance, and, selfish like, never told of my child’s +secret. I will take you to the place if you like.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Are you really speaking truth, Klaas?’ said I severely. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ja! Ja! sieur, I am, I am,’ he earnestly and vehemently +reiterated, ‘you saved my life from the “rhenoster” the other +day, and I don’t forget it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Again and again I questioned and cross-questioned the little Bushman, +and finally convinced myself of his truth; and I had too much respect for his +keen intelligence to think he was himself misled or mistaken. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well, Klaas,’ said I at last, ‘I believe you, and +we’ll trek down to the Orange River and see this wonderful diamond valley +of yours.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Shortly after this conversation we came back to Shoshong, where I sold +my ivory, and then, with empty waggon and the oxen refreshed by a good rest, +set our faces for the river. From Shoshong, in Bamangwato, we trekked straight +away across the south-eastern corner of the Kalahari, in an oblique direction, +pointing south-west; it was a frightfully waterless and tedious journey, +especially after passing the Langeberg, which we kept on our left hand. Towards +the end of the journey we found no water at a fountain where we had expected to +obtain it, and thereby lost four out of twenty-two oxen (for I had six spare +ones), and at last, after trekking over a burning and most broken country, we +were beyond measure thankful to strike the river some way below the great +falls. Klaas had led us to a most beautiful spot, where the terrain slopes +gradually to the river (the only place for perhaps thirty or forty miles where +the water, shut in by mighty mountain walls, can be approached), and where we +could rest and refresh ourselves and our oxen. Here we stopped four days. It +was a lovely spot; down the banks of the river, and following its course, grew +charming avenues of willows, kameel dooms (acacias) and bastard ebony; two or +three islands, densely clothed with bush and greenery, dotted the broad and +shining bosom of the mighty stream; hippopotami wallowed quietly in the flood, +and fish were plentiful. The thorny acacia was now in full bloom, and the sweet +fragrance of its yellow flowers everywhere perfumed the air as one strolled by +the river’s brim. Rare cranes, flamingoes, gorgeous kingfishers and many +handsome geese, ducks and other water-fowl, lent life and charm to this sweet +and favoured oasis. +</p> + +<p> +“I had some old scraps of fishing tackle with me, and having cut myself a +rod from a willow tree, I employed some of my spare time in catching fish, and +had, for South Africa—which, as you know, is not a great angling +country—capital sport. The fish I captured were a kind of flat-headed +barbel, fellows with dark greenish-olive backs and white bellies, and I caught +them with scraps of meat, bees, grasshoppers, anything I could get hold of, as +fast as I could pull them out, for an hour or two at a time. Once I ran clean +out of bait, and was nonplussed; however, I turned over a stone or two, killed +a couple of scorpions, carefully cut off their stings, and used them as bait, +and the fish came at them absolutely like tigers. I soon caught some thirty +pounds weight of fish whenever I went out. The mountains rose here and there +around in magnificently serrated peaks, and the whole place, whichever way you +looked, was superbly beautiful. There was a fair quantity of game about; Klaas +shot some klipspringer antelopes—hereabouts comparatively tame—up +in the mountains, and there were koodoos, steinbok and duykers in the bushes +and kopjes. +</p> + +<p> +“After the parching and most harassing trek across the desert; our +encampment seemed a terrestrial paradise. The guinea-fowls called constantly +with pleasant metallic voices from among the trees that margined the river, and +furnished capital banquets when required. Many fine francolins abounded, and at +evening, Namaqua partridges came to the water to drink in literally astounding +numbers. We had to form a strong fence of thorns around us, for leopards were +numerous and very daring, and there were still lions about in that country. At +night, as I lay in my waggon, contentedly looking into the starry blue, studded +with a million points of fire, and mildly admiring the glorious effulgence of +the greater constellations, I began to conjure up all sorts of dreams of the +future, of which the bases and foundations were piles of diamonds, culled from +Klaas’s wondrous valley. +</p> + +<p> +“Having recruited from the desert journey, and all, men and beasts, being +in good heart and fettle, we presently started away down the river for the +valley of diamonds. I had, besides Klaas, four other men as drivers, voerlopers +and after-riders, and they naturally enough were extremely curious to know what +on earth the ‘Baas’ could want to trek down the Orange River +for—a country where no one came, and of which no one had ever even heard. +I had to tell them that I was prospecting for a copper mine, for, as you +probably know, there are many places in this region where that metal occurs. +After our four days’ rest by the noble river we were all greatly +refreshed, and quite prepared for the severe travel that lay before us. As we +were doubtful whether we should find water at the next fountain that Klaas knew +of, owing to the prevalence of drought—and as it was an utter +impossibility (so Klaas informed me) to get down to the river on this side for +several days, owing to the steep mountain wall that everywhere encompassed +it—I filled the water vatjes and every other utensil I could think of, +and then, all being ready and the oxen inspanned, we moved briskly forward. +</p> + +<p> +“We had now to make a détour to the right, away from the river, and for +great part of a day picked our painful footsteps over a rough and +semi-mountainous country. Towards evening, we emerged upon a dreary and +interminable waste that lay outstretched before us, its far horizon barred in +the dim distance by towering mountains, through which we should presently have +to force our passage. That evening we outspanned in a howling wilderness of +loose and scorching sand, upon which scarcely a bush or shrub found +subsistence. After a night not too comfortable and broken by some hyenas that +prowled restlessly about, we were up betimes next morning. As soon as the oxen +were inspanned and ready to move forward for the mountains to which Klaas had +directed our course, I rode off for a low kopje that rose from the plain away +in the distance hoping to see game beyond. I was not disappointed; a small +troop of hartebeest was grazing about half a mile off, and by dint of a little +manoeuvring with my Hottentot after-rider, whom I despatched on a détour, I +managed to cut across the herd and knocked over a fat cow at forty yards. We +soon had her skinned, and taking the best of the meat, rode on for the waggon. +Again we had an exhausting trek over a burning sandy plain; the heat of this +day was something terrible. I have had some baddish journeys in the doorst-land +on the way to the great lake, but this was, if possible, worse. Towards four +o’clock the oxen were ready to sink in their yokes, their lowing was most +distressing, and as the water was now nearly at an end, and we might not reach +a permanent supply for another day, nothing could be done to alleviate their +sufferings. At nightfall, more dead than alive, we outspanned beneath the loom +of a gigantic mountain range, whose recesses we were to pierce on the following +morning. Half a day beyond this barrier lay the valley of diamonds, as Klaas +whispered to me after supper that night, with gleaming excited eyes; for, +noticing my growing keenness, he, too, was becoming imbued with something of my +expectancy. +</p> + +<p> +“That night, as we lay under the mountain, was one of the most stifling I +ever endured in South Africa, where, on the high table-lands of the interior, +nights are usually cool and refreshing. Even the moist heat of the Zambesi +valley was not more trying than this torrid, empty desert. The ovenlike heat, +cast up all day from the sandy plain, seemed to be returned at night by these +sun-scorched rocks with redoubled intensity. Waterless, we lay sweltering in +our misery, with blackened tongues and parched and cracking lips. The oxen +seemed almost like dead things. Often have I inwardly thanked Pringle, the +poet, of South Africa, for his sweet and touching verse, written with the love +of this strange wild land deep in him, for his striking descriptions of its +beauties and its fauna. As I lay panting that night, cursing my luck and the +folly that brought me thither, I lit a lantern and opened his glowing pages. +What were almost the first lines to greet my gaze? These! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“A region of emptiness, howling and drear,<br/> +Which man hath abandoned, from famine and fear,<br/> +Which the snake and the lizard inhabit alone,<br/> +With the twilight bat from the yawning stone;<br/> +Where grass nor herb nor shrub takes root,<br/> +Save poisonous thorns that pierce the foot;<br/> +And here, while the night-winds around me sigh,<br/> +And the stars burn bright in the midnight sky,<br/> +As I sit apart by the desert stone,<br/> +Like Elijah at Horeb’s cave alone,<br/> +‘A still small voice’ comes through the wild<br/> +(Like a father consoling his fretful child),<br/> +Which banishes bitterness, wrath and fear,<br/> +Saying, ‘Man is distant, but God is near.’ +</p> + +<p> +“We hailed, the passage of the mountains next morning with something akin +to delight; anything to banish the monotony of these last two days of burning +toil. We were up as the morning star flashed above the earth-line. We drank the +remaining water, which afforded barely half a pint each to the men, none for +the oxen and horses. With difficulty the poor oxen, already, in this short +space, gaunt and enfeebled from the heat and for lack of food and drink, were +forced up into their yokes. Klaas, as the only one of us who knew the country, +directed our movements, and with hoarse shouts, and re-echoing cracks from the +mighty waggon-whip, slowly our caravan was set in motion. Our entrance to the +mountains was effected through a narrow and extremely difficult poort (pass), +strewn with huge boulders and overgrown with brush and underwood that often +barred the way and rendered Stoppages frequent. After about a mile, the kloof +into which this poort debouched suddenly narrowed and turned left-handed at +right angles to our course. Accompanied by Klaas, I walked down it, and was +soon convinced by the little Bushman that our passage that way was ended. As +Klaas had warned me, our only way through and out of the mountains now lay in +taking, with our waggons, to the steep and broken hill sides, a proceeding not +only perilous, but apparently all but impossible. Yet the thing had to be done, +and we at once set the spent oxen in motion and faced the ascent obliquely. +After consultation with Klaas, I got out some ropes, which I had fastened to +the uppermost side of the waggon, while some stout long poles, which I had had +previously cut for such an emergency while outspanned at the Orange River, +served to prop up our lumbering vehicle from the lower side. Slowly and +wearily, and yet, withal, with a sort of dogged stubbornness, the poor oxen +toiled on, half-hour after half-hour, urged by our shouts, by the cruel +waggon-whip, mercilessly plied, and the terrible after-ox sjambok. Many times +it seemed, as our cumbrous desert ship crashed across a boulder or down a +stair-like terrace of rock, that it must inevitably topple over and roll +crashing to the bottom; but our guy-ropes and the supporting poles saved us +again and again. +</p> + +<p> +“I had fastened one of the ropes with a stout band of leather round the +chest of my hunting horse; the other two ropes were held by the strongest of my +servants and myself, while two other men held the poles against the lower side +of the waggon as they stood down hill below it. My old horse, guided by a +Bechuana boy, as usual, proved himself as sensible as any Christian, knew +exactly what he had to do, and, when we came to crucial points and the waggon +shivered as it were upon empty space, he and my Kaffir and I tugged away, while +the fellows below shoved with might and main. And so time after time we averted +a catastrophe, so dire that I shuddered to think of it; for in some places, if +the waggon had gone, the wreck must have been irreparable and the yoked oxen +hurled with it in a broken and mangled heap to the bottom far below us. Well, +occasionally halting for a blow, long hours of the most distressing labour I +ever experienced were at last got through; we had surmounted and left behind +the first huge mountain-side, had plunged into a valley, had passed obliquely +over the shoulder of another great mountain, and now halted in a deep and +hollow kloof lying below a singular flat-topped mountain, conical in shape, +that stretched across our onward path. This mountain was flanked on either +hand, as we fronted it, by yawning cliffs, and was only approachable from this +one aspect. Here we outspanned for a final rest before completing our work, if +to complete it were possible. Shading my eyes from the fierce sunlight, I +looked upward at the long slope of mountain, broken here and there, and +occasionally shaggy with bush; over all the fierce atmosphere quivered, +seething and dancing in the sun-blaze. I looked again with doubt and dismay at +the gasping oxen, many of them lying foundered and almost dead from thirst and +fatigue, and my spirits, usually brisk and unflagging, sank below zero. Klaas +had told me previously of a most wonderful pool of water that lay on the crown +of a mountain where we should outspan finally before entering upon the portals +of the diamond valley. Now he came to me and said, pointing upwards, +‘Sieur, de sweet water lies yonder op de berg. It is a beautiful pool, +such as ye never saw the like of; if we reach it we are saved and the oxen will +soon get round again; ye must get them up somehow, even without the +waggon.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The tiny yellow blear-eyed Bushman, standing over me as I sat on a rock, +pointing with his lean arm skywards, his anxious dirt-grimed face streaming +with perspiration, was hardly the figure of an angel of hope; and yet at that +moment he was an angel, of the earth, earthy, ’tis true, yet an angel +that held before us sure hope of rescue from our valley of despair; for +despair, black and grim, now lay upon the faces of my followers and in the eyes +of my oxen. Remember, we had tasted no water to speak of for close on three +days, and had had besides a frightfully trying trek. +</p> + +<p> +“We lay panting and grilling for an hour or more, and then I told my men +that water in any quantity lay at the mountain top and that we must, at all +hazards, get the oxen up to it. By dint of severe thrashing with the after-ox +sjambok, we at last got the oxen on to their legs—all but two, which +could not be made to rise, and then, leaving the waggon, but taking three or +four buckets, we moved upwards. Only a mile of ascent, or a little more, lay +before us; but so feeble were the oxen that we had the greatest difficulty to +drive them to the top, even without the encumbering waggon. At last we reached +the krantz, and after a hundred yards’ walk upon its flat top, we came +almost suddenly upon a most wonderful and, to us, most soul-thrilling sight. +</p> + +<p> +“Dense bushes of acacia thorn, spekboom, euphorbia, Hottentot cherry and +other shrubs grew around, here and there relieved by wide patches of open +space. The oxen, getting the breeze and scenting water, suddenly began to +display a most extraordinary freshness; up went their heads, their dull eyes +brightened and they trotted forward to where the brush apparently grew +thickest. +</p> + +<p> +“For a time they found no opening, but after following the circling wall +of bush, at length a broad avenue was disclosed—an avenue doubtless worn +smooth by the passage of elephants, rhinoceroses and other mighty game, in past +ages—and then there fell upon our sight the most refreshing prospect that +man ever gazed upon. Thirty yards down the opening there lay a great pool of +water, about 200 feet across at its narrowest point, and apparently of immense +depth; the pool was circular, its sides were of rock and quartz, and completely +inaccessible from every approach save that by which we had reached it. It was +indeed completely encompassed by precipitous walls about thirty feet in height, +which defied the advent of any other living thing than a lizard or a +rock-rabbit. Upon these rocky walls grew lichens of various +colours—blood-red, yellow and purple, imparting a most wonderful beauty +to the place. The avenue to the brink of this delicious water was of smooth +rock somewhat sloping, and in the rush to drink we had the greatest difficulty +in preventing the half-mad oxen from plunging or being pushed in, in which case +we should have had much trouble to rescue them. +</p> + +<p> +“How the poor beasts drank of that cool, pellucid flood, and how we human +beings drank, too! I thought we should never have finished. The oxen drank and +drank till the water literally ran out of their mouths as they at last turned +away. Then I cast off my clothes and plunged into the water; it was icy cold +and most invigorating, and I swam and splashed to my heart’s content. +After my swim and a rest I directed my men to fill the four buckets we had +brought, and then, leaving the horses in charge of one of their number, we +drove the cattle, loth though they were to leave the pool, back to the waggon, +going very carefully so as not to spill the water. +</p> + +<p> +“At length we reached the valley, only to find our two poor foundered +bullocks lying nearly dead. The distant lowing of their refreshed comrades had, +I think, warned them of good news, and the very smell of the water revived +them, and after two buckets apiece of the cold draught had been gulped down +their kiln-dried throats, they got up, shook themselves, and rejoined their +fellows. +</p> + +<p> +“We rested for a short time and then inspanned and started for the upland +pool. The oxen, worn and enfeebled though they were, had such a heart put into +them by their drink, and seemed so well to know that their watery salvation lay +up there, only a short mile distant, that they one and all bent gallantly to +the yokes and dragged their heavy burden to the margin of the bush-girt water. +We now outspanned for the night, made strong fires, for the spoor of leopards +was abundant, stewed some bustards, ate a good supper, and turned in; when I +say turned in, I should be more correct in saying I turned into my waggon, +while the men wrapped themselves in their blankets or karosses, lay with their +toes almost into the fire and snored in the most varied and inharmonious chorus +that ears ever listened to. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose we had not been asleep two hours when I was awakened by the +sharp barks and yelpings of my dogs, the kicks and scrambles of the oxen, and +the shouts of the men. Snatching up my rifle and rushing out, I was just in +time to see a firebrand hurled at some dark object that sped between the fires. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What is it, Klaas?’ I shouted. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Allemaghte! it is a tiger (leopard), sieur,’ cried the +Bushman, ‘and he has clawed one of the dogs.’ +</p> + +<p> +“True enough, on inspecting the yelping sufferer, Rooi-kat, a brindled +red dog, and one of the best of my pack, I found the poor wretch at its last +gasp, with its throat and neck almost torn to ribbons. Nothing could save the +unfortunate animal, the blood streamed from its open throat, and, after a +convulsive kick or two, it stretched itself out and lay there dead. Cursing the +sneaking, cowardly leopard, I saw that the replenished fires blazed up, and +again turned in. +</p> + +<p> +“It must have been about two o’clock in the morning, the coldest, +the most silent, and the dreariest of the dark hours—that fatal hour +betwixt night and day, when many a flickering life, unloosed by death, slips +from its moorings—when I was again startled from slumber by a most +blood-curdling yell. Hunters, as you know, sleep light and seem instinctively +to be aware of what passes around them, even although apparently wrapped in +profoundest sleep. I knew in a moment that that agonised cry came from a human +throat, and headlong from my kartel I dashed. God! what a din was there again +from dogs, men, and oxen, and above all, those horrid human screams. I had my +loaded rifle, and rushing up to a confused crowd struggling near the firelight, +I saw in a moment what had happened. +</p> + +<p> +“The youngest of my servants, a mere Bechuana boy, was hard and fast in +the grip of an immense leopard, which was tearing with its cruel teeth at his +throat, and at the same time kicking murderously with its heavily clawed hind +legs at the poor fellow’s stomach and thighs. One of the men, Klaas of +course, bolder than his fellows, was lunging an assegai into the brute’s +ribs, seemingly without the smallest effect, others were thrashing it with +firebrands, and the dogs were vainly worrying at its head and flanks. All this +I saw instantaneously. Thrusting my followers aside, I ran up to the leopard, +and, putting my rifle to its ear, fired. The Express bullet did its work at +once; the fiercest and most tenacious of the feline race could not refuse to +yield its life with its head almost blown to atoms, and loosening its murderous +hold, the brute lay dead. But too late! the poor Bechuana boy lay upon the sand +wounded to the death. His right shoulder and throat were terribly ripped and +mangled by the fore claws and teeth of the deadly cat; but the cruellest wounds +lay lower down. The hinder claws of the leopard had absolutely torn the abdomen +away; it was a shocking sight. Recovery was hopeless, and indeed, although we +did what we could for the poor sufferer, he only lingered an hour insensible, +then died. After his death my men told me how the thing had happened. In this +solitary region the leopards and other ferae, as I have often heard, never +being disturbed by gunners, are extraordinarily fierce and audacious. The +leopard, a male, was evidently very hungry, as its empty stomach testified, and +after once tasting blood—that of the dog—it soon got over its +temporary scare. The young Bechuana lay farthest from the fire, for his elders +took up the warmest positions, and the leopard had crept cat-like in upon him +and got him by the throat before he knew where he was. Then came the awful +shrieks I had heard, and then began the tussle for life; alas! an altogether +one-sided one. My men, in the scramble, and scared, too, no doubt, forgot the +guns which were in the waggon, and only Klaas had thought of his assegai. So +bloodthirsty was the brute, that nothing, except my rifle, could make it relax +its hold, even although it was manifestly unable to get away with its victim. +After these horrors sleep was banished, and as the grey light came up we +prepared for day. +</p> + +<p> +“The morning broke at length in ruddiest splendour, and as the terrain +was slowly unfolded before my gaze, I realised the desolate magnificence of the +country. Mountains, mountains, mountains of grim sublimity rolled everywhere +around. Far away below, as I looked westward, a thin silvery line, only visible +for a little space, told of the great river flowing to the sea, inexorably shut +in by precipitous mountain walls that guaranteed for ever its awful solitude. +</p> + +<p> +“Klaas stood near, and as I gazed, he whispered, for my men were not far +away: ‘Sieur, yonder, straight in front of you, five miles away, lie the +diamonds. If we start directly after breakfast we shall have four hours’ +hard climbing and walking to reach the valley.’ +</p> + +<p> +“All right, Klaas,” said I, “breakfast is nearly ready and +we’ll start as soon as we have fed.” A good fire was going, the pot +was already steaming, the oxen had been watered, and I myself, stripping off my +clothes on the brink of that delicious pool, dived deeply into its unknown +depths. After a magnificent swim in the cold and bracing water I felt +transformed and ready for breakfast; but although the bathe had to some extent +revived my spirits, I could not forget the sad beginning of our +search—the death of poor Amazi, now, poor fellow, lying buried beneath a +cairn of stones just away beyond the camp. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, breakfast was soon over, and then I spoke to my men. I told them +that I intended to stay at this pool for a few days, and that in the meantime I +was going prospecting in the mountains bordering the river. I despatched two of +them to go and hunt for mountain buck in the direction we had come from, where +we had noticed plenty of rhebok, duyker and klipspringer, the others were to +see that the oxen fed round about the water, where pasture was good and +plentiful, and generally to look after the camp. For Klaas and myself, we +should be away till dusk, perhaps even all night; but we did not wish to be +followed or disturbed, and unless those at the camp heard my signal of four +consecutive rifle shots they were on no account to attempt to follow up our +spoor. My men by this time knew me and my ways well, and I was convinced that +we should not be followed by prying eyes; indeed, the lazy Africans were only +too glad of an easy day in camp after their hard journey. +</p> + +<p> +“Taking some biltong (dried flesh), biscuits and a bottle of water each, +and each shouldering a rifle, Klaas and I started away at seven o’clock. +The little beggar, who, I suppose, in his Bushman youth had wandered +baboon-like all over this wild country, till he knew it by heart, showed no +sign of hesitation, but walked rapidly down hill into a deep gorge at the foot, +which led half a mile or so into a huge mass of mountain that formed the north +wall of the Orange River. This kloof must at some time or another have served +as a conduit for mighty floods of water, for its bottom was everywhere strewn +with boulders of titanic size and shape, torn from the cliff walls above. It +took us a long hour of the most laborious effort to surmount these impediments, +and then with torn hands and aching legs we went straight up a mountain, whose +roof-like sides consisted of masses of loose shale and shingle, over which we +slipped and floundered slowly and with difficulty. I say we, but I am bound to +admit that the Bushman made much lighter of his task than I, his ape-like form +seeming indeed much more fitted for such a slippery breakneck pastime. +</p> + +<p> +“At length we reached the crest, and then, after passing through a fringe +of bush and scrub, we scrambled down the thither descent, a descent of no +little danger. The slipping shales that gave way at every step, often +threatened, indeed, to hurl us headlong to the bottom, which we should most +certainly have reached mere pulpy masses of humanity. At last this stage was +ended, and we found ourselves in a very valley of desolation. Now we were +almost completely entombed by narrowing mountain walls, whose dark red sides +frowned upon us everywhere in horrid and overpowering silence. The sun was up, +and the heat, shut in as we were, overpowering. Moreover, to make things more +lively, I noticed that snakes were hereabouts more than ordinarily plentiful; +the bloated puff-adder, the yellow cobra, and the dangerous little night adder +several times only just getting out of our path. +</p> + +<p> +“The awful silence of this sepulchral place was presently, as we rested +for ten minutes, broken by a posse of baboons, who, having espied us from their +krantzes above, came shoggling down to see what we were. +</p> + +<p> +“They were huge brutes and savage, and quah-quahed at us threateningly +till Klaas sent a bullet into them, when they retreated pell-mell. We soon +started again, and pressed rapidly along a narrow gorge some fifty feet wide +with perfectly level precipitous walls, apparently worn smooth at their bases +by the action of terrific torrents, probably an early development of the Orange +River when anciently it made its way through these grim defiles. The ground we +walked upon was, I noticed, composed of sand and rounded pebbles, evidently +water-worn and of various kinds. Some of them were round masses of the most +beautiful transparent crystal-spar, often as large as a man’s head. +</p> + +<p> +“Presently the causeway narrowed still more, and then, turning a sharp +corner, we suddenly came upon a pair of leopards sauntering coolly towards us. +I didn’t like the look of things at all, for a leopard at the best of +times is an ugly customer, even when he knows and dreads firearms, and here, +probably, the animals had never even heard the report of a gun. +</p> + +<p> +“The brutes showed no intention of bolting, but stood with their backs +up, their tails waving ominously and their gleaming teeth bared in fierce +defiance. There was nothing for it, either we or they must retreat, and having +come all this frightful trek for the diamonds I felt in no mood to back down, +even to <i>Felis pardus</i> in his very nastiest mood. Looking to our rifles, +we moved very quietly forward, until within thirty-five yards of the grim cats. +They were male and female, and two as magnificent specimens of their kind as +sun ever shone upon. The male had now crouched flat for his charge and not an +instant was to be lost; the female stood apparently irresolute. Noticing this, +and not having time to speak, we both let drive at the charging male; both +shots struck, but neither stopped him. The lady, hearing the report, and +apparently not liking the look of affairs, incontinently fled. With a hoarse, +throaty grunt the male leopard flew across the sand, coming straight at me, and +then launched himself into the air. I fired too hurriedly my second barrel, +and, for a wonder, clean missed, for in those days I seldom failed in stopping +dangerous game; but these beggars are like lightning once they are charging. In +a moment the yellow form was flying through space, straight at my head; I +sprang to one side, and Klaas, firing again, sent the leopard struggling to +earth, battling frantically for life, amid sand and shingle, with a broken +back. Lucky was the shot, and bravely fired, or I had probably been as good as +a dead man ere this. Another cartridge soon finished off the fierce brute. We +noticed on inspection that one of our first two bullets had ploughed up the +leopard’s nose and glanced off the forehead; the other had entered the +chest and passed almost from end to end of the body, while the third had broken +the spine. Klaas soon whipped the skin off the dead leopard and hid it under +some stones, and we then proceeded, the whole affair having occupied but twenty +minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“Another mile of this canal-like kloof brought us to an opening, and here +a most singular sight lay before my vision. Hitherto we had been so shut in +that the sun failed to penetrate between the narrowing cliffs, except, +probably, for a short while as it passed immediately above them. +</p> + +<p> +“Suddenly, as the gorge widened on either hand, a blaze of sunlight +glowed and glistened on the upright walls to the left hand of us. As I looked +thither, one of the most marvellous sights in nature was, in an instant, laid +bare; a sight that few mortals, even in aeons upon aeons of the past, have ever +gazed upon in these remote and most inaccessible regions of the Orange River. +The wall of mountain on our left stood up straight before the hot sunlight a +dark reddish-brown mass of rock, I suppose some five hundred feet in height, +and then sloped away more smoothly to its summit, which overlooked the river, +as I should judge, about a mile distant. As we came out into the sunshine, +Klaas, pointing to the cliff, ejaculated, in quite an excited way, ‘De +paarl! de paarl! kek, sieur, kek!’ (The pearl! the pearl! look, sir, +look!) Looking upwards at the pile of rock, my eye was suddenly arrested by a +gleaming mass that protruded from the dead wall of mountain. Half-dazzled, I +shaded my eyes with my hand and looked again. It was a most strange and +beautiful thing that I beheld, a freak of nature the most curious that I had +ever set eyes on. The glittering mass was a huge egg-shaped ball of quartz, of +a semi-transparent, milky hue, flashing and gleaming in the radiant sunshine, +with the glorious prismatic colours that flash from the unlucky opal. But yet +more strange, above the ‘paarl,’ as Klaas quaintly called it, and +overhanging it, was a kind of canopy of stalactite of the same brilliant +opalescent colours. It was wonderful! Klaas here began to caper and dance in +the most fantastic fashion, and then, suddenly ceasing, he said, ‘Now, +sieur, I will soon show you the diamonds; they are there,’ pointing to a +dark corner of the glen, ‘right through the rock.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘What made you call that shining stone up there “de +paarl”?’ said I, as I gazed in admiration at the beautiful ball of +crystal. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well, sieur, I was once with a wine Boer at the Paarl, down in +the Old Colony, and a man told me why they called the mountain there “De +Paarl,” and he told me, too, what the pretty gems were that I saw in the +young vrouw’s best ring when she wore it; and I then knew what a paarl +was and that it came from a fish that grows in the sea. And I remembered then +the great shining stone that I found up here, when I was a boy, on the Groote +River, and I thought to myself, “Ah! Klaas, that was the finest paarl ye +ever saw, that near where the pretty white stones lay.” I mean the +diamonds yonder, sieur.’ +</p> + +<p> +“At last, then, we were within grasp of the famous stones, concerning +whose reality I had even to the last had secret misgivings. It was a startling +thought. Just beyond there, somewhere through the rock-walls, whose secret +approach at present Klaas only knew, lay ‘Sindbad’s Valley.’ +Could it be true? Could I actually be within touch of riches unspeakable; +riches, in comparison with which the wealth of Croesus seemed but a +beggar’s hoard? +</p> + +<p> +“I sat down on a rock and lit a pipe, just to think it over and settle my +rather highly-strung nerves. The Paarl, as I could now see, was an unique +formation of crystal-spar, singularly rounded upon its face. It and the +glorious canopy of hanging stalactite above it must have been reft bare by some +mighty convulsion that had anciently torn asunder these mountains, leaving the +ravine in which we stood. +</p> + +<p> +“As we drank from our water-bottles and ate some of the dried flesh and +biscuits we had brought with us, I noticed Klaas’s keen little eyes +wandering inquiringly round the base of the precipice in our front. He seemed +puzzled, and as we finished our repast and lit our pipes again, he said, +‘The hole in the rock that leads from this kloof to the diamonds should +be over there,’ pointing before him. ‘But I can’t quite make +out the spot, the bushes have altered and grown so since I was here as a boy, +years and years ago.’ +</p> + +<p> +“We got up and walked straight for the point he had indicated and reached +the foot of the precipice. All along here, where the sand and soil had been +swept in bygone floods, or had formed from the slow disintegration of fallen +rock from above, cactus, euphorbia, aloe and brush grew thickly, and in +particular the curious Euphorbia Candelabrum, with its many-branching arms, +stood prominent. The Bushman hunted hither and thither in the prickly jungle +with the fierce rapidity of a tiger-cat after a running guinea-fowl; but, +inasmuch as he was sometimes prevented from immediately approaching the +rock-wall, he appeared unable to hit off the tunnel that led, as he had +formerly told me, to the valley beyond. Suddenly, after he had again +disappeared, he gave a low whistle, a signal to approach to which I quickly +responded. Quietly pushing my way towards him, I was astonished to see within a +small clearing a thick and high thorn fence, outside of which Klaas stood. +Inside this circular kraal was a low round hut, formed of boughs and branches +strongly and closely interlaced Klaas was standing watching intently the +interior of the hut, which seemed to be barred at its tiny entrance by a pile +of thorns lying close against it. +</p> + +<p> +“What could it mean, this strange dwelling, inaccessible as it seemed to +human life? Klaas soon found a weak spot in the kraal-fence, and, pulling down +some thorns, we stepped inside and approached the hut. Here, too, Klaas pulled +away the dry acacia thorns from the entrance and was at once confronted by a +tiny bow and arrow and behind that by a fierce little weazened face. Instantly, +my Bushman poured forth a torrent of his own language, redundant beyond +expression with those extraordinary clicks of which the Bushman tongue seems +mainly to consist. +</p> + +<p> +“Even as he spoke, the bow and arrow were lowered, the little head +appeared through the entrance, and the tiniest, quaintest, most ancient figure +of a man I had ever beheld stood before us. Ancient, did I say? Ancient is +hardly a meet description of his aspect. As he stood there, blinking like an +owl in the fierce sunlight, his only covering a little skin kaross of the +red-rhebok, fastened over his shoulders, standing not more than three feet +eight or ten inches in height, he looked indeed coeval with the rocks around +him. I never saw anything like it. Poor little oddity! Dim though his eyes were +waxing, feeble though his shrivelled arms, dulled though his formerly acute +senses, he had, with all the desperate pluck of his race, been prepared to do +battle for his hearth and home. +</p> + +<p> +“In his own tongue, Klaas interrogated this antediluvian Bushman, and +then, suddenly, as he was answered by the word ‘Ariseep’ a light +flashed across his countenance. Seizing his aged countryman by the shoulders, +he turned him round and carefully examined his back. Lifting the skin kaross +and rubbing away the coating of grease and dirt that covered the right +shoulder, Klaas pointed to two round white scars just below the blade-bone, +several inches apart; then he gave a leap into the air, seized the old fossil +by the neck and shrieked into his ears the most wonderful torrent of Bushman +language I have ever heard. In his turn the old man started back, scanned Klaas +intently from head to foot, and in a thin pipe, jabbered at him almost as +volubly. +</p> + +<p> +“Finally, Klaas enlightened me as to this comical interlude. It seemed +incredible; this old man, Ariseep by name, was his grandfather, whom he had not +set eyes on since, long years before, the Boer commando had broken into his +tribal fastness, slain his father, mother and other relatives and carried +himself off captive. The old man before us had somehow escaped in the fight, +had crept away, and, after years of solitary hiding in the mountains around, +had finally penetrated to this grim and desolate valley, where he had subsisted +on Bushman fare. Snakes, lizards, roots, gum, bulbs, fruit and an occasional +snared buck or rock-rabbit; these, and a little rill of water that gushed from +the mountain-side hard by, supplied him with existence. Here he had lingered +for many years, alone and isolated. His only fear had been, as he grew older +and feebler, the leopards infesting the neighbouring mountain. Against their +attacks had he built the strong thorned fence, carefully closed at night, and +the door of thorns which he wedged tightly into the entrance way. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange meeting indeed it was, but after all not stranger than many +things that happen in the busy world. So far as I could learn from Klaas, who +himself was between forty and fifty, the ancient figure before us was laden +with the burden of more than ninety years. Think of it! ninety summers of +parched Bushmanland, of burning Orange River mountains; ninety seasons of +hunger and thirst and dire privations; great part of the earlier period varied +by raids on the flocks of the Boers and battles for existence with the wild +beasts of the land! +</p> + +<p> +“After nearly an hour’s incessant chatter, during which I believe +Klaas had laid before his monkeylike ancestor an epitomised history of his +life, he told the old man we wished to get through the mountain and that he had +lost the tunnel of which he had known as a boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Ariseep, who it seems, in the years he had been there, had explored +every nook and cranny of the valley, knew at once what he meant, and quickly +pointed out to us, not a hundred paces away, a dense and prickly mass of cactus +and euphorbia bush; here, after half an hour’s hewing and slashing with +our hunting knives, we managed to open a pathway, and at last a cave-like +opening in the mountain, about seven feet in diameter, lay before us. +Grandfather Ariseep, questioned as to the tunnel, said that, upon first +discovering it, which he had done quite by accident while hunting rock-rabbits, +he had once been through, years before, but, as he had found the passage long +and dangerous, and the valley beyond appeared to him less interesting than his +present abiding place, he had never repeated the journey. However, he gave us +warning that snakes abounded and might not impossibly be encountered in the +twenty minutes’ crawl, which, as Klaas had told me, it would take to get +through. +</p> + +<p> +“This opinion, translated by Klaas, was not of a nature to fortify me in +the undertaking, yet, rather than leave the diamonds unexplored, I felt +prepared to brave the terrors of this uncanny passage. +</p> + +<p> +“It was now three o’clock; the sun was marching steadily across the +brassy firmament on his westward trek and we had no time to lose. +</p> + +<p> +“‘In you go, Klaas,’ said I, and, nothing loth, Klaas dived +into the bowels of the mountain, I at his heels. For five minutes, by dint of +stooping and an occasional hands-and-knees creep upon the flooring of the +tunnel, sometimes on smooth sand, sometimes over protruding rock and rough +gravel, we got along very comfortably. Then the roof of the dark +avenue—for it was pitch dark now—suddenly lowered, and we had to +crawl along, especially I, as being taller and bulkier than Klaas, like +serpents, upon our bellies. It was unpleasant, deuced unpleasant, I can tell +you, boxed up like this beneath the heart of the mountain. The very thought +seemed to make the oppression a million times more oppressive. It seemed that +the frightful pile of rock, towering far above us, was bodily descending to +crush us into a horrible and hidden tomb. The thought of lying here, squeezed +down till Judgment Day, was appalling; or, perhaps, more mercifully one’s +bones might, ages hereafter, be discovered as these regions became settled up, +in much the same state in which mummified cats are occasionally found in old +chimneys and hidden closets when ancient dwellings are pulled down in England. +Even Klaas, plucky Bushman though he was, didn’t seem to relish the +adventure and spoke in a subdued and awe-stricken whisper. Sometimes since, as +I have thought of that most gruesome passage, I have burst into a sweat nearly +as profuse, though not so painful, as I endured that day. At last, after what +seemed to me hours upon hours of this painful crawling and Egyptian gloom, we +met a breath of fresher air; the tunnel widened and heightened, and in another +five minutes we emerged into the blessed sunlight. Little Klaas looked pretty +well ‘baked,’ even in his old leather ‘crackers’ and +flannel shirt; as for myself, I was literally streaming, every thread on me was +as wet as if I had plunged into a river. We lay panting for awhile upon the +scorching rocks, and then sat up and looked about us. +</p> + +<p> +“If the Paarl Kloof, as Klaas called it, from whence we had just come, +had been sufficiently striking, the mighty amphitheatre in which we lay was +infinitely more amazing. Imagine a vast arena, almost completely circular in +shape, flat and smooth, and composed as to its flooring of intermingled sand +and gravel, reddish-yellow in colour. This arena was surrounded by stupendous +walls of the same ruddy brown rock we had noticed in Paarl Kloof, which here +towered to a height of close on a thousand feet. An inspection of these cliffs, +which sheered inwards from top to bottom, revealed the fact previously imparted +to me by Klaas, that no living being could ever penetrate hither save by the +tunnel passage through which we had come. The amphitheatre, which here and +there bore upon its surface a thin and scattered covering of bush and +undergrowth, seemed everywhere about half-a-mile across from wall to wall. In +the centre of the red cliffs, blazing forth in splendour, ran a broad band of +the most glorious opalescent rock-crystal, which flashed out its glorious rays +of coloured light as if to meet the fiery kisses of the sun. This flaming +girdle of crystal, more beautiful a thousand times than the most gorgeous opal, +the sheen of a fresh-caught mackerel, or the most radiant mother-of-pearl, I +can only compare in splendour to the flashing rainbows formed over the foaming +falls of the Zambesi, which I have seen more than once. It ran horizontally and +very evenly round at least two-thirds of the cliff-belt that encircled us. It +was a wonderful and amazing spectacle, and I think quite the most singular of +the many strange things (and they are not few) I have seen in the African +interior. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we sat gazing at this crystal rainbow for many minutes, till I had +somewhat feasted my enraptured gaze; then we got up and at once began the +search for diamonds. Directly I saw the gravel, especially where it had been +cleansed in the shallow spruits and dongas by the action of rain and flood, I +knew at once we should find ‘stones’; it resembled almost exactly +the gravel found in the Vaal River diggings, and was here and there strongly +ferruginous, mingled with red sand and occasionally lime. +</p> + +<p> +“I noticed quickly that agates, jaspers and chalcedony were distributed +pretty thickly, and that occasionally the curious banddoom stone, so often +found in the Vaal River with diamonds, and, indeed, often considered by diggers +as a sure indicator of ‘stones’ was to be met with. In many places +the pebbles were washed perfectly clean and lay thickly piled in hollow +water-ways; here we speedily found a rich harvest of the precious gems. In a +feverish search of an hour and a half, Klaas and I picked up twenty-three fine +stones, ranging in size from a small pigeon’s egg to a third of the size +of my little finger nail. They were all fine diamonds, some few, it is true, +yellow or straw-coloured, others of purest water, as I afterwards learned, and +we had no difficulty in finding them, although we wandered over not a twentieth +part of the valley. I could see at once from this off-hand search that enormous +wealth lay spread here upon the surface of the earth; beneath probably was +contained fabulous wealth. I was puzzled at the time, and I have never had +inclination or opportunity to solve the mystery since, to account for the +presence of diamonds in such profusion. Whether they were swept into the valley +by early floodings of the Orange River through some aperture that existed +formerly, but had been closed by volcanic action, or whether, as I am inclined +to think, the whole amphitheatre is a vast upheaval from subterraneous fires of +a bygone period, is to this hour an unfathomed secret. I rather incline to the +latter theory, and believe that, like the Kimberley ‘pipe,’ as +diggers call it, the diamondiferous earth had been shot upwards funnel-wise +from below, and that ages of floods and rain-washing had cleansed and left bare +the gravel and stones upon the surface. +</p> + +<p> +“From the search we had had, I made no doubt that a fortnight’s +careful hunting in this valley would make me a millionaire, or something very +like it. At length I was satisfied, and as the westering sun was fast stooping +to his couch, with a light heart and elastic step I turned with Klaas to +depart. The excitement of the ‘find’ had quite banished the +remembrance of that awful tunnel passage so recently encountered. +</p> + +<p> +“‘We’ll go back now, Klaas,’ said I, ‘sleep in +your grandfather’s kraal, and get to the waggon first thing in the +morning; then I shall arrange to return and camp a fortnight in Paarl Kloof, +leaving the waggon at the pool. In that time we shall be able to pick up +diamonds enough to enrich ourselves and all belonging to us for generations. I +don’t mind then who discovers the valley; they can make another Kimberley +of it if they choose, for aught I care.’ +</p> + +<p> +“At half-past five we again entered the tunnel. It was a nasty business +when one thought of it again, but it would soon be over. As it flashed across +my brain, I thought at the moment that two such journeys a day for six or seven +days would be quite as much as even the greediest diamond lover could stomach. +As before, Klaas went first, and for half the distance all went well. Suddenly, +as we came to a sandy part of the tunnel, there was a scuffle in front, a +fierce exclamation in Bushman language, and then Klaas called out in a hoarse +voice, ‘Allemaghte, sieur, een slang het mij gebissen!’” +(Almighty, sir, a snake has bitten me!) +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens, what a situation! Cooped up in this frightful burrow, face to +face with probably a deadly snake, which had already bitten my companion! +Almost immediately Klaas’s voice came back to me in a hoarse guttural +whisper, ‘I have him by the neck, sieur; it is a puff-adder and his teeth +are sticking into my shoulder. If you will creep up and lay hold of his tail, +which is your side of me, we can settle him, but I can’t get his teeth +out without your help.’ As you will remember, the puff-adder’s +striking fangs are very curved and are often difficult to disengage once it has +made its strike. Poor Klaas! I felt certain his days must be numbered, but +there was nothing for it; I must help him. +</p> + +<p> +“Crawling forwards and feeling my way with fright-benumbed fingers, I +touched Klaas’s leg. Then softly moving my left hand I was suddenly +smitten by a horrible writhing tail. I seized it with both hands, and finally +gripped the horrid reptile (which I felt to be swollen with rage, as is the +brute’s habit) in an iron grasp with both hands. Then I felt, in the +black darkness, Klaas take a fresh grip of the loathsome creature’s neck, +and with an effort, disengage the deadly fangs from his shoulder. Immediately I +felt him draw his knife, and after a struggle, sever the serpent’s head +from its body. The head he pushed away to the right, as far out of our course +as possible, and then I dragged the writhing body from him, and, shuddering, +cast it behind me as far as possible. +</p> + +<p> +“At that moment I thought that, for the first time in my life, I must +have swooned. But, luckily, I bethought me of poor faithful Klaas, sore +stricken, and I called to him in as cheerful a voice as I could muster, +‘Get forward, Klaas, for your life, as hard as you can, and, please God, +we’ll pull you through.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Never had I admired the Bushman’s fierce courage more than now. +Most men would have sunk upon the sand and given up life and hope. Not so this +aboriginal. ‘Ja, sieur, I will loup,’ was all he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Then we scrambled onward, occasionally halting as the deadly sickness +overtook Klaas; but all the while I pushed him forwards and urged him with my +voice. At last the light came, and as my poor Bushman grew feebler and more +slow, I found room to pass him and so dragged him behind me to the opening into +Paarl Kloof. Here I propped him for a moment on the sand outside, with his back +to the mountain, and loudly called ‘Ariseep,’ while I got breath +for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“The sun was sinking in blood-red splendour behind the mountains, and the +kloof and rock-walls were literally aglow with the parting blush of day. Nature +looked calm and serenely beautiful and hushed in a splendour that ill-accorded +with the agitating scene there at the mouth of the tunnel. All this flashed +across me as I called for the old man. I looked anxiously at Klaas and examined +his wound; there were two deep punctures in the left shoulder, and from his +having had to use some degree of force to drag off the reptile, the orifices +were more torn than is usual in cases of snake-bite. Klaas was now breathing +heavily and getting dull and stupefied I took him in my arms and carried him to +Ariseep’s kraal, whence the old man was just emerging. At sight of his +grandfather, Klaas rallied and rapidly told him what had happened, and the old +man at once plunged into his hut for something. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Klaas’s eyelids drooped and he became drowsy, almost +senseless. In vain I roused him and tried to make him walk and so stay the +baleful effects of the poison now running riot in his blood; he was too far +gone. Ariseep now re-appeared with a small skin bag, out of which he took some +dirty-looking powder. With an old knife he scored the skin and flesh around +Klaas’s wound and then rubbed in the powder. I had no brandy or ammonia +to administer, and therefore let the old Bushman pursue his remedy, though I +felt, somehow, it would be useless. So it proved; either the antidote, with +which I believe Bushmen often do effect wonderful cures, was stale and +inefficacious, or the poison had obtained too strong a hold. My poor Klaas +never became conscious again, though I fancied eagerly that he recognised me +before he died, for his lips moved as he turned to me once. His pulse sank and +sank, his face became dull and ashen, his eyelids quivered a little, his breath +came hard and laboured, and at last, within an hour and a half from the time he +was bitten, he lay dead. +</p> + +<p> +“So perished my faithful and devoted henchman; the stoutest, truest, +bravest soul that ever African sun shone upon. I cannot express to you the true +and unutterable grief I felt, as, with old Ariseep, I buried poor Klaas when +the moon rose that night. We placed him gently in a deep sandy spruit, and over +the sand piled heavy stones to keep the vermin from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, laying myself within Ariseep’s kraal, I waited for the +slothful dawn. As it came, I rose, called Ariseep from his hut, and bade +farewell to him as best I could, for we neither of us understood one another. I +noticed, by-the-bye, that no sign of grief seemed to trouble the old man. +Probably he was too aged, and had seen too much death to think much about the +matter. +</p> + +<p> +“The rest of my story is soon finished. I made my way back to camp, told +my men what had happened, and indeed took some of them back with me to +Klaas’s grave and made them exhume the body to satisfy themselves of the +cause of death—for these men are sometimes very suspicious—then we +covered him again securely against wandering beasts and birds. +</p> + +<p> +“I trekked back to the Old Colony, sold off my things and came home. The +diamonds I had brought away realised in England 22,000 pounds. I have never +dreamt of going to the fatal valley again; nothing on earth would tempt me +after that ill-starred journey, heavy with the fate of Klaas and the Bechuana +boy, Amazi. As for the tunnel, I would not venture once more into its recesses +for all the diamonds in Africa, even if they lay piled in heaps at the other +end of it. Except old Ariseep, Klaas had no relation that I knew of, and it was +useless to think of spending the diamond-money in that quarter. The old fellow +had, so far as I could make him understand me, utterly refused to accompany me +from the kloof, where he evidently meant to end his days; even if he had come, +what could I have done for him? At his time of life, and with his peculiar +habits, he could hardly have begun the world again, even if I had brought him +home, bought him a country house, taken rooms in Piccadilly, dressed him in the +height of fashion and launched him upon society. +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore I left him as I found him. Klaas I have never ceased to mourn +from that day to this. Part of the 22,000 pounds I invested for some relatives, +the balance that I kept suffices, with what I already possessed, for all +possible wants of my own. Then I came back to my dearly-loved South Africa for +the last time, and a few weeks later made the journey to the Chobi River, from +which you rescued me in the thirstland.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was the story related to us by the transport rider, in a clear and +singularly graphic manner, to which these pages do scant justice. Our narrator +wound up by telling us that Mowbray had further imparted to him the exact +locality of the diamond valley, but, he added, “I have never yet been +there, nor do I think that, for the present, it is likely I shall go. Some day +before I leave the Cape I may have a try and trek down the Orange River; but I +don’t feel very keen about that secret passage, after poor +Mowbray’s experiences.” +</p> + +<p> +We had sat wrapt listeners for some hours of that soft, calm, African night. +The glorious stars looked out from above us in their deep blue dome; the +Southern Cross shone in serene effulgence, as if, too, its sparkling gems +claimed an interest in the legend of the lost diamonds. It was now two +o’clock, and the camp fire of the transport riders burned low; just one +more soupje we had with our friendly entertainers, and then, with hearty +expressions of thanks and good-will, rose to seek our beds. That night, before +falling asleep, I pondered long upon the strange narrative we had heard. Often +since have I done so. Often, too, have I thought of the lone grave of the +English hunter, Mowbray, far out upon the verge of that dim and mysterious +desert, the Kalahari. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>Chapter Two.<br/> +The Story of a Tusk.</h2> + +<p> +It was a fine spring morning in the City: even in the great dingy warehouse, +where Cecil Kensley was engaged in cataloguing a vast store of ivory in +preparation for the periodical sales, the sun beamed pleasantly. It lit up the +dark corners of the building, and played everywhere upon hundreds of smooth, +rounded elephants’ teeth, varying in colour from a rich creamy yellow to +darkest brown—from the gleaming tusk, fresh chopped within the last year +from the head of a young bull, to the huge, dark, discoloured, almost +black-skinned tooth, that for a hundred years had lain unnoticed in some mud +swamp, or for generations had decorated the grave or kraal-fence of some native +chief. There they lay, those precious pillars of ivory—solid scrivelloes, +Egyptian soft teeth, Ambriz hard irregulars, billiard and bagatelle +scrivelloes, bangle teeth, Siam, Niger, Abyssinian, Bombay, West Coast, Cape, +and all the rest of them—upon which the world sets so great a store, and +for which mankind is so rapidly exterminating a species. +</p> + +<p> +Those wonderful teeth, dumb memorials, so many of them, of dark tales of blood +and suffering, of slave raids, plundered villages, murders, floggings, terrible +journeys to the coast, unutterable scenes of horror and woe—what +histories could they not unfold? But the tusks lay there, hugging their grim +secrets, silent and mute enough. +</p> + +<p> +Cecil Kensley, the person cataloguing these treasures of ivory in a purely +matter-of-fact way, was a good-looking, fair-bearded man of thirty, partner in +a wealthy firm, a bachelor, somewhat of a man of pleasure out of office hours, +but in business smart, shrewd and hard-working. The cataloguing of such an +accumulation of ivory as that great warehouse held was a lengthy business; and +all day, until four o’clock, Kensley was engaged, with the help of the +warehousemen, sorting, turning over and writing down. Before taking a short +rest for luncheon, his eye fell upon one magnificent tusk—long, perfectly +shaped and balanced, massive, highly polished, and, in colour, of the richest +chrome yellow. It lay somewhat apart, and appeared to have no fellow; a careful +inspection of the rest of the warehouse, and a single glance at that peerless +tooth, showed that, even out of all that vast collection, no possible match for +it could be found. +</p> + +<p> +Kensley had been working all the morning at the far end of the warehouse; he +now stood by the tusk which had so taken his eye. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Thomas!” he said, interrogating the man who stood by him, +“what have you got here? What a grand tooth! Where’s the fellow to +it? Is it an odd one?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” replied the man, “it’s an odd tooth, and a +rare beauty. It’s years since I saw the like of it. It’s a grand +tusk, as you say: I ran the measure over it, and it went 9 feet 2 inches, and +it weighs just on 170 lb. It’s as nigh perfect as can be, but +there’s just one little bit of a flaw down there by the base—an old +wound, or something of the kind. There’s a sight of good ivory in that +tooth, and it must be as old as the hills a’most.” +</p> + +<p> +Kensley had seen, in the fourteen years of his experience, thousands of fine +teeth; yet, connoisseur though he was, he thought, as his eye ran lovingly over +that magnificent nine feet of ivory, splendid in colour, curve and solidity, +that he had never seen such another. He stooped to look at the flaw the man +spoke of. Within a foot of the darker portion at the base, just beyond where +the ivory had manifestly emerged from the flesh of the gum, there appeared a +curious fault in the graining of the tooth, elsewhere perfect. The growth had +been disturbed by some foreign substance, and the graining, instead of being as +regular and even as a pattern woven by machinery, swept in irregular curves +round the centre of the flaw. +</p> + +<p> +Kensley rose to his feet again. “It’s not much of a fault,” +he said, “and the tooth’s a real beauty. I’ve been meaning +this long time past to have such a tusk at my rooms, to decorate a corner or +hang upon the wall. I think I’ll take that fellow, Thomas, and pay for +it; it will be a long time before I come across a better. See that it goes up +to my flat to-morrow, will you, and take care how it’s carried. I +don’t want it spoiled.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, sir,” replied the man, “I’ll see to it +myself. I’ll give it a bit of a clean up and take it up for you to-morrow +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Two evenings after this conversation, Cecil Kensley left the office and walked, +as was often his custom, steadily westward. He made his way by the Embankment +and Pall Mall, then up Saint James’s Street, and so to Mount Street, +where his dwelling was situated. Arrived at Mount Street, he let himself into +his flat. It was a pleasant set of rooms on the first floor, furnished in very +excellent taste with most luxuries that the cultivated male mind can suggest. +In one corner, leaning against the wall, stood the ivory tusk, which, now +cleaned and polished, formed, if an unwonted, a very noble ornament to the +chamber. Kensley’s eye rested on it with pleasure; he went to the corner +and carefully examined his new possession. It was now six o’clock; the +cold spring evening was closing in and the light fading. At eight o’clock +three friends were dining with Kensley, preliminary to a night of cards. Having +drunk some tea, which his man brought in for him, and lighted a cigarette, +Kensley drew his comfortable armchair towards the pleasant firelight and smoked +contentedly. He had been late for several nights past—he was never a very +early man—and now, having cast away the end of his cigarette, he lay back +in his chair and blinked drowsily at the red glow of the firelight. In ten +minutes he was fast asleep and dreaming. Now, although Cecil Kensley sometimes +dozed for half an hour or an hour before dinner in this way, it was seldom that +he dreamed. His dreams this evening were fantastic and most strange—so +strange that they are worth recording. Here is what he saw:— +</p> + +<p> +In an open clearing among pleasant African hills, covered for the most part +with bush and low forest, lies a collection of huts, circular and thatched, as +are all native huts. Just above them, on rising ground, and surrounded by a +strong stockade, stands a larger and more important dwelling, oblong in shape, +its interior screened from the fierce sun by a low veranda, and thatched, as to +its roof, with grass in the native fashion. It is a hot morning in the glowing +tropical summer—the season of rains—vegetation and flowers are +everywhere in their freshest verdure and beauty. Fleecy clouds lie at this +early hour of morning upon the face of the eastern sky, and hang in a long line +midway upon the sides of a high mountain some miles distant. Seated just +outside the stockaded inclosure is a European, clad in the broad-brimmed hat, +doublet, loose breeches, and buff riding boots of a bygone time. Somehow the +face of this European, with its sallow cast, peaked beard, and fierce +moustaches, is strangely familiar to the eye and brain of the dreamer, though +he cannot in his sleep exactly recall how. Round about the Portuguese, for he +is of that race, are half a dozen soldiers of his country, in buff coats and +steel caps, bearing in their hands antique pieces—snaphaunces. Squatting +in front are thirteen or fourteen naked Africans, waiting the white man’s +will. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” speaks the commander, for such he is, “is the gold +all here? Stand forward, Kanyata.” +</p> + +<p> +A native steps out from his fellows, and hands the commander a quill of +gold—gold dust and tiny nuggets—the fruit of a week’s hard +toil and labour of himself and his family. Each native in turn stands forward +with his precious store, and tremblingly hands it to the fierce, sour-looking +white man. In his turn a young man sullenly comes out of the rank, and hands in +his quill. There is a very dangerous look in the commander’s eye as he +takes the quill, holds it out and surveys it. “So,” he +interrogates, “that is your week’s work, Zingesi?” +</p> + +<p> +The young man answers in a hopeless, yet half defiant way: “My lord, I +have toiled for seven days in the river sands, and all that I have gained I +bring to you. You took from me my wife; if it had been otherwise, the quill +might have been full. I have no one to help me. I can do no more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thou dog!” snaps out the commander, with a look of black passion, +“I told thee seven days agone that thou mightest take the wall-eyed maid +to wife, to help thee. Why hast thou neglected my warning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my lord,” replies the native, “I like not Mokela, the +wall-eyed maid, and I will not take her to wife,”—then, +passionately, “Where is my own wife? There, in thy vile hut, thou thief +and robber! Do thy worst: I will find no more gold for thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Away with him!” roars the commander, now in a fury of passion, to +his soldiers; “tie him up and give him two hundred lashes.” +</p> + +<p> +The soldiers seize the unfortunate, take him to a tree hard by, and tie him up. +But now, before a stroke is given, an old native, somewhat fantastically +adorned, who has been standing among the villagers at a little distance, comes +forward and salutes the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Great chief of the Bazunga (Portuguese),” he says, “spare, I +pray thee, Zingesi. He is my only son, and the punishment is great. Let him +work for thee for another week. Perchance he has been bewitched. I will brew +him strong medicine, and he shall bring thee more gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Out with thee, Mosusa, thou evil-minded witch-doctor!” cries the +commander. “’Tis too late. Thou shouldst have used thine arts with +Zingesi before. Begone, or they shall serve thee as they serve Zingesi!” +</p> + +<p> +With a hopeless yet terrible gesture, Mosusa quits the crowd, and retires to +his hut on the village outskirts. Meanwhile, Zingesi being tied up, two +Portuguese soldiers, casting off their buff coats, and tucking up their +sleeves, take each in hand a cruel whip of hippopotamus hide, and begin their +task. They flog by strokes of fifty; each, in presence of that grim taskmaster, +laying on the blows with all his strength. With the first ten cuts the blood +spouts freely from the unfortunate native, whose cries and groans might surely +touch the hardest heart. But there is no mercy. Zingesi’s back at the +hundredth stroke is a mass of raw and bleeding flesh; his face has assumed an +ashy pallor. At a hundred and fifty his head falls over upon his shoulder, he +swoons, and can feel no more. The man wielding the whip halts for an instant, +looks at the commander, and says, “Shall I go on, Captain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, of course, and be damned to you, till he has had the full two +hundred,” answers the captain venomously, as he rises from his chair and +goes into his hut again. +</p> + +<p> +The horrible task proceeds, and the soldiers, not daring to slacken their +blows, complete the two hundred strokes. By that time Zingesi, his frame +already weakened by recent fever, is beyond the reach of further ills. His +body, unloosed from the tree, falls limply upon the hands of the soldiers, and +is laid upon the shamed earth. Life has clean fled from that poor mangled piece +of flesh and blood. +</p> + +<p> +It is night. The short African twilight has vanished; the moon has not yet +arisen. Far away in the depths of the forest there crouches over a fire of wood +Mosusa, the old witch-doctor, father of the dead Zingesi. His face, lit up by +the red flames, has lost the sullen misery of the morning. His eyes glare with +the intensity of a fierce passion, the sweat drips from his brow, every muscle +of his body quivers. He rises, paces slowly round the fire, keeping always +within the limit of a circle which he has traced in the sand, uttering as he +passes a low monotonous chant. Now and again he casts into the fire the skins +of snakes and lizards, bones, the dried livers and hearts of certain animals, +poisonous bulbs and herbs, and other paraphernalia of the native wizard. Anon +he pauses in his chant, listens, and gazes intently into the gloom of the +forest. On one side of the fire lies coiled up a huge serpent, a python, whose +cold glittering eye watches intently Mosusa’s every movement. Mosusa +approaches the great snake, and says, “Will he come, think you, O my +friend? The forest is wide, and the great one wandered far this morning.” +The serpent lifts its flat head, darts out its long forked tongue, and rubs its +nose caressingly against Mosusa’s leg; then, swiftly uncoiling, it glides +to the other side of the fire and lies with its head pointing to the forest. +Mosusa goes and stands by its side. Presently a rumbling noise is heard; nearer +and louder it comes, and then from the pall of the forest there looms within +reach of the firelight a huge dark form—the form of an immense bull +elephant. The great creature, bulking there dark and mysterious within the ring +of firelight, bears but one tusk, long, thick and even; its head moves very +slowly up and down; its outstretched trunk gently quivers as it tests every air +of the night; and its small sunken eye, fixed keenly upon Mosusa, indicates +expectation. +</p> + +<p> +“O great one,” says Mosusa, saluting with upstretched right hand, +“lord of the forest, wisest of the creatures, thou hast come at my +summons. Hear me! Thou and I were born long ago upon the same night, in the +same country. Long have we known one another, long have been +friends—since the day when thy mother was slain by the spears of +Monomotapa, and thou and I grew up together as children within the kraal of the +king. But now I wax old, and near my end, while thou art in thy prime, still +young and lusty, and like to live an old man’s lifetime and more. And +before I leave this earth for the land of shadows one thing I have to ask of +thee. Thou rememberest, long, long years ago, how I whispered to thee, when thy +tusk was budding and thy captivity grew dangerous to thyself, that now was the +time to seek the forest and escape. And thou wilt remember how in thy first +youth, when Monomotapa, king of the tribes, had his first hunt for ivory, and +slew fifty of thy kindred within the ring of fire, I warned thee the night +before by the great serpent, grandfather of Tari here, and thou fleddest away +and saved thyself! To-morrow, O great one, I want thine aid. The captain of the +Bazunga goes forth to hunt in the forest. This day he has slain my son. +To-morrow be thou within the forest, and when he comes slay me this evil man, +the cruel persecutor of thy race and mine. No harm shall come to thee. So shall +we be quits, and in the land of shadows I shall remember thee and joyfully +await thy coming!” +</p> + +<p> +The elephant moves silently a pace or two forward, just touches Mosusa +delicately upon the shoulder with its trunk-tip, then turns and disappears +again into the darkness. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +Again the scene shifts before the mind’s eye of the dreamer; the +witch-doctor and his firelight fade out, and broad daylight once more streams +upon the African forest. The Portuguese captain is marching through the +wilderness in search of elephants. In front of him are two trackers, who walk +swiftly upon the spoor of a troop of the great tusk bearers. Not far in the +rear, mingling with other hunters, is Mosusa, whose dark countenance wears this +morning a very singular expression. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, after passing some low hills, the white man posts himself in some +thick cover in a shallow gorge commanding a broad, worn path. The bulk of the +native hunters are sent far in front in a wide semicircle, to drive in +elephants towards the ambush. There is a long interval, and then, crashing +through the bush, appear at a slow trot the forms of five cow elephants. At the +nearest of these the commander discharges his piece. The great creature, sore +stricken, charges this way and that; at length, bristling with fifty spears, +spouting the red blood from her trunk, and struck by other bullets from the +white man’s snaphaunce, she falls heavily to earth. But while the party +are gathered round the fallen beast, and the natives busy themselves in +extricating their spears from the carcase, a sudden noise is heard behind. +There, trumpeting hideously, comes a mighty single-tusked +elephant—Mosusa’s elephant of the last night. The black men, naked +and disencumbered, fly, all of them save one, far down the gorge, and scatter +into the forest beyond. The white man, truth to tell, is bold and brave enough. +Trusting to his heavy piece and his own pluck, he stands his ground. It is late +indeed to fly, encumbered as he is with weapon and European clothing. As the +grim monster charges down upon him, he steadily raises his snaphaunce and +fires. But, just as he pulls trigger, Mosusa, standing behind his shoulder, +jerks his right arm, the bullet flies wide of its intended mark, and strikes +the elephant at the base of the great solitary tusk, just where the ivory is +sheathed in the flesh. Mosusa leaps aside, there is a wild curse in Portuguese; +in the same instant the savage scream of the enraged elephant thrills upon the +hot morning air, the white man is flung to earth, and the great gleaming tusk +drives deep through his body. Zingesi is avenged. The elephant withdraws his +tusk, kneels upon the yet living man, and crushes the last remnants of humanity +into a hideous, shapeless mass. +</p> + +<p> +All this Mosusa has witnessed with bright eyes and the fiercest satisfaction. +And now, raising his right hand, again he salutes the monstrous beast and +speaks. “O thou great one, mighty chief, lord of the forest, I thank thee +for what thou hast done. My time grows short: I die quickly. But thou, O my +friend, live thou, live to slay the accursed white men, who pursue thy kindred +and bring death and worse than death into this land of thine and mine.” +As he runs on, Mosusa’s voice seems as the voice of one possessed; his +eyes are fixed and open, as though gazing far into futurity. “And when +thine appointed time comes,” he goes on, still addressing the mighty +beast before him, “let thy tusk carry with it yet more of death and evil +to the white man. There is blood now upon it: let blood be with it in its +passage through the years to come, until it shall once more mingle with the +earth again. And now, great one, one thing more has to be done. Let my blood +mingle here with the white man’s: slay me, O my friend, and all shall be +finished.” +</p> + +<p> +But the elephant stands there in front of the frenzied African, its little eyes +fixed upon his eyes, its body swaying ever so slightly from side to side, its +trunk held out as if inquiring. +</p> + +<p> +“I see what thou requirest, O great one,” cries Mosusa. “Thy +blood too must flow, and at my hands!” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he raises his spear, plunges it into the creature’s trunk, and +as suddenly withdraws it. The beast screams with pain, the blood gushes forth +from the spear-thrust, and in a moment, with a blow of the wounded member, the +elephant has beaten the old native to the ground. In the next moment the +re-infuriated beast kneels quickly upon Mosusa and crushes the life from his +frame, as it had crushed the white man’s. The two bodies lie there +together, misshapen, mangled, yet still warm. And now the elephant, having +completed his work, turns slowly away and plunges into the jungle. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +The scene had again faded from the dreamer’s eyes; yet its memory +lingered clear, as Cecil Kensley awoke cold and shivering from his sleep. The +fire burned low, the room was in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Gad! what a curious dream!” he said to himself, as he rose stiffly +from his lounge chair. “I never felt so cold in my life.” By the +dim low firelight he made his way to a corner of the room, touched a button and +switched on the electric light. The room in an instant assumed its normally +bright and cheerful aspect. First putting some coals upon the fire, Kensley +went to the sideboard, poured himself out a liqueur glass of brandy, and drank +it down. “That’s better,” he said to himself. “I must +have slept a deuce of a time. Can’t think why I got so cold.” He +turned and looked at the clock. “Half-past seven, by Jove! I must dress +sharp: these fellows will be here directly.” +</p> + +<p> +First opening a door into an adjoining room, where he saw the dinner-table +already prepared, he went to his bedroom and quickly dressed. He returned just +in time to welcome his friends, who arrived almost simultaneously. +</p> + +<p> +Of the three guests, two were Englishmen—average types of their race; the +other a dark, good-looking foreigner, of engaging manners. Barreto, as they +called him, spoke excellent English, and seemed to have a perfect knowledge of +all topics—mainly pertaining to racing, matters theatrical, and +cards—which came uppermost in the course of the evening. During the five +minutes before dinner was announced one of the visitors caught sight of the +tusk standing in the corner of the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Kensley!” he said, “what’s this? Something new, +isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” returned his host; “it’s a big tooth I came +across in the warehouse lately. On the whole, it’s about the finest bit +of ivory I ever saw; and so, as such specimens grow scarcer every year, I +collared it. Makes a nice ornament, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Magnificent!” rejoined Barreto, who had meanwhile approached, and +was intently examining the tusk. “I’ve seen a good many tusks in my +time, but I have never seen the fellow of this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, where did you pick up your knowledge of ivory, Barreto?” +asked Kensley. “I knew you were up to most things, but I didn’t +know that you were a judge of elephants’ teeth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see,” returned Barreto, “my family have had to do +with Africa for between two and three hundred years. Several of them have left +their bones there. I served as a lieutenant with the Portuguese troops in +Mozambique when I was a youngster. After that I came home what you call +invalidish—no, invalided—with fever; and, as I didn’t intend +Africa to have my bones, I left the army and went into diplomacy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see!” replied Kensley. “Well, that tusk,” patting +the great tooth affectionately, “must have been once something of a +neighbour of yours. It came from behind Mozambique or Sofala. The elephant that +carried it has, I take it, been dead many a long year. From the look of the +ivory, and the way it’s been preserved, I should imagine that tooth has +lain in some chief’s hut for best part of a century. Possibly it has been +some cherished fetish. It could tell some tall stories, I’ll bet, if it +could speak. But come along, you fellows: here’s dinner at last.” +</p> + +<p> +The four men strolled into the pleasant ruby-lighted dining-room, sat +themselves at the sparkling table, and for an hour devoted themselves heartily +to excellent viands and wine, and to the exchange of much merry conversation. +</p> + +<p> +At a quarter to ten, after some lingering over cigars and coffee, the party +returned to the drawing-room, where card tables were laid. Two other men came +in, and “poker” was started. The fortunes of the game waxed and +waned, as they will do; but somehow, half-hour after half-hour, the luck ran +dead against Barreto. It was easy to see that the Portuguese was a skilful and +a smart player, yet, do what he would, bluff boldly or lie low, he steadily +lost. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Barreto!” said one of the men to him, in a short pause for +whiskies-and-soda, “what’s up with you? You couldn’t go wrong +last week. To-night your luck’s dead out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied the Portuguese, who throughout the play had retained +his equanimity, and lost with a good grace, “there’s something +mysterious in the air to-night. I have felt a great depression ever since I +came into this room. I can’t tell you why. I felt better at dinner, but +back here again I’m wrapped in a wet blanket. A change of weather coming, +I suppose. A man who’s had African fever can generally foretell +it.” +</p> + +<p> +The play went on for another half-hour, by which time, as the clock chimed the +quarter-past one, Barreto had lost between 30 and 40 pounds. Kensley’s +English guests now rose to go, laughingly promising Barreto and their host, who +also had lost some 20 pounds, their revenge on a future occasion. After a +parting libation, the two men lighted cigar and cigarette, and left the flat, +Kensley turned to Barreto. “Feel like an hour’s écarté?” he +interrogated. +</p> + +<p> +“By all means,” answered the Portuguese, with a pleasant smile. +</p> + +<p> +Kensley brought out fresh cards, and the two sat down facing one another, the +table between. It seemed at écarté that Barreto could not lose. The stakes were +heavy, and Kensley’s deficit began to mount up ominously. He was a +practised player, and well used to the ups and downs of card luck; yet, easy as +was his manner, a looker-on might have noticed a grimmer and graver look +deepening about the lines of his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Kensley sprang to his feet, his eyes flashing, his face flushed with +anger. +</p> + +<p> +“You damned cheat!” he gasped, throwing down his cards. “For +a long time I couldn’t believe my eyes, but there’s no other word +for it—you’re a common swindler. I saw you pass that +card,”—pointing to a king—“I’ve seen you doing +the same thing before. Not one cent will you get out of me. Leave my rooms, and +take care neither I nor my friends ever see the face of you again. If we do +there’ll be trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +At first, as the Englishman blurted out his indignation—which, it may be +said at once, was perfectly honest and deserved—Barreto attempted, with a +gesture of courteous deprecation, to offer explanations. At last he obtained +speech. “You are mistaken, utterly mistaken,” he said calmly. +“I think you must be mad. Anyhow I have won this money fairly, and I +demand it. If you don’t pay, I shall make the fact public.” +</p> + +<p> +“You damned villain!” gasped Kensley; “get out of my rooms at +once, before I put you out.” +</p> + +<p> +The expression upon Barreto’s face changed now instantly from a plausible +calm to one of wild and deadly hate. He saw that Kensley was firm, and not to +be played upon. He glanced round the room. As ill luck would have it, there +hung, among other trophies upon the wall near him, an Indian knife in its +sheath. In an instant Barreto grasped the handle, drew the knife flashing from +its cover, and turned upon Kensley. “Now, Mr Kensley,” he said, +with a very unpleasant look upon his face, “you will pay me that 55 +pounds, and withdraw what you just now said, or take the alternative.” +</p> + +<p> +Few Englishmen care for knife play; unlike the men of Southern Europe, they +seem to have an instinctive horror of the weapon. Kensley little liked the job; +the adversary before him looked very evil—far more evil than he could +ever have imagined him; yet, being a man of courage and of action, he took the +only course that seemed at the moment open to him. He flung himself in a flash +upon Barreto, trying to seize the man’s arm before he should strike. He +was not quick enough to avoid the blow; the keen knife ripped through his +smooth shirt-front, and penetrated the upper part of his chest, just under the +collar-bone. Kensley’s fighting blood was now up; the wound, though a +nasty one, was not disabling; he grappled with Barreto, forced his right arm +and dagger behind his back, and then, twining his right leg round his +opponent’s, put forth all his strength and threw him, falling upon him as +he did so. The room was thickly carpeted, and the fall, though a heavy one, +made no great noise. The Portuguese gave a choking cry, and shuddered, as +Kensley thought, very strangely. Barreto had ceased struggling from the instant +he fell, and, in a strangely altered voice, gasped once in Portuguese, “I +am a dead man.” Kensley cautiously released his grip; he feared +treachery—some trick. But Barreto moved no more. One glance he gave as +Kensley rose; his eyes rolled, then he lay quite still. A horrible fear dawned +upon the Englishman. He gently lifted the man, and looked at his back. The +right arm lay listless now, and had released its grip of the knife. Alas! that +long knife, fashioned by some cunning artificer for wild hill men, so keen and +deadly for the taking of life, had done its work. By some ghastly misfortune, +it had penetrated the ribs and pierced Barreto’s heart. The man lay +there, flabby and inert—as Kensley soon convinced himself, dead beyond +all hope of recovery. +</p> + +<p> +As Kensley rose, and with a sickening feeling at his heart surveyed the dead +man’s face, something in its appearance touched a chord of memory. +“Great God!” he said to himself, “is it reality, or am I +still dreaming? This is the face of the Portuguese soldier I saw as I sat +asleep before the fire this evening!” His eye wandered from the dead +man’s face to the great yellow tusk gleaming there still and silent in +the corner of the chamber. As he looked, a new light seemed to leap into his +mind. Again he saw, as in a flash, before the eye of memory, those strange +scenes in the African forest. +</p> + +<p> +Now, whether it was coincidence, fate, black magic—call it what you +will—the ivory tusk, standing there in the corner of that silent room, +now a chamber of death and horror, was the tusk of the elephant seen by Kensley +in his singular dream—vision it might rather be called—of that +fateful evening. The name of the dead man upon the carpet there was Manoel +Barreto. The name of the Portuguese captain whom Kensley had in his dream seen +slain by the single-tusked elephant, more than two hundred years agone, was +Manoel Barreto too. The one was a lineal descendant of the other. +Zingesi’s death was again avenged. All this, however, Cecil Kensley, as +he stood there, haggard and white-faced, knew not—he only surmised dimly +some part of it. +</p> + +<p> +The clock chimed out two in soft, resonant tones. Kensley went to the +spirit-stand, poured out some brandy in a tumbler and drank it down. Then he +touched the electric bell. His man came to the door, heavy-eyed and sleepy. At +sight of Barreto’s body, the scattered cards upon the floor, his +master’s shirt-front soaked in blood, he turned ghastly pale and opened +his mouth to make exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“Thompson,” said his master, “there has been terrible work. +Go into the street and fetch a policeman and a doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +Pressing a handkerchief to his wound, he sank into a chair as his man went +forth upon the errand. +</p> + +<p> +The great tusk, the key to that grim tragedy, still gleamed there behind him, +cold, inscrutable, majestic, its history of blood not yet ended. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>Chapter Three.<br/> +Jan Prinsloo’s Kloof.</h2> + +<p> +Far away in the gloomiest recesses of a range lying between Zwart Ruggens and +the Zwartberg, Cape Colony, not far from where the mountains of that wild and +secluded district give place to the eastern limits of the plateau of the Great +Karroo, there lies hidden, and almost unknown, a kloof or gorge, whose dark and +forbidding aspect, united to the wild and horrid legend with which it is +invested, prevents any but the chance hunter or wandering traveller from ever +invading its fastnesses. This kloof is about seven miles from the rough track +that in these regions is dignified by the name of road; it is approached by a +poort or pass through the mountains, and the way is, even for South Africa, a +rough and dangerous one, although there are indications that a rude +waggon-track did formerly exist there. Standing upon the steep side of this +kloof are the remains of what must have once been a roomy and substantial Boer +farmhouse; but the four walls are roofless, the windows and doorways naked and +destitute of sashes, the euphorbia, the prickly pear, and clambering weeds grow +within and without, the lizard and snake abide there, and the whole appearance +of the place denotes that many years have elapsed since Prinsloo’s Kloof +was tenanted by human life. +</p> + +<p> +In many respects the wild kloof gives evidence that the Boer who first tarried +there had an eye for good pasturage for his flocks and herds. The spekboom and +many another succulent bush, dear to the goal breeder, flourish amid the broken +and chaotic rocks with which the hill sides are strewn. A strong fountain of +water runs with limpid current from the mountain at the back of the house; the +flat tops of the hills around are clothed with long waving grasses, and the +valley is, manifestly, well fitted to be the nursery of a horse-breeding +establishment. A tributary of the Gamtoos River flows deeply, if fitfully, +below the sheer and overhanging cliffs in a chain of pools, called zee-koe gats +(sea-cow or hippopotamus deeps)—the hippopotamus, though his name lingers +behind, no longer revels in the flood—and the bottom of the valley is in +many parts fertile and suited for the growth of grain and fodder crops. +</p> + +<p> +Broken and uncouth as are many portions of the Witteberg and Zwartberg, the +neighbourhood of Prinsloo’s Kloof far surpasses them. There the volcanic +action of a bygone age has perpetrated the most extraordinary freaks. The +mountains are torn into shapes so wild and fantastic, that, viewed in profile +against the red glow of the setting sun, all manner of weird objects may be +conjured before the imagination. In some places, as the kloof runs into the +heart of the hills, the cliff sides are so deep, so precipitous, and so narrow, +that but little sunlight can penetrate beneath, and even on a hot day of +African summer a chill strikes upon the spectator passing through. +</p> + +<p> +It is not difficult to understand, from a Boer point of view, that this stern +valley was a well chosen spot in which to build a farmhouse. The distance from +a roadway, is, in Boer eyes, of no great account, and, as a rule, the farther +from human habitation the Dutch farmer can get the better he is pleased. As for +the forbidding aspect of the kloof, the stolid, unimaginative Boer would be +little troubled on that score; he has no eye whatever for picturesque or scenic +effect, and will plant himself as readily upon the treeless wastes of the +Orange Free State, or the most stony, barren mountain-side of the Old Colony, +as in the most beautiful and wooded country that South Africa can give him. +</p> + +<p> +When Jan Prinsloo trekked into the kloof, towards the end of the last century, +the place must have been a very paradise and nursery of game. In the river the +hippopotamus played, elephants roamed through the valleys and poorts everywhere +around, the zebras ran in large troops upon the mountain tops, and many of the +larger game, such as koodoo, the buffalo, and the hartebeest, wandered +fearlessly and free; while of the smaller game, such as rhebok, duykerbok, and +klipspringer, judging from the abundance of the present day, there must have +been literally multitudes. To Jan Prinsloo, then, wild and sombre as the place +was, it must have appeared, as he trekked down the pass, a veritable Boer +elysium. But Jan, having played his part in the world—a part more fierce +and turbulent even than was usual to the marauding frontier Boers of a hundred +years ago—made his exit from the scene in a manner cruel and horrible +enough to match fitly with the rest of his wicked and violent existence. +</p> + +<p> +Since Jan Prinsloo’s fearful ending, which will be hereafter alluded to, +the kloof has borne an evil reputation. Now and again a Boer has taken the +farm, tempted by its pastoral advantages and its low purchase-money, but +somehow, none have ever stayed upon it for long. The last tenant, an +Englishman, quitted it hastily nearly forty years ago, and ever since then the +house has become year by year more sombre and more desolate, the footsteps of +human beings now rarely penetrate thither, and even the very Kaffirs avoid the +place. +</p> + +<p> +In September of the year 1860, a young English Afrikander, Stephen Goodrick by +name, who had, from the time he could handle a rifle, been engaged in the far +interior in the then lucrative, if dangerous, occupation of elephant-hunting, +having amassed, at the age of thirty, some four or five thousand pounds, after +fourteen years of hunting and trading in Northern Bechuanaland and the Lake +Ngami region, threw up the game, and trekked down to Grahamstown with his last +loads of ivory. These disposed of and his affairs settled, he took unto himself +for a wife, a handsome, dark-eyed girl, the daughter of Scotch parents, living +near his own family in the Western Province, and then set about looking for a +farm, having determined to settle down to the more peaceful pursuits of +pastoral farming. After a month of riding hither and thither, inspecting farms +in the districts of Swellendam, Oudtshoorn, and George, none of which pleased +his fancy, he turned his attention to the Eastern Province. +</p> + +<p> +Goodrick had been long and continuously away from the Cape, and in the brief +intervals when he had rested from his hunting and trading expeditions he had +usually stayed with his father, an old colonist, in Swellendam, a district to +the south-west of the Colony. His knowledge, therefore, of the Eastern Province +was necessarily somewhat restricted. Stephen, by chance, heard one day from a +Boer trekking by with fruit and tobacco, that another Boer named Van der Meulen +was leaving his farm near the end of Zwartberg. Losing no time, Stephen saddled +up, paid temporary farewell to his wife, whom he left at his father’s +house, and, traversing Lange Kloof and crossing the Kougaberg, he entered, on +the afternoon of the third day, Prinsloo’s Kloof, whither he had been +directed. +</p> + +<p> +It was a glorious hot afternoon in early summer, the sun shone as only it can +in Africa, and under its brilliant rays and with the wealth of vegetation and +flower life springing up everywhere around, the kloof, savage though it +appeared, put on its mellowest aspect; and as Goodrick rode up to the farmhouse +and noticed the flocks and herds, all sleek and in good condition, he thought +that there might be worse places in which to outspan for life than this +beautiful, if solemn valley. +</p> + +<p> +At the farmhouse he was welcomed by the owner. Van der Meulen, and after a +stroll round the kraals and supper over a business conversation took place +before the family retired to rest, which, as it seemed to the young Englishman, +they did hurriedly and with some odd glances at one another. Next morning all +were up early, and Goodrick rode round the farm—all good mountain +pasture, embracing some 19,000 morgen (rather more than 40,000 acres) in its +area. The Boer, in his uncouth, rough way, warmly praised the farm; the price +he asked was extremely small, and the annual Government quit rent very +trifling. Van der Meulen explained as his reason for selling the place, +apparently so much below its value, that he had been offered, at an absurdly +small price, a very fine farm in the Transvaal by a relation who had lately +annexed the best of the land of a native chief; and, as many of his blood +relations, Voertrekkers of 1836, were settled there, he wished to quit the +Colony quickly and join them. Finally, Goodrick agreed to buy the farm, +together with part of the stock, and, early on the following morning, left the +kloof. The purchase was shortly completed at Cape Town, where the vendor and +purchaser met a week afterwards, and, the Van der Meulens having trekked out +with all their household goods and belongings, the Englishman and his wife +prepared to enter upon their property. +</p> + +<p> +Stephen Goodrick, then, with two waggons, carrying his wife, her white female +servant, and a quantity of furniture and household and farming necessaries, and +taking with him four Hottentots and half-a-dozen horses, trekked again through +Lange Kloof, over the Kougaberg, and thence through a country partly mountain, +partly karroo, until one afternoon early in October, the waggons crossed the +deep and dangerous drift of the river, and went up through the poort that led +into Prinsloo’s Kloof. After a most difficult and tedious piece of +travelling for some seven miles—for the half-forgotten waggon-track lay +up and down precipitous ascents and declivities, littered here and there with +huge boulders, or hollowed out into dangerous spruits and holes—at length +the stout but wearied oxen faced the last steep hill to the farmhouse, and with +many a pistol crack of the great whip, many a Hottentot curse directed at +Zwartland, Kleinboy, Engelschman, Akerman, and the rest, dragged their heavy +burdens up to the open space that had been cleared in front of the homestead. +It had been arranged that Van der Meulen’s eldest son should remain upon +the farm until Goodrick and his wife had arrived, and further, that an old +Hottentot, Cupido by name, who knew the farm and its ways well, and two young +Kaffirs, who had lately arrived from the Transkei in search of work, should +transfer their services to the new-comer. +</p> + +<p> +These four being therefore ready, having already brought in and kraaled the +goats for the night, they assisted the Englishman to outspan his oxen and +unload the waggons. After two or three hours’ hard work, a good portion +of the waggons was unloaded, and part of the furniture arranged in the house; +three of the horses were placed for the night in the rough building adjoining +the dwelling-house that served for a stable, while the remainder had been +turned into a large stone kraal which lay on the other flank of the house. +Meanwhile the white servant had prepared the supper, which partaken of, the +wearied travellers retired to rest. About the middle of the night Goodrick and +his wife were suddenly aroused by a great commotion in the stable; the horses +were trampling, plunging and squealing as if suddenly disturbed or scared. Then +there rose upon the night, as it seemed just outside the house, a wild scream, +hideous in its intensity and full of horror. +</p> + +<p> +Hastily thrusting on some clothes and taking a lantern, Goodrick ran round to +the stable. The night, though there was no moon, was not dark, and the stars +shone clear in the firmament above. Nothing was to be seen, no sound could be +heard save the snorting of the horses, and the weird cry of a leopard +(strangely different, as the hearer well knew, from the scream heard just +previously) that sounded from the rocks a mile or so away on the right. Quickly +entering the stable, Stephen was astonished to find the horses in a profuse +sweat, trembling, their halters broken, their eyes startled and excited, and +their whole demeanour indicating intense fear. What could be the cause? There +was, apparently, no wild animal about, nothing in the stable calculated to +excite alarm; the animals were old comrades, and not likely to have been +fighting. Goodrick was altogether puzzled, and, leaving the stable, went to a +shed in rear of the house, where the natives slept, and roused the old +Hottentot. The man could give no reason for the disturbance. Wolves (hyaenas) +were not likely to approach the house, and the tigers (leopards) had not been +very troublesome lately, and he could think of nothing else to explain the +matter. There was a scared look in the old man’s face, which Goodrick +thought nothing of at the time, but which he afterwards remembered. After some +little trouble, fresh halters were procured, the horses tied up and soothed, +and the two again retired, Cupido being cautioned to keep his ears open against +further disturbance. Nothing further occurred during the night. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, after seeing the goats unkraaled, watered and despatched to their +day’s pasturage in charge of the two Kaffir herds, Goodrick asked the +young Boer at breakfast if he had heard the noise among the horses, and the +wild scream, and what could be the cause, and if there was any cattle-stealing +about this wild neighbourhood. Young Van der Meulen’s heavy, immovable +countenance changed slightly, but he replied that he could give no explanation +except that perhaps a leopard might have been prowling about; they were pretty +numerous in the kloof. Stephen explained that he and the Hottentots had spoored +everywhere around the stable for leopards, but could find no trace. +</p> + +<p> +Here the subject dropped, and Van der Meulen relapsed into silence, except when +the Englishman asked him what game there was about the hills. “You will +find,” he said, “plenty of small buck—klipspringers, rhebok, +and duykerbok, and there are still a fair number of koodoo which, however, take +some stalking. Then on the berg tops there are several troops of zebras, as +well as hyaenas and leopards; but the zebras we have seldom shot, they take so +much climbing after, and you know we Dutchmen prefer riding to walking. You +will find also lots of springbok and steinbok and some black wildebeest (gnu) +on the plains beyond the mountains. Yes, I have had many a <i>mooi schiet op de +plaats</i> (pretty shoot on the farm).” Suddenly the young man’s +heavy features changed again as he said, “Allemaghte! (Almighty) but I +shall be glad to get out of this place; I hate it! I want again to get on to +the Transvaal high veldt, where I trekked through two years ago, and where you +can shoot as many blauuw wildebeest (brindled gnu), blessbok, quagga, +springbok, and hartebeest as you want in a day’s ride. Ja! that is the +land for me; these gloomy poorts and kloofs are only fit for leopards and +spooks (ghosts). Then, you know, Mynheer, the Transvaal is free; we never loved +your Government, which is always wanting from us this, that and the other, and +I shall be glad to trek out. Up in Zoutpansberg we shall be able to hunt the +kameel (giraffe), and the zwart-wit-pens (sable antelope), and elephant, as +much as we like, and for our winter pasture we shall not have to pay a single +rix-dollar. Ja! I have had enough of Prinsloo’s Kloof, and never wish to +see it again.” This long speech delivered, the Boer relapsed into +silence. There was a curious look on the young man’s face as he had +spoken, which Goodrick and his wife could not quite define or understand. +</p> + +<p> +An hour afterwards Van der Meulen had slung his rifle on his back, packed some +biltong (sun-dried meat) in his pockets, saddled up his horse, and bidden +farewell to the tenants of the kloof. The Englishman and his young wife watched +his retreating form as it slowly proceeded down the valley, and presently +disappeared amidst a grove of acacia trees that margined the river; then they +turned to the house. “I don’t quite understand that fellow,” +said Stephen, “do you, Mary? I can’t help thinking there was +something behind what he said. Why were his people so eager to leave this farm? +However, dearest, the farm is a good one and a cheap one; we are young and +strong and ought to be as happy as any two people in the Colony.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Stephen,” said his wife, “I thought there was something +queer in what the young man said, but it could have been only fancy. I am sure +we ought to be happy and contented, and with you by my side, I shall always be +so.” +</p> + +<p> +In a few weeks’ time Goodrick had increased his stock of goats, and had +bought a sufficient number of horses to start a stud farm upon the mountains +around. Things seemed to be going well with him. The pasture was in splendid +condition, the valleys and kloofs that led into the mountains literally blazed +with flowers of every conceivable hue, from the great pink or crimson blossomed +aloes, that gave warmth to the towering brown rocks above, to the lovely +heaths, irises, and pelargoniums that clothed as with a brilliant carpet the +bottom grounds. The house had been thoroughly cleansed, put into order, and the +new furniture settled into it, and young Mrs Goodrick busily employed her days +in household duties. Her husband had had several good days’ shooting +about the hills, and had brought in two koodoos (one of the largest and most +magnificent of South African antelopes), whose noble spiral horns now adorned +the dining-room, besides many a head of smaller antelopes and innumerable +francolins, pheasants, ducks, and other feathered game. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, somehow, though things had so far gone well, the young couple were not +quite comfortable. The disturbances among the horses, although not repeated for +several nights, had occasionally happened; the same horrid scream had been +heard, and their causes had so far completely baffled Stephen Goodrick. He had +tried all sorts of plans, changed the horses, and even had them all turned +loose together in the great stone kraal, but with the same results. They were +found over and over again at night, mad with fear and drenched with sweat, +trampling and plunging in the stable, or tearing about the inclosure. +</p> + +<p> +Cupido and the Kaffirs, and his own Swellendam Hottentots, had been questioned +and cross-examined, but to no purpose. Twice had Goodrick remained on the watch +all night. On one occasion he believed he had seen a figure move quickly past +him in the darkness, and the horses had been disturbed at the same time; but +nothing further could be traced and no spoor of man or quadruped was ever +discovered. The thing was a mystery. At length, one moonlight night, Goodrick +ran out, hearing the now familiar noises, and, taking with him his great +brindled dog, which had often hunted elephants, rhinoceros, buffalo and lion, +he quickly went round to the stable. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the two Kaffir herds also came running out on hearing the noise. +Just as they approached the stable together they beheld a figure pass through +the open doorway, as they supposed, and swiftly glide away to the hillside. The +dark figure was clad in a broad-brimmed Boer hat and quaintly cut old-fashioned +dress, as Goodrick could plainly notice. Stephen shouted, and with the Kaffirs +gave chase, but after a few minutes’ running the man suddenly vanished +into the bushy scrub that grew on the mountain-side, and no further trace could +be found, although the Kaffirs hunted everywhere around. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Stephen turned for his dog, surprised that the animal, usually so +fierce and impetuous, had not led the chase. To his utter astonishment, +“Tao” was close at his heels, his tail between his legs, his +hackles up, and with every symptom of terror upon him. The thing was +incomprehensible; the dog had never feared man or beast in his life before, and +many a time and oft had faced, as they turned at bay, the fierce and snarling +lion, the dangerous sable antelope with his scimitar-like horns, and the +wounded and screaming elephant. At length, turning back, they entered the +stable; to their surprise the door was locked, and on being opened the horses +as usual were loose and in the last extremity of fright. Nothing more could be +done that night. In the morning the Kaffirs and Hottentots searched everywhere +for spoor, but could find no trace of the midnight marauder. Cupido, indeed, +shook his head, rolled his bloodshot-looking eyes, and appeared to take the +occurrence as a matter of course. +</p> + +<p> +Three mornings afterwards the two Kaffirs came to Stephen, declared that they +had seen on the previous night the same dark figure just outside their sleeping +shed; that the terrible expression on the face of this apparition, which they +saw distinctly in the moonlight, had made them utterly sick and +terror-stricken; that the thing was a thing of witchcraft, and that nothing +would induce them to stay another night on the farm. +</p> + +<p> +“We like the N’kose (chief or master) well,” they said, +“but we dare not stay in this country or we shall be slain by the +witchcraft we see around us; why do you not get a ‘smeller out’ to +cleanse this place from the evil?” The two men, who, in daylight, were, +as most Kaffirs are, bold, hardy fellows, were evidently in earnest in what +they said, and though Goodrick, who could ill afford to part with them at a +moment’s notice, offered them increased wages, they steadfastly declined. +At length finding he could not shake their resolution, he reluctantly paid them +their money and let them go. Goodrick learned some months afterwards from a +friend, that these men had marched straight for the boundary of the Colony, +crossed the Kei, and rejoined their own tribe, the Gaikas, in Kaffraria. +</p> + +<p> +Goodrick now began to think somewhat seriously of the matter, and to ask +himself with inward misgivings what it all meant. Brave man though he was, like +most mortals he was not quite proof against superstition, and he began to find +himself half fearing that there was something not quite canny about the place. +How else could he account for the locked door, the suddenly vanishing figure, +the sickening yell, and the lack of footmarks? However, he kept his thoughts +from his wife, and made some excuse about a quarrel with the Kaffirs as to +wages, to explain their sudden departure. She, although accepting the +explanation, seemed uneasy, and at last burst out, “Oh, Stephen, I think +there is something wrong about this kloof—some dreadful mystery we know +nothing of. Have you ever noticed that even the Kaffirs in the kraal a few +miles beyond the poort never enter here? Not a soul amongst the farmers comes +near us, and as for ‘Tao’ he never seems happy now and is always +restless, suspicious and alarmed.” +</p> + +<p> +That same night the wild, unearthly scream rose again; the same tumult was +heard in the stable; Stephen rushed out, and once again, under the clear +moonlight, he saw the figure passing in front of him. This time he had his +rifle loaded, and after calling once, fired. Still the figure retreated; +another shot was fired, but to no purpose; the figure apparently glided +imperceptibly onwards, and then suddenly disappeared, as it seemed, sheer into +the earth. Goodrick knew so well his powers with the rifle, with which he was +famous as a deadly shot, that he could not bring himself to believe he had +missed twice within fifty yards. From this incident he could form no other +conclusion, and he shivered as he thought so, than that the night disturber was +not of human mould. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the horses were becoming worn to shadows, their coats stared, they +lost flesh and looked altogether miserable. Fresh horses had been brought in, +but the effect was ever the same. Shortly after, two of the Swellendam +Hottentots left, and the other two, with Cupido and Mrs Goodrick’s +servant, alone remained. Goodrick was now in great straits; he could not +immediately procure other native servants, and only managed to get through his +farm work with the greatest trouble and exertion. +</p> + +<p> +Things drifted on uncomfortably for another week or two, and each day as it +came and went, seemed to Goodrick and his wife to increase the gloom and +uncertainty of their life in the kloof. At length a climax arrived. Christmas, +but a sombre one, had sped, and South African summer, with its heat, its flies, +and other manifold troubles, was now at its height. +</p> + +<p> +On the 15th of January, 1861, a day of intense heat was experienced. All day +the landscape had sweltered under a still oppression that was almost +unbearable, and the very animals about the farm seemed touched and depressed by +some mysterious influence. +</p> + +<p> +Towards nightfall dark clouds gathered together suddenly in dense masses; in +the distance, long, rolling thunder-peals were heard approaching in strangely +slow, yet none the less certain movement. Cupido, the old Hottentot, had +fidgetted about the house a good deal all the evening, and finally, just before +ten o’clock, he asked his master if he might for that night sleep on the +floor of the kitchen, in order, as he put it, to attend more quickly to the +horses if anything scared them. Goodrick noticed that the old man looked +agitated, and good-naturedly said “Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +Still slowly onward marched the stormy batteries of the sky, until at eleven +o’clock they burst overhead with a terrific crash (preceded by such +lightning as only Africa can show) that literally seemed to tear and rend each +nook and corner of the gorge, reverberating with deafening repetition from +every krantz and hollow and rocky inequality in the rude landscape. Rain fell +in torrents for a time, then ceased. Again and again the thunder broke +overhead, while the lightning played with fiery tongue upon mountain and +valley, showing momentarily, with photographic clearness, every object around. +Sleep on such a night was out of the question, and Goodrick and his wife sat +together listening with solemn faces to the hideous tumult. At length, at about +twelve o’clock, the storm for a brief space rolled away, only to return +in half an hour with increased severity. +</p> + +<p> +Goodrick had gone for a few moments to the back door, which faced partly +towards the entrance to the kloof, and found Cupido standing there, seemingly +listening intently. As the tempest approached again with renewed ferocity, some +strange confused noises, shrieks and shouts as it seemed, were borne upon the +strong breeze that now preceded and hurried along the thunder clouds. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo!” said Goodrick, “what the deuce is that? There surely +can’t be a soul about on such a night as this?” Again a hideous +scream was borne up the valley. “Good God! that’s the very yell +we’ve heard so often round here at night,” repeated the Englishman. +“It’s not leopard, it’s not hyaena; what on earth is it, +Cupido?” The Hottentot was now trembling in every limb; his yellow, +monkeylike face had turned ashy grey, and his bleared eyes seemed full of some +intense terror. “Baas,” he stammered out, “it’s Jan +Prinsloo’s night, and if you’re wise you’ll shut the doors +fast, pull down the blinds, and not stir or look out for an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean that the ghosts of Jan Prinsloo, who was slain here years ago, +and his murderers, are coming up the kloof.” At that moment the cries and +shoutings sounded closer and closer up the valley, and it seemed as if the +rattling of horses galloping along the rock-strewn path could be distinguished +through the storm. Just then the other two Hottentots, who at length had also +heard the din, rushed across from their shed and huddled into the kitchen. Mrs +Goodrick at the same instant ran into the room. “What’s the matter, +Stephen?” she cried; “I am certain there is some dreadful work +going on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, wife, there is some devilish thing happening, and I mean to get to +the bottom of it. I haven’t hunted fifteen years in the interior to be +frightened by a few strange noises.” So speaking, the young farmer went +to the sitting-room, took down and rapidly loaded two rifles and his revolver, +and returned to the kitchen. Handing one rifle to the Hottentot, he said, +“Here, Cupido, take this; I know you can shoot straight, and, if needful, +you’ll have to do so. Wife, give the Totties a soupje each of +brandy.” +</p> + +<p> +This was quickly done; the result seemed, on the whole, satisfactory, and the +Hottentots somewhat reassured. In a few more seconds the storm burst again in +one appalling roar; after it could now be heard the clattering of hoofs up the +hillside, mingled with shrieks and shouts. This time the tempest passed rapidly +overhead, the dense black clouds rushed on, and suddenly the moon shone out +with wonderful brightness. +</p> + +<p> +Onward came the strange noises, sweeping past the side of the house as if up to +the great stone cattle kraal, that lay sixty yards away. Then was heard the +loud report of a gun. Stephen could stand it no longer. “Come on, you +fellows, with me,” he exclaimed, as he ran out towards the kraal. Cupido +and Mrs Goodrick, who would not be left behind, alone followed him; the white +servant woman and the remaining two Hottentots stayed in the kitchen, halfddead +with fright, the one on a chair, her apron clasped to her head and ears, the +others huddled up in a corner. The three adventurers were not long in reaching +the kraal, whence they heard proceeding the same dreadful cries and shrieks, +mingled with the trampling of feet Goodrick first approached the entrance, +which he found wide open. The sight that met his eyes, and those of his wife +and Cupido close behind, was enough to have shaken the stoutest heart. +</p> + +<p> +Under the clear illumination of the moon, which now shone forth calm and +serene, the inclosure seemed as light as day. In the far corner, to the right +hand, seventy paces distant, the half-dozen horses that had been turned in +stood huddled with their heads together like a flock of sheep. On the opposite +side from the entrance, a frightful looking group was tearing madly round. +First ran a tall, stout figure, clad in the broad-brimmed hat and quaint +old-fashioned leathern costume, which Goodrick in a moment recognised. In its +hands it grasped a huge, long, old flint “roer,” a smooth-bore +elephant gun, such as the Boers used in earlier days. The figure, as it fled, +had its face half-turned to its pursuers, who consisted of six half-naked +Hottentots armed with assegais and knives. As the chase, for such it was, swept +round the kraal and the figures approached the entrance, every face could be +plainly discerned; and this was the horrible part of it. These faces were all +the faces of the dead, gaunt, ghastly, and grim, and yet possessed of such +fiendish and dreadful expressions of anger, cruelty, and lust for blood, as to +strike a chilling terror to the hearts of the three spectators. Brave man and +ready though he was, Goodrick felt instinctively that he was in the presence of +the dead, and his rifle hung listlessly in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Closer the fearful things approached the spellbound trio, till, when within +thirty yards, the leading figure stumbled and fell. In an instant, with +diabolical screams, the ghostly Hottentots fell upon their quarry, plying +assegai and knife. Again the awful scream that the kloof knew so well rang out +upon the night; then followed a torrent of Dutch oaths and imprecations; and +then the dying figure, casting off for a moment its slayers, stood up and laid +about it with the heavy “roer” grasped at the end of the barrel. +</p> + +<p> +The three living beings who looked upon that face will never to their last days +forget it. If the expression of every crime and evil passion could be depicted +upon the face of the dead, they shone clear under the pale moonlight upon the +face of the dying Dutchman—dying again though dead. Once again with wild +yells the Hottentots closed on their victim, and once more rang the fiendish +dying yell. Then, still more awful, the Hottentots, as it seemed in an instant, +stripped the half-dead body, hacked off the head and limbs, and tore open the +vitals, with which they bedabbled and smeared themselves as they again tore +shrieking round the kraal. Flesh and blood could stand the sight no longer; Mrs +Goodrick, who had clung to her husband spellbound during the scene, which had +taken in its enactment but a few seconds, fainted away. Goodrick turned to take +his wife in his arms with the intention of making hurriedly for the house. At +that instant the horrid din ceased suddenly, and was succeeded by a deathly +silence. Turning once more to the kraal gate, Goodrick at once perceived that +the whole of the enactors of this awful drama had vanished. He rubbed his eyes +in vain to see if they deceived him, but a nod from the half-dead Cupido +convinced him that this was not so. No, there was no doubt about it, the waning +moon cast her pure and silvery beams calmly and peacefully upon a silent scene. +Not a trace of the bloody drama remained; not a whisper, save of the soft night +breeze, told of the dreadful story. +</p> + +<p> +“Baas,” whispered the Hottentot, “they’ll come no more +to-night.” Quickly Goodrick raised his fainting wife and carried her into +the house, where, after long and anxious tending, she was restored to +consciousness. Placing her in the sitting-room upon a couch which he had +himself made from the soft skins, “brayed” by the Kaffirs, of the +antelopes he had shot, he at length induced her to sleep, promising not for a +moment to leave her, and with his hands clasped in hers. +</p> + +<p> +At length the night wore away, the sun of Africa shot his glorious rays upward +from behind the rugged mountain walls of the kloof, and broad daylight again +spread over the landscape. Goodrick was glad indeed to find that with the +bright sunshine his wife, brave-hearted woman that she was, had shaken off much +of the night’s terrors; but her nerves were much shaken. For the last +time the goats were unkraaled and sent out, with the two somewhat unwilling +Hottentots, to pasture. Breakfast and some strong coffee that followed this +operation made things look brighter; and then, taking the couch and setting it +upon the stoep (veranda), just outside the windows of their room, and placing a +chair for himself, Goodrick went out to the back and called Cupido in with him +to the “stoep,” where he made the little ancient yellow man squat +down. “Cupido,” said he, “I am going to inspan this morning, +load up one of the waggons, and send my wife and servant under your charge out +of this cursed place to Hemming’s farm—the next one, twenty-five +miles out on the karroo. To-morrow, with the help of some Kaffirs I shall +borrow from Mr Hemming, I shall get down the horses from the mountain, load up +both the waggons with the rest of the furniture and farm tackle (as soon as you +return, which you will do very early), and trek out of the kloof, never again +to set foot in it. But first of all, you will tell me at once, without lying, +why you have never said a word to me of this horrible secret, and what it all +means. Now speak and be careful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, baas,” said Cupido, speaking in Boer Dutch, the habitual +language of the Hottentots, “you have been a kind baas to me, and the +jevrouw,” (nodding to his mistress) “has been good to me too; and I +will tell you all I know about this story. I would have warned you long ago, +but Baas Van der Meulen, when he left, made me promise, under pain of being +shot, not to say anything. I believe he would have kept his word, for he often +gave me the sjambok, and I dare not speak. I was born here in the kloof many +years ago, many years even before slavery was abolished and the emigrant Boers +trekked out into the Free State and Transvaal, and you will know that is long +since. +</p> + +<p> +“My father lived as a servant under that very Jan Prinsloo, whom you saw +murdered last night in yonder kraal, and many a time has he told me of Prinsloo +and his evil doings and his dreadful end. Well, Jan Prinsloo was a grown man +years before the English came across the shining waters and took the country +from the Dutch. He was one of the wild and lawless gang settled about Bruintjes +Hoogte, on the other side of Sunday River, who bade defiance to all laws and +Governments, and who, under Marthinus Prinsloo (a kinsman of Jan’s) and +Adriaan Van Jaarsveld, got up an insurrection two years after the English came, +and captured Graaff Reinet. +</p> + +<p> +“General Vandeleur soon put this rising down, and Marthinus Prinsloo and +Van Jaarsveld were hanged, but Jan Prinsloo, who was implicated, somehow +retired early in the insurrection, and was pardoned. Some years before this, +Jan was fast friends, as a younger man, with Jan Bloem, who, as you may have +heard, was a noted freebooter who fled from the Colony across the Orange River, +raised a marauding band of Griquas and Korannas, and plundered, murdered, and +devastated amongst many of the Bechuana tribes, besides trading and shooting +ivory as well. The bloody deeds of these men yet live in Bechuana story. Jan +Bloem at last, however, drank from a poisoned fountain in the Bechuana country +and died like a hyaena as he deserved. Then Jan Prinsloo took all his herds, +waggons, ivory and flocks, came back over the Orange River, sold off the stock +at Graaff Reinet, and came and settled in this kloof. He had brought with him +some poor Makatese, and these people, who are in their way, as you know, great +builders in stone, he made to build this house and the great stone kraal out +there, where we saw him last night. He had, too, a number of Hottentots, +besides Mozambique slaves, and those he ill-treated in the most dreadful +manner, far worse even than any Boer was known to, and that is saying much. At +last one day, not long after the Bruintjes Hoogte affair, he came home in a +great passion, and found that two of the Hottentots’ wives and one child +had gone off without leave to see some of their relatives, Hottentots, who were +squatted some miles away. +</p> + +<p> +“When these women came back in the evening, Prinsloo made their husbands +tie them and the child to two trees, and then and there, after flogging them +frightfully, he shot the poor creatures dead, child and all. As for the +husbands, he sjambokked them nearly to death for letting their wives go, and +then turned in to his ‘brandwein’ and bed. That night all his +Hottentots, including seven men who had witnessed the cruel deed—God +knows such deeds were common enough in those wild days—fled through the +darkness out of the kloof, and never stopped till they reached the thick +bush-veldt country, between Sunday River and the Great Fish River. Just at that +time, other Hottentots, roused by the evil deeds of the Boers, rose in arms, +and joined hands with the Kaffirs, who were then advancing from beyond the Fish +River. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the Kaffirs and Hottentots, to the number of 700, for some time +had all their own way, and ravaged, plundered, burned, and murdered, among the +Boers and their farms, even up to Zwartberg and Lange Kloof, between here and +the sea. While they were in that neighbourhood, a band of them, inspired by the +seven Hottentots of Prinsloo’s Kloof, came up the Gamtoos River, in this +direction, and met with Jan Prinsloo and a few other Boers, who were trekking +out of the disturbed district with their waggons, and who had come to +reconnoitre in a poort, fifteen miles away from here. All the Boers were +surprised and slain, excepting Prinsloo; and while the Kaffirs and other +Hottentots stayed to plunder the waggons, Prinsloo’s seven servants, who +were all mounted on stolen horses, chased him, like ‘wilde honde’ +hunting a hartebeest, for many hours; for Jan rode like a madman, and gave them +the slip for three hours, while he lay hid up in a kloof, until, at last, as +night came on, they pressed him into his own den here. +</p> + +<p> +“It was yesterday, but years and years ago, just when the summer is +hottest and the thunder comes on, and just in such a storm as last +night’s, that the maddened Hottentots, thirsting for the murderer’s +blood, hunted Prinsloo up through the poort. They were all light men and well +mounted, and towards the end gained fast upon him, although Jan, who rode a +great ‘rooi schimmel’ (red roan) horse, the best of his stud, rode +as he had never ridden before. Up the kloof they clattered, the Hottentots +close at his heels now; Prinsloo galloped to the great kraal there, jumped off +his horse, and ran inside, like a leopard among his rocks, fastening the gate +behind him, and there determined to make a last desperate stand for it. +</p> + +<p> +“The Hottentots soon forced the gate and swarmed over the walls, not, +however, before one was killed by Prinsloo’s great elephant +‘roer.’ Round the kraal they chased him, giving him no time to load +again; at last, as you know, he fell and was slain, and the Hottentots cut off +his head, and arms, and legs, and tore out his black heart, and in their mad, +murderous joy and fury, smeared themselves with his blood. Then the men looted +the house, set fire to what they could, and afterwards rejoined their comrades +next morning. They told my father, who had known Prinsloo, the whole story when +they got back. These six men were all killed in a fight soon afterwards when +the insurrection was put down, and the Kaffirs and Hottentots were severely +punished. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, ever since that night the thing happens once a year upon the same +night. Many Boers have tried to live in this place since that time, but have +always left in a hurry after a few weeks’ trial. I believe one man did +stay for nearly two years; but he was deaf, and knew nothing of what was going +on around, until one Prinsloo’s night when he saw something that quickly +made him trek I once saw the scene we witnessed last night; it was many years +ago, when I was a young man in the service of a Boer, who had just come +here—before then I had been with my father in the service of another +Boer, forty miles away towards Sunday River. Next morning after seeing Prinsloo +and his murderers, my master trekked out horror-stricken. I never thought to +have seen the horrible thing again, but eight months ago, when the Van der +Meulens came here, I was hard up and out of work, and though I didn’t +half like coming into the kloof again, I thought, perhaps, after so many years, +the ghosts might have vanished. I hadn’t been many nights here, though, +before I knew too well I was mistaken. Even then I would have left, but Van der +Meulen swore I should not. He and his family came here soon after +Prinsloo’s night, and left before it came round again; but after the old +man and his sons had twice been face to face with Jan’s spook prowling +about the stable and kraals, and even looking in at the windows, they were not +long before they wanted to clear out, and now you know their reason, +baas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Cupido, to my cost, I do,” said Goodrick, “I +don’t suppose I shall ever come across that delightful family again, for +it is a far cry to Zoutpansberg, in the north of the Transvaal, and a wild +enough country when you get there. But tell me, why is it that this dreadful +thing is always in and out of the stables and kraals frightening the +horses?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, baas, I am not certain, but I believe, for my father always told +me so, that Prinsloo was very fond of horseflesh, extraordinarily so for a +Boer; for you know as a rule they don’t waste much time on their horses, +and use them but ill. He had the finest stud in the Colony, and took great +pains and trouble with it; and they say that Jan’s ghost is still just as +fond as ever of his favourites, and is always in and out of the stable in +consequence. Anyhow, the horses don’t care about it, as you know, they +seem just as scared at him as any human being.” +</p> + +<p> +Cupido, like all Hottentots, could tell a story with the dramatic force and +interest peculiar to his race, and the bald translation here given renders very +scant justice to the grim legend that came from his lips. After the quaint +little yellow man had finished, Mrs Goodrick gave him some coffee, and +immediately afterwards the party set about loading up one waggon with a part of +the furniture. This done, and Mrs Goodrick and her servant safely installed, +Cupido, the oxen being inspanned, took the leading riems of the two first oxen +and acted as foreloper, while Goodrick sat on the box and wielded the whip. +</p> + +<p> +Twelve miles away beyond the poort that opened into the kloof there was a +Kaffir kraal, and having arrived there, Goodrick was able to hire a leader, and +Cupido having relieved his master of the whip and received instructions to +hasten to Hemming’s farm as quickly as possible with his mistress, +Goodrick saddled and bridled his horse, which had been tied to the back of the +waggon, and rode back to his farm. The night passed quietly away; the two +remaining Hottentots begged to be allowed to sleep in the kitchen, and this +favour their master not unwillingly accorded them. Next morning, at ten +o’clock, Cupido, who had trekked through a good part of the night, +arrived, and with him came Mr Hemming, the farmer, and four of his Kaffirs. +Hearing of his neighbour’s trouble, and having seen Mrs Goodrick +comfortably settled with his own wife, he had good-naturedly come to his +assistance. “So Jan Prinsloo has driven you out at last,” said he, +upon meeting Goodrick. “I heard from your wife last evening what you had +seen the night before. I was afraid it would happen and would have warned you +in time if I had known. But I never even heard that the Van der Meulens had +sold the farm till they had cleared out and I met you about a month after you +had been here; and as you were a determined looking Englishman, and the +half-dozen people who have tried the farm in the last twenty years have been +superstitious Dutch, I thought perhaps you might succeed in beating the ghost +where they failed. I haven’t been in the kloof for many years, and after +this experience, which bears out what my father and others who knew the story +well have always told me, I shan’t be in a hurry to come in here again. +It’s a strange thing, and I don’t think, somehow, the curse that +seems on the place will ever disappear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” said Goodrick, “I’m not in a hurry to try it. +I never believed in spooks till the night before last, for I never thought they +were partial to South Africa; but after what I saw I can never again doubt upon +that subject. The shock to me was terrible enough, and what my wife suffered +must have been far worse.” +</p> + +<p> +With the willing aid of his neighbour and his Kaffirs, as well as his own +Hottentots, Goodrick got clear of the kloof that day, and, after a few days +spent at Mr Hemming’s, trekked away again for Swellendam, to his +father’s house. Six months later he finally settled in a fertile district +not far from Swellendam, where he and his wife and family still remain. Cupido +died in his service some fourteen years since. After much trouble Goodrick sold +his interest in Prinsloo’s Kloof and the farm around for a sum much less +even than what he gave Van der Meulen for it; it is only fair to say he warned +the purchaser of the evil reputation of the place before this was done. It is a +singular fact that on his way to take possession of the kloof the new purchaser +fell ill and died, and the place has never since been occupied. +</p> + +<p> +Although it is nearly forty years since these events took place, and Mrs +Goodrick is now an old lady, with children long since grown to man and +womanhood, she has never quite thrown off the terror of that awful night. Even +now she will wake with a start if she hears any sudden cry in her sleep, +thinking for the moment it is the death scream of Prinsloo’s Kloof. As +for the haunted kloof, it lies to this day in desolation black and utter. No +footfall wakes its rugged echoes; the grim baboons keep watch and ward; the +carrion aasvogels wheel and circle high above its cliffs, gazing down from +their aerial dominion with ever-searching eyes; the black and white ravens seek +in its fastnesses for their food, looking, as they swoop hither and thither, as +if still in half mourning for the deed of blood of bygone years; and the +antelopes and leopards wander free and undisturbed. But no sign of human life +is there, or seems ever likely to be; and if, by cruel fate, the straying +traveller should haplessly outspan for his night’s repose by the haunted +farmhouse on the night of the 15th of January, he will yet see enacted, so the +neighbouring farmers say, the horrible drama of Jan Prinsloo’s death. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>Chapter Four.<br/> +The Bushman’s Fortune.</h2> + +<p> +Kwaneet, the Bushman, had lost his wife Nakeesa, and was just now a little +puzzled what to do with himself. Nakeesa, poor thing, had been slain by a lion +on the Tamalakan River in an attempt to rescue her man. (See “Tales of +South Africa,” by the same Author.) The attempt was successful so far as +Kwaneet was concerned, but Nakeesa and the babe she carried had fallen victims. +Kwaneet had quickly got rid of Nakeesa’s child by her first husband, +Sinikwe. It was a useless encumbrance to him, and he had sold it for a new +assegai to some Batauana people near Lake Ngami. +</p> + +<p> +The Masarwa was how at a loose end. The companionship of Nakeesa during their +year and a half of union—married life it could scarcely be called among +these nomads—had been very pleasant. Nakeesa was always industrious, and +had saved him an infinity of trouble in providing water, digging up roots and +ground-nuts and picking the wild fruit when game was scarce, and a score of +other occupations pertaining to the Bushman’s life. Now she was gone, and +he must shift for himself again, which was a nuisance. But, chiefly, his mind +was just now exercised, as he squatted by himself at a small desert fountain, +as to what he should do with himself in the immediate future. Suddenly an old +and long-cherished plan flashed across his mind. Years before, as a young lad, +his father had taken him on a long hunting expedition to a distant corner of +that vast desert of the Kalahari, in which the Masarwa Bushmen make their home. +He remembered the stalking of many ostriches, and the acquisition of great +store of feathers; he remembered a long, long piece of thirst country through +which they had toiled; and he remembered most of all coming presently to the +solitary abode of a white man, planted in that distant and inaccessible spot, +an abode almost unknown even to the wild Masarwa of the desert. From this white +man his father had obtained for his feathers, amongst other things, a good +hunting-knife—a treasured possession which he himself now carried. That +white man, his waggon—there were no oxen, he remembered, nor +horses—the house he had built for himself, and its fascinating contents; +the strong fountain of sweet water which welled from the limestone hard by; all +these things he remembered well. But most of all he recalled an air of mystery +which enveloped everything. When he and his father had approached the white +man’s dwelling, they had seen him, before he set eyes on them, digging in +a depression of the open plain a mile from the house. Much of the grass had +been removed, and piles of sand and stones were heaped here and there, and +there were heaps, too, he remembered, near the house. Kwaneet’s father +had, when they left that secret and unknown place, strongly impressed upon his +son the absolute necessity of silence concerning the white man and his abode. +The white man gave value for feathers—good value in a Bushman’s +eyes—which the harsh and bullying Batauana people of Chief Moremi at +Nghabe (Lake Ngami) never did. On the contrary, the Batauana robbed the poor +Bushman of all his spoils of the desert whenever they got a chance, which +happily was not often. +</p> + +<p> +Now Kwaneet had plenty of time upon his hands and no settled plan. The mystery +of the lone white man had always fascinated him. He would go now and see if he +still lived. It was some winters ago, but he might still be there. So Kwaneet +filled three ostrich eggs and a calabash with water, made fresh snuff against +the journey, and next morning, long before the clear star of dawn had leaped +above the horizon, started upon his quest. He was well equipped for a Masarwa. +His giraffe hide sandals, not needed till the thorns were traversed, and his +little skin cloak, neatly folded, were fastened to one end of his assegai. At +the other end hung the full calabash of water. His tiny bow, quiver of reed +arrows, bone-tipped and strongly poisoned, and a rude net of fibre containing +three ostrich eggs of water were slung over his back. Some meat and a supply of +ground-nuts, the latter skewered up in the dried crops of guinea-fowls, +completed his outfit. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long, long journey, but Kwaneet, travelling leisurely at the rate of +twenty or thirty miles a day—he was in no violent hurry—steadily +progressed. He had not been through that part of the Kalahari since, as a lad, +he had accompanied his father; yet, thanks to the wonderful Bushman instinct, +the way through the flat and pathless wilderness seemed as plain to him as the +white man’s waggon road from Khama’s to Lake Ngami. Despite the +thirst, it was not an unpleasant journey. The various acacias, hack-thorn, +wait-a-bit, hook-and-stick thorn, and the common thorny acacia, with its long, +smooth ivory needles, were all putting forth their round, sweet-scented blooms, +some greenish, some yellow, against the coming of the rains. Leagues upon +leagues of forest of spreading giraffe-acacia (mokaala) were in flower, and +their big, round, plush-like pompons of rich orange-yellow blossom scented the +veldt for miles with a delicious perfume. Even to the dulled senses of the +Bushman these symptoms of renewed life at the end of a long drought were very +pleasant. As the Masarwa plunged further and further into the heart of the +wilderness, game was very plentiful. Great troops of giraffe wandered and fed +among the mokaala forests; steinbuck and duiker were everywhere amid grass and +bush. Upon the great grass plains, or in the more open forest glades, herds of +magnificent gemsbok and of brilliant bay hartebeests grazed peacefully in an +undisturbed freedom; not seldom fifty or sixty noble elands were encountered in +a single troop. All these animals are almost entirely independent of water, and +found here a welcome sanctuary. The country was absolutely devoid of mankind. +Many years before a number of Masarwas had been massacred at a water-pit by a +band of Sebituane’s Makololo, then crossing the desert. The tradition of +fear had been perpetuated and the region was seldom visited by Bushmen. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, after sleeping within the welcome shelter of some thick bush, +Kwaneet steps forth upon a great open plain of grass. Kwaneet remembers the +plain at once. Upon it his father and he had slain ostriches years before, on +their way to the white man’s; and across the broad, thirty-mile flat lay +a water-pit, the last before the white man’s dwelling was reached. The +Bushman looks with a keen interest out upon the plain. He expects to see +ostriches, and he is not disappointed. He at once begins preparation for a +hunt. First he takes from his neck three curious-looking flat pieces of bone, +triangular in shape, scored with a rude pattern. One of these is more pointed +than the others. He pulls them from the hide strip on which they are threaded, +shakes them rapidly between his two palms, and casts them upon the earth, after +which he stares with intense concentration for a long half minute. These are +his dice, his oracles, which disclose to him whether the hunt is to be a good +or an unsuccessful one. Apparently the result of the first throw is doubtful. +The Bushman picks up the dice, shakes them, and throws them again. This time +the more acute-angled piece points away from the rest. The Bushman’s eyes +gleam, he mutters to himself in that odd, high, complaining voice which these +people have, giving a cluck or two with his tongue as he does so, and throws +once more. Again the oracle is propitious. Well pleased, the Masarwa re-strings +his dice, fastens them about his neck, and hastens his preparations. +</p> + +<p> +He now divests himself of all his encumbrances; water vessels, food, cloak, +assegai, and sandals are all left behind. Stark naked, except for the hide +patch about his middle, and armed only with his bow, arrows, and knife, he sets +forth. The nearest ostrich is feeding more than a mile away, and there is no +covert but the long, sun-dried, yellow grass, but that is enough for the +Bushman. Worming himself over the ground with the greatest caution, he crawls +flat on his belly towards the bird. No serpent could traverse the grass with +less disturbance. In the space of an hour and a half he has approached within a +hundred yards of the tall bird. Nearer he dare not creep on this bare plain, +and at more than twenty-five paces he cannot trust his light reed arrows. He +lies patiently hidden in the grass, his bow and arrows ready in front of him, +trusting that the ostrich may draw nearer. It is a long wait under the blazing +sun, close on two hours, but his instinct serves him, and at last, as the sun +shifts a little, the great ostrich feeds that way. It is a splendid male bird, +jet black as to its body plumage, and adorned with magnificent white feathers +upon the wings and tail. Kwaneet’s eyes glisten, but he moves not a +muscle. Closer and closer the ostrich approaches. Thirty paces, twenty-five, +twenty. There is a light musical twang upon the hot air, and a tiny yellowish +arrow sticks well into the breast of the gigantic bird. The ostrich feels a +sharp pang and turns at once. In that same instant a second arrow is lodged in +its side, just under the wing feathers. Now the stricken bird raises its wings +from its body and speeds forth into the plain. But Kwaneet is quite content. +The poison of those two arrows will do his work effectually. He gets up, +follows the ostrich, tracking it, after it has disappeared from sight, by its +spoor, and in two hours the game lies there before him amid the grass, dead as +a stone. The Bushman carefully skins the whole of the upper plumage of the +bird, cuts off the long neck at its base, takes what meat he requires, and +walks back to his camping-place. There he skins the neck of the bird, +extracting the muscles and vertebra; and, leaving the head, sews up the neck +again, inserting into it a long stick and some dry grass, and lays it on one +side. The hunt and these preparations have consumed most of the day. Kwaneet +now feeds heartily, drinks a little water, indulges himself in a pinch or two +of snuff, and then, nestling in his skin cloak close to his fire, his back +sheltered by a thick bush, sleeps soundly till early morning. +</p> + +<p> +So soon as it is light an ostrich stalks from the Bushman’s +“scherm” and moves quietly on to the plain. All its motions are as +natural as possible. It holds its head erect, looking abroad for any possible +danger, as these wary creatures will, puts its head down to feed at times, +scratches itself, all in the most natural fashion. The ostrich is no other than +Kwaneet, disguised with the greatest care and deftness in the skin of the slain +bird. He manoeuvres the neck and head on the long stick inserted yesterday. All +this is part of a Bushman’s education, and Kwaneet is merely profiting by +desert lessons acquired from his father years before. The Bushman-ostrich moves +quietly out on to the flat, and presently joins a knot of birds feeding amid +the grass. His approach is so skilful that he is able, without suspicion, to +lodge an arrow in the finest male bird of the troop. From this troop, moving as +they move when alarmed and keeping always with them, he kills four birds during +the morning, all of which he rifles of their best feathers. During three +days’ hunting upon the plain Kwaneet thus kills eight fine cock +ostriches, and gains a noble booty of prime feathers. These feathers having +carefully fastened together, he proceeds on his journey. It takes him a long +day to cross the plain. He rests at the limestone water-pit on the other side, +recruits his water calabash and eggshells, and then sets himself for the +wearisome two days of waterless journey to the white man’s settlement. He +travels faster now, and late in the second afternoon reaches the +well-remembered spot. The digging upon the grass plain seems to him as he +passes it much larger than of old. Many heaps are now grass-covered and even +overgrown with low bushes. But chiefly Kwaneet notices that the dry bed of an +ancient stream, which ages since ran here, has been greatly excavated. The +banks are piled up with soil, and the channel is much deeper than when he last +saw it. Kwaneet smiles to himself and marvels at the white man’s +profitless labour. The man is alive, that is certain, his spoor plainly tells +that tale. In another mile, following the path worn long since, the Masarwa +walks into the pleasant open glade just upon the outskirts of the camelthorn +forest, where the dwelling stands. It is exactly as Kwaneet remembers it, a low +cottage of wattle and daub, neatly thatched. The old waggon still stands there +under the spreading acacia fifty yards to the left. It is now rotten and +dilapidated, almost falling to pieces; the white ants have been busy with it. +There are signs of cultivation. Away to the right, near the fountain, a patch +of mealie and tobacco ground is almost ready for the rains that soon must fall. +</p> + +<p> +In front of the red mud walls of the hut, now glowing warmly beneath the rays +of the dying sun, sits the white man in an old waggon chair. As Kwaneet walks +up, he starts, rises, and, looking hard at the Bushman, says: “Who is +it?” Then, looking still harder, “Surely Dwar, the Masarwa?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” answers Kwaneet, “it is not Dwar, but Kwaneet, the son +of Dwar. Dwar died in the drought, in the season that three lions pulled down +the giraffe by the pool of Maqua.” +</p> + +<p> +The white man laughs grimly. “That is the answer of a true +Masarwa,” he says. “How can I tell when Dwar died? But now I +remember you, Kwaneet. You were here as a lad with your father, and you are as +like Dwar as one kiewitje’s egg is like another. What do you do here? The +Masarwa seldom comes this way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my lord,” returned Kwaneet, “I lost my wife on the +Tamalakan River and I wished to wander again. I thought I would hunt this way +and see if the white man still abode here. Here are feathers which he may wish +to buy.” +</p> + +<p> +The white man was long silent and gazed hard at Kwaneet, and as he gazed his +eyes seemed to wander dreamingly into the past. Meanwhile Kwaneet, squatting +there in the red sand in front of him, had time to observe him well. The white +man had changed a good deal. His glance, which the Masarwa remembered as +shifting and uneasy, was the same, but otherwise he was different from the +strong man he had last seen. He stooped and was very thin, his face was deeply +lined, the flesh followed tightly the contour of the bones. The beard and hair, +which the Bushman remembered as an intense black, were now thickly streaked +with white. +</p> + +<p> +While the two men sit thus silent, let us look into the white man’s +past—that past which at this moment he himself retraces within the mazes +of his brain. James Fealton, fifteen years before, was a Namaqualand trader, +who knew the interior and its natives well, and had prospered moderately. He +had not a very good reputation. When diamonds were discovered and the rush took +place to the Vaal River, he happened to be down-country. He joined the rush, +and, chumming with an Englishman fresh from the old country, spent many months +in digging. The two men lived hard, and had no luck for six months, by which +time most of their capital had come to an end. Then came a big stroke of +fortune. They found a huge stone of many carats, worth some thousands of +pounds. Not a soul in the camp knew of the find. But one day Fealton had +disappeared, his partner was found in their tent stabbed to the heart, and a +hue and cry arose. The hue and cry did not last long; the camp was far too busy +in those days with its own affairs to trouble greatly about bringing felons to +justice. Fealton had carefully covered up his traces and the search presently +died away. Fealton had, as a matter of fact, ridden off on a fleet horse by +night and had secured three good days’ start. Avoiding all dwellings, he +rode across the veldt, and presently reached a kraal on the north bank of the +Orange River, where he had left a waggon, oxen, and some stores some six months +earlier, just before he had been bitten with the diamond fever. +</p> + +<p> +Within six hours of his arrival at the kraal he had inspanned his oxen and +trekked away north into the heart of the Kalahari. At first he had luck; there +were plenty of wild melons (tsama) about the desert, and, failing water, his +oxen subsisted on these for some weeks. At Lehuditu, a Kalahari kraal, where +the only native he had with him lived, he paid off the man and thence trekked +on alone. But as he pressed yet north the tsama failed, and one after another +the oxen fell in their yokes and died of thirst and exhaustion. It was a +ghastly struggle for life. Fealton managed to reach the pleasant fountain where +Kwaneet found him and there halted. He had reached a remote place, surrounded +by “thirsts”—a place unknown to white men—here he would +rest for a year or two. The remnant of his oxen, save two, soon after died from +eating a poisonous plant—“Tulp,” as the Boers call +it—and he was stranded whether he liked it or no. But the place suited +him very well. He was haunted by the gnawing fear of detection. The crime +itself—the foul murder of his friend—troubled him little at present +in the haste and toil of flight, but the consequences of it, the terror of +retribution and of justice, dwelt with him incessantly. He would stay here till +things were forgotten, and then escape north far into Portuguese territory and +so to Europe. Meanwhile there was plenty of game around him. He had a plentiful +store of ammunition—enough for many years, with care—and was fond +of sport. He would hunt ostrich feathers, and thus collect wealth to add to the +value of that wonderful diamond, which he carried ever about him. And so he had +built himself a hut, and made himself a home in the wilderness. +</p> + +<p> +Rambling with his gun about the country near the place of his settlement, he +had found one day a dry river-bed, where water had evidently run in ages past. +Some of the gravel here and there, left uncovered by the light sand of the +desert, struck him. He brought a spade and searched carefully, and presently +from a washing picked out a small diamond. The discovery electrified him. That +here in this secret place, happened upon by the merest accident in that +desperate flight from the great diamond stretches of the Vaal River, he should +have lit upon another field, seemed the wildest improbability of a dream. Yet +so it was. He found a week or two later another stone. They were not large +diamonds, but they were wonderfully pure gems, white and flawless. He now set +to work with feverish energy. He would amass a huge fortune in a year or two +and then get away to some civilised country and enjoy that life of luxury and +indulgence for which inwardly his soul had always pined. He had a few trading +tools on his waggon, among them picks and spades. These easily sufficed him. He +worked steadily for three years in the dry river-bed, until the time when +Kwaneet and his father had made their way to his hut. His success had not been +very great, thus far the stones were scarce and far apart and not very large. +Moreover, the toil of carrying the stuff to his fountain for washing purposes +was great, and took up much time. But, four years after the Bushman’s +visit, a turn came. Moving farther along the dry channel he had at length hit +upon much richer soil. Fine diamonds of considerable size were occasionally to +be found after the washings, and slowly the man’s store of gems +increased. Yet, always hoping for some yet greater streak of luck, he toiled +on. Now at last, in the leather bag, locked in a corner of his waggon-chest, he +had a great fortune. But for the last two years his health had begun to fail. +Some internal trouble sapped at his strong frame. He lost flesh and grew old +and wrinkled. The fitful beating of his heart, palpitations, and even sudden +pangs, alarmed him. He gave up digging, he had barely enough energy at times to +shoot or snare game and keep himself in meat. He must escape from the desert, +which he now loathed, and get to Europe and obtain medical advice. No doubt he +could be put right again. +</p> + +<p> +For months he had been casting about for some means of escape from what was now +in his weakened state a prison. He doubted whether he could struggle on foot to +the next water—sixty long miles of heat and thirst—and there were +other long thirsts to be traversed before he could even strike a native +settlement and buy a horse or oxen. And here, in the midst of his perplexities, +the Bushman had turned up! Nothing could have been more fortunate, it was +absolutely providential. Fealton felt that evening more cheerful than he had +done for years past. His troubles would vanish now. That night he treated +Kwaneet to a magnificent feed—for a Bushman—opened his last bottle +of brandy—the long-treasured remnant from a case of two dozen—and, +under the mellowing influence of the liquor and companionship, his spirits rose +immensely. The old bright dreams, which had been fading in the last year or +two, rose clear before him. He understood the Koranna dialect, which much +resembles Masarwa, and he had no difficulty in conversing with the Bushman. +From him he gleaned a little—a very little—of what was passing in +the native states around him. Moremi reigned at Lake Ngami. Khama had succeeded +Macheng and ruled the Bamangwato. Secheli still lived. The white men came +oftener into the country, the game grew scarcer. He could glean little else +than these bare facts from the desert man. Yet it was wonderfully pleasant to +use his tongue, to break the long silence of the lonely wilderness, to exchange +ideas even with a Masarwa. The two men talked for a couple of hours, then +Fealton motioned Kwaneet into a corner of the hut, and himself lay down upon +his rough bed. +</p> + +<p> +Kwaneet curled himself up under his hartebeest skin cloak and was soon fast +asleep. He woke as usual very early, but Fealton was awake before him. Peering +from under his cloak, Kwaneet saw in the dim light of early morning that the +white man was sitting on his bed. He had in his hands a skin bag. He opened +this and poured out its contents on the couch. The Bushman could not see all, +but he saw a little heap of pebbles, which the hand of the white man levelled +and spread over the blanket. Several of the larger stones he picked up and +examined closely and weighed in his hand. It was clear to Kwaneet from the +white man’s movement that he set great store by these pebbles. The +Bushman stirred. Fealton swept the stones into the skin bag again, put them +into his waggon-chest, which stood close to the bed, and locked it. +</p> + +<p> +That morning, after breakfast, Fealton unfolded his plans to the Masarwa. He +was to go with some ostrich feathers to a trader at Lake Ngami and barter two +good pack oxen on which the white man could make his escape. He could ride one +and pack his belongings on the other. The Masarwa had more than once tended +cattle for the Bechuanas, and understood them. Oxen would traverse the +“thirst” better than horses—even if horses could be obtained, +which was doubtful—and Kwaneet did not understand horses. For the +Bushman’s protection in this business—lest he should be robbed or +cheated of the feathers by the way—Fealton wrote a note in an assumed +name and hand, authorising the cattle to be delivered in exchange for feathers. +He represented himself briefly as a traveller who had broken down in the +desert. He enjoined upon Kwaneet complete secrecy as to his long settlement in +the Kalahari. The reward to Kwaneet for the due despatch of this piece of +business was in the Bushman’s eyes a very great one. The white man +promised him a breech-loading rifle and ammunition and some goats. Kwaneet had +ambitions, for a Masarwa, and began to look forward to setting up as an +aristocrat, such, for instance, as the Batauana or Bamangwato people, who +lorded it so greatly over the poor children of the desert. +</p> + +<p> +Kwaneet performed his mission secretly and well, he procured the two pack oxen, +got them safely across the desert—luckily it was the beginning of the +rains—and arrived one day at the white man’s hut. He approached the +place with a swelling sense of satisfaction. He had accomplished a difficult +mission for a desert-bred man. The white man would be vastly pleased. The +reward, that magnificent Snider rifle, which always he had carried in his +mind’s eye, the cartridges, the goats—all, all were soon to be his. +Within fifty yards of the hut something caught the eye of the +Masarwa—something that sent a thrill down his back. Here was now, since +the rain had fallen, fair green grass starred with flowers. Big pink and white +lilies stood in their short-lived bravery near the fountain, and amid these +wild lilies lay bleached bones and pieces of torn cloth. The white man was +dead, and here was the last of him. Kwaneet turned over the bones. Many of them +were broken by hyenas and jackals, but there was no mistaking the fragments of +clothing amid which they lay. The Bushman’s aid had come too late. +Fealton’s fate had at last overtaken him. He had died suddenly of the +ailment that had been so long sapping at his life, and the birds and beasts of +the desert had been his undertakers. +</p> + +<p> +Here at first was a bitter disappointment for Kwaneet. Presently, however, on +thinking it all over, the affair looked not quite so blank for him. Here in +this secret place was wealth—a good rifle, some ammunition still +remaining, as he knew, the two oxen he had brought. Why should not he himself +live here and enjoy this pleasant spot and these good things? So Kwaneet took +possession of the hut and its contents, clothed himself in an old pair of +trousers and a flannel shirt, and entered upon the life of a great man. He +built a little kraal for his two oxen, and for a time was as happy as an +English squire with a heavy rent roll in the good days. He tried the rifle, and +after a time even overcame the alarming difficulty of letting it off. But it +was a serious undertaking, and upon the whole he preferred his bow and arrows. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Kwaneet, Masarwa though he was, yearned once more for companionship. +He would try to get a wife again. He had found the white man’s bag of +pebbles. He felt convinced somehow, from the care the man had bestowed upon +them, that they were valuable. He would take these and the best of the ostrich +feathers to the trader and obtain more cattle for them, and on his way thither +he would pick up a wife at the water of Ghansi. This last was not a difficult +task. At Ghansi he bought the girl he needed, paying for her his father’s +old hunting-knife, which he had replaced by a better one found in the white +man’s hut. Kwaneet’s appearance with a couple of pack oxen and a +big load of feathers, and other indications of immense wealth, created some +sensation among the Masarwas squatting at Ghansi. One of them in particular, +Sakwan, made it his business to inquire further into the matter. He had an old +grudge against Kwaneet—it had happened over a stray tusk of ivory found +in the desert; it irked him yet more to see his rival thus prospering. After +Kwaneet with his new wife had left Ghansi for the Lake, therefore, Sakwan +followed secretly upon their spoor. Kwaneet found no difficulty in marketing +his wares at the end of his journey. He interviewed the trader by night. The +man was staggered at sight of the magnificent lot of ostrich feathers which +Kwaneet turned out of the skin coverings that enveloped them; yet more +staggered was he when the Bushman produced his bag of pebbles, and poured them +upon the deal table. The trader knew diamonds in the rough perfectly well. +Here, he assured himself, was the price of a king’s ransom. Where did +they come from? Were there more of them? To these questions Kwaneet returned +evasive answers. He knew nothing more than that he had found them in the +desert. There were no more of them. What then, asked the trader, did Kwaneet +want for the lot—feathers and pebbles? They were not worth much to him, +but he would buy them. Kwaneet had thought all this out His fortune was worth +to him, he conceived, ten head of cows, a bull, twenty goats, some Snider +ammunition, a hat, a suit of trade clothes, and a shawl for his wife. He shook +a little with excitement as he proposed these enormous terms. The trader +laughed to himself at the Masarwa’s idea of wealth; he knew well that +that wonderful bag of diamonds alone was worth some tens of thousands of +pounds. And the feathers—magnificent “prime bloods,” long and +snow-white, represented three or four hundred pounds at least. He haggled a +little to save appearances, and finally closed the bargain. +</p> + +<p> +Two days later, Kwaneet and his wife started away from a quiet cattle post +belonging to the trader, which lay at some distance from the native town. It +was part of the bargain that the trader should see the coast clear, so that the +Bushman might get away unknown to the Batauana. This was safely accomplished. +The two bush people, driving their fortune before them, plunged straightway +into the desert. It was an anxious yet a delightful journey for Kwaneet. He had +made his pile; henceforth he would rear flocks and herds in that dim corner of +the desert and grow ever richer—as rich as a Bechuana. What Masarwa +before him had ever accomplished, had ever even dreamt so much? +</p> + +<p> +Thanks to the rains, which held late that season, Kwaneet got all his stock +safely over the journey and reached his goal. It was a fine clear morning as +they drove the cattle and goats up to the pleasant fountain, now brimming over +with the rains, which Kwaneet knew so well. There stood the hut and the waggon +just as he had left them. Partridge-like francolins were calling sharply near +the water. Brilliant rollers and wood-peckers, and bizarre hornbills, with +monstrous yellow bills, were flitting to and fro among the trees of the mokaala +grove. Beautiful wild doves cooed softly from the spreading branches of the +great giraffe-acacia, beneath which the old waggon stood. Bands of sand-grouse +were drinking, splashing, and stooping at the water. The grass was still green; +flowers still flourished; the place looked very fair. All that day Kwaneet and +his young wife toiled hard, cutting thorns and making a temporary kraal for the +cattle. Then they ate some food and, turning into the hut, slept. +</p> + +<p> +Two hours later—before the moon rose—a dark form crept up to the +doorway. The cry of a hyaena was heard. Kwaneet came forth and was met not by +any prowling beast but by the sharp blade of an assegai which pierced his +heart. That deadly thrust was made by Sakwan, who had shadowed for weeks past +the career of his hated rival. Thus miserably ended the fortunes and hopes of +Kwaneet the Bushman. Perchance if he had lived he might have founded here in +this remote place, as he had sometimes in these last weeks dreamed to himself, +a tribe—perhaps even a dynasty—of the desert! Why not! Lehuditu, +that strange village of the central Kalahari, sprang from no greater a +beginning! But all these aspirations had been ruthlessly ended by +Sakwan’s spear-head. They sank there into the thirsty sand with +Kwaneet’s life-blood. As for Sakwan, he took possession of the Masarwa +girl, squatted at the fountain till they had killed and devoured +Kwaneet’s cattle and goats, and then, with his wife, betook himself once +more to the roaming life of his kind. +</p> + +<p> +Kwaneet’s bones rest there amid the Kalahari grass, mingling with those +of the white man, mute records of ruined hopes, the pitiful relics of the first +and last Masarwa Bushman that dared to have ambition. Sometimes the jackal +turns them over with his sharp snout, but they are very white and very clean +now, and not even a jackal can find consolation in them. The diamonds collected +so painfully by the murderer Fealton, and so lightly parted with by the simple +Kwaneet, are scattered too; but at least they have built the fortunes of the +white trader, who now lives in England upon their proceeds the life of a man of +wealth. He can little guess, nor, I suppose, would he be greatly interested to +know, the sorry ending of the desert nomad to whom he owes his luck. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>Chapter Five.<br/> +The Conquest of Christina De Klerk.</h2> + +<p> +The few hunters, traders, and Trek Boers who cross the dreaded Thirstland of +the Northern Kalahari, and, upon their long and trying journey towards Lake +Ngami, strike the Lake River (marked upon the maps Zouga or Botletli River), +well know the pleasant outspan at Masinya’s Kraal. Masinya’s is a +small village of Bakurutse natives, planted a mile or so from the southern bank +of the Lake River. Between the kraal and the river, amid a thin grove of +spreading giraffe-acacia trees, set upon a little islet of rising ground, lies +the outspan where travellers bound to and from Ngami usually halt. On the +right, a hundred and fifty yards from the tall, oak-like motjeerie tree, which +every hunter knows, lies a deep depression, which, fed by the overflow of the +Lake River, assumes the aspect of a handsome lagoon, at some seasons full and +deep, at others a mere shallow vlei. Beyond the lagoon lie the hard, sun-baked +alluvial flats which border the sluggish river. Upon the southern and western +sides of the charming oasis of Masinya’s Kraal stretch the great open +grass plains, flecked with springboks, and dotted here and there with a troop +of larger game, which fifteen or twenty miles away are checked by the endless +and waterless forest and bush of the Kalahari—that vast desert which, +thanks to its lack of surface water, lies to this day dim, unknown, and +mysterious to all races of mankind, save the wandering Bushmen and Vaalpens who +inhabit it. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the 28th of December, 1878, towards four o’clock in the afternoon, a +great Cape waggon, conspicuous by its new white tilt and spick-and-span paint, +toiled heavily across the flat towards Masinya’s Kraal. Presently, urged +by the excited yells of the driver and the pistol-like cracks of his great +whip, the eighteen stout oxen rose the slight sandy ascent, and a little +further drew up their burden under the shade of a spreading acacia. A white +woman, young, dark, and good-looking, her face shaded by a broad-brimmed straw +hat, sat upon the box; and as the great waggon halted she descended with light +foot to the dry, grassy soil, shook herself a little, adjusted her hat, and +looked about her. The first thing her brown eyes lit upon was another waggon +and encampment some hundred and fifty yards to her right. +</p> + +<p> +Kate Marston was a colonial-born girl, and understood the ways and signs of the +veldt well enough. Something about the look of the encampment, the old +buck-sail stretched from the waggon to a couple of friendly tree stems (thus +forming an apartment in itself), the travel-worn waggon, its tilt patched with +raw hides, and a general air of untidiness, convinced her that it belonged to a +Boer owner. The sight of a female figure sitting under the lee of the waggon in +a squat chair, and her immense Dutch kapje, or sun-bonnet, at once settled that +conviction. +</p> + +<p> +But Kate Marston had plenty to do at present before troubling herself about a +visit to her neighbour. Her husband, Fred Marston, was away in the veldt, +hunting, and she wished to have her camp settled, her tent-sail fixed, some of +her belongings got out of the waggon, the fires lighted, and the evening meal +prepared against his return, which she expected towards sundown. In half an +hour’s time, thanks to her brisk and energetic ways, things were settling +themselves as she wished. The tent-sail was fastened down, the little folding +camp-table—flanked by a couple of waggon chairs—in its place and +covered with a clean table-cloth (even in the wilderness, Kate, with her +English ways, loved to be neat), a fire of wood blazed cheerfully, the game +stew was simmering in the big Kaffir pot. These things being attended to, Kate +had washed her hands and face after the day of trekking, brushed her thick, +dark hair; and now, in her thin light brown stuff dress, clean collar and +cuffs, and broad sun-hat, looked as fresh, bright, and cheerful as if she had +just issued from her bedroom in some well-found house, instead of from a mere +rude travelling home in the wilderness. Kate Marston, the daughter of a +well-to-do British settler in Griqualand West, had recently married, and was +now, two months after her wedding, travelling in the hunting veldt with her +husband—a trip she had looked forward to with the keenest anticipation +for more than a year past. It was the dream of her life. Although very +well-educated at the Cape, Kate, brought up on a colonial farm, loved the free, +unfettered life of the veldt. She rode well, was a good shot with the +fowling-piece, and, before settling down on a Transvaal farm in Marico, had +persuaded her husband to take her with him on an expedition into the far +interior. Rough though the journey had been through Bechuanaland, Khama’s +country, and across the parched wastes of the Kalahari, Kate had loved it all. +To her each day brought with it new delights—scenes and memories, of +which, to the latest day of her existence, she could never be deprived. Fred +Marston, her husband, a man of two-and-thirty, had done very well for years +past as a trader and elephant hunter. He was about settling down for life in +the Transvaal—now for a year past proclaimed a British possession; and +before retiring from the wild life of the wilderness he was thus trekking with +his wife, on a journey of pure pleasure and hunting, towards Lake Ngami. +</p> + +<p> +A native boy had strolled across from the Boer camp, and from him Kate Marston +had learned the name of the Dutch woman sitting over yonder. It was de Klerk. +Her husband was an elephant hunter from the Northern Transvaal. They had a good +load of ivory, gleaned during a year or two of adventure, and the wife, +husband, and two children were now on their way down-country. Kate was not very +sure of her reception if she went across. The Transvaal Dutch were, since the +annexation of their country, not only disaffected towards the British +Government, but rude and uncivil towards individual English folk. However, Kate +understood the Dutch and their language exceedingly well, and her cheerful +nature inclined her to be friendly. She had often before now thawed the +stubborn reserve of a Boer huis-vrouw. She would go across and pay the Dutch +camp a visit. A walk of less than two hundred yards, and she stood by the de +Klerks’ waggon. +</p> + +<p> +Now Vrouw de Klerk had heard from her native servant, sent casually across to +pick up news, who and what the new arrivals were. She was not much comforted. +She had hoped to see the faces of Dutch folk. Here were only English, whom she +hated. However, she was not to be caught napping. She had washed her +children’s faces and hands and her own, pinned a big bow of blue ribbon +at her throat, and put on a clean kapje, and had even donned a nearly new black +alpaca apron. She sat under the waggon sail, cutting up dried onions into a tin +dish; but as Kate Marston approached she made no attempt to meet her. She was +not a bad-looking woman, Christina de Klerk, as Boers—who are not noted +for female beauty—go. She had plenty of light brown hair, drawn tightly +back from her face and knotted under her great sun-bonnet; but the face +was—as is so often the case with Afrikander Dutch women—broad, high +boned, and absolutely lacking in colour; the blue eyes were somewhat pale and +colourless; and although she was a young woman—little more than +three-and-twenty—a dull, stolid, even hard expression was already +settling itself for life upon her lineaments. Christina was a tall, big woman, +but her figure was thick, heavy, and altogether devoid of grace; stiff and +unyielding it was as her own nature. +</p> + +<p> +Bred up in a remote back-country in Waterberg—scarcely educated at +all—if reading with no great ease from the great family Bible can be +called education, Christina had, like most of her fellows, a mind almost +untouched by civilisation; a mind narrow, bigoted, and prejudiced to a degree +almost inconceivable to denizens of modern Europe. But when all was said and +done, allowances were to be made for Christina de Klerk. The grandchild of one +of those Dutch families which had quitted the Cape and thrown off English rule +in the Great Trek of 1836; the daughter of a frontiersman, who, after making +himself a home in the wilds of the Northern Transvaal, had seen his beloved +republic entered and possessed by the very British from whom he and his parents +had trekked; she had from infancy been nurtured in a blind and unreasoning +hatred against all English people. Just now, as Kate Marston advanced and stood +before her tent, her naturally grave and impassive face had assumed a very sour +and unpleasant look. Christina had surveyed with rapid sidelong glances the +Englishwoman’s approach; she now took a full, steady, but by no means +friendly look at her as Kate halted and spoke. In these glances and in that +look she had time to observe that the Englishwoman was young, very +good-looking, and—in a Boer woman’s eyes—well-dressed. All +this tended little to lull her wrath. The woman, she felt, was her superior. +She hated her for it. And as Kate spoke in a soft, clear English voice, with +that lip speech which, to users of the rough, thick, guttural Dutch, seems +mincing and super-refined, Christina detested her yet more. Her husband hated +the English, her father and grandfather had hated them; now at this moment her +spirit rose in a burning flame of resentment against the woman who had come to +speak to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, Vrouw de Klerk,” said Kate pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening,” repeated Christina in a low, subacid voice, looking +away into her bowl of sliced onions. +</p> + +<p> +“We have just come up-country and I hear you are on your journey out I +thought I should like just to step across and ask if there is anything we can +do for you. We have plenty of stores on our waggon. You may be short of coffee, +sugar, or other things? And I thought, too, perhaps, as you have been away in +the veldt so long, you might like to have news from down-country.” +</p> + +<p> +Christina no longer looked away, but now stared straight into the +Englishwoman’s face. A faint flush had risen upon her dull cheeks; her +anger, the pent-up hatred of years, was now at boiling point. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to know and hear nothing,” she replied in a hard, set +voice, with much energy. “The English have stolen our Transvaal country; +we have nothing to say to them until we have got that country back. You took +the Old Colony from us. You took Natal, which we won with our blood. Now you +have taken the Transvaal. Ach! and yet you are surprised that we hate you. If I +were dying I would not take one drop of cold water from an Englishwoman. We are +enemies. You know it. And yet you must pursue us even here in the veldt. I want +to have nothing to do with your people at all or at any time!” +</p> + +<p> +Kate was a good deal staggered at this outburst, but she knew the Dutch and +their uncouth ways; she knew that their bark is often far worse than their +bite. In a perfectly calm tone, but with some spirit, she replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Your welcome is surely a churlish one, Mevrouw de Klerk, and your +accusations are very absurd. I am an Afrikander, like yourself, and I know of +these things. I will grant that perhaps the Dutch in the Old Colony had some +reason for their Great Trek. But that is a tale more than eighty years old, +which should surely be forgotten. As for Natal, there were, as I happen to +know—for my mother was a Natal colonist—English traders at Port +Durban years before the Boers trekked into the country. And for the Transvaal, +surely you must admit that your weakness and misgovernment was so great that +the English Government had to step in to save your country and the rest of +South Africa from Zulu and other native dangers.” +</p> + +<p> +Vrouw de Klerk was preparing to answer vigorously. Kate Marston raised her +hand. “Stop,” she said, “I won’t argue the matter +further. I’ll just say Good evening and go back to my waggon. Perhaps +when you come to think it over you will see that you have been rude and +unreasonable to a stranger in the veldt—even an English Afrikander has +feelings. If I can help you in any way, if you want anything, send over to our +waggon and you can have it with pleasure. Your children +there,”—looking at the two fat Dutch kinder, staring with blue eyes +and moon faces at the dreadful Englishwoman—“may want something, +perhaps.” So speaking, Kate turned on her heel and walked back to the +camp. +</p> + +<p> +Christina de Klerk sat glaring for a full minute at Kate’s back as she +walked away. She was turning over in her dull, slow-moving mind some scathing +retort upon her adversary’s statements. But Kate was now too far away. +She rose with a snort of defiance, and, muttering angrily to herself, went off +to the fire with her sliced onions. These she threw into a three-legged pot, +adding to the meat already there a pinch or two of salt and pepper, and then +bestirred herself towards the cookies of Boer meal baking among the embers. +</p> + +<p> +Kate Marston, not a little vexed and put out at her unexpected reception, +strolled back to her waggon, and then, moving fifty yards beyond, sat down with +her back to a tree to enjoy the sunset and watch for the approach of her +husband. She was upon the edge of the grove, and the great grass plains +stretched away at her feet in illimitable monotones of green and +yellow—green where the natives had fired the veldt, and the recent rain +had induced fresh vegetation; yellow where belts and patches of last +year’s grass, which had escaped the fire, yet remained. It was nearing +sundown; the western sky was ablaze with colour; far up towards the zenith the +gorgeous hues of crimson and orange faded off to amber, and yet higher the +heavens were of a wondrous clear, pale sea-green. The plains were just now +bathed in a rich warm glow. As Kate looked she could see droves of springbok +dotted here and there, their white backs and under parts showing up curiously +in the mellow light of evening. It was a wonderful hour, and amid that vast +calm and the soothing glamour of the scene Kate’s ruffled feelings soon +assumed their wonted peacefulness. +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes, ranging over the vast expanse, presently lit upon something that +arrested her attention. There were two figures far away in the sea of grass; +surely one of them would be her husband? She watched, and presently made out +that one of the objects was much taller than the other. What could it mean? A +little while and the two figures rose clearer before her gaze. Now, at last, +she understood what they meant Fred Marston had found a number of giraffe, and +turned one out of the troop, and, aided by a masterly use of the wind, had +succeeded in driving the tall creature in front of him right up to his own +waggon. Skilled South African hunters can achieve this feat with the eland and +giraffe, but the giraffe is usually far more difficult to ride into camp than +the eland. +</p> + +<p> +Closer came the strange group. The giraffe was tiring, and now, instead of +galloping in its clumsy yet swift fashion, paced with giant, shuffling strides +across the veldt, with something of the gait of a camel. A hundred yards from +where Kate sat, quietly watching this singular spectacle, the great dappled +giant stood. It had caught sight of the waggon and of figures moving among the +trees, and would go no further. The tall quadruped, full seventeen feet in +height, its rich, dark, chestnut-pied coat gleaming warmly beneath the flush of +sunset, stood for a full minute absolutely motionless, as these animals will +do. It looked like some strange figure of bronze, the creature of a vanished +age. Thirty paces to the right Fred Marston had reined in his horse and stood +expectant. +</p> + +<p> +“There you are, Kate!” he shouted, cheerily, as his wife rose. +“A real good giraffe cow, fat as butter, and in splendid coat. I’ve +had the dickens’ own trouble with her, though. She was as obstinate as a +mule.” +</p> + +<p> +Kate clapped her hands together. “Oh, how wonderful!” she +exclaimed. It was the first giraffe she had ever set eyes on. +</p> + +<p> +The cow still stood, and Fred Marston rode nearer to his wife. He was a strong, +good-looking, fair-bearded man, and, sitting there easily in his saddle, his +shirt sleeves rolled up, his rifle butt resting on his right thigh, the dying +light full on his sunburnt face and arms, he looked, as Kate thought, a true +man of the veldt. +</p> + +<p> +“How wonderful!” she repeated; “and what a height, and what a +lovely colour. It seems a sin to shoot her!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Kate,” answered her husband, “we want meat for the +camp badly, and the Masarwa spoorers expect it. I can’t let her +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” responded Kate, “I won’t see her shot, poor +thing,” and with one last look at the tall creature still standing there, +an almost pathetic sight, with a half sigh she turned and went back to the +waggon. As she moved, the giraffe swung round and shuffled off. But her time +had come. Marston cantered a little wide and ahead of her. As she came past, +his rifle went up, the report rang out, and a Martini-Henry bullet drove into +the great cow’s heart. She staggered, tottered twenty paces, and then +with a mighty crash fell to the earth dead. +</p> + +<p> +Kate and her husband, after a cosy supper, sat long, chatting by the camp fire +that evening. She told him of her reception at the Boer waggon. He related his +adventures in the veldt that day. A little before ten, they turned into their +waggon, in the forepart of which a comfortable kartel-bed was slung, closed the +fore-clap (curtain), and their camp presently rested in a profound peace. +</p> + +<p> +But at Christina de Klerk’s camp there was no peace that night. At ten +o’clock her husband’s native after-rider, “September,” +a Hottentot, who had before dawn on the previous morning ridden out with his +master across the plains, walked up to the camp fire, leading his lame and +foundered pony behind him. The man was himself far gone with fatigue. His +mistress had long since retired to her waggon, but he had ill news, and he +called her up. His news was this: +</p> + +<p> +They had found a good troop of giraffe soon after they entered the forest; but +in a long run up to the game Adriaan de Klerk had sustained a bad fall, +pitching upon his head. He recovered in a couple of hours’ time, thanks +to the Hottentot’s care; but after that, September said, he had behaved +like a madman. The fall had turned his brain somehow. He insisted, against +September’s entreaties, in pursuing the giraffes, which had now got far +too great an advantage. But de Klerk said, angrily, he wanted +“kameel” skins (Kameel, literally Camel, the Boer name for +giraffes), he could get 2 pounds 10 shillings apiece for them in Marico, and he +would ride till he came up with them. All through the hot afternoon they rode +without off-saddling; the Baas had a terrible thirst, and drank up most of the +water they carried. At nightfall, with jaded horses, they off-saddled in the +bush and lay down to sleep. It was a bad night, said September. The Baas was +very restless, and constantly moaned and talked in his sleep. Before dawn he +was up again, and insisted upon going on. September begged and pleaded. He +warned his master that with failing horses and no water they might easily be +cast away and die of thirst. All Adriaan de Klerk could say was that he was +going on till he came up with the giraffes. He told September to ride back to +camp for water. The Hottentot said he would not go without his master. De Klerk +was plainly beside himself. He raised his rifle and told the man if he did not +turn his horse’s head and go he would shoot him. And so September had +ridden home. His horse was lame and knocked up; there was not another in camp. +What was he to do? If the Baas was not rescued within forty-eight hours he +would die of thirst. +</p> + +<p> +Christina had a stout heart, as have most of the Afrikander Dutch women-folk, +but September’s story, and above all his manner, convinced her that her +husband, alone, without water, his mind wandering, was in supreme danger. She +rose from the kartel—like most up-country Boers she slept in her +clothes—buttoned her bodice, and came to the fire. An inspection of +September’s pony at once convinced her that the animal was unable to +travel further. As it was, September had been compelled to walk by its side +during most of that day’s journey home. It was dead lame and suffering +from the effects of fatigue and two days’ thirst. +</p> + +<p> +What was she to do? Christina stood there with the Hottentot by the fire-blaze, +discussing every possible plan. They might carry water by the aid of natives. +But that would involve waiting till the morning, and even then a journey of +probably more than forty miles would have to be taken on foot. And then, as +September pointed out, it was more than likely that Masinya’s people, who +were not over fond of the Boers, would point-blank refuse to go. And all this +time Adriaan de Klerk, his mind unhinged by his fall and set upon one +impossible object, might be plunging yet further into that waterless and +inhospitable wilderness. His image rose clear before her mind’s eye: the +thirsting, haggard man, the sinking horse, and then the terrible end, and the +vultures streaming down from the sky! She knew but too well the danger. What, +oh God! what should she do? Leaving the tired Hottentot to squat over the fire, +she paced frantically up and down near the waggon, turning over impossible +projects in her agonised mind. +</p> + +<p> +It was a glorious night. The moon, shining in unspeakable majesty, cast its +silvery spell over the distant plain and upon bush and grass near at hand; its +amazing light pierced the foliage of the acacias and wrought wondrous patterns +beneath her feet. The clear army of the stars, the deep blue mysterious vault +above, the ineffable calm of night; all these things availed nothing to the +woman’s troubled soul. Her agony of mind increased. Suddenly her eyes +fell upon the white waggon tilt of the Englishman’s camp. There, of +course, was a way out of the difficulty. There were fresh horses, four or five +of them. With these, help and water could be carried to her husband! +</p> + +<p> +But then, upon the instant, her thoughts ran back to the afternoon, to her +rough, unkindly reception of the Englishwoman. She knew in her inmost soul that +she had not done the right thing, thus to meet a stranger in the +veldt—even if that stranger were an Englishwoman. Was her trouble a +judgment upon her? But here her stubborn Dutch pride came to her aid. Could she +go across to that camp and ask help? +</p> + +<p> +Never! Never! +</p> + +<p> +The night slowly passed, and still Christina de Klerk paced up and down the +grove, sometimes resting for a brief spell upon the disselboom of her waggon. +In her agony of mind it seemed that the day would never dawn, the light in the +east never pale the sky. +</p> + +<p> +At seven o’clock next morning, as Kate Marston, fresh and beaming, was +putting the finishing touches to her toilet under the waggon sail, which, +flanked by canvas screens, served as her dressing-room, her husband called to +her. She came forth, and there, wan and dishevelled, her eyes red with weeping, +stood Christina de Klerk. She told her piteous tale. She acknowledged that she +had been unpardonably rude the afternoon before. It was a judgment upon her. A +judgment sent by the Heer God to humble her pride. And now would the +Englishwoman and her husband forgive and help her? She could not live without +her husband. She had children. They would take pity on her in her trouble. In +all her life, never had Christina de Klerk known a bitterer moment, thus to +humble herself before the detested English. +</p> + +<p> +The tears sprang into Kate’s eyes at the poor woman’s story, her +too evident distress. “Why, Me’Vrouw de Klerk,” she said +cheerfully, “of course my husband will help you. Will you not, Fred? We +should be a poor kind of English folk, indeed, if we could listen to a trouble +like yours without doing all we could for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait ten minutes, Me’Vrouw de Klerk,” said Marston, taking +her by the hand, “while I swallow some breakfast and get the nags +saddled, and we’ll go at once with water on your husband’s +spoor.” In fifteen minutes, taking a spare horse loaded up with two +vatjes of water, and September, the Hottentot, on another fresh nag, to act as +guide, he set forth. +</p> + +<p> +“Never fear, Me’Vrouw de Klerk,” he said, cheerily, as, +putting aside her heartfelt, sobbing thanks, he rode off. “We shall bring +your husband back all right.” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact Fred Marston knew that he had a difficult and dangerous +task before him, to rescue a man half out of his mind, wandering in that +terrible Thirstland. He accomplished his task, but, as he had expected, with +the greatest difficulty. He and September, taking up the spoor of the wanderer, +had followed it hour after hour into the parched forest country. Not until +half-way through the second day did they find de Klerk, lying insensible, a +mile or two beyond his dead horse, himself nearing his end. Resting all that +afternoon and evening, they revived the Boer with the aid of water, brandy, and +a little food, and, riding all that night and part of the next day, brought +Christina de Klerk her man, safe and sound, though terribly worn and jaded, +into camp. All were fagged and knocked up; without water the horses could have +held out but a few hours longer. +</p> + +<p> +How Christina passed those miserable two days of suspense she never afterwards +quite knew. But for the kindly help and sympathy of Kate Marston, she declares +she never could have got through. The next day was New Year. De Klerk, after a +long rest, was nearly his own man again, and nothing would content the Marstons +but that all should dine together in the English camp. Sitting under the great +acacia tree, where the Marstons had outspanned, they enjoyed together a right +merry New Year’s dinner. +</p> + +<p> +Christina de Klerk never forgot that time of trial. They trekked down to the +Transvaal, and Adriaan de Klerk, it is true, rode out with his +fellow-countrymen and fought in the successful Boer War of 1881. But in their +estimate of the English, individually, their feelings have never wavered since +that New Year’s-tide of 1879. +</p> + +<p> +“There may be bad English as there are bad Dutch,” says Christina, +as she sometimes tells the tale of her man’s rescue to some of her +countrywomen. “And Rhodes and Chamberlain! Ach! they are too good for +shooting even. But I believe most of the English folk have good hearts. For my +part, so long as I live, and I hope so long as my children shall live after me, +there shall be always a welcome for the English in this house. Adriaan and I +owe them far too much to forget the kindness we received at their hands. Is it +not so, Adriaan?” +</p> + +<p> +And Adriaan, ponderously yet heartily, answers, “Yes.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>Chapter Six.<br/> +A Christmas in the Veldt.</h2> + +<p> +At six o’clock upon a hot morning of African December, Lieutenant Parton, +of the Bechuanaland Border Police, came out of his bedroom at the Vryburg +Hotel, equipped for a long two days’ ride. He was a smart officer, and +the cord uniform, big slouch hat, looped up rakishly at one side, riding boots, +and spurs, became his tall figure well enough. +</p> + +<p> +In itself the blazing two days’ ride and the prospect of some trouble at +the end of it were hardly sufficient to warrant the air of deep thoughtfulness +now gathered upon his dark and serious face; yet, as he strode across the +little courtyard beneath the mean shade of the two or three straggling blue +gum-trees, the grim knitting of his brows indicated that somehow he was not +altogether pleased with the journey that lay before him. +</p> + +<p> +But the lieutenant had some reason for his burden of care. The object of the +expedition upon which he was setting forth was the arrest of some native +cattle-stealers at a Bakalahari kraal, far out to the westward, in the more +desert portion of British Bechuanaland. There had been a sudden call for +troopers of the Bechuanaland Border Police up in the northern protectorate, and +it happened that the only man Parton could take with him as orderly upon this +particular morning was the very last person in the world with whom he would +have chosen to spend several days—probably a week or more—in the +closest intercourse. Trooper Gressex, now waiting outside in front of the +hotel, was that man. +</p> + +<p> +Although the one was a lieutenant close upon his captaincy, the other plain +trooper in the frontier force, the two men had once been social equals at home, +and, at school and elsewhere, upon terms of considerable intimacy. Gressex +(formerly known as Tom Mainwaring) had migrated from London society and a +career of sport and pleasure, after coming somewhat suddenly to the end of his +financial tether. He had made his plunge into obscurity and had re-appeared as +an unknown trooper in the Bechuanaland Border Police. +</p> + +<p> +Parton had quitted service in a line regiment in India, where he saw little +prospect of promotion, and had accepted a commission in the same Border Police +force. The two men had first encountered one another, in their now altered +circumstances, some three months back. Upon the South African frontier such +striking changes of condition are being constantly met with, and are borne by +the less fortunate, almost invariably, with a good-humoured, if somewhat +reckless, philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +In this instance Partons discovery of his old schoolfellow’s altered lot +had not been altogether a welcome one; and on this particular December morning +he had, as has been hinted, a special reason for desiring any other trooper as +his orderly upon the expedition in front of him. +</p> + +<p> +The lieutenant entered the coffee-room of the squat, corrugated-iron hotel, and +ate his breakfast. In ten minutes he appeared upon the street, ready for his +horse. Trooper Gressex, who was leaning against the stoep, holding his own +horse and Parton’s, saluted as his officer came forth, and answered the +formal “Good morning, Gressex,” with an equally formal “Good +morning, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The two men mounted and rode away, no slightest sign having fallen to denote +that they had ever occupied any other relations than those of officer and man. +</p> + +<p> +Having ridden quietly half-a-mile out of the town, Parton lighted his pipe and +set his horse into a canter. Gressex rode upon his flank, and the two steadily +reeled off mile after mile of the vast sweep of grassy, undulating plains over +which their route lay. Hour after hour they rode through the blazing day, +off-saddling every three hours and giving their nags a brief rest according to +invariable South African custom. At night, having compassed more than fifty +miles, they finally halted, and prepared to camp just within the shelter of a +patch of woodland, which here broke the monotony of the grass veldt. The +horses, after a longish graze, were tied up to a handy bush; the two men, +having eaten a supper of tinned “bully beef” and brewed a kettle of +coffee, lay upon their blankets and smoked by the pleasant firelight. The few +scraps of conversation which they exchanged related solely to the expedition +before them, Gressex having more than once made the journey to Masura’s +kraal. +</p> + +<p> +Aloft the infinite calm of the far-off, dark-blue heaven, now spangled with a +million stars, seemed to invite deep and peaceful sleep after a hard +day’s riding. A refreshing coolness now moved upon the veldt, the tender +airs whispered softly through the long grasses, a cicada droned drowsily in the +thorn-bush; all nature promised rest. At nine o’clock both men, lightly +wrapped in their blankets, with their feet to the fire and their heads pillowed +in their saddles, were fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +At one o’clock in the still, early morning Gressex was awakened by the +sound of a voice. He rose softly upon his elbow and looked about him. The stars +shone more gloriously than ever, but the Southern Cross had fallen from its +erect position and now lay over upon its side. The veldt was perfectly quiet, +save for the plaintive wailing of a far-off jackal, which had got their wind +and was crying out the news to his fellows. Even the cicada had ceased its +weary drumming. As Gressex lay upon his elbow listening, he perceived that the +sounds he had heard came from Parton, who was talking fitfully in his sleep. It +is hard to follow a man whose tongue labours with the difficulties of a +slumbering brain, and Gressex was not much interested in puzzling out the +intricacies of his officer’s drowsy speech, but one word fell upon his +ear which instantly fixed his attention. The word was “Ella.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ella,” muttered the sleeping man, in a curiously sententious way, +“I tell you I can’t do it. It’s not the least use thinking +further about him. You’ll never see him again; why harp upon a broken +string? Some day I hope you’ll be kind and give...” +</p> + +<p> +Gressex had, after that one word, small difficulty in following the halting +speech of the sleeping man. He waited impatiently for other sentences, but the +voice was hushed again. That name, “Ella” told him a good deal. It +told him that, although in their long ride of the previous day Parton had not +reverted in the slightest degree to their former friendship and its +environments, his mind now, during the hours of sleep, was running busily in +old channels. The word “Ella” and its associations roused many a +pang and many a memory in the soul of Gressex, as he lay there under the silent +stars. A hundred questions and doubts shaped themselves in the trooper’s +mind for the next hour or more. At last sleep again overtook him and he +remembered no more till pale dawn came round and he awoke. Already the little +coqui francolins—the prettiest of all the African partridges—were +calling with sharp voices to one another near the pan of water fifty yards +away, and an early sand-grouse or two were coming in for their morning drink. +It was time to be breakfasting and away. The embers were blown up, fresh wood +was put on, and the kettle boiled for coffee. The two men, after an exchange of +“Good morning,” breakfasted almost in silence, the horses were got +in from their feed of grass, saddled up, and the journey was resumed. +</p> + +<p> +The blazing morning passed, as in all these long veldt rides, in monotonous +fashion. At three o’clock, in the hottest period of the afternoon, the +two men emerged from a long two hours’ stretch of bastard yellow-wood +forest. Suddenly Parton, who was a little in front, reined up with a +“Sh!” upon his lips. Gressex followed the lieutenant’s glance +and saw what had arrested his progress. Half a mile to the right, just outside +the forest, a troop of noble gemsbok were resting beneath a patch of acacia +thorn trees: some were lying down, some standing, but all, even the usually +tireless sentinel nearest the waggon-track, were overcome by the heat, +and—for such suspicious game—a little relaxed in their +watchfulness. Such an opportunity was too tempting to be passed by. A plan of +operations was quickly evolved as the two men withdrew their horses within the +shelter of the wood. It was curious to observe how instantly the prospect of +sport had broken down the thick hedge of reserve between them. They now +whispered together rapidly and with intense animation. +</p> + +<p> +Gressex turned his horse’s head and rode back through the forest in a +semicircle towards the game. Presently he dismounted, fastened his horse to a +bush, and then with the greatest caution stole towards the troop. At last, from +behind a screen of bush, he has the game well before his gaze. They are a +hundred and fifty yards away; between them and the watcher’s clump of +bush is open grass veldt, and there is no possibility of getting a foot nearer. +Gressex sits down, sidles imperceptibly to the left hand, and now has in front +of him a fair shot. Even now there is not a breath of suspicion among the dozen +great antelopes out there in the open. Gressex can note easily their striking, +black and white faces and spear-like horns. The shade of the acacias is +somewhat scanty, and he can see plainly the splashes of the sunlight gleaming +through the foliage bright upon their warm grey coals. Now he takes aim at the +bull nearest, draws a long breath, and pulls trigger. The Martini-Henry bullet +flies true, and claps loudly, as upon a barn door, on the broadside of the +gallant beast. The gemsbok leaps convulsively forward and scours away up wind. +In the same instant there is dire commotion among the troop; the recumbent +antelopes spring up wildly, and with their fellows stretch themselves at +speed—and few animals can rival this antelope in speed and staying +powers—in rear of the stricken bull. Gressex hurriedly fires another shot +and misses clean. +</p> + +<p> +And now, as Parton had foreseen, his opportunity has come. The troop will cross +his front within less than half a mile. He gallops full tilt from the +sheltering woodland and rides his hardest to cut them off. He is perfectly +successful—so successful that he cuts off the main troop from the two +leading antelopes, and, while the animals stand for a moment in utter +bewilderment, he jumps off and gets his shot. The bullet flies high, yet +luckily. The vertebra of the big cow he aimed at is severed on the instant, and +she falls in her tracks, “moors dood,” as a Boer would say—as +dead as mutton. +</p> + +<p> +At the report of Parton’s rifle, the troop scatters and flees again. +Parton jumps into the saddle and tears after Gressex’s wounded bull, +which, three hundred yards in front, is manifestly failing fast. The stout +pony, now thoroughly excited with the chase, gains rapidly; the gemsbok is +pumping its life-blood from mouth and nostrils, and cannot stand up much +longer. But, suddenly, without warning, Parton’s nag puts its foot into a +deep hole hidden by the long grass and goes down. Parton is shot violently over +its head and comes heavily to the veldt. In the next three seconds +Gressex’s gemsbok fails suddenly, and, sinking quietly to earth, breathes +out its last. +</p> + +<p> +Gressex himself is quickly on the spot and first applies himself to Parton, who +now sits ruefully with his hat off, gathering his scattered senses and nursing +a broken left arm. Gressex has once helped to set a man’s arm in the +hunting field, and he now goes to work. First he cuts quickly from a piece of +fallen wood two flattish splints, then he unwraps one of the +“putties” from his legs. This winding gear makes an admirable +bandage. Next he proceeds to set the damaged limb. Luckily it is the fore arm, +and after a painful ordeal of pulling, endured with set teeth by Parton, +Gressex adjusts the broken bone and binds on the splints. With the other +“putty” a sling is then extemporised. Parton has some brandy in a +flask in his saddle-bag. He takes a pull at this, and while Gressex cuts off +the heads, tails, and some of the meat from the slain gemsbok and fastens them +upon the saddles, he sits with somewhat more ease and contentment smoking a +welcome pipe which the trooper has filled and lighted for him after the +operation. Half an hour later the journey is resumed again. It was a long +twenty miles to the Bakalahari village to which they were travelling. The pace +was slow, out of consideration for the wounded arm, and it was not until well +on into the night that they rode into the beehive-like collection of round +native huts, and called up the two Border policemen stationed there. +</p> + +<p> +For two days the swollen and painful state of Parton’s arm prevented him +from taking further action in the affair of the cattle-stealers, which had +necessitated his sudden patrol. Meanwhile he rested, gleaned quietly all the +intelligence that was to be gleaned, and prepared for action. +</p> + +<p> +He interviewed, of course, Masura, the native chief settled here, and made a +casual inquiry as to the stolen cattle, but he was careful not to let it appear +that he had made a special journey on that account. The chief, it was well +known, was not well affected to Government; but he protested that no stolen +cattle or cattle-stealers had come into his country, and appeared to be anxious +to aid in any inquiries that might discover the marauders. To lull his +suspicions, Parton, on the second day of his arrival, requested him to send out +runners to his various cattle posts so as to ascertain whether fresh stock had +lately come in. This the chief promised to do on the following day. +</p> + +<p> +But Parton had meanwhile, thanks to the alacrity of the two troopers quartered +in the town and to a native spy of theirs, gained exact information of the +whereabouts of the stolen cattle and their thieves. +</p> + +<p> +They stood at a remote and little known cattle post of this very chief, some +twenty-five miles from the town, and Parton had now laid his plans to ride out +during the night and make their recapture early next morning. There might be +some resistance, and he settled therefore to take with him the two troopers +stationed here, as well as Gressex and a couple of natives upon whom he could +depend. Meanwhile, although busied in his official work, Parton had had time in +these two days to be much exercised by the private anxieties that galled +incessantly his mind. For several days he had borne their harassing +companionship. Two letters, one read and re-read many times within the last +five days, the other unopened and unread, which lay within the breastpocket of +his tunic, contained the secret of all this mental harassment; these letters +burnt upon his conscience much as a blister burns the flesh against which it is +laid. +</p> + +<p> +Since their arrival at the village Parton’s demeanour towards Gressex, +which had suddenly altered after the episode of the hunt and the broken arm, +had changed again. During the excitement of the chase and under the quick and +kindly attentions of Gressex when his arm was broken, his old friendliness had +reasserted itself. Twice the name Mainwaring had escaped his lips as he thanked +his trooper gratefully for his ready and tender help. And upon that long +evening’s ride his manner had softened greatly; almost in the dim +starlight he had gone back to the old days again. +</p> + +<p> +Yet something within him had just stayed his tongue and had hindered a +recognition which in itself would have been a mere act of grace, lessening no +whit the discipline and respect ordained by their present difference in rank. +</p> + +<p> +As for Gressex he had ceased to wonder at his old friend’s curious +demeanour. The mental exclamation that rose within him—“He’s +a proud devil, after all. I should hardly have thought it of +Parton!”—very well expressed his feelings, and he now made the best +he could of the companionship of the two troopers—very good fellows they +were—with whom he was quartered. +</p> + +<p> +At twelve o’clock upon the third night of his arrival in the Kalahari +village, Parton, who had now made every preparation, rode very silently and +with every circumstance of caution, out into the night. With him were his three +troopers and the two native allies—one a Bushman, the other a +Griqua—who had acted as his spies and were now to show him the road. His +broken arm was by no means yet at ease; but Parton, whatever else his demerits, +had plenty of pluck, and just now, in his state of mental tension, inactivity +was a very curse to him. +</p> + +<p> +The huts where they were quartered lay upon the outskirts, and the party +quitted the village so silently that not even a native dog raised its alarm. +Sometimes walking their horses rapidly, sometimes cantering—though the +action caused Parton to grind his teeth with pain—they passed in less +than five hours over the wilderness of grass and bush that lay between them and +the cattle post they sought. The Griqua, who had a horse of his own, rode, the +Bushman trotted always in front of the party, finding his way in the starlight +with an unerring and marvellous precision. There were four huts at the cattle +post. These were speedily rushed in the dim early morning, just as the faintest +hint of dawn began to pale the night sky. The inmates were all asleep, but the +final rattle of horse hoofs and the furious barking of the kraal dogs roused +them. It was too late. Gressex and his fellow troopers each carried and secured +without a blow their respective huts, which contained a few Bakalahari men, +women and children. +</p> + +<p> +Parton, by a stroke of ill luck, happened to walk into a hut in which four +Bechuanas—three of them the very cattle thieves he was in search +of—lay together. These men were all disaffected and turbulent border +ruffians, and they had arms ready at hand. In a few words of Sechuana the +lieutenant, as he stood within the hut, called upon them to surrender. It was +pretty dark, and the first reply Parton got to his summons was an assegai +through his shoulder, which brought him down. His revolver went off uselessly, +and in an instant he had three out of the four men on top of him Gressex, in +the next hut a few yards off, heard the shot and Parton’s stifled cry, +and, leaving the Griqua to take charge of his capture, dashed round to his +lieutenant’s relief. In five seconds he was in the fray. The three men +struggling with the wounded officer were impeding one another, and beyond a +gash or two with their assegais had done little injury. Gressex ran in among +them, loosed off his carbine at the nearest man and settled him, struck another +with his empty weapon a blow on the arm which broke it and disabled its owner, +and threw himself upon the remaining native, who had Parton still by the +throat. But in that instant the fourth occupant of the hut who had been +standing back in the dark shade watching the struggle, came in. He lunged with +the assegai he had snatched up at Gressex’s broad back. The sharp blade +shore through the trooper’s tough cord tunic and flannel shirt and drove +deep into his right lung. At this moment another trooper appeared with a +blazing wisp of grass. By the light of it, as he flung it upon the floor, he +could take in the whole scene. His carbine was undischarged; he levelled it +instantly at the man attacking Gressex and dropped him with a bullet through +the heart. +</p> + +<p> +Here then was the situation. The cattle post was captured, two of the thieves +were slain, another disabled; the rest of the dozen inhabitants of the kraal +were safe under guard, the Bushman—delighted to pay off some old +scores—standing sentinel over one hut with a long Martini in his hand and +a diabolical grin of exultation on his face. The stolen cattle, as was +presently ascertained, were safe in the ox-kraal, with the rest of the stock +running at this post. But against this, Gressex was badly wounded and the +lieutenant somewhat cut and battered. +</p> + +<p> +Gressex stood stooping in the hut, the assegai sticking half a foot into his +back. Despite that horrible thrust he had still all his wits about him. +</p> + +<p> +“Warton,” he said grimly through his teeth to the trooper, who +still stood with smoking carbine, “thanks for settling that chap. Now +pull this damned thing out of me. Pull before I fall down. I feel a bit +sick.” +</p> + +<p> +Warton laid hold of the spear and, exerting his strength, managed to extract +the spear-head. A little torrent of blood poured forth. While Parton, who had +now got to his feet, pressed his right hand upon the wound, Warton managed to +strip off Gressex’s tunic Gressex was now very faint. They laid him upon +his side, pulled away his flannel shirt, and then bound up the hurt as tightly +as possible. Then from the lieutenant’s flask they managed to pour some +brandy between the wounded man’s lips, from which blood was already +oozing. There was only one thing to be done with the sufferer. The bleeding +must be stopped somehow, and he must lie where he now lay. Only the extremest +quiet could save him. +</p> + +<p> +In an hour Parton had recovered from his own hurts. He had luckily received +nothing worse than a nasty gash in his left shoulder and sundry cuts and +bruises. His broken left arm was unhurt, thanks to Gressex’s careful +setting. The struggle seemed to have cleared the lieutenant’s head. His +eye was bright, his mind made up. Gressex had for the second time in a few days +done him a great service. He had risked his very life this time for a man to +whom he owed little enough, if he but knew all, and he now lay apparently at +the point of death. +</p> + +<p> +Parton’s doubts and struggles had all vanished into thin air. The fight +and Gressex’s ready bravery had braced him—as a fight braces always +a good Englishman—and brought to the surface all his better nature, and +he now sat down to write certain letters with a calm mind. He had his +pocket-book and an indelible pencil, and having seen that all his captives were +secure, and the cattle safe in the adjacent veldt, where they were feeding +under charge of the Bushman, he sat down in the red sand, with his back against +a hut, and began to write. Before his writing is completed, it will be well to +glance at those two letters in his breast pocket, of which mention has been +previously made. Here is the opened letter, addressed to Lieutenant B.F. +Parton, Bechuanaland Border Police:— +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +<br/> +</p> + +<p> +“International Hotel, Cape Town, 12th December, 189— +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Mr Parton,— +</p> + +<p> +“The address of this letter will probably surprise you. I received your +letter in London on the morning I left for South Africa, whither I have come +with my uncle, Colonel Mellersh, and my cousin, Kate Mellersh, on a trip we +have long planned. We are staying at Cape Town for a few days, and are then +going on to Kimberley to see the diamond mines, and perhaps make an expedition +into the Transvaal or Bechuanaland. +</p> + +<p> +“I must first reply to your letter. I am sorry, more sorry than I can +express, that you should have reopened that old topic, which I quite thought +and hoped, for the sake of your own peace of mind, had been finally dismissed, +if not forgotten, nearly three years ago. My mind is as fully made up as it was +when I last saw you, nor is it ever likely to change in the way you seem to +suggest and hope for. I grieve very much to have to again say this to one whom +I respect and like, but it is better to make clear at once that there is not +the slightest prospect of any change in my sentiments. +</p> + +<p> +“I must tell you frankly that I have the very strongest of all reasons +for this—the reason that my affections have long since drifted in another +direction—the direction (I may as well at once say here) of our mutual +friend, Mr Mainwaring. +</p> + +<p> +“You say in your letter that if ever you can be of service to me I may +command you at any time. I take that expression to be a sincere one, and I am +going to put it to a very severe test. Mr Mainwaring, before he left England, +purposely avoided seeing me—quite from a mistaken motive—but wrote +me a letter telling me of his affection for me, and saying good-bye, as he +supposed, for ever. If he had seen me instead of sending that letter, a great +deal of misery might have been avoided. I have been unable to glean the +slightest hint of his whereabouts until a week before I left England. Mr +Mainwaring has within the last few weeks come into some considerable property +from an old uncle (from whom he expected absolutely nothing) who has quite +lately died, and has now no reason to remain in exile longer. For more than two +years I have been moving heaven and earth to get at his whereabouts, and I only +received a letter, three days before I sailed, from his cousin and family +lawyer, Mr Bladen, who had always refused absolutely before this to disclose +his whereabouts, telling me that Mr Mainwaring (under the name of Gressex) is a +private in the Bechuanaland Border Police, stationed either at Mafeking or +Vryburg. Mr Bladen at the same time informed me of his cousin’s piece of +good luck, and assured me that he was only waiting for certain legal documents +to write out to Mr Mainwaring informing him of his fortune. As there seems a +doubt about his actual address, I am now going to ask you to deliver the +inclosed letter, if possible, into Mr Mainwaring’s hands, or, if you +cannot see him personally, to send it by special messenger or post it. I am +asking, I know, a great deal from your friendship, but I trust to you to help +me in this matter, which is to me of very vital importance. You know me +sufficiently, I think, to be aware that I am not trying to find Mr Mainwaring +because ‘his ship has come in.’ I have—I am almost ashamed to +say it—ample means of my own, and Tom’s good luck has nothing to do +with the question. But I do want to find him at once, and I can only think of +you, as an officer of his regiment, as the likeliest person to help me. Pray, +pray, forgive me the double burden that I fear I may be putting upon you by +this letter. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall be at Kimberley on the 15th inst. Please address any letters or +telegrams to me at the Central Hotel there. +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, yours always sincerely,— +</p> + +<p> +“Ella Harling.” +</p> + +<p> +<br/> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Ella’s letter, addressed to “Mr John Gressex, Bechuanaland Border +Police. (To be forwarded),” still lay unopened in Parton’s pocket. +It had remained there these five days past, although the man to whom it had +been addressed had ridden and rested for some days within six feet of it. Fifty +times a day had Parton cursed himself for a villain in detaining it, and +yet—and yet—he could not give Ella up and help Tom Mainwaring, and +so—even after the affair of the broken arm—it had stayed there +within his tunic. +</p> + +<p> +Parton’s first note was to Ella Harling, telling her of Gressex’s +(Mainwaring we may now call him) serious condition, and begging her, if +possible, to come up by rail at once from Kimberley to Vryburg and thence drive +as rapidly as possible the hundred miles across the veldt to +Masura’s-town, where she would find a trooper who would bring her out to +the cattle post where Mainwaring lay. That, as Parton said to himself, was +something off his mind. It was some little expiation for the wrong he had done +Ella and his old friend, and he felt pounds better already. +</p> + +<p> +His next letter was to the officer in command at Vryburg during his absence, +reporting affairs, and requesting that two more troopers should be at once sent +to Masura’s-town, to aid in bringing in the prisoners and cattle, and to +keep in check any attempt by the disaffected Masura to create trouble. He +requested also that a light waggon might be dispatched for the wounded man, +with certain nursing comforts and drugs that might be useful. He begged that, +if possible, a doctor should also be sent, as the case was an urgent and +serious one. One of the troopers, mounted on the best horse—the +lieutenant’s—was despatched with these letters, with directions to +put Miss Harling’s note into an envelope, carefully addressed, before +posting it at Vryburg. The trooper was partially told Mainwaring’s story, +and put upon his honour not to read the contents of the letter, at present +envelopeless. He was a good fellow, and made a big ride, covering the 120 odd +miles to Vryburg in two days on the single horse. +</p> + +<p> +For the next seven days Parton had his hands pretty full at the desert cattle +post. He had to guard carefully his prisoners, to see that the cattle were not +re-stolen or re-captured, and to overawe Masura, who came out to know why his +men were being killed and his cattle seized; and above all he had the heavy +charge of nursing Tom Mainwaring, who for some days was spitting blood and in a +state of high fever. +</p> + +<p> +For three days and nights Parton nursed him most tenderly and carefully, +feeding him with milk and thin mealie-meal gruel and beef-tea made from a +slaughtered ox. +</p> + +<p> +Thanks to a sound constitution, Mainwaring turned the corner, and on the fifth +day from the affray began slowly to mend. He was still so weak that Parton, +burning though he now was to complete his expiation and ease himself of his +remaining load of trouble, feared to risk the telling of strange and exciting +news. On the morning of the seventh day, however, Mainwaring seemed so much +stronger, and the arrival of Ella Harling, if she came at all, must be so near +at hand, that Parton delayed no longer. He made a full confession of his +delinquencies, told Mainwaring all that had happened, of his recent stroke of +good fortune, and finally handed him Ella’s letter. +</p> + +<p> +“Tom,” he said at the end, “I have behaved to you all through +the piece like a perfect beast. You, on the other hand, have played the game +like a man. You helped me over the broken arm and finally saved my life in that +scrimmage—very nearly at the expense of your own. I think I must have +been mad. I can only humbly beg your pardon and ask you to try to forgive and +forget, and to remember that if I fell I was sorely tried and tempted.” +</p> + +<p> +Tom Mainwaring put up his hand—it had become a very thin hand in these +few days, though the tan had not gone from it—and said in a husky voice, +for he was very feeble: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t say another word, old chap. You have made a +mistake—ran out of the course a bit—but you’re all right at +the finish. And you’ve nursed me like a brick. I should have been a dead +man by now if it hadn’t been for all your kindness and thought. +Don’t let’s ever have another word about the past. You’ve +done the right thing, and few men would have cared to be tried as high as you +have been. I’ve had the luck this journey; yours will come.” +</p> + +<p> +The two men shook hands silently, and the past, with its tortures, its miseries +and mistakes was almost wiped away. +</p> + +<p> +It was now the 24th December. Parton anxiously expected and hoped that Ella +Harling and her friends would arrive during the day. He wanted some comforts +too for Mainwaring, now that he was within hail of convalescence. All he had in +the kraal was some mealie-meal, milk, coffee, and sundry +cattle—Tom’s beef-tea as he called them. +</p> + +<p> +All that day he watched and waited impatiently, sitting much with Tom +Mainwaring, and keeping him as quiet as possible. At last, towards sunset, the +little Bushman, who had been perched upon the hut roof as a lookout, cried +excitedly that he could see a cloud of dust from the direction of +Masura’s-town. In less than an hour quite a considerable cavalcade came +in. Ella Harling, looking very handsome, and, considering her journey, +wonderfully spick and span, drove in with her uncle and pretty cousin in a Cape +cart. The doctor and two fresh troopers rode alongside, and a light spring +waggon, drawn by half a dozen mules, laden with many luxuries and comforts, +followed no great way behind. +</p> + +<p> +Parton led Miss Harling silently to Mainwaring’s hut, and, with a wistful +look on his face, turned round and quitted her side as she entered the open +doorway. The meeting between Ella and Tom Mainwaring was a very tender and yet +a very serious one—few more touching have ever taken place in the African +wilderness. Presently the doctor came in; Tom was put under his care, and the +little party proceeded to make themselves comfortable for Christmas. A tent was +pitched for the ladies, another for the colonel and the doctor, the stores were +got out, and the place made as cheery and as habitable as possible. The +troopers had shot a buck and some partridges and guinea-fowl, and an ox had +been slaughtered, so that there was no lack of fresh meat. +</p> + +<p> +Few stranger and yet happier Christmas days have been spent in the veldt. Even +Tom Mainwaring, weak though he still was, with Ella beside him and the prospect +of long years of life before them both, was as happy as a man with a big +spear-wound in his back possibly could be. As for the rest of the company, they +had a great and glorious time. There was rifle-shooting at targets in the +morning, a big dinner under a shady giraffe-acacia tree at two o’clock, +and yarns and much smoking all the afternoon and evening. Colonel Mellersh had +thoughtfully loaded a case of champagne, some tinned plum puddings, several +boxes of cigars, and some whisky on the spring waggon, and nothing was wanting +to complete the proper festivity of the season. Even Parton, having thrown +aside his cares, resigned himself, almost with cheerfulness, to the inevitable, +and did his best to contribute to the general happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Tom Mainwaring and Ella Harling were married at Cape Town within the next three +months—so soon, in fact, as Mainwaring could get his discharge from the +Border Police. He and his wife often recall that strange Christmas in the +veldt, which, indeed, is not likely to be forgotten by any member of the +gathering. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>Chapter Seven.<br/> +Their Last Trek.</h2> + +<p> +The sun was setting as usual in a glow of marvellous splendour as Alida Van Zyl +came out from her hartebeest house—a rough wattle and daub structure, +thatched with reeds—and, shading her eyes, looked across the country. The +little house stood on the lower slope of the Queebe Hills, no great way from +Lake Ngami. It was a wonderful sunset. In the north-west a thousand flakes of +cloud flushed with crimson lake, just as they had flushed above the vast plains +of that wild Ngami country a million times before. Near the sky-line, in a +blaze of red and gold, the sun sank rapidly, a mass of fire so dazzling that +Alida’s eyes could not bear to dwell upon it. Far upwards the cool and +wondrous calm of the clear and translucent pale green sky contrasted strangely +with the battle of colour beneath. +</p> + +<p> +Alida shaded her eyes again, looked keenly down the rude waggon-track that led +up to the dwelling, and listened. As she had expected—for she had news of +her husband’s coming from the Lake—she presently heard the faint +cries of a native; that would be Hans Hottentot, the waggon driver, and then +through the still air the full, thick, pistol-like crack of the waggon-whip. At +these sounds her somewhat impassive face lightened and she turned into the hut +again. +</p> + +<p> +In twenty minutes’ time the waggon had drawn up in front of the dwelling, +and Karel Van Zyl, a big, strong Dutchman of seven and twenty, had dismounted +from his good grey nag and embraced his wife, who now stood with a face beaming +with joy, clasping her two year old child in her arms ready to receive him. +</p> + +<p> +“Zo, Alie,” said Karel, holding his young wife by the shoulders and +looking first tenderly at her broad kindly face and then at the yellow-haired +child lying in her arms, “here we are at last. It has been a long hunt, +but a pretty good one. I left a waggon-load of ivory, rhenoster horns, and +hides at Jan Stromboom’s at the Lake and got a good price for them I +traded fifty good oxen as well and sold them at 3 pounds 10 shillings a head to +Stromboom also, after no end of a haggle. It was worth a day’s bargaining +though; the beasts cost me no more than thirty shillings apiece all +told.” +</p> + +<p> +Then laying the back of his huge sunburnt hand against the cheek of the +sleeping babe, which he had just kissed, he added, “And how is little +Jan? Surely the child has grown a foot since I left him?” +</p> + +<p> +Alida smiled contentedly, patted her man’s arm and answered, “Yes, +the child has done well since the cool weather came, and he grows every day. He +gets as <i>slim</i> (cunning) as a monkey and crawls so that I have to keep a +boy to watch him, the little rascal. But <i>kom binnen</i> and have supper. You +must be starving.” +</p> + +<p> +Van Zyl gave some orders to his Hottentot man, as to his horse, the trek oxen +and some loose cows and calves, and went indoors. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later husband and wife came forth again, and, sitting beneath the +pleasant starlight, talked of the future. Their coffee stood on a little table +in front of them, and Van Zyl, stretching out his long legs and displaying two +or three inches of bare ankle above his velschoons—the up-country Boer is +seldom guilty of socks—puffed with huge contentment at a big-bowled pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“Karel,” said his wife, after hearing of his last expedition, +“I am getting tired of this flat Ngami country, with never a soul to +speak to while you are away. When shall we give it up and go back to the +Transvaal? I long to see the blue hills again and to hear the voices of +friends. Surely you have done well enough these last few years. You can buy and +stock a good farm—6,000 morgen at least. (A morgen is rather more than +two acres.) And you told me when we married—now three years agone, +Karel,”—she laid her hand upon his as she spoke, “that you +did not mean to spend all your life, like your father, in the hunting +veldt.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Alie, I don’t,” rejoined Van Zyl, taking his +wife’s hand into his two and pressing it tenderly. “You shall go +back to the Transvaal, my lass, and we will buy a farm in Rustenburg and live +comfortably and go to Nachtmaal (Communion) once a quarter. And if I do want a +hunt now and again, why I’ll cross the Crocodile River and try the +Nuanetsi and Sabi River veldt, where Roelof Van Staden and his friends travel +to. But we must have one more trek together, Alie, and this time you and the +child shall go with me. Coming to the Lake, on my way home from this last hunt, +I met messengers from Ndala, captain of a tribe far up the Okavango, who asks +me to take my waggon up to his kraal and hunt elephants in his country. He +promises me the half of all ivory shot, and will find spoorers and show me his +best veldt and give me every help. Twice before has Ndala sent to me thus, and +once to my father in years gone by. I believe it is a splendid hunting veldt. +Elephants as thick as pallah in river bush, thousands of buffalo, plenty of +rhenoster and lots of other game. We ought, with luck, to pick up four hundred +pounds worth of ivory. And so, wife, we’ll pack the waggon, get more +powder and cartridges at the Lake and trek up to Ndala’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“And this shall be your last trek in this country, Karel?” asked +his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Myn maghtet, the very last,” said Van Zyl. “How soon can we +start?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be ready in three days,” returned Alie. +</p> + +<p> +“In three days be it,” said Van Zyl in his deep voice. And then, +with a mighty yawn, he stretched himself, knocked the ashes from his pipe, and, +putting his arm round his wife’s waist, went indoors for the night. +</p> + +<p> +Two months later the Van Zyls were nearing Ndala’s kraal on the Okavango, +sometimes called the Cubangwe River—that great and little known stream +flowing from the north-west towards Lake Ngami. They had had a hard trek of it +past the Lake; across a score or two of streams and small rivers, skirting many +a swamp and lagoon, and now at last, one hot afternoon, as they looked up the +broad, shining river, they set eyes on a green island lying in midstream, +dotted about with huts, and knew that they were in sight of Ndala’s +kraal. Hans, the Hottentot, had once been up to this place and knew Ndala, and +Hans pointed out the captain’s hut and showed them where their waggon +should stand by the river bank, and so they outspanned and prepared to make +themselves comfortable. Across the river, beyond the island, the country +undulated gently in well-wooded, bush-clad, sandy ridges, with here and there a +palm or a baobab to catch the eye. Reddish boulders of sandstone projected from +the river’s brim, between the southern shore and the island, forming a +little cataract over which the swift waters poured with a pleasant and not too +angry or unseemly swirl. And as they unyoked the tired oxen and Alida Van Zyl, +tired with sitting, descended from the waggon to look about her, all seemed +fair and pleasant and peaceful to the travel-stained trekkers. For they had had +a hard passage up the river, and the cattle were in need of rest and good +feeding, if they were to drag the great waggon back to the Lake and +thence—Alida’s soul rejoiced as she thought of it—to the +dearly-loved Transvaal once more. +</p> + +<p> +And now long, narrow, dug-out canoes shot out from the island and came paddling +across the stream with envoys from the chief, to know whose was the waggon and +what was the business of the newcomers, and to bring a message of greeting and +peace from Ndala, the lord and ruler of all this wild and little known country. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst his wife unpacked some of her waggon gear, and Zwaartbooi, the +foreloper, got out the pots and kettle and lit a fire to prepare the evening +meal, Van Zyl, taking with him Hans as interpreter, ferried across in one of +the native canoes to interview Ndala. +</p> + +<p> +The chief, a tall youngish Cubangwe, with a rather shifty eye, received them in +his kotla, an open inclosure adjoining his hut, surrounded by a tall reed +fence. He expressed himself pleased to see Van Zyl and hoped that he might have +much fortune with the elephants in his country. Then Van Zyl, having thanked +the chief for his courtesy, ordered his Hottentot, Hans, to lay before Ndala +the presents which had been brought for him. These were a fine blanket of gaudy +colours, a quantity of beads, a cheap smooth-bore musket, and some powder, +bullets and caps. As these articles were temptingly laid before Ndala, the +chief’s eyes gleamed approvingly and, in spite of his efforts, a broad +grin overspread his features. Then more conversation followed between Ndala and +Hans—conversation which Van Zyl was unable to follow—and presently, +after half an hour’s interview, the reception was at an end. Van Zyl was +paddled back to his waggon, and during supper related to his wife the friendly +reception he had met with from the Cubangwe captain. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning at about eight o’clock Ndala in person came over to the +Boer’s camp. Never before had he seen a white man’s waggon, and he +was naturally burning with curiosity to set eyes upon the treasures gathered +within the recesses of that mysterious house on wheels. He brought with him as +presents a goat, some Kaffir corn, and a tusk of ivory weighing about 30 lbs. +Nothing would content him but that he should mount the fore-kist (box) of the +waggon and pry into that strangely fascinating interior. He saw many things +that stirred his cupidity. Two fine rifles, cartridges, bags of sugar and +coffee, cases of trading gear—store-clothing, cheap knives, blankets, +beads, looking-glasses, powder, lead, and other rich and rare things which were +being got out for purposes of trading and with a view to re-settling the +contents of the waggon after the confusion of a long trek. And, with the greedy +delight of a miser with his gold, he plunged his arms up to the elbows in a +case of blue and white bird’s eye beads, which lay too temptingly exposed +to his gaze, and asked that the whole of this fabulous treasure should be +despatched to his kraal. To this Van Zyl demurred. He would give the chief a +portion of the beads, a complete suit of cord clothes, a shirt and a pair of +velschoons. After a long and heated argument, conducted through the +interpretation of Hans, Ndala somewhat sulkily gave way and expressed himself +content to take what the Boer offered him. As for Van Zyl, his eyes flashed +angrily, as, turning to his wife, sitting in the shade near the back of the +waggon, he said, “They are all alike these kaal (naked) Kaffir captains. +Thieves and schelms, only desiring to rob of his all the white man who ventures +into their country. I thought, from what Hans had said, that this Ndala was a +better fellow; but, Allemaghte! he’s no better than the rest of the dirty +cattle. However, there’s ivory to be got here, without doubt, and we must +have patience.” +</p> + +<p> +“For my part,” Alida replied, “I like the appearance of this +man not at all. Watch him, Karel. I believe he will try to do you an ill turn +before you have finished with him.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Ndala had been holding conversation with Hans, as he peered about the +camp and inspected the cattle, and especially that, to him, wonderful curiosity +the Dutchman’s hunting horse. Van Zyl had started from the Queebe Hills +with three nags. Of these one had died of horse-sickness, while another had +been killed by lions, so that only his grey, a tried old favourite, +“salted” against the sickness and a splendid beast in the hunting +veldt, remained to him. Ndala gazed long and curiously at the shapely grey, as +Hans indicated its good points and expatiated on its manifold virtues. +</p> + +<p> +Once more the chief wandered back to the waggon, where Van Zyl was measuring +out some of the blue and white beads into a skin bag. His greed was too much +for him, and again through Hans he demanded that the Dutchman should hand him +over the whole case full, pointing out that, considering his importance as +monarch over all these regions, so trifling a present ought not to be denied to +him. +</p> + +<p> +But Van Zyl was, like many of the Dutch Afrikanders, a man of quick temper, +little accustomed to be dictated to by natives who in his own country were mere +hewers of wood and drawers of water to the white man. The blood sprang to his +face, his eyes flashed angrily, and, flinging down the leather bag of beads, +which he had just tied up, he turned angrily upon the chief. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him,” he said, with an impatient gesture to Hans, “that +he may take it or leave it. I have offered gifts enough until I see elephants +and gather ivory. If Ndala is not content, tell him I’ll inspan the +waggon again and trek out of his country and go into some other veldt, where +elephants are at least as plentiful and chiefs more accommodating.” +</p> + +<p> +Ndala had taken one quick glance at the angry Boer, as he burst forth, and now +stood, till he had finished speaking, motionless, impassive, with eyes +downcast. He uttered not another word to Van Zyl, but with a swift motion of +his hand from Hans to the bag of beads, said to the Hottentot: +</p> + +<p> +“Carry it to the boat. I will go across again.” +</p> + +<p> +Accompanied by three of his headmen who had come across with him, Ndala stalked +down to the shore, talking meanwhile quietly to Hans. Arrived at his boat, he +saw his presents carefully bestowed, and then taking his seat was poled over to +his kraal. +</p> + +<p> +Late that night, while the Van Zyls slept peacefully in their waggon, Hans, the +Hottentot, crept stealthily down to the river, without waking a single member +of the camp, and was ferried across to Ndala’s by a couple of +strong-armed natives waiting for him with their canoe. Arrived at the island, +he was conducted to the chief’s hut, and there alone with Ndala he sat in +deep and secret colloquy for a full hour or more. Presently he was ferried back +very quietly to the south shore again, where, creeping into his own camp, he +regained the shelter of his blanket without having awakened a soul. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning a canoe came across early from Ndala, laden with a number of sweet +water melons, some more grain and another goat as a present to the Van Zyls. At +the same time the chief sent a message to Van Zyl to say that, if he were ready +for a hunt on the following day, some of his tribesmen would be ready to act as +spoorers and show him a troop of elephants which was known to be frequenting +some bush about half a day’s journey from the kraal. This was excellent +news, and Van Zyl brightened up instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Myn maghtet, Alie!” he said to his wife, after taking a huge pull +at his kommetje of coffee, “the carle is not so bad as I thought him. +Tell his headman, Hans,” he said to his Hottentot, “that I’ll +swim the horse across as soon as day breaks to-morrow and go after the +elephants.” +</p> + +<p> +For the remainder of that day the whole camp was busily employed; Van Zyl and +his two men in completing a big and strong thorn kraal for the cattle, against +the attack of lions; Alida Van Zyl in finishing off some bültong (dried meat), +cooking bread, tidying up the stores and putting together various articles +required by her husband while away hunting. Towards afternoon Van Zyl, having +finished his work at the ox-kraal, opened a keg of powder, heated some lead and +zinc, and sat himself down to the work of reloading some cartridges for his +elephant rifle. +</p> + +<p> +Near him, in the shade of the spreading acacia tree by which the waggon was +outspanned, crawled on a couple of blankets little Jan, his two year old child. +Now and then the big Boer would pause from his work to admire the strong, +chubby limbs of his little son, or would stretch forth a big hand to tickle the +restless little rascal, eliciting from him crows, gurgles and screams of +childish laughter. Once Alida came from her cooking to look at the pair. +</p> + +<p> +“Maghte!” said her husband, as he looked up at her from playing +with the boy. “How the child grows. If he goes on like this, he will be +strong enough to carry a rifle by the time he is ten years old.” +</p> + +<p> +They retired early that night—before eight o’clock—and at the +earliest streak of dawn Karel Van Zyl had drunk his coffee, eaten some meat and +a rusk and said farewell to his wife and child. He kissed Alida’s broad, +smooth cheek and, yet more tenderly, his sleeping child, lying there up in the +waggon, on the kartel-bed, in the big hole which his sire had lately quitted. +And then, taking with him Hans and his horse, he went down to the stream. The +good grey had swum rivers before and understood the business; yet he paused for +a moment on the brink, looking forth over the broad, swift stream, and snuffed +the air once or twice. +</p> + +<p> +“Crocodiles, <i>oude kerel</i> (old fellow)?” said his master, +patting him on the neck. “They shall not harm you.” +</p> + +<p> +The grey tossed his head, shook his bit, and Hans, looking at him, said to his +master: +</p> + +<p> +“He is all right, Baas. He trusts you. Witfoot will swim.” +</p> + +<p> +So, unfastening the long raw-hide reim from the head stall, they lead Witfoot +down, got into a couple of canoes and pushed off. Witfoot swam quietly and +cleverly between the two canoes, and presently, passing below Ndala’s +island, they reached the northern bank. Here Ndala was waiting for them with a +number of his tribesmen. They exchanged greetings, and then the Cubangwe +captain picked out a dozen of his best hunters to accompany Van Zyl and his +Hottentot and show them where the elephants were. And so, bidding friendly +farewells, they parted. +</p> + +<p> +Hans marched just ahead of Van Zyl, carrying, as he always did, till game was +known to be near, his master’s rifle and a bandolier full of spare +cartridges. One of Ndala’s men carried the second rifle, with which Hans +himself was usually intrusted. For three hours they marched north-west under +the blazing sun, over heavy sand-belts, through bush and thin forest, until +high noon, when Van Zyl reined up his horse, pulled off his broad-brimmed hat +and wiped the sweat from his brow with his big cotton print handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“Hans,” he said, looking round for Ndala’s hunters, +“those schepsels are surely spreading out very wide for the spoor. I +haven’t seen one of them for half an hour past.” As he spoke he +climbed leisurely from the saddle and loosened the girths. Hans, who alone knew +why the men had vanished, answered him: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you will set eyes on them again, Baas. You may say +your prayers, for your last hour is nigh and I am going to shoot you.” +</p> + +<p> +Van Zyl heard the clicks of two hammers being cocked and turned swiftly round. +</p> + +<p> +“That is a verdomned impudent joke of yours, Hans,” he said, +“for which I shall welt you handsomely when we get back to camp. Give me +the gun.” +</p> + +<p> +But Hans, standing within ten feet of his master, had the rifle at the ready, +and there was a fiendish look in his eyes which Van Zyl had never before +remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t move a step nearer,” said the Hottentot, “but +say your prayers, for before God I am going to shoot you dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Van Zyl saw that there was something more in the man’s demeanour than he +had bargained for. He turned a thought paler beneath his tan. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, Hans?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean this,” returned the Hottentot, still keeping his rifle +ready. “I haven’t forgotten the cruel floggings I have had from you +and your father in years gone by, and I am dog-tired of your service. Ndala has +made me a good offer. We shall go halves in your goods and I am to take your +wife for my own vrouw. And,” added the man, with a brutal leer, “I +shall make her a very good husband, if she behaves herself.” +</p> + +<p> +At that last foul insult Van Zyl clenched his fists, swore a great oath and +rushed at the Hottentot. But the man was too quick for him. He levelled his +rifle, pulled trigger, and a heavy bullet crashed through the brain of the +unfortunate Dutchman and passed out at the back of his skull, leaving a huge +gaping wound at the point of exit. Van Zyl dropped heavily upon the hot sand +and never stirred again. +</p> + +<p> +Regardless of the pool of blood, welling swiftly from the warm body, the +Hottentot proceeded leisurely to strip his late master of his clothes, into +most of which he introduced his own squat and meagre figure. Then, mounting the +grey horse, which had meanwhile been patiently grazing hard by, he rode off. A +quarter of a mile away, before entering a patch of bush, he drew rein and +looked back. As he expected, the vultures were already descending from the sky, +prepared for their foul banquet. Some of them were even now collected in a +thorn tree near the body. In a few hours their task would be finished and only +Karel Van Zyl’s bones would remain for the jackals and hyaenas. +</p> + +<p> +An hour before sunset that same afternoon Alida Van Zyl sat in her waggon +sewing. On the kartel by her side lay her little son Jan, playing with a wooden +doll carved for him by April, their Basuto herd boy and foreloper. April +himself was just now squatting by the camp fire, looking after the stew-pot and +solacing his ease with an occasional pinch of Kaffir snuff. It was a lovely +late afternoon, the heat of the day was passing, a pleasant breeze from the +southeast moved upon the veldt, and as Alida expanded her lungs and inhaled the +pure, invigorating air, and rested peacefully, after a day of work and washing, +life, even in this remote wilderness, seemed very pleasant. Once or twice she +looked up from her work and let her eyes rest upon that fair scene in front of +her. The ever-moving river, running its perpetual course south-eastward, looked +wondrously beautiful; its murmurs, as it swept over the low cataracts and +swirled onward, sounded very sweet to the ear and suggested a perennial +coolness. Bands of sand-grouse were coming in from their long day in the veldt +to drink at the river’s edge. Their sharp but not unpleasing cries +sounded constantly overhead as they sped swiftly to the stream and then, after +wheeling hither and thither once or twice, stooped suddenly to the margin, +alighted and drank thirstily. Skeins of wild duck passed up and down the +stream. Now and again splendid Egyptian geese took flight and with noisy +“honks” flew on strong pinions to some other part of the water or +to the trees fringing the river-course. Dainty avocets, sandpipers and other +wading birds were to be seen here and there in the shallows, while ashore the +francolins were calling sharply to one another. +</p> + +<p> +As she sat in the kartel, with her feet resting on the waggon-box, Alida Van +Zyl’s thoughts ran in a pleasant current back to her Transvaal home. She +pictured to herself the long, trying trek over, Lake Ngami and the weary +Thirstland passed, Khama’s and Secheli’s countries traversed, and +beautiful Marico in the Western Transvaal entered. And from there Rustenburg, +with its fair hills and valleys and smiling farmsteads, was, as it were, but a +step. Three or four months of elephant-hunting here at Ndala’s, and her +man would have finished his wanderings in these regions and they would be +inspanning and turning their faces for home again. And then peace from +wanderings and a comfortable homestead and the faces of kinsfolk and friends. A +pleasant, pleasant thought. +</p> + +<p> +While she thus dreamed her day dream of the future, a canoe had, unnoticed by +her, shot across the stream and made its landing on the shore a hundred yards +or so behind the waggon. In a few minutes the sound of approaching footsteps +made her look up from her sewing. +</p> + +<p> +She saw—for the moment she believed her eyes must have deceived +her—not five yards from the waggon, Hans, the Hottentot—Hans +carrying her husband’s rifle and tricked out in clothing, notwithstanding +that sleeves and trousers were liberally turned up, at least three sizes too +big for him. There was a strange look in the man’s eyes, half guilty, +half triumphant, as he glanced up at his mistress. What in the name of the Heer +God could it all mean? And then a pang gripped her heart. Surely something had +happened, else why was Hans here at the waggon and alone? But Alida was a +stout-hearted woman; her husband had never yet met with a severe mishap. +Surely, surely all was well? +</p> + +<p> +“Hans,” she cried in the sharp commanding voice she always used to +her native servants, “what in the name of Fortune are you back here for +and dressed like a figure of fun? Whose are the clothes, and where is your +master?” +</p> + +<p> +Hans looked with an evil leer at his mistress and replied: +</p> + +<p> +“The clothes were the Baas’s, je’vrouw, and they are now +mine. Surely you can recognise them? As for the Baas, he is dead. Ndala and I +have settled all that, and we have divided his belongings, and you, Vrouw Van +Zyl, are now to be my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +The man advanced close up to the waggon-box and again leered hatefully at his +mistress. Alida turned pale as death, but she mastered herself and replied with +angry scorn: +</p> + +<p> +“What is this cock-and-bull story about the Baas being dead? You are +drunk, man. I shall have you well thrashed for your lying when your master +comes home. Be off and get under the waggon and go to sleep. Loup, yo +schelm!” +</p> + +<p> +“The Baas will never come back again,” returned the Hottentot, +“he is dead. I shot him in the veldt.” He put his finger to a dark +crimson stain upon the collar of his coat. “See, that is Karel Van +Zyl’s blood. Dead he is, I say. And now get down from the waggon and let +me kiss you. You are to be my wife in future and, mind you, you’ll have +to behave yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Something, as she looked at the Hottentot and his absurd clothing and the dark +stain of blood, told Alida Van Zyl that all this was God’s or the +Devil’s truth she was listening to. But, like most of her race, she was a +strong-minded woman, bred through long generations of ancestors to a life of +rough toils and many dangers. She was horror-stricken, but not in the least +likely to faint. Suddenly she half rose, stretched up her hand to the side of +the waggon and took down from the hooks on which it rested a loaded carbine +which Karel Van Zyl always left for her protection. Cocking the weapon, she +pointed it at Hans and threatened to pull the trigger. Hans ducked as the +carbine was levelled and sprang out of harm’s way. Darting round to the +side of the waggon, he yelled in a shrill, angry voice: +</p> + +<p> +“I shall come for you later on, my fine Vrouw, and when it is dark I +shall know how to manage you. Put away that gun or you may come to the same end +as your husband.” +</p> + +<p> +He passed away down to where the canoes lay and held converse with some of the +tribesmen there, and there was silence in the camp. But, as Alida felt, the +silence was in itself very ominous. +</p> + +<p> +In a little while, as the swift African twilight fell, April, the Basuto, crept +up to the waggon and whispered to his mistress. Alida, who for the last +half-hour had been very busy with certain preparations in the interior of the +waggon, came to the fore-kist, carbine in hand, and listened to him. April with +a scared face told her rapidly that things were so wrong that he was going to +make a bolt for it and take to the veldt and so try and make Moremi’s +town at Lake Ngami. Hans had threatened to shoot him, and he could expect no +protection from Ndala. What to advise his mistress he knew not. She asked him +if her husband was really dead, and whether she could herself expect aid from +Ndala and his people. Alas! April assured her that the Baas had, indeed, been +slain, so much he had gleaned from Ndala’s people. As for the chief +himself, he had the worst opinion of him, and upon the whole he, April, thought +his mistress had better submit herself to the Hottentot. Later on help might +come, if he himself could get safely to the Lake. +</p> + +<p> +But April would stay no longer, not even at his mistress’s earnest +entreaty, and crept away. A minute later Alida heard the stamp of feet, sounds +of a scuffle, and then a blood-curdling scream rang through the growing +darkness. More struggling, the sound of thuds, a muttered groan, and then all +was silence. Alida, listening with awed white face and nerves at their fullest +tension, shuddered and drew back to her child. That was poor April’s +death scream beyond a doubt. +</p> + +<p> +She lighted a lantern and then, sitting far back in the waggon, close to her +sleeping child, waited for the next scene of this dark tragedy. Who can picture +the distress of this poor creature, strong, able-bodied, yet helpless against a +cruel destiny. To quit the waggon would be madness. If she attempted to escape +with her child into the veldt, a few hours of spooring by the morning light +would bring her enemies upon her. Dark and bitter as have been the hours of +many a Dutch Afrikander woman in her times of trial, few can have endured the +tortures that now racked the soul of Alida Van Zyl. With pale, set face she sat +there in mute, yet stubborn, despair, waiting, watching, praying to the God +who, it seemed, had now clean forsaken her. +</p> + +<p> +An hour after dark Hans came up to the waggon again. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Vrouw,” he said, before showing himself, “is it +peace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay,” returned Alida in a dry voice and with a strange hard look in +her face, “it is peace. I am in your hands. You may climb up.” +</p> + +<p> +Hans appeared at the front of the waggon and looked at his mistress. She had no +gun in her hand. Apparently all was well. He climbed to the waggon-box and +turned to face her. At that moment Alida Van Zyl seized the candle from her +open lantern and dropped it into an open cask of gunpowder which stood ready +just behind the kartel. The darkness was for one awful moment broken by a blaze +of hellish fire; a frightful explosion rocked the earth and rent the air for +miles; and in that dire catastrophe Alida Van Zyl, her child, Hans the +Hottentot, and half a dozen natives, prying round the waggon to watch the +progress of affairs, were, with the waggon itself, blown to a thousand pieces. +</p> + +<p> +Thus miserably ended the last trek of Karel and Alida Van Zyl. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>Chapter Eight.<br/> +The Luck of Tobias De La Rey.</h2> + +<p> +Tobias De la Rey was one of those pastoral, hunting Boers who are still to be +found in some numbers in the remoter parts of the North and East Transvaal. His +farm was a poor one, he had no great head of stock, sheep did very ill upon +that veldt, and Tobias, like others of his class, finding it hard to make ends +meet, was in the habit annually, as his father had been before him, of making a +hunting trip beyond the Transvaal during the season of winter and bringing back +as much ivory and as many skins of giraffe, hippopotamus and the larger +antelopes as he could get together during six months’ hunting. This cargo +he took down to Zeerust, in the Marico district, and sold there. Once or twice +he had been led so far afield in search of elephants that he and the other +Boers hunting with him had remained away two seasons. But still Tobias was a +poor man. He had no luck with his stock, his land was not good enough to grow +tobacco, and now at the age of twenty-four, when most good Boers are married +and have children about them, he remained in single wretchedness; for in the +judgment of the uxorious Boer, by the age of twenty-two, every Dutch +Afrikander, if he is worth his salt, ought to be married and settled. It was +not De la Rey’s fault by any means. He had more than once offered himself +for the hand of some well-to-do neighbour’s stout daughter, but his +advances had, hitherto, purely by reason of his poverty, been civilly declined. +</p> + +<p> +The South African winter season was just now setting in—it was the month +of April—and Tobias, who meant having another hunt this year, had already +made all his preparations. His waggon was refitted and overhauled, his trek +oxen were ready and his servants at hand. His hunting horses, three of +them—two unsalted—including his old, salted, ewe-necked garron +“Blaauwbok,” a gaunt, knowing old “blaauw-schimmel” +(blue roan), which had carried him already four seasons in the hunting veldt, +were pastured near the house and fed occasionally with mealies, to give them +heart and condition for the hard life that lay before them. +</p> + +<p> +And Tobias himself had this year obtained permission from Khama, chief of +Bamangwato, to pass through his country—following the route of the Trek +Boers, who had gone through two seasons before—and had determined to hunt +in the wild and little known country far to the north-west of Lake Ngami. +</p> + +<p> +But before setting forth, Tobias had a visit to pay. He had viewed with +increasing favour this last year or two Gertruey Terblans, niece of Mevrouw +Joanna Terblans, with whom she lived. Truey was an orphan and had some land and +stock of her own. She was a dark, brown-eyed, sturdy girl of sixteen, and +Tobias De la Rey regarded her and her farm and stock as highly desirable +acquisitions. This morning, therefore, he saddled up his best looking nag and +trippled briskly off, with that curious ambling gait—something between a +trot and a canter—so greatly affected by the Dutch Afrikanders. Tobias +had dressed himself with some care. He wore a new broad-brimmed hat, decked +with a couple of short white ostrich feathers. He had struggled with immense +difficulty into a collar, and was resplendent in a blue satin necktie. And he +wore a suit of new corduroy store clothes, purchased for his hunting outfit. +His spurs, too, were new and shining. Tobias meant to make a bit of a splash +to-day, and although he was not prepared for the solemnity of an +“opsitting” (that all-night form of courtship, dear to the heart of +the Boer), and had therefore no candle in his saddle-bag, he wished to leave +upon the minds of Truey and her aunt, on this leave-taking, the most favourable +impression possible. Tobias himself was a huge, loose-limbed Boer, standing six +feet two in his velschoons. He was a rough, unkempt-looking fellow, even at his +best to-day. His straggling beard and moustache and long shaggy hair were of a +fiery red. His broad, freckled face and smallish grey eyes were vacant and +expressionless in all ordinary affairs of life—even in presence of the +fair Truey herself. Only the excitement of hunting could rouse the man. Then he +was, like most of his fellows, a different being, transformed from a dull, +listless, stupid-looking giant to a man of action, alert, active and energetic +even as an Englishman. The horse he bestrode was the youngest and best looking +of his stud, a not bad-looking bay five-year-old, which to-day was resplendent +in a new cheap curb bridle of that frightfully severe pattern always affected +by the South African Dutch. His saddle was not new, but a gorgeous red and +yellow saddle-cloth, in De la Rey’s eyes, fully atoned for that defect. +</p> + +<p> +Tobias rode steadily north up the Nylstroom River, and in three hours’ +time came in sight of the Terblans homestead, “Vogelstruisfontein” +(ostrich fountain), an ordinary Dutch farmhouse, built of Kaffir bricks and +whitewashed, and backed by goat and cattle kraals, a grove of fruit +trees—peach, apricot and quince—and a weeping willow or two. +Sitting in the shade of the stoep was old Jan Terblans, now turned seventy, +and, from fevers and privations of early days, long past work. The old man +still had the use of his eyes, however, and, catching sight of De la Rey, he +called to him to off-saddle and come in. Tobias obeyed, and, after shaking +hands with Terblans and chatting a few minutes, went at his host’s +request indoors. In the living room, at the top of the table, by the coffee +urn, sat Tant’ Joanna Terblans, second wife of the old man outside, an +enormous matron of five-and-forty, whose eighteen solid stones of flesh filled +to overflowing the capacious armchair that supported her. Tant’ Terblans +had been a little taken by surprise, it is true, but she had had time to send +for her best apron, and had smoothed her dull brown hair, and her great, +full-moon face was now turned inquiringly towards Tobias as he entered. +</p> + +<p> +Tobias held out his hand, took the Vrouw’s fat paw in his own, and +returned her greeting with a “Dag, Tant’.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, bless the man,” remarked the matron, “how smart you are +to-day. And what may you have come over about? No ‘opsitting’ mind, +Tobias! Remember what I told you six months ago. Truey with her fortune is to +make a good match, and a wandering elephant hunter like yourself need never +think of her. We are glad to see you over, of course, in a neighbourly way, but +not with any ideas of Truey.” +</p> + +<p> +Tobias meekly replied that he had but come to say farewell before starting on a +long hunting trip. “And perhaps,” he added, “if I have luck +this time and bring back a waggon-load of ivory you may see things differently, +Tant’? Remember I have more stock than I used to have. Another trip or +two, with luck, should set me up fairly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay,” rejoined the Vrouw, as she handed him his second cup of +coffee and pushed the tobacco towards him, “’tis not to be thought +of—unless indeed you can come back from your hunt a thousand pound better +man than you are now, which is not likely.” Tobias shook his head sadly, +as if that tremendous sum were utterly beyond hope, and at that moment the door +opened and Truey herself came in. +</p> + +<p> +Truey had seen with sharp eyes Tobias De la Rey spurring across the flat in the +final sharp canter up to the house. She had changed her dirty print frock for a +stuff one, had brushed her dark hair, tied a pink ribbon to the thick single +plait that fell down her back, and had even washed her face and hands. In truth +Gertruey had a soft corner in her heart for Tobias. After all he was her +devoted admirer—she knew that. And then he was a first-rate hunter, a +good veldt man, who had killed many an elephant, and had met death fairly and +squarely time after time these eight years past. And indeed, he was not so ill +looking; there were few good-looking bachelors within a radius of fifty miles +of Vogelstruisfontein, and Tobias was no worse than his neighbours. He was +poor, certainly, but he was less poor than he used to be, and she had land and +stock of her own—or would have when she came of age. +</p> + +<p> +Truey came in, then, passably well-dressed and on good terms with herself, and +there was quite a pleased look in her honest brown eyes as they caught +Tobias’s first glance. Tant’ Joanna viewed her niece’s little +personal preparations for the visitor with something very like disapproval, and +Truey, whose countenance had, under her aunt’s dragon-like gaze, assumed +a fitting humility, was soon dismissed to the kitchen to hasten on preparation +for “middagmaal.” During the long afternoon, before Tobias saddled +up and rode for home, he had the opportunity of exchanging but two or three +sentences with Truey alone. Still those sentences carried consolation. Tobias +was a terrible coward with women, but he had in sheer desperation ventured to +remark that Tant’ Joanna meant her niece to marry a rich man, and that no +doubt he should find her settled with her own husband on his return. Tracy had +answered stoutly, with reddening cheeks, that she should have a good deal to +say to that, and that for her part Tobias might be very sure she should not be +married before he returned again. There was something in the girl’s voice +and look that gave the faint-hearted Tobias fresh hope, and he said +hastily—for he heard Tant’ Joanna coming in from the +stoep,—“Then you will wait, Truey?” And Truey answered under +her breath, yet very steadfastly, “Yes. I will wait, Tobias.” And +there was a very warm pressure of the hand between these two—far +different from the usual lifeless handshake of the Boers—as they said +farewell. +</p> + +<p> +Tobias climbed briskly to his saddle at four o’clock, touched his nag +with the off spur to make him show himself a little, and from his safe eminence +fired his parting shot at Vrouw Terblans: “Farewell, Tant’, I shall +be back in twelve months a thousand pound better man, with the waggon loaded up +with ivory.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ach! Tobias, man, you will be too late,” rejoined the huge dame +from the stoep, in her sharp voice. “Too late, I tell you. Never mind, +good luck to you, and farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +But behind her, as she spoke these words, stood Truey, shaking her head, and +her head-shake and the look in her kind eyes, just now dim with tears, were +consolations good enough and reassuring enough for Tobias De la Rey as he rode +off. +</p> + +<p> +It was a glorious mellow evening, that, as Tobias galloped home in a frame of +mind not often usual to one of his sluggish breed. If he had killed a brace of +elephants, with teeth averaging fifty pounds apiece, he could not have felt +more lively. Long, long afterwards did Tobias recall that shining evening as he +rode home from Vogelstruisfontein. Never had the grass veldt looked more fair, +the bush more green, the distant mountains more ruddy with the flush of sunset; +never had life itself seemed more worth the living. +</p> + +<p> +Leaving a kinsman to look after his farm and stock, De la Rey trekked next +morning for the far distant hunting grounds that were his goal. A year later he +and his shooting-fellow, Klaas Erasmus, a first-rate hunter like himself, were +outspanned with their waggons in a wild region, unknown even to the Trek Boers +in their wanderings, towards the Cubangwe River. It was plainly apparent, from +the look of their outfits, that the hunters had had a very rough time of it +during these twelve months. Their waggons were worn and battered; the tents had +long since been torn to shreds by the thorns and were now replaced by the hides +of game. Their combined stud—they had started with seven—had now +dwindled to a pair of jaded-looking nags, one of which was De la Rey’s +old salted schimmel “Blaauwbok,” now looking, if possible, more +gaunt and antique than ever. The two men had had no great luck hitherto. It had +taken them four good months to reach the elephant country, and after eight +months’ hunting they had shot and traded between them little more than +fifteen hundred pounds weight of ivory. They had determined, therefore, to hunt +for a second season. Twice or thrice in the unhealthy season just ended had +they been each very near to death from fever and dysentery, and both looked +yellow and pulled down. Yet in the last few days, luck had turned; they had +stumbled by chance upon a veldt thick with elephants; they had slain three +yesterday and were now hot upon the spoor of an immense troop, which on the +coming morning they hoped to attack. +</p> + +<p> +At seven o’clock, having supped and smoked their pipes, they turned into +their waggons and slept. Hunters, and especially Dutch hunters, rise early, and +seek their kartels betimes, after a hard day in the veldt. An hour before dawn +they were stirring, coffee was drunk, some food swallowed, the horses were +saddled up, the rifles got out, cartridge belts buckled on; the hunters +mounted, and with their native spoorers, set out upon the trail just as the +light was breaking through the white mist of early morning. +</p> + +<p> +Three Bushmen spoored for them, and besides these, two native servants, fair +shots and reliable hunters, carried rifles and accompanied the Boers on foot. +</p> + +<p> +Hour after hour the keen Bushmen held upon the broad trail of the retreating +herd, upon whose skirts they had now been hanging these three days past. It was +a mighty troop—as near as could be judged by the trail left, at least 150 +strong. The sun rose and rose and beat hotly down upon the thick bush in which +the party were now involved. Hour after hour they pressed steadily on, and +still the big troop kept its lead. At two o’clock, in the hottest, +weariest hour of afternoon, they began the ascent of a steepish hill, up which +the elephants had climbed in their retreat. Their horses were showing signs of +collapse. It was a matter of absolute necessity that they should off-saddle for +half an hour and give them a much needed rest. The spoorers, too, wanted rest +and a drink from their calabashes and a welcome pinch of snuff—that +ineffable blessing to the worn and jaded black man. While they off-saddled and +the horses rested and fed a little, the native hunters were in deep +consultation; the Bushmen, especially, were jabbering in their queer +inarticulate language—in whispers, of course—and their gestures +indicated that something very exciting was stirring in their minds. Presently +Lukas, the Griqua, who carried a gun, came to the two Boers and translated. +What the Bushmen wanted to point out was this. Below the hill, on the farther +side, lay an immense marsh, which was just now in its most treacherous +condition. A week before it was under water and no elephants would have faced +it. A week later, under the influence of the fierce sun, it would have dried +sufficiently to bear the weight even of an elephant. If, said the Bushmen, the +elephants, which were now assuredly nearing the summit of the hill, browsing +slowly as they climbed, could be driven down the steep into the marsh they +would be hopelessly embogged. The big troop, the Bushmen said (they knew every +herd of game in that vast veldt, just as the average Kaffir knows his own +cattle), had been driven far out of their own feeding grounds and this part of +the country was strange to them. The two Boers listened with a fierce intensity +to this absorbing scheme. They pulled at their beards, knit their brows, and +leaped hungrily at each word as it came from the mouth of Lukas, the Griqua. +Here was the chance of a lifetime, and they knew it. +</p> + +<p> +In half an hour the plan of campaign was settled, the horses were saddled up +and the seven hunters, spreading out in a widish line, advanced upon their +game. They reached the summit of the hill. There, three hundred yards below, in +a broad opening of the bush, moved very slowly at least sixty huge elephants, +most of them carrying long white teeth. In other parts of the thick bush the +dusky forms and pale gleaming tusks of other mammoths could be counted. +</p> + +<p> +The Boers dismounted, left their horses behind them, and, one upon either +flank, crept in; the two natives carrying guns were in the centre; the three +Bushmen, armed only with assegais, served to maintain the thin line of the +advance. Half-way down the hill, the Boers fired their rifles into the herd, +now close in front of them, the native gunners followed suit, and then, with +loud yells, the whole party dashed in upon the elephants. It was a risk, but +the plan succeeded to admiration. Half the herd tore terror-stricken down the +remaining three hundred yards of hill and entered headlong upon the flat marsh +in front of them. Half scattered, and, turning short round, broke back through +the thin cordon of hunters. Of these, two big bulls and a cow, all bearing +magnificent teeth, fell victims. Leaving these to die, as they quickly did, of +their wounds, the hunters ran on and reached the edge of the marsh. Quite a +respectable troop was already stuck fast in its treacherous depths. The hunters +fired, and fired, and fired again, shot after shot, and as the victims fell, +the remainder of the troop, in their desperate exertions to free themselves and +escape, only buried themselves yet deeper in the black mud of the smooth, +green-looking swamp. It was a scene never to be forgotten. The gunners, black +and white, in the fiercest stage of excitement, shouting, screaming, swearing, +firing; the Bushmen, mad with the lust of blood, venturing with light feet upon +the swamp and spearing the hopelessly embogged elephants; the screaming and +trumpeting of the great pachyderms themselves, frantic with helpless rage and +terror, created in this erst silent wilderness an infernal pandemonium. By +sundown the last elephant but one of all that troop was slain, and +seventy-three of the great tusk bearers lay dead upon the marsh. One young +bull, lighter than its fellows, had marvellously crossed the swamp in safety +and escaped. Some of the finest tusks in Africa lay here under the red rays of +the dying sun. Few were under thirty pounds in weight. Many were well over +fifty pounds apiece. The two biggest bulls carried teeth that, when dried out, +pulled the beam at over ninety pounds apiece. It took the hunters and their +natives more than a week to chop out the tusks and get them stowed in their +waggons. In the last few days, although the marsh had become firmer and work +more easy, the two Dutchmen were unable to withstand the dreadful effluvia of +the rotting carcases, and the natives completed the loathsome task alone save +for the throngs of vultures that kept them company. +</p> + +<p> +Six months later Tobias De la Rey had reached the far Transvaal border on his +return home, had crossed a drift of the Limpopo, and was now approaching +Vogelstruisfontein. Despite the toils and dangers of his last eighteen months +in the wilderness, his heart was light and there was a look upon his broad and +stolid face that told of much happiness. The house was reached at last, and +Tobias’s travel-worn waggon, loaded to the tilt with ivory, halted fifty +yards away from the door. Vrouw Terblans, aroused by the cracking of whips, the +cries of the drivers, and the heavy creaking of the waggon, stood outside upon +the stoep. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Tant’ Joanna,” cried Tobias, as he rode up, +“there is the finest load of ivory that has come into the Transvaal for +many a long year. More than a thousand pounds’ worth. I have kept my word +Ja! I have made my last hunt and brought home three thousand pounds weight of +ivory. Allemaghte! It was the greatest hunt ever known in South Africa. +Seventy-six elephants we killed in a single day. But where are Truey and +Terblans?” De la Rey, in the joy of this unspeakably triumphant +moment—looked forward to so eagerly during every waking hour of the last +six months—had not noticed the stout huis-vrouw’s black stuff gown +and her lugubrious expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas!” she replied. “Have not you heard, Tobias? Truey +caught a fever four months since and died, poor child, in my arms. My man died +too—he had been long ailing—six months after you had trekked. I +have had sore trouble, but the Heer God who chastens can bring the healing. It +is a blessed thing to see the face of an old friend again. Will ye not +off-saddle and come in, Tobias? I want your help and advice.” +</p> + +<p> +Tobias had stared at Tant’ Joanna as she spoke these words, his slow mind +not fully comprehending their terrible import. He leaned down towards her from +his horse and said in a low, fierce, guttural voice: +</p> + +<p> +“What was that you said, woman?—Truey dead?” +</p> + +<p> +Vrouw Terblans was whimpering now and had a kerchief to her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Tobias,” she answered feebly, “dead indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +With a deep groan, but without another word, De la Rey jerked fiercely at his +horse’s bit and turned to his waggon. “Trek on for home,” he +said huskily, and himself rode forward. +</p> + +<p> +For six months, De la Rey, his dream shattered, his brightest hopes dispelled, +shut himself up, away upon his lonely farm, and nursed the bitter sorrow that +had overtaken him. But, after all, the Dutch Afrikanders are an eminently +practical race, and Tobias began presently to look abroad again. Tant’ +Joanna and he in due time met each other once more. She was now very ready to +play the consoler; a wealthy widow is always a source of deep attraction, even +to a Boer twenty or thirty years her junior; their farms adjoined; and so +within a year De la Rey and she made up their minds, trekked to Pietersburg and +were married at the Dutch Reformed Church. +</p> + +<p> +Tobias De la Rey is now a comfortable man, respected for his wealth and well +known throughout the Northern Transvaal as one of the two hunters who slew in a +single day six-and-seventy elephants. But there come to him at times, +undoubtedly, bitter moments, and, looking with the mind’s eye past the +immense figure of his grim and elderly vrouw, he sees again the kind brown eyes +and the pleasant face of his lost Truey. These thoughts, for very good and +sufficient reasons, he keeps severely to himself. For Tant’ Joanna is, it +must be owned, a jealous and an exacting spouse. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>Chapter Nine.<br/> +The Mahalapsi Diamond.</h2> + +<p> +It was a fine warm evening at Kimberley, and Frank Farnborough, just before the +dinner hour at the “Central,” was fortifying his digestion with a +glass of sherry and bitters, and feeling on very good terms with himself. He +had put in an excellent day’s work at De Beers, that colossal diamond +company’s office, where he had the good fortune to be employed, and had +that morning received from his chief an intimation that his salary had been +raised to four hundred pounds per annum. Four hundred per annum is not an +immense sum in Kimberley, where living is dear all round; but for a young man +of five-and-twenty, of fairly careful habits, it seemed not so bad a stipend. +And so Frank sat down to the excellent menu, always to be found at the +“Central,” at peace with the world and with a sound appetite for +his dinner. Next to him was a fellow-member of the principal Kimberley cricket +team, and, as they were both old friends and enthusiasts, they chatted freely. +Everywhere around them sat that curious commingling of mankind usually to be +seen at a Kimberley <i>table d’hôte</i>—diamond dealers, Government +officials, stock-brokers, detectives, Jews, Germans, Englishmen and Scots, and +a few Irish, hunters and traders from the far interior, miners, prospectors, +concessionaires, and others. A few women leavened by their presence the mass of +mankind, their numbers just now being increased by some members of a theatrical +company playing in the town. +</p> + +<p> +As for Frank and his companion, they drank their cool lager from tall tankards, +ate their dinners, listened with some amusement to the impossible yarns of an +American miner from the Transvaal, and, presently rising, sought the veranda +chairs and took their coffee. In a little while Frank’s comrade left him +for some engagement in the town. +</p> + +<p> +Frank finished his coffee and sat smoking in some meditation. He was on the +whole, as we have seen, on good terms with himself, but there was one little +cloud upon his horizon, which gave pause to his thoughts. Like many other young +fellows, he lodged in the bungalow house of another man; that is, he had a good +bedroom and the run of the sitting-rooms in the house of Otto Staarbrucker, an +Afrikander of mixed German and Semitic origin, a decent fellow enough, in his +way, who ran a store in Kimberley. This arrangement suited Frank Farnborough +well enough; he paid a moderate rental, took his meals at the +“Central,” and preserved his personal liberty intact. But Otto +Staarbrucker had a sister, Nina, who played housekeeper, and played her part +very charmingly. Nina was a colonial girl of really excellent manners and +education. Like many Afrikanders, nowadays, she had been sent to Europe for her +schooling, and having made the most of her opportunities, had returned to the +Cape a very charming and well-educated young woman. Moreover, she was +undeniably attractive, very beautiful most Kimberley folks thought her. On the +mother’s side there was blood of the Spanish Jews in her veins—and +Nina, a sparkling yet refined brunette, showed in her blue-black hair, +magnificent eyes, warm complexion, and shapely figure, some of the best points +of that Spanish type. +</p> + +<p> +These two young people had been a good deal together of late—mostly in +the warm evenings, when Kimberley people sit in their verandas—stoeps, +they call them in South Africa—cooling down after the fiery heat of the +corrugated-iron town. It was pleasant to watch the stars, to smoke the placid +pipe, and to talk about Europe and European things to a handsome girl—a +girl who took small pains to conceal her friendliness for the well set-up, +manly Englishman, who treated her with the deference of a gentleman (a thing +not always understood in South Africa), and withal could converse pleasantly +and well on other topics than diamonds, gambling, and sport Frank Farnborough, +as he ruminated over his pipe this evening out there in the +“Central” fore-court—garden, I suppose one should call +it—asked himself a plain question. +</p> + +<p> +“Things are becoming ‘steep,’” he thought to himself. +“I am getting too fond of Nina, and I half believe she’s inclined +to like me. She’s a nice and a really good girl, I believe. One could go +far for a girl like her. And yet—that Jewish blood is a fatal objection. +It won’t do, I’m afraid, and the people at home would be horrified. +I shall have to chill off a bit, and get rooms elsewhere. I shall be sorry, +very sorry, but I don’t like the girl well enough to swallow her +relations, even supposing I were well enough off to marry, which I am +not.” +</p> + +<p> +As if bent upon forthwith proving his new-found resolve, the young man soon +after rose and betook himself along the Du Toit’s Pan road, in the +direction of his domicile. Presently he entered the house and passed through to +the little garden behind. As his form appeared between the darkness of the +garden and the light of the passage, a soft voice, coming from the direction of +a low table on which stood a lamp, said, “That you, Mr +Farnborough?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he returned, as he sat down by the speaker. “I’m +here. What are you doing, I wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m just now deep in your ‘Malay Archipelago.’ +What a good book it is, and what a wonderful time Wallace had among his birds +and insects; and what an interesting country to explore! This burnt-up +Kimberley makes one sigh for green islands, and palm-trees and blue seas. Otto +and I will certainly have to go to Kalk Bay for Christmas. There are no +palm-trees, certainly, but there’s a delicious blue sea. A year at +Kimberley is enough to try even a bushman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” returned Frank, “one does want a change from tin +shanties and red dust occasionally. I shall enjoy the trip to Cape Town too. We +shall have a pretty busy time of it with cricket in the tournament week; but I +shall manage to get a dip in the sea now and then, I hope. I positively long +for it.” +</p> + +<p> +As Nina leaned back in her big easy-chair, in her creamy Surah silk, and in the +half-light of the lamp, she looked very bewitching, and not a little pleased, +as they chatted together. Her white teeth flashed in a quick smile to the +compliment which Frank paid her, as the conversation drifted from a butterfly +caught in the garden, to the discovery he had made that she was one of the few +girls in Kimberley who understood the art of arraying herself in an artistic +manner. She rewarded Frank’s pretty speech by ringing for tea. +</p> + +<p> +“What a blessing it is,” she went on, leaning back luxuriously, +“to have a quiet evening. Somehow, Otto’s friends pall upon one. I +wish he had more English friends. I’m afraid my four years in England +have rather spoilt me for Otto’s set here. If it were not for you, +indeed, and one or two others now and again, things would be rather dismal. +Stocks, shares, companies, and diamonds, reiterated day after day, are apt to +weary female ears. I sometimes long to shake myself free from it all. Yet, as +you know, here am I, a sort of prisoner at will.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank, who had been pouring out more tea, now placed his chair a little nearer +to his companion’s as he handed her her cup. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” he said, “a princess should hardly talk of prisons. +Why, you have all Kimberley at your beck and call, if you like. Why don’t +you come down from your pedestal and make one of your subjects happy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she returned, with a little sigh, “my prince +hasn’t come along yet I must wait.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank, I am afraid, was getting a little out of his depth. He had intended, +this evening, to be diplomatic and had manifestly failed. He looked up into the +glorious star-lit sky, into the blue darkness; he felt the pleasant, cool night +air about him; he looked upon the face of the girl by his side—its +wonderful Spanish beauty, perfectly enframed by the clear light of the lamp. +There was a shade of melancholy upon Nina’s face. A little pity, tinged +with an immense deal of admiration, combined with almost overpowering force to +beat down Frank’s resolutions of an hour or two back. He bent his head, +took the girl’s hand into his own, and lightly kissed it. It was the +first time he had ventured so much, and the contact with the warm, soft, +shapely flesh thrilled him. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be down on your luck, Nina,” he said. “Things +are not so bad. You have at all events some one who would give a good deal to +be able to help you—some one who—” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment, just when the depression upon Nina’s face had passed, as +passes the light cloud wrack from before the moon, a man’s loud, rather +guttural voice was heard from within the house, and a figure passed into the +darkness of the garden. At the sound, the girl’s hand was snatched from +its temporary occupancy. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo! Nina,” said the voice of Otto, her brother, “any tea +out there? I’m as thirsty as a salamander.” +</p> + +<p> +The tea was poured out, the conversation turned upon indifferent topics, and +for two people the interest of the evening had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, early, Frank Farnborough found a note and package awaiting him. +He opened the letter, which ran thus: +</p> + +<p> +“Kimberley—In a dickens of a hurry. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Frank,— +</p> + +<p> +“Have just got down by post-cart (it was before the railway had been +pushed beyond Kimberley), and am off to catch the train for Cape Town, so +can’t possibly see you. I had a good, if rather rough, time in +’Mangwato. Knowing your love of natural history specimens, I send you +with this a small crocodile, which I picked up in a dried, mummified condition +in some bush on the banks of the Mahalapsi River—a dry watercourse +running into the Limpopo. How the crocodile got there, I don’t know. +Probably it found its way up the river-course during the rains, and was left +stranded when the drought came. Perhaps it may interest you; if not, chuck it +away. Good-bye, old chap. I shall be at Kimberley again in two months’ +time, and will look you up. +</p> + +<p> +“Yours ever,— +</p> + +<p> +“Horace Kentburn.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank smiled as he read his friend’s characteristic letter, and turned at +once to the parcel—a package of sacking, some three and a half feet long. +This was quickly ripped open, and the contents, a miniature crocodile, as +parched and hard as a sun-dried ox-hide, but otherwise in good condition, was +exposed. +</p> + +<p> +“I know what I’ll do with this,” said Frank to himself; +“I’ll soak the beast in my bath till evening, and then see if I can +cut him open and stuff him a bit; he seems to have been perfectly +sun-baked.” +</p> + +<p> +The crocodile was bestowed in a long plunge bath, and covered with water. Frank +found it not sufficiently softened that evening, and had to skirmish elsewhere +for a bath next morning in consequence. But the following evening, on taking +the reptile out of soak, it was found to be much more amenable to the knife; +and after dinner, Frank returned to his quarters prepared thoroughly to enjoy +himself. First he got into some loose old flannels; then tucked up his sleeves, +took his treasure finally out of the bath, carefully dried it, placed it +stomach upwards upon his table, which he had previously covered with brown +paper for the purpose, and then, taking up his sharpest knife, began his +operations. The skin of the crocodile’s stomach was now pretty soft and +flexible; it had apparently never been touched with the knife, and Frank made a +long incision from the chest to near the tail. Then, taking back the skin on +either side, he prepared to remove what remained of the long-mummified +interior. As he cut and scraped hither and thither, his knife came twice or +thrice in contact with pieces of gravel. Two pebbles were found and put aside, +and again the knife-edge struck something hard. +</p> + +<p> +“Hang these pebbles!” exclaimed the operator; “they’ll +ruin my knife. What the dickens do these creatures want to turn their +intestines into gravel-pits for, I wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +His hand sought the offending stone, which was extracted and brought to the +lamp-light. Now this pebble differed from its predecessors—differed so +materially in shape and touch, that Frank held it closer yet to the light. He +stared hard at the stone, which, as it lay between his thumb and forefinger, +looked not unlike a symmetrical piece of clear gum-arabic, and then, giving +vent to a prolonged whistle, he exclaimed, in a tone of suppressed excitement, +“By all that’s holy! A fifty carat stone! Worth hundreds, or +I’m a Dutchman.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down, pushed the crocodile farther from him, brought the lamp nearer, +turned up the wick a little, and then, placing the diamond—for diamond it +was—on the table between him and the lamp, proceeded to take a careful +survey of it, turning it over now and again. The stone resembled in its shape +almost exactly the bull’s-eye sweetmeat of the British schoolboy. It was +of a clear, white colour, and when cut would, as Frank Farnborough very well +knew, turn out a perfect brilliant of fine water. There was no trace of +“off-colour” about it, and it was apparently flawless and perfect. +South African diamond experts can tell almost with certainty from what mine a +particular stone has been produced, and it seemed to Frank that the matchless +octahedron in front of him resembled in character the finest stones of the Vaal +River diggings—from which the choicest gems of Africa have come. +</p> + +<p> +Many thoughts ran through the young man’s brain. Here in front of him, in +the compass of a small walnut, lay wealth to the extent of some hundreds of +pounds. Where did that stone come from? Did the crocodile swallow it with the +other pebbles on the Mahalapsi river, or the banks of the adjacent Limpopo? +Why, there might be—nay, probably was—another mine lying dormant up +there—a mine of fabulous wealth. Why should he not be its discoverer, and +become a millionaire? As these thoughts flashed through his brain, a hand was +laid on his shoulder, and a merry feminine voice exclaimed, “Why, Mr +Farnborough, what have you got there?” +</p> + +<p> +Frank seized the diamond, sprang up with flushed face and excited eyes, and was +confronted with Nina and her brother, both regarding him very curiously. +</p> + +<p> +Otto Staarbrucker spoke first. “Hullo, Frank! You seem to be mightily +engrossed. What’s your wonderful discovery?” +</p> + +<p> +The Englishman looked keenly from one to another of his interrogators, +hesitated momentarily, then made up his mind and answered frankly, but in a +low, intense voice: +</p> + +<p> +“My wonderful discovery is this. Inside that dried-up crocodile +I’ve found a big diamond. It’s worth hundreds anyhow, and there +must be more where it came from. Look at it, but for God’s sake keep +quiet about it.” +</p> + +<p> +Staarbrucker took the stone from Frank, held it upon his big fat white palm, +and bent down to the lamp-light. Nina’s pretty, dark head bent down too, +so that her straying hair touched her brother’s as they gazed earnestly +at the mysterious gem. Presently Otto took the stone in his fingers, held it to +the light, weighed it carefully, and then said solemnly and sententiously, +“Worth eight hundred pounds, if it’s worth a red cent!” +</p> + +<p> +Nina broke in, “My goodness, Frank—Mr Farnborough—where did +you get the stone from, and what are you going to do with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miss Nina,” returned Frank, looking pleasantly at the +girl’s handsome, excited face, “I hardly know how to answer you at +present. That crocodile came from up-country, and I suppose the diamond came +from the same locality. It’s all tumbled so suddenly upon me, that I +hardly know what to say or what to think. The best plan, I take it, is to have +a good night’s sleep on it; then I’ll make up my mind in the +morning, and have a long talk with your brother and you. Meanwhile, I know I +can trust to you and Otto to keep the strictest silence about the matter. If it +got known in Kimberley, I should be pestered to death, and perhaps have the +detectives down upon me into the bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right, Frank, my boy,” broke in Staarbrucker, in +his big Teutonic voice; “we’ll take care of that. Nina’s the +safest girl in Kimberley, and this is much too important a business to be +ruined in that way. Why, there may be a fortune for us all, where that stone +came from, who knows?” +</p> + +<p> +Already Otto Staarbrucker spoke as if he claimed an interest in the find; and +although there was not much in the speech, yet Frank only resented the +patronising tone in which it was delivered. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ve pretty carefully prospected the interior of this +animal,” said Frank, showing the now perfectly clean mummy. +“He’s been a good friend to me, and I’ll put him away, and +we’ll have a smoke.” +</p> + +<p> +For another two hours, the three sat together on the stoep at the back of the +house, discussing the situation. Staarbrucker fished his hardest to discover +the exact whereabouts of the place from whence the crocodile had come. Frank +fenced with his palpably leading questions, and put him off laughingly with, +“You shall know all about it in good time. For the present you may take +it the beast came from his natural home somewhere up the Crocodile +River.” (The Limpopo River is in South Africa universally known as the +Crocodile.) Presently the sitting broke up, and they retired to their +respective rooms. Nina’s handshake, as she said good-night to Frank, was +particularly friendly, and Frank himself thought he had never seen the girl +look more bewitching. +</p> + +<p> +“Pleasant dreams,” she said, as she turned away; “I’m +so glad of your luck. I suppose to-night you’ll be filling your pockets +with glorious gems in some fresh Tom Tiddler’s ground. Mind you put your +diamond under your pillow and lock your door. Good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Otto Staarbrucker went to his bedroom too, but not for some hours to sleep. He +had too much upon his mind. Business had been very bad of late. The Du +Toit’s Pan mine had been shut down, and had still further depressed trade +at his end of the town, and, to crown all, he had been gambling in Randt mines, +and had lost heavily. +</p> + +<p> +Otto’s once flourishing business was vanishing into thin air, and it was +a question whether he should not immediately cut his losses and get out of +Kimberley with what few hundreds he could scrape together, before all had gone +to ruin. +</p> + +<p> +This diamond discovery of Frank Farnborough’s somehow strongly appealed +to his imagination. Where that magnificent stone came from, there must be +others—probably quantities of them. It would surely be worth risking two +or three hundred in exploration. Frank was a free, open-hearted fellow enough, +and although not easily to be driven, would no doubt welcome his offer to find +the money for prospecting thoroughly upon half profits, or some such bargain. +It must be done; there seemed no other reasonable way out of the tangle of +difficulties that beset him. He would speak to Frank about it early in the +morning. Comforted with this reflection, he fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +They breakfasted betimes at the Staarbruckers, and after the meal, Nina having +gone into the garden, Otto proceeded to open his proposal to the young +Englishman, who had stayed this morning to breakfast. He hinted first that +there might be serious difficulty in disposing of so valuable a diamond, and, +indeed, as Frank already recognised, that was true enough. The proper course +would be to “declare” the stone to the authorities; but would they +accept his story—wildly improbable as it appeared on the face of it? +</p> + +<p> +No one in England can realise the thick and poisonous atmosphere of suspicion +and distrust in which the immense diamond industry of Kimberley is enwrapped. +Its miasma penetrates everywhere, and protected as is the industry by the most +severe and brutal—nay, even degrading—laws and restrictions, which +an all-powerful “ring” has been able to force through the Cape +Parliament, no man is absolutely safe from it. And, even Frank, an employé of +the great De Beers Company itself, a servant of proved integrity and some +service, might well hesitate before exposing himself to the tremendous +difficulty of proving a strong and valid title to the stone in his possession. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Frank,” said Staarbrucker, “have you made up your mind +about your diamond? What are you going to do with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite know yet,” answered Frank, taking his pipe out +of his mouth. “It’s an infernally difficult puzzle, and I +haven’t hit on a solution. What do you advise?” Here was +Otto’s opening. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my boy,” he answered, “I’ve thought a good deal +over the matter, and in my opinion, you’d better keep your discovery to +ourselves at present. Now I’m prepared to make you an offer. I’ll +find the expenses of a prospecting trip to the place where your crocodile came +from, and take a competent miner up with us—I know several good men to +choose from—on the condition that, in the event of our finding more +stones, or a mine, I am to stand in halves with you. I suppose such a trip +would cost three hundred pounds or thereabouts. It’s a sporting offer; +what do you say to it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t think I’ll close at present,” returned +Frank; “I’ll take another few hours to think it over. Perhaps +I’ll mention the matter to an old friend of mine, and take his +advice.” +</p> + +<p> +Staarbrucker broke in with some heat: “If you’re going to tell all +your friends, you may as well give the show away at once. The thing will be all +over ‘camp,’ and I wash my hands of it. Let me tell you, +you’re doing a most imprudent thing.” +</p> + +<p> +(Kimberley is still called by its early name of “camp” among old +inhabitants.) +</p> + +<p> +“Really,” said Frank, coolly enough, “the stone is mine at +present, and I take the risk of holding it. I haven’t asked you to run +yourself into any trouble on my account.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” returned the other, “but you are under my roof, and if +it became known that I and my sister knew of this find, and of its concealment, +we should be practically in the same hole as yourself. Now, my dear boy, take +my advice, keep your discovery to yourself till we meet this evening, and let +us settle to run this show together. You won’t get a better offer, +I’m sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Understand, I promise nothing,” said Frank, who scarcely relished +Staarbrucker’s persistency. “I’ll see you again +to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +After dinner that evening, the two men met again. Frank reopened the topic, +which had meantime been engrossing Staarbrucker’s thoughts to the +exclusion of all else. +</p> + +<p> +Frank at once declared his intention of going to see the manager next day, to +tell him of the find and take his advice. +</p> + +<p> +Otto Staarbrucker made a gesture of intense annoyance. “You are never +going to play such an infernal fool’s game as that, surely?” he +burst out. “I’ve made you a liberal offer to prospect thoroughly at +my own expense the place where that stone came from, on half shares. If you +accept my offer, well and good. If you don’t, I shall simply tell your +little story to the detective department, and see what they think of it. Think +it well over. I’ll come and see you to-morrow morning, early.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned on his heel, and went out of the house. +</p> + +<p> +Frank had felt a little uncomfortable during Otto’s speech, but now he +was angry—so indignant at the turn affairs had taken, and at the threat, +idle though it was, held out to him, that he determined next day to quit the +house and have done with the man altogether. He had never liked him. True, +there was Nina. Nina—so utterly different from her brother. He should be +sorry indeed to leave her. She had a very warm corner in his heart. He would +miss the pleasant evenings spent in her company. What should he do without her +merry <i>camaraderie</i>, her kindly, unselfish ways, the near presence of her +bewitching face, and her evident preference for his company? At that moment +Nina entered the room. Frank looked, as he felt, embarrassed, and the girl saw +it at once. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter, Frank? You ought to look happy with that eight +hundred pound diamond of yours; yet you don’t. Aren’t things going +as you like, or what is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Frank, reddening, “things are not going quite +right. Your brother has made me a proposition, which I don’t quite see in +his light, and we’ve rather fallen out about it. However, my tiff with +Otto need make no difference between you and me. We haven’t quarrelled, +and I hope you won’t let our old friendship be broken on that +account.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, no,” returned Nina, “why should it? But I shall see +Otto and talk to him; I can’t have you two falling out about a wretched +diamond, even although it is a big one. Since you came here, things have been +so much pleasanter, and,”—the girl paused, and a flush came to her +face, “well, we can’t afford to quarrel, can we? Friends—real +friends, I mean—are none too plentiful in Kimberley.” +</p> + +<p> +Nina spoke with a good deal of embarrassment for her, and a good deal of +feeling, and she looked so sweet, such an air of tenderness and of sympathy +shone in her eyes, that Frank was visibly touched. +</p> + +<p> +“Nina,” he said, “I’m really sorry about this affair. +Perhaps in the morning it may blow over. I hope so. I have had something on my +mind lately, which perhaps you can guess at, but which I won’t enter upon +just now. Meanwhile, don’t say anything to your brother about this row. +Let us see what happens to-morrow. Heaven knows I don’t want to quarrel +with any one belonging to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Early next morning, while Frank sat up in bed sipping his coffee and smoking a +cigarette, the door opened, and Otto Staarbrucker entered the room. He had been +thinking over matters a good deal during the night, and had made up his mind +that somehow he and Frank must pull together over this diamond deal. His big, +florid face was a trifle solemn, and he spoke quietly for him. But he found +Frank as firm as ever against his utmost entreaties. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve thought it all out,” Frank said; “I don’t +like your plan, and I mean to show our manager the stone to-day, and tell him +all about it. I think it will be best in the long-run.” He spoke quietly, +but with a mind obviously quite made up. +</p> + +<p> +The blood ran to Otto’s head again; all his evil passions were getting +the upper hand. “Frank, take care,” he said. “You are in a +dangerous position about this diamond. I don’t think you quite realise +it. Once more I warn you; don’t play the fool. Make up your mind to come +in with me and we’ll make our fortunes over it.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank began to get angry too. “It’s no use harping on that string +further,” he said, “I’m not coming in with you under any +circumstances, and you may as well clearly understand it, and take no for an +answer.” Then, half throwing off the light bed-clothing, “I must +get up and have breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +Otto glared at him for a second or two before he spoke. “For the last +time I ask you, are you coming in with me?” +</p> + +<p> +There was clear threat in the deliberation of his tones, and Frank grew mad +under it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, go to the dickens,” he burst out, “I’ve had enough +of this. Clear out of it; I want to get up.” +</p> + +<p> +Otto stepped to the door. “I’m going now to the detective office; +you’ll find you’ve made a big mistake over this. By Heaven! +I’ll ruin you, you infernal, stuck-up English pup!” +</p> + +<p> +His face was red with passion; he flung open the door, slammed it after him, +and went out into the street. +</p> + +<p> +Frank heard him go. “All idle bluff,” he said to himself. +“The scoundrel! He must have taken me for an idiot, I think. I’ve +had enough of this, and shall clear out, bag and baggage, to-day. Things are +getting too unpleasant.” +</p> + +<p> +He jumped up, poured the water into his bath, and began his ablutions. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Otto Staarbrucker, raging with anger and malice, was striding along +the shady side of the street, straight for the chief detective’s house. +Despite his tinge of Jewish blood, there was in his system a strong touch of +the wild ungovernable temper, not seldom found in the Teutonic race. It was not +long before he had reached the detective’s house, and announced himself. +Carefully subduing, as far as possible, the outward manifestation of his +malicious wrath, he informed the acute official, to whom he was, at his own +request, shown, that his lodger, Mr Farnborough, was in possession of a +valuable unregistered diamond, which he stated he had found in a stuffed +crocodile’s interior, or some equally improbable place. That to his own +knowledge the stone had been unregistered for some days, although he had +repeatedly urged Farnborough to declare it; that the whole surroundings of the +case were, to his mind, very suspicious; and, finally, that, as he could not +take the responsibility of such a position of affairs under his roof, he had +come down to report the matter. +</p> + +<p> +The detective pricked up his ears at the story, reflected for a few moments, +and then said: “I suppose there is no mistake about this business, Mr +Staarbrucker. It is, as you know, a very serious matter, and may mean the +‘Breakwater.’ Mr Farnborough has a good position in De Beers, and +some strong friends, and it seems rather incredible (although we’re never +surprised at anything, where diamonds are in question) that he should have got +himself into such a mess as you tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am quite certain of what I tell you,” replied Staarbrucker. +“If you go up to my house now, you’ll find Farnborough in his +bedroom, and the stone’s somewhere on him, or in his room. Don’t +lose time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” responded the detective, “I’ll see to the +matter at once. So long, Mr Staarbrucker!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr Flecknoe, the shrewdest and most active diamond official in Kimberley, as +was his wont, lost not an instant. He nosed the tainted gale of a quarry. In +this case he was a little uncertain, it is true; but yet there was the +tell-tale taint, the true diamond taint, and it must at once be followed. Mr +Flecknoe ran very mute upon a trail, and in a few minutes he was at +Staarbrucker’s bungalow. Staarbrucker himself had, wisely perhaps, gone +down to his store, there to await events. Vitriolic anger still ran hotly +within him. He cared for nothing in the world, and was perfectly reckless, +provided only that Frank Farnborough were involved in ruin, absolute and utter. +</p> + +<p> +Mr Flecknoe knocked, as a matter of form, in a pleasant, friendly way at the +open door of the cottage, and then walked straight in. He seemed to know his +way very completely—there were few things in Kimberley that he did not +know—and he went straight to Frank’s bedroom, knocked again and +entered. Frank was by this time out of his bath, and in the act of shaving. It +cannot be denied that the detective’s appearance, so soon after +Staarbrucker’s threat, rather staggered him, and he paled perceptibly. +The meshes of the I.D.B. nets are terribly entangling, as Frank knew only too +well, and I.D.B. laws are no matters for light jesting. Mr Flecknoe noted the +change of colour. +</p> + +<p> +(I.D.B., Illicit Diamond Buying, a highly criminal offence in South Africa.) +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mr Flecknoe,” said the younger man, as cheerily as he could +muster, for he knew the detective very well, “what can I do for +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve come about the diamond, Mr Farnborough; I suppose you can +show title to it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I can’t show a title,” replied Frank. “It came +into my possession in a very astounding way, a day or two since, and I was +going to tell the manager all about it to-day and ‘declare’ the +stone.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank then proceeded to tell the detective shortly the whole story, and +finally, the scene with Staarbrucker that morning. +</p> + +<p> +Flecknoe listened patiently enough, and at the end said quietly: “I am +afraid, Mr Farnborough, you have been a little rash. I shall have to ask you to +come down to the office with me and explain further. Have you the stone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, here’s the stone,” replied Frank, producing the diamond +from a little bag from under his pillow, and exhibiting it on his palm. +“I won’t hand it over to you at this moment, but I’ll +willingly do so at the office in presence of third parties. Just let me finish +shaving, and I’ll come along.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Mr Flecknoe, rather grimly, taking a chair. +“I’ll wait.” +</p> + +<p> +That evening, some astounding rumours concerning a De Beers official were +afloat in Kimberley. Farnborough’s absence from his usual place at the +“Central” <i>table d’hôte</i> was noticed significantly, and +next morning the whole town was made aware, by the daily paper, of some +startling occurrences. Two days later it became known that Frank Farnborough +had been sent for trial on a charge of I.D.B.; that his friend Staarbrucker +had, with manifest reluctance, given important and telling evidence against +him; that bail had been, for the present, refused, and that the unfortunate +young man, but twenty-four hours since a universal Kimberley favourite, well +known at cricket, football, and other diversions, now lay in prison in imminent +peril of some years’ penal servitude at Capetown Breakwater. The town +shook its head, said to itself, “Another good man gone wrong,” +instanced, conversationally over the bars of the “Transvaal,” +“Central,” and other resorts, cases of the many promising young men +who had gone under, victims of the poisonous fascination of the diamond, and +went about its business. +</p> + +<p> +But there was a certain small leaven of real friends, who refused utterly to +believe in Frank’s guilt. These busied themselves unweariedly in +organising his defence, cabling to friends in England, collecting evidence, and +doing all in their power to bring their favourite through one of the heaviest +ordeals that a man may be confronted with. +</p> + +<p> +The morning of the trial came at last. The season was now South African +mid-winter; there was a clear blue sky over Kimberley, and the air was crisp, +keen, and sparkling under the brilliant sunlight. The two judges and resident +magistrate came into court, alert and sharp-set, and proceedings began. Frank +was brought in for trial, looking white and harassed, yet determined. +</p> + +<p> +As he came into court, and faced the crowded gathering of advocates, +solicitors, witnesses, and spectators—for this was a <i>cause célèbre</i> +in Kimberley—he was encouraged to see, here and there, the cheering nod +and smile, and even the subdued wave of the hand, of many sympathising friends, +black though the case looked against him. And he was fired, too, by the flame +of indignation as he saw before him the big, florid face—now a trifle +more florid even than usual from suppressed excitement—and the shining, +upturned eyeglasses of his arch-enemy and lying betrayer, Otto Staarbrucker. +Thank God! Nina was not in the assembly; she, at least, had no part or lot in +this shameful scene. And yet, after what had passed, could Nina be trusted? +Nina, with all her friendliness, her even tenderer feelings, was but the sister +of Otto Staarbrucker. Her conduct ever since Frank’s committal had been +enigmatical; her brother, it was to be supposed, had guarded her safely, and, +although she had been subpoenaed upon Frank’s behalf, she had vouchsafed +no evidence, nor given a sign of interest in her former friend’s fate. +</p> + +<p> +Counsel for the prosecution, a well-known official of Griqualand West, opened +the case in his gravest and most impressive manner. The offence for which the +prisoner was to be tried was, he said, although unhappily but too familiar to +Kimberley people, one of the gravest in the Colony. One feature of this unhappy +case was the position of the prisoner, who, up to the time of the alleged +offence, had borne an unimpeachable character, and had been well known as one +of the most popular young men in Kimberley. Possibly, this very popularity had +furnished the reason for the crime, the cause of the downfall. Popularity, as +most men knew, was, in Kimberley, an expensive luxury, and it would be shown +that for some time past, Farnborough had moved and lived in a somewhat +extravagant set. The learned counsel then proceeded to unfold with great skill +the case for the prosecution. Mr Staarbrucker, an old friend of the prisoner, +and a gentleman of absolutely unimpeachable testimony, would, with the greatest +reluctance, prove that he had by chance found Farnborough in possession of a +large and valuable stone, which the prisoner—apparently surprised in the +act of admiring it—had alleged, in a confused way, to have been +found—in what?—in the interior of a dried crocodile! One of the +most painful features of this case would be the evidence of Miss Staarbrucker, +who, though with even more reluctance than her brother, would corroborate in +every detail the surprising of the prisoner in possession of the stolen +diamond. He approached this part of the evidence with extreme delicacy; but, in +the interests of justice, it would be necessary to show that a friendship of +the closest possible nature, to put it in no tenderer light, had latterly +sprung into existence between the prisoner and the young lady in question. +Clearly then, no evidence could well be stronger than the testimony, wrung from +Miss Staarbrucker with the greatest reluctance and the deepest pain, as to the +finding of Farnborough in possession of the diamond, and of the lame and +utterly incredible tale invented by him on the spur of the moment, when thus +surprised by the brother and sister. The evidence of Mr and Miss Staarbrucker +would be closely supported by that of Mr Flecknoe, the well-known Kimberley +detective, who had made the arrest Mr Staarbrucker, it would be shown, had +urged upon the prisoner for two entire days the absolute necessity of giving up +and “declaring” the stone. Finally, certain grave suspicions had, +chiefly from the demeanour of Farnborough, forced themselves into his mind. One +more interview he had with the prisoner, and then, upon his again declining +absolutely to take the only safe and proper course open to him, Mr Staarbrucker +had, for his own protection, proceeded to the detective department and himself +informed the authorities of the presence of the stone. No man could have done +more for his friend. He had risked his own and his sister’s safety for +two days—he could do no more. The prisoner’s statement to the +Staarbruckers and to Mr Flecknoe was that the crocodile skin came from the +Mahalapsi River in North Bechuanaland, and that the stone must have been picked +up and swallowed by the living reptile somewhere in those regions. He, counsel, +need hardly dwell upon the wildness, the ludicrous impossibility, of such a +theory. Three witnesses of the highest credibility and reputation, well known +in Kimberley, and in the markets of London and Amsterdam, as experts in +diamonds, would declare upon oath that the so-called “Mahalapsi +Diamond”—the learned counsel rolled out the phrase with a fine +flavour of humorous disdain—came, not from the far-off borders of the +Bechuanaland river, but from the recesses of the De Beers mine—from +Kimberley itself! +</p> + +<p> +(It is perfectly well known in South Africa that diamond experts can at once +pick out a particular stone and indicate its mine of origin. Practice has +created perfection in this respect, and stones, whether from De Beers, Du +Toit’s Pan, Bultfontein, the Kimberley mine, or the Vaal River, can be at +once identified.) +</p> + +<p> +Here there was a visible “sensation” (that mysterious compound of +shifting, whispering, and restless movement) in court. “Yes,” +continued the advocate, “the stone is beyond all shadow of a doubt a De +Beers stone. It is not registered. The prisoner has no title to it; the diamond +is a stolen diamond; and if, as I have little doubt, I shall succeed in proving +my facts to you clearly and incontestably, the prisoner must take the +consequences of his guilt. If indeed he be guilty, then let justice, strict but +not vindictive justice, be done. Kimberley, in spite of the severest penalties, +the most deterrent legislation, is still eaten up and honeycombed by the vile +and illicit traffic in diamonds.” +</p> + +<p> +The advocate warmed to his peroration, and, as he was a holder of De Beers +shares, he naturally felt what he said. The court was already becoming warm. He +took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. It is hot work delivering an +important speech in South Africa. “In the name of Heaven, I say,” +he continued, striking the desk with his clenched fist, “let us have done +with this vile and monstrous traffic, that renders our city—one of the +foremost cities in South Africa—a byword and a laughing-stock among the +nations.” +</p> + +<p> +Otto Staarbrucker was the first witness called. He gave his evidence with great +clearness, and conveyed, with consummate skill, the impression of his extreme +reluctance and pain at having thus brought his former friend into trouble. Only +the natural instinct of self-protection, on behalf of himself and his sister, +and the absolute refusal of the prisoner to “declare” the diamond, +had induced him to take the extreme step of informing the authorities. One +item, and that an important one, was added to the evidence tendered by him upon +the occasion of the prisoner’s committal. He had omitted then to state +that on two evenings, shortly before his discovery of the diamond in +Farnborough’s possession, he had seen the prisoner, not far from the +house, in earnest conversation with a native. The time was evening, and it was +dark, and he was unable to positively identify the “boy.” This +evidence, as was suggested by counsel for the prosecution, tended manifestly to +couple the prisoner with a native diamond thief, and thereby to tighten the +damning chain of evidence now being wound about him. Staarbrucker suffered it +to be extracted from him with an art altogether admirable. He had not mentioned +the fact at the former hearing, thinking it of trifling importance. The +prosecuting advocate, on the contrary, exhibited it with manifest care and +parade, as a most important link in the case. +</p> + +<p> +This piece of evidence, it may be at once stated, was a bit of pure and +infamous invention on Otto’s part, an afterthought suggested by seeing +Frank once give an order to a native groom. In the hands of himself and a +clever advocate it did its work. +</p> + +<p> +In cross-examination, Otto Staarbrucker suffered very little at the hands of +the defending advocate, skilful though the latter proved himself. The +prisoner’s theory (and indeed, perfectly true story) of his, +Staarbrucker’s, repeated offers of a prospecting partnership, and of his +ultimate rage and vexation upon Frank’s refusal, he treated with an +amused, slightly contemptuous surprise. The man was a finished actor, and +resisted all the assaults of counsel upon this and other points of the story +with supreme skill and coolness. The touch of sympathy for the prisoner, too, +was never lost sight of. Frank Farnborough, as he glared fiercely at this +facile villain, reeling off lie after lie with damning effrontery, felt +powerless. What could he do or say against such a man? To express the burning +indignation he felt, would be but to injure his case the more fatally. With +difficulty indeed, while he felt his fingers tingling to be at the +slanderer’s throat, he restrained himself, as Otto’s calm eye +occasionally wandered to his, expressing, as plainly as might be for the +benefit of all present, its sympathy and sorrow at the unfortunate situation of +his former friend. +</p> + +<p> +The next witness called was “Miss Nina Staarbrucker.” Again there +was a manifest sensation. Miss Staarbrucker was well known in Kimberley, and +every eye turned in the direction of the door. There was some delay; at length +a passage was made through the crowded court, and Nina appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Before she steps into the witness-box it may be well to explain Nina’s +attitude and feelings from the morning of the day upon which Frank’s +arrest had been made. +</p> + +<p> +After cooling down somewhat from the paroxysm of rage and revenge, which had +impelled him to turn traitor upon his friend, and deliver him into the none too +tender hands of the detective authorities, Otto Staarbrucker had suffered a +strong revulsion of feeling. He regretted, chiefly for his own ease and +comfort, the rash step he had taken, and would have given a good deal to +retrace it. But the die was irrevocably cast; having chosen his path, he must +perforce follow it. +</p> + +<p> +He was well aware of Nina’s friendship—fondness he might call +it—for Frank; her sympathy would most certainly be enlisted actively on +the young man’s behalf immediately upon hearing of his position. At all +hazards she must be kept quiet. Shortly before tiffin, he returned to the +house. Calling Nina into the sitting-room, he shut the door and sat down. +</p> + +<p> +“Nina,” he said, “I have some bad news for you. Don’t +excite yourself, or make a fuss, but listen carefully and quietly to what I +tell you, and then we’ll put our heads together and see what is best to +be done.” +</p> + +<p> +Nina turned pale. She feared some news of disaster to Otto’s business, +which latterly, as she knew, had been none too flourishing. Otto went on: +</p> + +<p> +“I heard, late last night, from an unexpected quarter, that the detective +people had an inkling of an unregistered diamond in this house. You know very +well what that means. I went to Frank Farnborough both late last night and +early this morning. I begged and entreated him, for his own sake, for all our +sakes, to go at once first thing this morning and hand over and declare the +stone. This he refused to do, and in a very insulting way. I had no other +course open, for my own safety and yours, but to give the information myself. I +am afraid matters have been complicated by the discovery that the diamond is a +De Beers stone, undoubtedly stolen. Frank is in a temporary mess, but we shall +be able to get him out of the difficulty somehow.” +</p> + +<p> +Nina had uttered a low cry of pain at the beginning of this speech. She knew +too well the danger, and, as Otto went on, her heart seemed almost to stand +still within her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she gasped, “what is to be done? What shall we do? I +must see Frank at once. Surely an explanation from us both should be sufficient +to clear him?” She rose as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Nina; first of all we must do nothing rash. We shall no doubt be +easily able to get Frank out of his trouble. The thing is, of course, absurd. +He has been a little foolish—as indeed we all have—that is all. For +the present you must leave every thing to me. I don’t want to have your +name dragged into the matter even for a day. If there is any serious trouble, +you shall be consulted. Trust to me, and we shall make matters all +right.” +</p> + +<p> +By one pretext or another, Otto managed to keep his sister quiet, and to allay +her worst fears, until two days after, by which time Frank had been sent for +trial and was safely in prison. Nina had meanwhile fruitlessly endeavoured to +possess her soul in patience. When Otto had come in that evening and told her +of the news, “Why was I not called in evidence?” she asked +fiercely. “Surely I could have done something for Frank. You seem to me +to take this matter—a matter of life and death—with very +extraordinary coolness. I cannot imagine why you have not done more. You know +Frank is as innocent as we are ourselves. We ought to have moved heaven and +earth to save him this dreadful degradation. What—what can he think of +me? I shall go to-morrow and see his solicitors and tell them the whole of the +facts!” +</p> + +<p> +Next morning, Nina read an account of the proceedings in the newspaper. It was +plainly apparent, from the report of Otto’s evidence, that there was +something very wrong going on. She taxed her brother with it. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Nina, be reasonable,” he said. “Of course Frank has +got into a desperate mess. I was not going to give myself away, because I +happened to know, innocently, that he had an unregistered diamond for two or +three days in his possession. I have since found out that Frank knew a good +deal more of the origin of that diamond than I gave him credit for, and it was +my plain duty to protect myself.” +</p> + +<p> +This was an absolute fabrication, and Nina more than half suspected it. +</p> + +<p> +“But you were trying to make arrangements with Frank to prospect the very +place the stone came from,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I admit that, fully,” replied Otto calmly. “But I never then +suspected that the diamond was stolen. I imagined it was innocently come by. It +was foolish, I admit, and I am not quite such an idiot, after giving the +information I did, to own now that I was prepared to go in for a speculation +with Frank upon the idea of the diamond being an up-country one. Now, clearly +understand me, not a word must be said upon this point, or you may involve me +in just such a mess as Frank is in.” +</p> + +<p> +Nina was fairly bewildered, and held her peace. Matters had taken such +astounding turns. The diamond, it seemed after all, was a stolen one, and a De +Beers stone to boot; she knew not what to think, or where to turn for guidance +and information. And yet, something must be done to help Frank. +</p> + +<p> +For the next few days, the girl moved about the house like a ghost, seldom +speaking to her brother, except to give the barest replies to his scant +remarks. +</p> + +<p> +Several times she was in a mind to go straight to Frank’s solicitor and +tell her version of the whole affair. But then, again, there were many +objections to such a course. She would be received with great suspicion, as an +informer from an enemy’s camp. After almost insufferable doubts and +heartaches, Nina judged it best to wait until the day of trial, and then and +there to give her version of the affair as she knew it. Surely the judge would +give ear to a truthful and unprejudiced witness, anxious only to save an honest +and cruelly misused man! Surely, surely Frank could and should be saved! +</p> + +<p> +About a week before the trial, she was subpoenaed as a witness on behalf of +both prosecution and defence, and finally, the day before the terrible event, +Otto had a long interview with her upon the subject of her evidence. Her proof +he himself had carefully prepared and corrected with the prosecuting solicitor; +excusing his sister upon the ground of ill-health and nervousness, but +guaranteeing her evidence at the trial. He now impressed upon her, with great +solemnity and anxiety, the absolute necessity of her story coinciding precisely +with his own. Nina listened in a stony silence and said almost nothing. Otto +was not satisfied, and expressed himself so. +</p> + +<p> +“Nina,” he said sharply, “let us clearly understand one +another. My tale is simple enough, and after what has occurred—the +finding of a stolen diamond and not an innocent stone from up-country—I +cannot conceal from myself that Frank must be guilty. You must see this +yourself. Don’t get me into a mess, by any dangerous sympathies, or +affections, or feelings of that sort. Be the sensible, good sister you always +have been, and, whatever you do, be careful; guard your tongue and brain in +court, with the greatest watchfulness. Remember, my reputation—your +brother’s reputation—is at stake, as well as Frank’s!” +</p> + +<p> +Nina dared not trust herself to say much. Her soul sickened within her; but, +for Frank’s sake, she must be careful. Her course on the morrow was fully +made up. She replied to Otto: “I shall tell my story as simply and +shortly as possible. In spite of what you say, I know, and you must know, that +Frank is perfectly innocent. I know little about the matter, except seeing +Frank with the diamond in his hand that night. You may be quite content. I +shall not injure you in any way.” +</p> + +<p> +Otto Staarbrucker was by no means satisfied with his sister’s answer, but +it was the best he could get out of her. He could not prevent—it was too +late now—her being called as a witness. Come what might, she was his +sister and never would, never could, put him into danger. +</p> + +<p> +At last the time had come. Nina made her way, with much difficulty, to the +witness-box; steadily took her stand and was sworn. All Kimberley, as she knew, +was looking intently and watching her every gesture. She had changed greatly in +the last few weeks, and now looked, for her, thin and worn—almost ill. +The usual warmth of her dark beauty was lacking. An ivory pallor overspread her +face; but her glorious eyes were firm, open and determined, and honesty and +truth, men well might see, were in her glance. She looked once quickly at the +two judges and the magistrate sitting with them, and then her eyes met +Frank’s, and for him a world of sympathy was in them. It did Frank good +and he breathed more freely. Nina, at all events, was the Nina of old. +</p> + +<p> +The prosecuting advocate opened the girl’s evidence quietly, with the +usual preliminaries. Then very gently he asked Nina if she was well acquainted +with the prisoner. Her reply was, “Yes, very well acquainted.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” continued counsel, “I may even call him a friend +of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Nina, “a very great friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without penetrating unduly into your private affairs and sympathies, +Miss Staarbrucker,” went on the advocate, “I will ask you to tell +the court shortly what you actually saw on the night in question—the +night, I mean, when the diamond was first seen by yourself and your +brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Here was Nina’s opportunity, and she took advantage of it. She told +plainly, yet graphically, the story of that evening; she portrayed the amazed +delight of Frank on the discovery of the stone, his free avowal of his find, +the knife in his hand, the open crocodile on the table, the pebbles previously +taken from the reptile’s stomach. She went on with her story with only +such pauses as the taking of the judge’s notes required. Counsel, once or +twice, attempted to pull her up; she was going much too fast and too far to +please him; but the court allowed her to complete her narrative. She dealt with +the next two days. Mr Farnborough had kept the diamond, it was true. He was +puzzled to know what to do with it. He had, finally, announced his intention of +giving it up and declaring it, and he would undoubtedly have done so, but for +his arrest. The stone might have been stolen, or it might not, but Mr +Farnborough, as all his friends knew, was absolutely incapable of stealing +diamonds, or of buying diamonds, knowing them to be stolen. The stone came into +his possession in a perfectly innocent manner, as she could and did testify on +oath. As for her brother’s suspicions, she could not answer for or +understand them. For two days, he at all events had had none; she could not +account for his sudden change. Spite of the judge’s cautions, she +concluded a breathless little harangue—for she had let herself go +completely now—by expressing her emphatic belief in Frank’s +absolute innocence. +</p> + +<p> +She had finished, and in her now deathly pale beauty was leaving the box. There +were no further questions asked by counsel upon either side. Nina had said far +too much for the one, and the advocate for the defence judged it wiser to leave +such a runaway severely alone. Who knew in what direction she might turn next? +He whispered regretfully to his solicitor: “If we had got hold of that +girl, by George! we might have done some good with her—with a martingale +and double bit on.” +</p> + +<p> +The senior judge, as Nina concluded, remarked blandly—for he had an eye +for beauty—“I am afraid we have allowed you a good deal too much +latitude. Miss Staarbrucker, and a great deal of what you have told the court +is quite inadmissible as evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +As for Otto, he had stared with open mouth and fixed glare at his sister during +her brief episode. He now heaved a deep breath of relief, as he watched the +judges. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God!” he said to himself savagely under his breath, +“she has overdone it, and spoilt her own game—the little +fool!” +</p> + +<p> +Nina moved to her seat and sat, now faint and dejected, watching with feverish +eyes for the end. +</p> + +<p> +The case for the prosecution was soon finished. Three witnesses, experts of +well-known reputation and unimpeachable character, testified to the fact that +the stone was a De Beers stone, and by no possibility any other. Evidence was +then put in, proving conclusively that the diamond was unregistered. +</p> + +<p> +Counsel for the defence had but a poor case, but he made the best of it. He +dwelt upon the unimpeachable reputation of the prisoner, upon the utter +improbability of his having stolen the diamond, or bought it, knowing it to be +stolen. There was not a particle of direct evidence upon these points. The +testimony of experts was never satisfactory. Their evidence in this case was +mere matter of opinion. It was well known that the history of gold and gem +finding exceeded in romance the wildest inspirations of novelists. The finding +of the first diamond in South Africa was a case very much in point. Why should +not the diamond have come from the Mahalapsi River with the other gravel in the +belly of the dead crocodile? Mr Farnborough’s friend, Mr Kentburn, would +prove beyond doubt that he had brought the mummified crocodile from the +Mahalapsi River, where he had picked it up. The greatest offence that could by +any possibility be brought home to his client was that he had this stone in his +possession for two days without declaring it! That was an act of sheer +inadvertence. The stone was not a Griqualand West stone, and it was a puzzling +matter, with a young and inexperienced man, to know quite what to do with it. +If the stone were, as he, counsel, contended, not a stone from the Cape +districts at all, it was an arguable question whether the court had any rights +or jurisdiction in this case whatever. Would it be contended that a person +coming to South Africa, innocently, with a Brazilian or an Indian diamond in +his possession, could be hauled off to prison, and thereafter sentenced for +unlawful possession? Such a contention would be monstrous! The great diamond +industry had in South Africa far too much power already—many men thought. +Let them be careful in further stretching or adding to those +powers—powers that reminded unbiassed people more of the worst days of +the Star Chamber or the Inquisition, than of a modern community. Had the +prisoner attempted to conceal the diamond? On the contrary, he had shown it +eagerly to Mr Staarbrucker and his sister immediately he had found it. That was +not the act of a guilty man! +</p> + +<p> +These, and many other arguments, were employed by the defending advocate in a +powerful and almost convincing speech. There were weak points, +undoubtedly—fatally weak, many of the spectators thought them. These were +avoided, or lightly skated over with consummate art. The advocate closed his +speech with a touching appeal that a young, upright, and promising career might +not be wrecked upon the vaguest of circumstantial evidence. +</p> + +<p> +The speech was over; all the witnesses had been called, the addresses +concluded. The afternoon was wearing on apace, and the court was accordingly +adjourned; the prisoner was put back into jail again, and the crowded +assemblage flocked into the outer air, to discuss hotly throughout the rest of +the evening the many points of this singular and absorbing case. +</p> + +<p> +Again, as usual in Kimberley at this season, the next morning broke clear and +invigorating. All the world of the corrugated-iron city seemed, after +breakfast, brisk, keen, and full of life as they went about their business. The +Cape swallows flitted, and hawked, and played hither and thither in the bright +atmosphere, or sat, looking sharply about them, upon the telegraph wires or +housetops, preening their feathers and displaying their handsome, chestnut body +colouring. The great market square was still full of waggons and long spans of +oxen, and of native people, drawn from well-nigh every quarter of Southern +Africa. +</p> + +<p> +Out there in the sunlit market-place stood a man, whose strong brain was just +now busily engaged in piecing together and puzzling out the patchwork of this +extraordinary case. David Ayling, with his mighty voice, Scotch accent, +oak-like frame, keen grey eyes, and vast iron-grey beard, was a periodical and +excellently well-known Kimberley visitant. For years he had traded and hunted +in the far interior. His reputation for courage, resource, and fair dealing was +familiar to all men, and David’s name had for years been a household word +from the Cape to the Zambesi. Periodically, the trader came down to Kimberley +with his waggons and outfit, after a year or two spent in the distant interior. +Yesterday morning he had come in, and in the afternoon and evening he seemed to +hear upon men’s tongues nothing else than Frank Farnborough’s case, +and the story of the Mahalapsi diamond. Now David had known Frank for some few +years, and had taken a liking to him. Several times he had brought down-country +small collections of skins, and trophies of the chase, got together at the +young man’s suggestion. He had in his waggon, even now, some new and rare +birds from the far-off Zambesi lands, and the two had had many a deal together. +Frank’s unhappy plight at once took hold of the trader’s +sympathies, and the Mahalapsi and crocodile episodes tended yet further to +excite his interest. Certain suspicions had been growing in his mind. This +morning, before breakfast, he had carefully read and re-read the newspaper +report of the trial, and now, just before the court opened, he was waiting +impatiently, with further developments busily evolving in his brain. There was +a bigger crowd even than yesterday; the prisoner and counsel had come in; all +waited anxiously for the end of the drama. In a few minutes the court entered, +grave and self-possessed, and the leading judge began to arrange his notes. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment, David Ayling, who had shouldered his way to the fore, stood up +and addressed the court in his tremendous deep-chested tones, which penetrated +easily to every corner of the chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Honours,” he said, “before you proceed further, I +should like to lay one or two facts before you—not yet known in this +case. They are very important, and I think you should hear them in order that +justice may be done, and perhaps an innocent man saved. I have only just come +down from the Zambesi and never heard of this trial till late yesterday +afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +Two persons, as they listened to these words and looked at the strong, +determined man uttering them, felt, they knew not why, instantly braced and +strengthened, as if by a mighty tonic. They were Frank, the prisoner, hitherto +despairing and out of heart, and Nina Staarbrucker, sitting at the back of the +court, pale and trembling with miserable anticipations. +</p> + +<p> +“You know me, your Honour, I think,” went on David, in his deep +Scotch voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mr Ayling, we know you, of course,” answered the senior judge +(every one in Kimberley knew David Ayling), “and I am, with my +colleagues, anxious to get at all the evidence available, before delivering +judgment. This is somewhat irregular, but, upon the whole, I think you had +better be sworn and state what you have to say.” +</p> + +<p> +David went to the witness-box and was sworn. “This crocodile skin +here,” he went on, pointing to the skin, which was handed up to him, +“I happen to know very well. I have examined it carefully before your +lordship came in; it is small, and of rather peculiar shape, especially about +the head. I remember that skin well, and can swear to it; there are not many +like it knocking about. That skin was put on to my waggon in Kimberley +seventeen months ago, and was carried by me to the Mahalapsi River.” +</p> + +<p> +The court had become intensely interested as the trader spoke, the judges and +magistrate pricked up their ears and looked intently, first at the skin, then +at David. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on,” said the judge. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, your Honour,” resumed David, “the skin was put on to +my waggon in February of last year, by Sam Vesthreim, a Jew storekeeper, in a +small way in Beaconsfield. There were some other odds and ends put on the +waggon, little lots of goods, which I delivered in Barkly West. But the +crocodile skin, Sam Vesthreim said, was a bit of a curio, and he particularly +wanted it left at some friend’s place farther up-country. I was in a +hurry at the time, and forgot to take the name, but Sam said there was a label +on the skin. The thing was pitched in with a lot of other stuff, and lay there +for a long time! Lost sight of it till we had got to the Mahalapsi River, where +the waggon was overturned in crossing. I offloaded, and the crocodile skin then +turned up with the label off. We were heavily laden; the skin was, I thought, +useless; we were going on to the Zambesi, and I had clean forgotten where the +skin ought to have been left. It seemed a useless bit of gear, so I just +pitched it away in the bushes, in the very spot, as near as I can make it, +where Mr Farnborough’s friend, Mr Kentburn, found it, nearly a year +later, as he came down-country. That is one remarkable thing. I would like to +add, my lord, that the Mahalapsi is a dry river, never running except in rains; +and in all my experience, and I have passed it some scores of times, I never +knew a crocodile up in that neighbourhood. The chances of there being any other +crocodile skin in that sandy place and among those bushes, where Mr Kentburn +found this one, would, I reckon, be something like a million (David pronounced +it mullion) to one. +</p> + +<p> +“There is one other point, your Honours. Long after Sam Vesthreim +delivered that skin on my waggon, I read in the newspapers that he had been +arrested for I.D.B.—only a few weeks after I saw him—and sentenced +to a term of imprisonment. I have been puzzling mightily over this case, and I +must say, the more I think of it, the more unaccountable seems to me the fact +of Sam Vesthreim sending that dried crocodile skin up-country. If it had been +down-country, or to England, I could understand it; but in this case it seems +very much like sending coals to Newcastle. I never knew that Sam was in the +I.D.B. trade till I saw his imprisonment in the paper. I think he had some +peculiar object in getting that skin out of his house. And I cannot help +thinking, your Honours, that Sam Vesthreim, if he could be found, could throw a +good deal of light on this crocodile and diamond business. In fact, I’m +sure of it. It’s quite on the cards, to my thinking, that he put the +diamond in that crocodile himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Some questions were put to the witness by counsel for both sides, without +adding to or detracting from the narrative in any way. The court seemed a good +deal impressed by David’s story, as indeed did the whole of the crowded +audience, who had breathlessly listened to its recital. Mr Flecknoe, the +detective, was called forward. He informed the court that Sam Vesthreim was now +at Cape Town undergoing a long term of imprisonment. He was no doubt at work on +the Breakwater. +</p> + +<p> +The senior judge was a man of decision, and he had quickly made up his mind. +After a short whispered consultation with his colleagues, he spoke. “The +turn this case has taken is so singular, and the evidence given by Mr Ayling +has imported so new an aspect, that in the prisoner’s interest we are +determined to have the matter sifted to the bottom. I will adjourn the court +for a week, in order to secure the convict Vesthreim’s attendance here +upon oath. Will this day week suit the convenience of all counsel in this +case?” +</p> + +<p> +Counsel intimated that the day of adjournment met their views, and once more +the crowded court emptied. As David Ayling turned to leave, he caught Frank +Farnborough’s eye. He gave him a bright reassuring nod, and a wink which +did him a world of good. Altogether, Frank went back to another weary +week’s confinement in far better spirits than he had been for many days. +There was, at all events, some slight element of hope and explanation now. And +it was refreshing to him as a draught of wine, to find such a friend as David +Ayling fighting his battle so stoutly, so unexpectedly. +</p> + +<p> +Nina Staarbrucker stole silently out of the court, only anxious to get home, +and escape observation. There were many eyes upon her, but she heeded them not +at all. Thank God! there seemed some ray of light for Frank; for herself, +whether Frank came out triumphantly or no, there was no outlook, all seemed +blackness and gloom. Otto’s part in this wretched business had made ruin +of all her hopes. Her brother’s treachery had determined her upon seeking +a career of her own; work of some sort—anywhere away from +Kimberley—she must get, and get at once, so soon as the trial was over, +and whatever its result. +</p> + +<p> +Once more, in a week’s time, the court wore its former aspect, the +characters were all marshalled for the final act. The new addition to the +caste, Mr Samuel Vesthreim, a lively, little, dark-visaged Jew of low type, +seemed on the best of terms with himself. For more than fifteen months he had +been hard at it on Cape Town Breakwater, or road-scarping upon the breezy +heights round the Cape peninsula—always, of course, under the escort of +guards and the unpleasing supervision of loaded rifles—and really he +needed a little rest and change. This trip to Kimberley was the very thing for +him. What slight sense of shame he had ever possessed, had long since vanished +under his recent hardening experiences; and as the little man looked round the +crowded court, and saw the well-remembered faces of many a Kimberley +acquaintance, it did his heart good. He positively beamed again—in a +properly subdued manner, of course. +</p> + +<p> +The senior judge remarked to the advocates, “Perhaps it will save the +time of all if I put some questions to this witness myself.” The +suggestion was gracefully received, and the judge turned to the little Jew, now +attentive in the witness-box. +</p> + +<p> +“Samuel, or Sam Vesthreim, you are a convict now undergoing a term of +penal servitude at Cape Town, I think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yeth, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may perhaps tend slightly to lessen or mitigate the extreme term of +your imprisonment if I receive perfectly truthful and straightforward answers +to the questions I am going to ask. Be very careful, therefore. Any future +recommendation on my part to the authorities will depend upon yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yeth, my lord,” answered Sam, in his most serious manner—and +he meant it. +</p> + +<p> +“About seventeen months ago you were in business in Beaconsfield, were +you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yeth, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know Mr Ayling here?” pointing to the trader. +</p> + +<p> +“I do, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember intrusting Mr Ayling with some goods about that time to +take up-country?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do, my lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“What were they?” +</p> + +<p> +“There were three cases of groceries to be delivered in Barkly West, and +a crocodile skin to be left at the place of a friend of mine near Zeerust, in +Marico, Transvaal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take that skin in your hands.” The crocodile was handed up like a +baby. “Do you recognise it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yeth, my lord, that is the identical skin, I believe, that I handed to +Mr Ayling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, be careful. Was there anything inside that crocodile skin?” +</p> + +<p> +The little Jew saw now exactly which way the cat jumped, and he saw, too, that +only the truth could be of use to him in the weary days and years yet to come +on Cape Town Breakwater. The court was hushed by this time to an absolute +silence. You could have heard a feather fall, almost. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my lord,” the little Jew replied, “there <i>wath</i> +something inside that crocodile. I had had a little bit of a speculation, and +there was a big diamond inside the crocodile skin. I put it there myself. You +see, my lord,” he went on rapidly, “I had been doing one or two +little transactions in stones, and I fancied there was something in the air, +and so I put away that diamond and packed it off in the crocodile skin, safe, +as I thought, to a friend in the Transvaal. It was a risk, but just at that +time it was the only way out of the difficulty. I meant to have had an eye on +the skin again, myself, a few days after, but I had a little difficulty with +the police and I was prevented.” +</p> + +<p> +As Sam Vesthreim finished, Frank could have almost hugged him for the news he +brought. An irrepressible murmur of relief ran round the crowded court, a +murmur that the usher was for a minute or two powerless to prevent. The judge +whispered to an attendant. The diamond was produced and handed to the Jew. +“Do you recognise that stone?” said the judge. +</p> + +<p> +“I do, my lord,” answered Vesthreim emphatically. “That is +the stone I put inside the crocodile. I could swear to it among a +thousand.” The little man’s eyes gleamed pleasurably yet +regretfully upon the gem as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Here, then, was the mystery of the fatal, puzzling diamond cleared up. There +were few more questions to ask. The little Jew frankly admitted that the stone +was a De Beers stone, stolen by a native worker; there was little else to +learn. Frank was a free man, practically, as he stood there, jaded and worn, +yet at least triumphant. It was a dear triumph though, only snatched from +disaster by the merest chance in the world—the coming of David Ayling. +And the tortures, the agonies he had suffered in these last few weeks of +suspense! He knew that nothing—the kindly congratulations of friends, the +tenderer affection of relations, the hearty welcome of a well-nigh lost +world—none of these good things could ever quite repay him, ever restore +to him what he had lost. +</p> + +<p> +In a very few minutes Frank had been discharged from custody. The judges in +brief, sympathetic speeches, congratulated him on his triumphant issue from a +very terrible ordeal, and trusted that the applause and increased respect of +his fellow-citizens would in some slight degree make up to him for his +undoubted sufferings. +</p> + +<p> +Frank left the court, arm in arm with David Ayling, whom he could not +sufficiently thank for his timely and strenuous assistance. A troop of friends +escorted him to the Transvaal Hotel, where his health was drunk in the hearty +Kimberley way, with innumerable congratulations. All this was very gratifying, +as was the magnificent dinner which a number of friends gave to him a day or +two later, at which half Kimberley assisted. But, for the present, Frank +desired only to be left severely alone, with the quieter companionship of his +few most intimate friends. He was still half stunned and very unwell; some +weeks or months must elapse before he should be himself again. +</p> + +<p> +One of his first inquiries was after Nina Staarbrucker, whom he wished +sincerely to thank for her brave and honest defence of him at the trial. He +learned, with a good deal of surprise, that she had left Kimberley on the +morning after the trial, alone. He learned too, with less surprise, that Otto +had quitted the town on urgent business in the Transvaal, and was not likely to +return for some time. Beyond these bare facts, he could gather little or +nothing of Nina and her whereabouts. He rather suspected she had gone to some +relations near Cape Town, but for the present her address was undiscoverable. +</p> + +<p> +Very shortly after the result of the trial, Frank Farnborough was granted by +his company six months’ leave of absence, with full pay in the meantime. +It was felt that the young man had been injured cruelly by his imprisonment, +and that some atonement was due to him; and the great Diamond Company he +served, not to be behind in the generous shake of the hand, which all Kimberley +was now anxious to extend to a hardly used man, was not slow in giving +practical manifestation of a public sympathy. The stolen stone had been proved +a De Beers diamond, and Frank, its unfortunate temporary owner, had not only +been deprived of a valuable find, but for his innocent ownership had suffered +terribly in a way which no honest man could ever possibly forget. In addition, +therefore, to his grant of leave of absence and full salary, Frank was handed a +cheque for five hundred pounds, being, roughly, a half share of the value of +the recovered gem. +</p> + +<p> +Frank at once set out upon an expedition on which he had long fixed his +mind—a hunting trip to the far interior. His preparations were soon made, +and, a few weeks later, he was enjoying his fill of sport and adventure in the +wild country north-east of the Transvaal, at that time a veldt swarming with +great game. +</p> + +<p> +After three months came the rains, and with the rains, fever—fever, too, +of a very dangerous type. Frank directed his waggon for the Limpopo River, and, +still battling with the pestilence, kept up his shooting so long as he had +strength. At last came a time when his drugs were conquered, the fever held him +in a death-like grip, and he lay in his kartel gaunt, emaciated, weak, almost +in the last stage of the disease. The fever had beaten him, and he turned his +face southward and trekked for civilisation. +</p> + +<p> +The waggons—he had a friendly trader with him by this time—had +crossed the Limpopo and outspanned one hot evening in a tiny Boer village, the +most remote of the rude frontier settlements of the Transvaal Republic. Frank, +now in a state of collapse, was lifted from his kartel and carried into the +back room of the only store in the place—a rude wattle and daub shanty +thatched with grass. He was delirious, and lay in high fever all that night. In +the morning he seemed a trifle better, but not sensible of those about him. At +twelve o’clock he was once more fast in the clutches of raging fever; his +temperature ran up alarmingly; he rambled wildly in his talk; at this rate it +seemed that life could not long support itself in so enfeebled a frame. +</p> + +<p> +Towards sundown, the fever had left him again; he lay in a state of absolute +exhaustion, and presently fell into a gentle sleep. The trader, who had tended +him day and night for a week, now absolutely wearied out, sought his own waggon +and went to sleep. The storekeeper had retired, only a young woman, passing +through the place, a governess on her way to some Dutchman’s farm, +watched by the sick man’s bed. +</p> + +<p> +It was about an hour after midnight, the African dawn had not yet come, but the +solitary candle shed a fainter light; a cock crew, the air seemed to become +suddenly more chill. The woman rose from her chair, fetched a light kaross (a +fur cloak or rug) from the store, and spread it gently over the sick +man’s bed. Then she lifted his head—it was a heavy task—and +administered some brandy and beef-tea. Again the young man slept, or lay in +torpor. Presently the girl took his hand in her right, then, sitting close to +his bedside, she, with her left, gently stroked his brow and hair. A sob +escaped her. She kissed the listless, wasted hand; then with a little cry she +half rose, bent herself softly and kissed tenderly, several times, the brow and +the hollow, wasted cheek of the fever-stricken man. As she did so, tears +escaped from her eyes and fell gently, all unheeded, upon Frank’s face +and pillow. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my love, my love!” cried the girl, in a sobbing whisper, +“to think that never again can I speak to you, take your hand in mine! To +think that I, who would have died for you, am now ashamed as I touch +you—ashamed for the vile wrong that was done to you in those miserable +days. My love, my darling, I must now kiss you like a thief. Our ways are +apart, and the journey—my God—is so long.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more, leaning over the still figure, she kissed Frank’s brow, and +then, relapsing into her chair, cried silently for a while—a spasmodic +sob now and again evincing the bitter struggle within her. The cold grey of +morning came, and still she sat by the bedside, watching intently, unweariedly, +each change of the sick man’s position, every flicker of the tired eyes. +</p> + +<p> +During the long hours of the two next days, Frank lay for the most part in a +torpor of weakness. The fever had left him; it was now a struggle between death +and the balance of strength left to a vigorous constitution after such a bout. +Save for an hour or so at a time, Nina had never left his side. Hers was the +gentle hand that turned the pillows, shifted the cotton Kaffir blankets that +formed the bedding, gave the required nourishment, and administered the +medicine. On the evening of the fourth day, there were faint symptoms of +recovery; the weakened man seemed visibly stronger. Once or twice he had feebly +opened his eyes and looked about him—apparently without recognition of +those at hand. +</p> + +<p> +It was in the middle of this night that Frank really became conscious. He had +taken some nourishment, and after long lying in a state betwixt sleep and +stupor, he awoke to feel a tender stroking of his hand. Presently his brow was +touched lightly by soft lips. It reminded him of his mother in years gone by. +Frank was much too weak to be surprised at anything, but he opened his eyes and +looked about him. It was not his mother’s face that he saw, as he had +dreamily half expected, but the face of one he had come to know almost as well. +</p> + +<p> +Close by him stood Nina Staarbrucker, much more worn, much graver, much changed +from the sweet, merry, piquant girl he had known so well at Kimberley. But the +dark friendly eyes—very loving, yet sad and beseeching, it seemed to him +dimly—of the lost days, were still there for him. +</p> + +<p> +Frank opened his parched lips and in a husky voice whispered, +“Nina?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the sweet, clear voice he remembered so well, “I +am here, nursing you. You must not talk. No, not a word,” as he essayed +to speak again, “or you will undo all the good that has been done. Rest, +my darling (I can’t help saying it,” she said to herself; “it +will do no harm, and he will never hear it again from my lips); sleep again, +and you will soon be stronger.” +</p> + +<p> +Frank was still supremely weak, and the very presence of the girl seemed to +bring peace and repose to his senses. He smiled—closed his eyes again, +and slept soundly far into the next day. +</p> + +<p> +That was the last he ever saw of Nina Staarbrucker. She had vanished, and +although Frank, as he grew from convalescence to strength, made many inquiries +as the months went by, he could never succeed in gaining satisfactory tidings +of her. He once heard that she had been seen in Delagoa Bay, that was all. +Whether in the years to come they will ever meet again, time and the fates +alone can say. It seems scarcely probable. Africa is so vast, and nurses safely +within her bosom the secret of many a lost career. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>Chapter Ten.<br/> +A Tragedy of the Veldt.</h2> + +<p> +The circumstances attending the fate of Leonard Strangeways were very +extraordinary, and the three years of silence and doubt that followed the +discovery of his body in the veldt seemed but to enhance among white men in the +Bechuanaland Protectorate the mystery of that most singular affair. The whole +tragedy, from the very remoteness of the place in which it was enacted, was +little known south of the Orange River. I have, therefore, thought it worth +while to rescue from complete oblivion the grim, strange, and unwonted +circumstances of that dark business. +</p> + +<p> +Leonard Strangeways was, in the year 1890, when I first met him, one of the +pioneers who entered Mashonaland. He was one of those devil-may-care, reckless, +wandering fellows, so many of whom are to be found upon the frontiers of +civilisation in Southern Africa. I first saw him, outspanned at breakfast, near +Palla Camp on the Crocodile River, with a number of other men, going into +Mashonaland upon the same errand as himself. He was the life and soul of the +party, and was superintending the “bossing-up” of the meal. For the +next week our waggons moved on together and I saw a good deal of Strangeways. +He was a tall, handsome fellow of thirty or thirty-one. He seemed to be a +general favourite with his party—mainly, I imagine, because he was one of +those capable men who excel in everything they undertake. He shot most of the +francolins and other feathered game for the half-dozen chums he was travelling +with; he had not been long in South Africa, and yet he seemed to comprehend the +ways of the native servants and the methods of travel exceedingly well; he +evidently understood horses thoroughly, and personally superintended the score +of nags that were travelling up with the waggons. He could inspan and outspan +oxen, and was already master of other useful veldt wrinkles, which usually take +some time to acquire. He could paint remarkably well, I have seen him, in a +short hour’s work with water-colours, turn out a very charming sketch of +African scenery. And at night, by the camp fire, Strangeways’ banjo and +his deep, rich voice were in inevitable request. It is not judged well to +inquire too closely into the antecedents of men in the South African interior. +I gathered, during the week of travel alongside of Strangeways, that he had led +a wandering life for some years, and had recently come across to the Cape from +Australia, where he had done little good for himself. +</p> + +<p> +I parted from Strangeways and his fellow pioneers at Palachwe, and saw no more +of him for rather more than a twelve-month, when I met him coming down-country, +at Boatlanama, a water on the desert road, between Khama’s old town of +Shoshong and Molepolole. In latter days this was not the usual route to and +from Palachwe and Matabeleland, but having been several times by the Crocodile +road, I happened to have taken the more westerly route for a change. On waking +up next morning, after a hard and distressing trek from the nearest water in +this thirsty country—Lopepe—I was surprised to see another waggon +outspanned almost alongside. Still more surprised was I to find one of its two +occupants Leonard Strangeways, also with a fellow pioneer travelling +down-country. Our greeting was a hearty one, and indeed, I, for my part, was +exceedingly well pleased to have encountered once more so genial and pleasant +an acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +Strangeways had passed a year in Mashonaland, and, like most of the other +Mashonalanders of that distressful season, ’90-’91, had had some +pretty tough experiences. However, he had weathered the storm, had sold his +pioneer farm, and the options over a number of mining properties, for cash at a +good price, and was now going down to Cape Town to enjoy himself, and, as he +expressed it, to “blow some of the pieces.” He was in the highest +spirits. He had trekked down by this more westerly route for the purpose of +getting some shooting. He was a keen sportsman, and was anxious as he came +down-country to secure the heads of the gemsbok and hartebeest, two large +desert-loving antelopes, not found in Mashonaland. He had succeeded in bagging +two gemsbok to the westward of Lopepe, and, after breakfast, was riding out in +search of hartebeest. +</p> + +<p> +I had had a hard ride in the sun on the day preceding, and my horse was knocked +up. I was not inclined to accompany Strangeways on his quest, therefore I did +not see him again till late in the evening, when he returned with a native +hunter. It was an hour or two after dark when they came up to the camp fire, +where we were drinking our coffee and enjoying a quiet smoke. He rode into the +cheerful blaze and dismounted. He had upon his saddle-bow the head and horns of +a fine hartebeest bull, the trophy he had coveted, and behind were the skin and +a good quantity of meat from the same antelope. “There!” said he, +flinging down the head triumphantly, “that’s been a devilish tough +customer to bring to bag, but we did the trick after all. If it hadn’t +been for Marati, here,” jerking his head at a grinning Bechuana boy, +“we should have lost the buck. We followed the blood spoor for five +mortal hours, and but for Marati I should have given it up as a bad job. By +Jove! I’m fairly beat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your supper’s in the pot,” I replied, “and +there’s enough coffee to float you. Sit down and the boy will bring you a +plate and cup. Put your coat on first though, it’s getting chilly.” +</p> + +<p> +As I lay on my rug, Strangeways stood above me in his flannel shirt sleeves, a +fine figure of a man, in the flickering blaze. Suddenly his eye caught the +white tent of another waggon, which had come in during the afternoon, and was +on its way up-country. “Hallo!” he said, “what’s +this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t bother about it,” I replied, “they are a +mining party going up to Mashonaland. They won’t interest you. Sit down +and have your supper.” +</p> + +<p> +But Strangeways was curious; I often think that if he had been less curious he +would have been alive at this moment. The third waggon stood about sixty yards +away. +</p> + +<p> +“Get my supper ready,” he said, “I’ll be back in a +moment,” and walked across to the other camp fire. +</p> + +<p> +I directed his native cook-boy to bring plates and a cup, and have all in +readiness for his master’s supper. In less than three minutes Strangeways +strode up to the fire again. As he approached, he looked furtively behind him I +never saw a man so utterly changed within the space of three short minutes. His +face was ghastly pale, he trembled visibly. He said not a single word, but went +straight to his horse, which was being off-saddled. He picked up the saddle +again, clapped it on the poor tired brute’s back, and to my intense +astonishment put his foot in the stirrup and mounted. +</p> + +<p> +“Strangeways,” I said, “what in Heaven’s name are you +going to do. Come and sit down and let the nag alone.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned on me a white, terror-stricken face. +</p> + +<p> +“Sh! for God’s sake,” was all he said, under his breath. One +glance he threw towards that other camp fire, and then, kicking his horse with +the spur, he passed behind our two waggons and rode straight out into the gross +darkness of the veldt. +</p> + +<p> +I was so astounded at this extraordinary proceeding, that I confess I let +Strangeways ride away without any further protest than the few words I had +uttered. I now jumped to my feet and followed in the direction he had taken. I +saw and heard nothing. I was about to shout his name, but I had been so +impressed with the terror depicted on his face, that I forebore to cry out +after him. Somehow, it struck me that he wanted silence. I had always found him +a most sensible, level-headed fellow. He had some reason undoubtedly for this +sudden fear and strange departure. I waited by the fireside for half an hour, +all sorts of doubts and hypotheses thronging my brain. What could it mean? Here +was a man, tired, worn-out and hungry, and, above all, desperately thirsty, +after a hard day’s hunting and eleven hours spent in the saddle under a +burning sun, suddenly flying off from his supper, his rest, and the pleasant +camp fire, mounting his tired horse and riding straight out into the veldt with +some strong terror gripping at his heart. And such a veldt as it was here. +Sheer desert, except for a scanty pit of foul water now and again at long +intervals. He could not be mad. He was sane as a judge before he visited the +other camp fire; what in God’s name could it mean? I worried my brain for +half an hour, and then gave it up. I now roused Strangeways’ pioneer +comrade, who had retired early and had been asleep all this time, and talked +the thing over with him. We could find no solution. +</p> + +<p> +The other camp fire seemed to contain the only possible explanation of this +strange event. We walked across to it. I had previously spoken to these +wayfarers, who consisted of a mining engineer and three prospectors. The +engineer received us civilly. He inquired in a bantering way after our friend, +who, he averred, had come across, stared like a stuck pig for a moment, and +then suddenly turned on his heel and vanished. Two of his prospectors, one a +Cornishman, the other a Yankee, sat by the fire, smoking. They were decent, +quiet, civil-spoken men. The third, an Italian, had, they informed me, turned +into his waggon and gone to sleep. We had a quarter of an hour’s chat, +and then, finding that we could make nothing of the mystery over here, we went +back to our own fire again. We had not thought it necessary to enlighten the +mining party as to Strangeways’ sudden departure; nor, indeed, did they +manifest any further interest in him. They had caught but a fleeting glimpse of +his face, and then, as they said, he had turned and bolted. +</p> + +<p> +Halton, Strangeways’ comrade, and I returned to our camp fire, waited up +till eleven o’clock—a late hour for the veldt—and then, +seeing that nothing further was to be done that night, we turned in, tired +enough, and slept soundly. +</p> + +<p> +I was awake at six next morning. My native boy brought me, as usual, my coffee. +</p> + +<p> +“Baas,” he said, “did Baas know that a man from the other +waggon came over here in the night with a lantern and looked in Baas’s +waggon and into the other waggon too.” No, I knew nothing of this, and I +told the boy so. I looked into Strangeways’ waggon. Halton was just +getting up. He, too, had slept heavily, and had neither seen nor heard of any +one’s approach during the night. +</p> + +<p> +We swallowed our coffee and ate some breakfast, debating with serious faces +what step we were to take next. While we sat by the embers of the overnight +fire thus employed, the engineer from the other camp came across. He had fresh +food for bewilderment. His Italian prospector was missing. His native driver +averred that Rinaldi had risen before dawn, taken some food and a water bottle, +saddled a horse, and just as daylight came left the camp. He came, the man +said, in our direction, and then disappeared behind the waggons and into the +veldt. +</p> + +<p> +The mystery was clearly thickening. Halton and I now took the engineer into our +confidence, and told him of the strange occurrence of the evening before. We +finished breakfast, and then decided to proceed at once with the adventure. +First we called up a first-rate Bakalahari hunter, who had been for some time +attached to my camp, and was an extraordinarily skilful spoorer. After a cup of +coffee and a pinch or two of snuff, both inestimable luxuries to a poor, +despised desert man, he quickly got to work. His narrative lay there in the +sand before him, as clear to his bleared, half-shut eyes as God’s +daylight itself. +</p> + +<p> +First he traced the progress of Strangeways. After some little trouble about +the camp, where the trail was much mingled with others, he presently got the +spoor away into the bush, to the west of the outspan. Shortly, with a cluck of +the tongue, the native drew our attention to other marks. Here, he said, +Strangeways’ trail had been joined by that of another, a man walking with +his horse. The man, said the Bakalahari, was following the spoor of +Strangeways, and had got off his horse for the purpose. As the ground became +clearer and the country more open, this man had mounted and followed more +quickly upon the trail. At times, the tale was plain enough even to the eyes of +us Europeans. +</p> + +<p> +Well, to make a long story short, we followed the two spoors all through that +long hot day. We had water and food with us, and we meant to see the thing out. +At first, in the darkness, Strangeways had evidently wandered a good deal from +the straight line, but as light had come, he had travelled due west, and then +after mid-day struck in a southerly direction. I guessed his purpose, to seek +the road and water south of Boatlanama. Towards sundown, when we had ridden +between thirty and forty miles, we saw by the trail that Strangeways’ +horse was failing. The wonder was that after two days of such work it had stood +up so long. Night fell before we could arrive at any solution of the mystery. +We made a good fire, drank some water, ate some supper, and then lay down upon +the dry earth and slept. At earliest daylight we were moving again. We followed +the two spoors for something more than an hour, and then, rather suddenly, in +some thickish bush, came upon a sight that smote us all with horror. A cloud of +vultures fluttered heavily from the dead body of Strangeways’ horse, +which lay stretched upon the sand, now nearly devoid of what flesh it had once +carried upon its bones. Under a pile of thorns, close by, was the body of +Strangeways himself. +</p> + +<p> +The body, for some extraordinary reason, which I was then not able to fathom, +had been carefully protected by these thorn branches, and the vultures had not +been able to accomplish their foul work upon it. We pulled away the thorns, and +examined the poor dead body; it was marked by two bullet wounds, one in the +right shoulder, the other, fired at close quarters, through the head. The +flannel shirt, in which Strangeways had ridden, had been torn roughly off the +upper part of the body, and upon the broad chest had been slashed, with the +point of a sharp knife, these letters, MARIA. The blood, now dark and +coagulate, had run a little, but there was not the least difficulty in making +out the name. There were traces of the Italian and his horse about the spot, +and then the murderer’s spoor led away northward. +</p> + +<p> +Even with this sad and infernal discovery before us we were no nearer the +elucidation of this strange mystery. Revenge seemed to be at the bottom of it, +but the reason of that revenge was absolutely hidden from us. We held a long +council on the body, took what few trifles there were upon it, +Strangeways’ watch, his hunting belt and knife, spurs, and a silver +bangle upon the wrist. Then we buried him in that desolate spot. Our horses +were already suffering from lack of water. It was madness to think of following +the Italian, who would probably himself perish of thirst. We turned for our +waggons, therefore, and with great difficulty reached them late that night. The +next thing to do was to report the murder and set the Border Police upon the +affair. This was done as speedily as possible. I remained with Halton for the +space of a month in the Bechuanaland Protectorate, hoping to hear of the +Italian’s capture. Nothing whatever was heard of him, however, and I +resumed my journey south, and returned to Europe. +</p> + +<p> +For three years I heard—although I made repeated inquiries, and read each +week the few newspapers of Bechuanaland and Rhodesia—not a whisper that +would elucidate this incomprehensible tragedy. Then, as I travelled once more +through Bechuanaland, the cloud suddenly lifted and the mystery stood revealed. +</p> + +<p> +Upon reaching Vryburg, the capital of British Bechuanaland, I found the little +town in a state of intense excitement. The Italian, Rinaldi, had been captured, +after three years of a wandering life, far up-country; in a trader’s +store, near the Zambesi. He had been arrested and brought down for trial. +Halton and other witnesses had been procured from Matabeleland to give evidence +against him. But Rinaldi had not attempted to escape the consequences of his +crime; on the contrary, he gloried in it, and had given in his broken English, +in open court, his version of the whole miserable business and its origin. +Briefly condensed, this was his tale. +</p> + +<p> +His name, he said, was Guiseppe Rinaldi, and he was a native of Sardinia. Nine +years before, he had met Strangeways, who was then an artist wandering through +Sardinia. Rinaldi himself was deeply attached to Maria Poroni, a beautiful girl +of his village, whom he hoped to marry. But he had to be away at his work at +the lead mines, thirty miles off, and only saw her occasionally. Strangeways +came on the scene, became acquainted with Maria, had grown quickly infatuated +with her, and had persuaded her to leave the island with him. After living some +months with her in various parts of Italy, he left her with a certain sum of +money in Rome, and finally abandoned her. The poor girl crept back home with a +child, and died, a broken woman, two years later. Rinaldi had known Strangeways +and swore to take a terrible revenge if occasion ever offered. But he had no +money. Tired of poverty in Sardinia, he went out to Argentina and from there +drifted to South Africa. It was by the merest accident in the world that he had +obtained employment as a miner with the outfit going up from Cape Town to +Mashonaland. And it was still more of an accident that he had seen +Strangeways’ face at the camp fire that night at Boatlanama. The rest is +briefly told. He had crept across in the darkness and found that Strangeways +was not in his waggon. At earliest dawn he had taken a horse, provisions, +water, and a rifle, and followed his spoor into the desert. Thanks to his life +in the mountains of Sardinia, and his experience of cattle ranching in the +Argentine, he was an expert tracker, and had no difficulty in following the +trail. He had come up with Strangeways, whose horse had foundered, just at +sundown. Strangeways fired a shot, which grazed Rinaldi’s ear. +Rinaldi’s first bullet brought his victim down and he had then finished +him. He had scored the name MARIA upon the dead man’s chest, covered him +with thorns that the mark of his vengeance might not be obliterated by the wild +beasts, and left him. He had then escaped north and wandered to the Zambesi. +</p> + +<p> +Rinaldi’s own end was a bloody one. He broke prison the night before his +execution was to take place, was followed by mounted police into the Kalahari, +and, as he refused to surrender, was shot dead in the scuffle that ensued. +</p> + +<p> +To me, the strangest part of this tragedy lies in the fact that +Strangeways’ death came to him, apparently, by the merest accident in the +world. It is absolutely certain that Rinaldi had no knowledge +whatever—until he set eyes on him at the camp fire that night—of +Strangeways’ presence in Africa. Was it, indeed, pure chance—or was +it, in truth, the subtle machinery of a remorseless fate—that induced him +to take the desert road south, by Boatlanama? It was a still stranger +accident—apparently—by which the mining party took the wrong route +north, and trekked by the same westerly road upon which the two men had met. +Accident—or inexorable retribution? That is a question I often ask +myself. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>Chapter Eleven.<br/> +Queen’s Service.</h2> + +<p> +It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon of a desperately hot October +day, 1899, in British Bechuanaland. The rains, although close at hand, had not +yet fallen. For the last twenty-four hours the weather had been of that +peculiarly oppressive kind, familiar in South Africa towards the end of the dry +season. The wind came from the heated north-west, laden with the parched breath +of a thousand miles of sun-scorched plains. Yet, strangely enough, around the +little English farmstead on the Setlagoli River, the low forests of camelthorn +acacia were, although untouched by moisture, already putting forth greenery and +fresh leafage—even at this dire time of drought—against the coming +of the rains. +</p> + +<p> +May Felton, a pleasant looking, brown-eyed girl of nineteen, came out on the +shadier side of the square, low, grass-thatched house, and stood beneath the +shelter of the veranda, her face held up a little towards the air. She had come +out for the third time within the hour to see if some faint breath of fresher +atmosphere might not be detected towards sundown from out of that withering +north-west breeze. Alas, there was none! It meant, then, another night of +stifling discomfort within doors. The climate of this part of Bechuanaland is +normally so clear, so brilliant, and so exhilarating, save for the few weeks +before the summer rains, that this period of heat seems doubly trying to the +settlers. May Felton sighed, and looked around. She had a kettle on the fire +within doors, preparing against afternoon tea—a pleasant thought in this +depressing hour—and, meanwhile, looked about her for a few minutes. The +place seemed very dull. Her father and two brothers had ridden off three days +since, driving before them all their cattle and goats, with the intention of +placing the stock as far as possible out of the reach of the Transvaal and Free +State Boers, just then raiding and free-booting across the border. Vryburg, +some fifty miles south, was practically defenceless, and lay, too, in the midst +of a Dutch farming population, already more than disaffected towards the +British Government. Mafeking, forty or fifty miles to the north, thanks to +Baden-Powell’s energy and military talent, was in a good state of +defence, but was already practically invested by a strong Boer Commando. +</p> + +<p> +May’s father, John Felton, was well known and liked by many of the Dutch +farmers on either side of the border. But in the time of war and stress, which +he saw close upon him, he knew well enough that friendly feelings would +speedily give place to racial hatred, plunder, and marauding. He had, +therefore, carried off all his stock, with the intention of putting them as far +as possible beyond the grasp of raiding Dutchmen, at a remote run on the edge +of the Kalahari, nearly a hundred miles away to the westward. This ranch +belonged to an English Afrikander friend of his, and he had every hope that +there his cattle—a goodly herd—and some hundreds of goats might be +safe. +</p> + +<p> +May looked round rather disconsolately upon the hot quiet landscape. The acacia +groves which girdled in the little homestead, behind the dry river-bed, showed +small signs of life. A grotesque hornbill sat in a tree near, gasping under the +heat, as these birds do, occasionally opening its huge bill, crying +“toc-toc,” in a curious yelping tone, opening its wings restlessly +as if for air, and lowering its head. In a bush, on the left hand, a beautiful +crimson-breasted shrike occasionally uttered a clear ringing note. Two hundred +yards away, a scattered troop of wild guinea-fowl, returning to the last +remaining pool in the now parched and sandy river-bed, after a day of digging +for bulbs in the woodlands, were calling to one another, with harsh metallic +notes, “Come back! Come back! Come back!” +</p> + +<p> +May looked at the absurd hornbill, with its long yellow beak, and smiled +faintly. Just at that moment it seemed almost as much exertion as she felt +capable of in the withering heat. She leaned against one of the posts +supporting the veranda, her slim, shapely form expressing in its listless +attitude the relaxation of that melancholy hour. For two or three minutes she +stood thus listlessly, then, remembering the kettle boiling within doors, +bestirred herself and turned away. Just at that moment there came a faint cry +from among the camelthorn trees on the right of the homestead. It sounded +strangely like a man’s voice. She stood listening intently. In ten +seconds the cry came again; this time it seemed more faint. +</p> + +<p> +The girl threw off her langour upon the instant. “Seleti!” she +cried, in a clear ringing voice, “Seleti, <i>Tlokwaan</i>!” (come +here). +</p> + +<p> +In two minutes Seleti, a Bechuana youth, clad in a ragged flannel shirt and a +pair of his master’s discarded riding breeches, came shuffling round. She +spoke to him in Sechuana. +</p> + +<p> +“Seleti,” she said, “I heard some one calling in the trees +there not very far away. Go and look. Straight beyond that biggest tree +there!” +</p> + +<p> +The lad went off, walked two hundred yards into the woodland, becoming lost +amid the timber, and then his voice sounded back towards the house. +</p> + +<p> +“Missie May! Missie May! Here is Engelsman. Come quick.” Snatching +up a broad-brimmed straw hat from within doors, the girl went quickly in +Seleti’s direction. In less than three minutes she was by his side, among +the trees and tall grass, leaning over the body of a young sunburnt Englishman, +which the Bechuana supported in his arms. The man had no coat on, and May +Felton saw at once, from the blood-stained flannel shirt, that he was badly +wounded, he looked just now so lifeless that he might well be dead; yet the +girl remembered that only a few minutes before she had heard him call. She had +plenty of courage, and, young as she was, in that rough farming life amid the +wilderness she was accustomed, as a matter of course, to many things that a +girl at home would shrink from. +</p> + +<p> +As she looked intently at the inert figure before her, she noted that the man +still breathed; once he groaned very softly. There was nothing for it but to +pick him up and carry him to the house. It was a heavy task, but with May +carrying him by the legs and Seleti supporting him under the arms, they +managed, with great exertion, to get him to the stoep. +</p> + +<p> +There they laid him down for a moment, while May ran indoors and fetched out +her mother. +</p> + +<p> +As they came out to the stoep, bearing brandy and water, it was apparent that +the young man’s wound had broken out afresh. Blood was slowly soaking +through the already blood-soddened shirt, and silently forming a pool on the +stone flooring. There was no time to be lost. They got him to bed and washed +and bound up his wound. A bullet had gone right through the shoulder, making +clear ingress and egress, but cutting some vein in its passage, and he had lost +evidently quite as much blood as he could afford. Then they gave him brandy and +water, and presently he came round from his long faint. When he had had some +soup and a little bread later on, he was able to tell them something of his +tale. +</p> + +<p> +His name was James Harlow. He was a Volunteer under Lieutenant Nesbitt, in an +expedition in an armoured train, which had been turned over and shelled at +Kraaipan, on the border, some twenty miles away. After keeping the attacking +Boers at bay for several hours, things began to look queer for the small +British party. Nesbitt and a number of his men were wounded, the Dutch were +creeping up. +</p> + +<p> +Nesbitt had a letter which he wanted delivered somehow at Vryburg. It was +urgent, and he gave it to Harlow to get away with and carry somehow to its +destination. Harlow crept away through the grass, but, just as he thought he +was getting out of range, and raised himself for a moment to reconnoitre, a +bullet pierced his left shoulder and laid him in the dust. He rose presently +and crawled on. Out of sight of the Boer fighting men, he had got to his feet, +and, notwithstanding his wound, walked westward. A friendly native had given +him a lift for twelve or fourteen miles on a led horse, but, towards sundown, +having sighted three or four mounted men, had become alarmed and abandoned him. +After a miserable night, he had crept about—sometimes walking feebly, +sometimes moving on hands and knees—all that blazing day, trying to find +some house or farmstead. No water or food had touched his lips. Towards +evening, just as he had given up all hope, and sunk down despairingly, he had +set eyes on the Feltons’ homestead through the trees. His last remaining +strength was ebbing from him—his consciousness failing; but he raised two +feeble shouts and then fell senseless. The rest May and her mother knew. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” said the poor fellow, with a painful grin at his own +weakness, “how am I to get my dispatch down to Vryburg? Somehow Mr +Tillard, the resident magistrate there, must have that letter by to-morrow +evening. I know it’s important I doubt if I can ride to-morrow. +What’s to be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly you can’t ride to-morrow; you couldn’t sit a horse +if you tried; so don’t think about it,” said May, decidedly. +“I scarcely know what’s to be done. Our two native boys are poor, +trembling creatures, scared at the mention of a Boer. I’ll go myself. +It’s barely fifty miles from here, and I know the road well.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear May,” put in her mother. “You couldn’t think +of such a thing. Why you might be stopped by Boers. It’s quite possible +they will be holding the old road by this time. I can’t have you go, +really!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear mother,” returned the girl, with a bright look in her +dancing brown eyes. “I <i>must</i> go. This letter has to be delivered. +It is probably of the greatest importance, and may even mean the safety of +Vryburg. You and father pride yourselves on being loyal subjects of the Queen. +You wouldn’t have me hold back from so small a piece of service. Why I +can ride the distance easily on ‘Rocket’ in eight hours, allowing +for off-saddles.” +</p> + +<p> +May was a girl accustomed to having her own way in the Feltons’ +household, and so, with a sigh and a protest, her mother gave in and the thing +was settled. +</p> + +<p> +At sunrise next morning, after looking in on the wounded trooper, who had had a +feverish night, May, kissing her mother tenderly, mounted her chestnut pony and +rode off. The precious dispatch, stained with Harlow’s blood, she had +neatly sewn up in the inner part of her stays. She carried with her in her +saddle-bag some sandwiches, another letter, requesting the Vryburg doctor to +come up and see the wounded trooper, and a water bottle full of limejuice and +water hung from her saddle. Pulling her broad-brimmed felt hat over her eyes, +the girl cantered off and was soon lost to view amid the woodlands. +</p> + +<p> +She struck, in the first instance, by a rough track across country, for the old +post-road, running south from Setlagoli to Vryburg. Her good pony sped along +with free elastic strides, and at a steady pace they reeled off mile after +mile. It was hot, but not so oppressive as the day before. Presently, cutting +the old road, they pushed steadily on beneath that aching void of sky above +them—a sky of brass with just a suspicion of palest blue far up in the +zenith. Fifteen miles were traversed and they stood at Jackal’s Pan, a +lonely little oasis on the road, where they could off-saddle, and the horse +could be watered. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour’s rest, and then on again. The blazing ride now became +infinitely monotonous. From Jackal’s Pan to the next stopping place, +Monjana Mabeli, the flat veldt road runs alongside the telegraph wires. How +sick May became of that gaunt, unending line of posts stretching before her. +She counted them—seventeen to the mile they went—oh! how often! and +then hated herself for having counted them. +</p> + +<p> +No sign of life cheered her ride, save now and again a desert lark, which rose +suddenly from the grass, clapping its wings loudly, for twenty or thirty feet, +uttered an odd, sustained, single note, and sank to earth again. May felt +grateful even to the dull, speckled brown lark for its presence; anything to +break that wearisome monotony. Even her good pony, “Rocket,” seemed +to feel the isolation, the endless void of that mighty grass plain. He seemed +depressed and dull. Still when his mistress spoke to him and patted his neck, +he pricked his ears gaily, shook his bit, and reached out with never tiring +stride. +</p> + +<p> +At last! at last! May sighted in the distance the twin, rounded hills of +Monjana Mabeli, and in another three quarters of an hour had ridden up to the +farmhouse. Three waggons were outspanned there, and, before she could realise +her danger, the girl found herself in the centre of a little knot of the Boers +of the district, on their way to welcome their brethren of the Transvaal, now +raiding across the border. A quarter of a mile away she had some thought of +turning from the road to avoid the outspan and its risks, but it was too late. +She saw that she was watched, that mounted men were ready for a pursuit, and so +she judged it better to go boldly on. The leader of the band interrogated her +as to her business. She produced her letter to the Vryburg doctor and stated +her mission. Her story was evidently only half believed, and she was requested +to step into the farmhouse and submit to be searched by the Commandant’s +wife, a grim-looking Boer woman, who seemed quite in earnest over her task. The +door of the inner room being shut and locked, May made the best of a hateful +business, and, taking off some of her things, let the woman search her. She +could have struck with her clenched fist that dull, emotionless face so close +to hers, had she dared, but it would not do. Neither would it do to appear +backward. Boldness might save her. She slipped off her stays and carelessly +offered them for the woman’s inspection. The woman looked at them, turned +them over, and handed them back. The girl’s heart, which had stood still +for a thrilling second or two, beat easily again. She had triumphed. The +missive, so cunningly hidden within her stays, still reposed snugly in its +hiding-place. Her wonderfully neat sewing had passed muster. She was +safe—safe, that is, if she could get away. The search was at length over, +and the Vrouw Erasmus, in a grumbling way, expressed herself satisfied. As she +buttoned the last button of her holland riding bodice, May turned, with +flashing eyes, upon her tormentor. She spoke Cape Dutch fluently and her words +told. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not forget your insulting search, Mevrouw Erasmus,” she +said, “as long as I live. I know quite well who you are and where you +come from. You have made a big mistake. You think your people are going to get +the best of this war. You know nothing about the strength of England. You +don’t know, and I suppose you won’t believe until it is too late, +that the Queen of England will send out ten thousand men after ten thousand, +until your insolent attack is beaten down and put an end to. When it is all +over,” she went on, in more cutting tones, “you will look very +foolish. You and your husband will lose your good farm here in Bechuanaland, +and what will you do then? Instead of being prosperous on your own farm, under +a good Government, you will become mere wretched Trek Boers, without a morgen +of land you can call your own. You really ought to be ashamed of yourselves, +coming out to fight against a Government, which, here in British Bechuanaland, +has done nothing but good for you!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl had better have held her tongue. Vrouw Erasmus was mad, her huge, +pallid face was flushed to a deep crimson. +</p> + +<p> +“You schepsel!” she cried, “to speak to me, the wife of a +good burgher, like that! I have a mind to take a sjambok to you. You shall stay +in this house no longer. This is my man’s farm now. You English never had +a right in the country, and the Burghers will in future enjoy the land. Go you +out, and sit there under the waggon shade, and keep a civil tongue in your +head!” +</p> + +<p> +May was more than pleased; she had no wish at all to remain indoors. She walked +out to the nearest waggon, found her saddle, took her sandwiches from the +saddle-bag, and, with the help of her limejuice and water, made a good lunch. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Vrouw Erasmus went up to her husband, who with the rest of the Dutch +farmers was saddling up for some expedition, and spoke earnestly to him. She +was evidently impressing commands, for in a minute or two he came up to May and +told her she was not to go for the present. She would stay at the waggons till +evening, when he and some of his men would be back. Then he would see what +should be done with her. May protested, but unavailingly, and the big Dutchman +moved away, mounted his horse, and rode off with the rest of the Boers waiting +for him. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of her practical duress, there were two little gleams of satisfaction +radiating in the mind of the English girl. One of these arose from the fact +that there was not a single Dutchman left at the camp; the other for the reason +that she saw an instrument of release lying almost ready to her hand. When +Commandant Erasmus had taken down his Mauser rifle from the inside of the +waggon just in front of her, she noted that he had left another weapon hanging +on its hooks. From the same hooks depended a bandolier, well filled with +cartridges. There was only one doubt in her mind. Did those cartridges fit the +Martini-Henry carbine hanging there? She was a courageous girl, quick-witted, +and knowing her own mind. If the cartridges were right, she meant to make a +bold stroke for freedom. +</p> + +<p> +For half an hour she sat there, demurely enough, in the shade of the waggon, +now keeping an eye on the retreating forms of the Boer horsemen disappearing +westward, now looking at the grim, massive Boer woman sitting under the shelter +of a waggon sail on the far side of her husband’s waggon. At length the +last Dutchman’s head had vanished in the warm distance. +</p> + +<p> +It was very hot, and Vrouw Erasmus, sitting guard there over the English girl, +palpably dozed at her post. She had lately dined, and she was in the habit of +sleeping after the mid-day meal. Her eyes closed. May rose, crept to the +waggon, climbed softly to the box; in another second she had taken down the +carbine from its hooks, slung the bandolier over her shoulder, opened the +breech of the weapon and pushed in a cartridge. Thank Heaven it fitted! She was +safe! The click of the breech action roused the sleeping woman. She opened her +eyes, looked across to the other waggons, her prisoner was gone! She rose +hastily, came forward, and there, on the voor-kist of her own waggon was this +terrible English girl, pointing her husband’s carbine at her. She +retreated a few paces at the apparition. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mevrouw Erasmus,” said May, smilingly, in Dutch, “it is +my turn. See, this carbine is loaded,”—she opened the breech, took +out the cartridge and replaced it, and snapped the action to again. “I +know how to use a rifle, and I mean to shoot if you try to hinder me. Your +‘boys’ are all away in the veldt with the trek oxen. I heard your +man say so. I know there is only that one Griqua lad about, and I am not afraid +of him. Remember, I shoot if I am interfered with.” +</p> + +<p> +The woman was paralysed at the audacity of her prisoner. She could do nothing. +She looked across the empty plain and then at the ragged Griqua herd lad, +sitting there on his heels at the ashes of the fire, scraping out a cooking pot +with a piece of wood, and grinning at the mad English girl, and she found no +help. There was not another gun handy; nor, if there were, did she know +whether, with this formidable, accursed, well-armed girl, she or the boy would +dare to lay hold of it. She muttered something very unpleasant between her +teeth, and then spoke aloud, in her sourest tones, to May Felton. +</p> + +<p> +“Have your own way,” she said, “I cannot prevent you. What do +you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean to saddle up and be off,” returned May, in her most angelic +voice, “I know, dear Mevrouw Erasmus, that you hate English company, and +as I don’t approve of your husband having so many weapons about him in +these troublous times, I am going to take this rifle and these cartridges with +me. They belong fairly—considering that your man is playing a +traitor’s game—to the British Government.” +</p> + +<p> +Vrouw Erasmus took a step forward, as if she would have made for the girl, but, +as May raised her weapon, thought better of it. Once in her huge arms, she +could have easily mastered the girl, but the risk was too great. +</p> + +<p> +“If you take the gun,” she said, threateningly, “it is +stealing, and if we catch you again we shall try you under Transvaal law. We +are all Transvaalers now, or shall be directly,” she added, triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +“There you are quite wrong, dear mevrouw,” returned May, in her +sweetest tones. “Now if you had behaved nicely and politely, as I know +you can do, I might, yes, really, I think I might have returned the gun. But +you know perfectly well that it is fairly forfeited, and I shall hand it over +to the resident magistrate at Vryburg.” +</p> + +<p> +Vrouw Erasmus ground her teeth again, shook her head, and growled dissent. How +she hated this bantering English girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, mevrouw,” pursued May, “if you will seat yourself +nicely under the tent-sail there, and if your boy remains quietly where he is, +I shall do you no injury.” +</p> + +<p> +The vrouw sat down heavily on her waggon chair, with an air of gloomy +resignation. There was nothing to be done. May went to her pony, which stood +tied up to the waggon wheel, and still holding her carbine and keeping a +watchful eye on her two guardians, picked up her saddle, adjusted it, girthed +up, and put on the bridle. Then she mounted and rode off at a smart canter. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell, dear Mevrouw Erasmus,” she cried as she went. +“We’ll take great care of the carbine; don’t forget to give +my compliments to your husband.” +</p> + +<p> +The Boer woman waited till she had gone a hundred yards or more, and then +roused the Griqua lad. “Get a rifle and cartridges,” she cried, +pointing to the house. “Indoors, yonder. Quick, you schelm!” +</p> + +<p> +The lad rose and went indoors, none too willingly, and brought out a sporting +rifle and a cartridge belt. +</p> + +<p> +“Put in a cartridge and shoot, you fool,” shrieked the enraged +vrouw, pointing to the retreating figure. “Hit the horse! Hit the girl; +stop them somehow!” The Griqua lad put in a cartridge and raised the +rifle. The girl was now two hundred and fifty yards away, galloping fast. +</p> + +<p> +“No, mevrouw,” he said, lowering the gun again, “you can +sjambok me, but I can’t fire. If I hit her, it’s murder, and I +daren’t do it.” +</p> + +<p> +Speechless almost with rage, the woman struck him in the face with her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You dog,” she shouted. “By the Almighty, you shall suffer +for this.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile May Felton was speeding along over the eighteen miles of veldt road +that led her to Vryburg and comparative safety. (It was before Vryburg had been +surrendered.) She galloped it in one piece, and, thanks to her good pony, +compassed the distance in rather more than two hours, having ridden close on +fifty miles since dawn. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at Vryburg, she delivered her dispatch, together with the captured +rifle and cartridges, to the resident magistrate, receiving his hearty +congratulations in return. Next day, accompanied by the doctor, and a couple of +policemen, she started for home again. Making a long détour, and avoiding +Monjana Mabeli, they reached her father’s homestead just at sunset. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>Chapter Twelve.<br/> +A Transvaal Morning.</h2> + +<p> +They were sitting by a big camp fire, close to the junction of the Marico and +Crocodile Rivers—on the Bechuanaland side, where the old trade road to +the interior runs—a motley and yet very interesting gathering of hunters, +transport riders, and traders, and as usual they had been yarning. It was +nearing Christmas, 1891; the weather was waxing very hot, and the night was so +warm that even the oldest man of the party, “old John Blakeman,” +easily to be recognised by his white head and grizzled beard, sat in his +flannel shirt, without a coat, his sleeves rolled up, his brawny, sunburnt arms +folded across his chest. The night was very still; scarcely an air of wind +stirred; occasionally a kiewitje plover uttered its mournful, chiding cry; the +not unmusical croak of frogs was heard, bubbling softly from a swamp a little +way off; these, with an occasional cough from the trek oxen, as they lay +peacefully at their yokes, were the only sounds that here broke the outer +silence of the veldt. Tales of adventure are a never failing source of interest +at these fireside gatherings, and a number of hunting stories, more or less +well-founded, had been trotted out. A somewhat assertive up-country trader, +lately returned from the Ngami region, had just finished a highly-coloured +narrative, in which a couple of lions had been easily vanquished. According to +his theory these great carnivora are as readily bagged as wild duck at a vlei. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all very well,” rejoined old John Blakeman, taking +his pipe from his mouth and a pull at his beaker of whiskey and water. +“You may have had a stroke of luck, Heyford, and killed a brace of +’em without much trouble or danger, but in my judgment lions are not to +be played with. A hungry lion, and more especially a starved, worn-out old +‘mannikie,’ who can’t kill his natural food properly, is, on +a dark, stormy night, the most dangerous, cruel, and persistent beast in +Africa—the very devil incarnate. Guns and gunners have a good deal tamed +the extraordinary boldness of lions in the last thirty years. I can remember +the time when they killed cattle, ay, and even Kaffirs, in this very country +where you now sit, in open daylight. Why! Katrina Visser, wife of a Marico +Boer, lost her child, a lad of six years old, by a lion, in broad daylight, +killed at four o’clock in the afternoon, within fifty yards of her door. +That happened four and thirty years ago, in 1857, in the Marico country, within +less than sixty miles of this very outspan. I remember it but too well. The +following morning, which happened to be Easter Day, was one of the saddest and +at the same time the most exciting I ever experienced.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us the yarn, John,” clamoured a number of voices together. +“Yours are always worth listening to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, lads,” went on the stout old fellow, filling his pipe and +relighting it with much care and deliberation from a smouldering ember, +“it’s a long story, but I’ll cut it as short as possible. It +happened in this way. I began trading up here in the early fifties. In those +days, as you know, and a good deal later, it was a long and serious business, +and each trip always spoilt a year. We used to trek up through Natal, climb the +Drakensberg, then cross the Free State plains—there was plenty of game +there in those days—and, looking in at Mooi River +Dorp—Potchefstrom, as we call it now—pass on through Marico. I +hunted as well as traded in those days and knew very well all the Marico Boers, +with some of whom I sometimes joined forces. They were a rough but very +hospitable lot of fellows, and some of them—Jan Viljoen, Marthinus +Swartz, Frans Joubert, and others—some of the finest shots and pluckiest +hunters in the world. I hunted elephants towards the Lake for two seasons with +Gerrit Visser, husband of Katrina, the woman I’m going to tell you about. +They lived in a rough ‘hartebeest house’ of wattle and reeds in a +magnificent kloof on a tributary of the Marico. Well, in ’57, Gerrit and +I met, as we had arranged, at one of the farmhouses near the Barolong border, +prepared for a big trip towards the Tamalakan River. +</p> + +<p> +“I got on, as I say, very well with the Dutch frontier fanners; my +trading goods were very acceptable to the ‘vrouws’ and +‘meisjes,’ and the owner of the farm where I was outspanned kept +open house during the week I was there. What with shooting gear and clothing +for the men, and sugar, coffee, groceries, and trinkets, stuffs, and prints for +the women, I offloaded a good part of my trading outfit while outspanned at +this place, and did, as usual, a rattling good business. We had no end of +junketing. Dances, dust, and liquor at night, and horse-racing and +target-shooting in the day time. The bottles seemed always on the table, but +these Dutchmen are pretty hard headed, and there was some tall shooting in +spite of the festivities. Jan Viljoen, who had trekked with his wife from the +Knysna, in Cape Colony, towards the end of the thirties, and had fought against +Sir Harry Smith at Boomplaats in 1848, was, with Marthinus Swartz, about the +best of a rare good lot of rifle shots. We shot usually at a yokeskey or a +bottle at one hundred and one hundred and fifty yards, and then Viljoen would +call for an Eau de Cologne flask, standing little higher than a wine-glass, and +we blazed at that I was pretty good with the gun in those days, but two or +three of the Marico Boers usually got the best of me. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, after a week of this kind of thing, the trading was finished and I +had had enough of Dutch festivities, and so Genit Visser and I trekked for the +Bamangwato stadt, where Machen, Khama’s uncle, was then chief. Here I +traded for another week, and then Gerrit and I set our faces for the +north-west, crossed the Thirstland, and trekked along the north bank of the +Lake River. We got plenty of giraffe, gemsbuck, eland, hartebeest, blue +wildebeest, springbok, zebra, and so on, for the first month; and along the +Botletli we killed some sea-cows and buffaloes, which swarmed in those days. +But we had no luck with elephants till we struck the Tamalakan River. Here and +along the Mababi, and from there towards the Chobi River, we did very well, +bagging in four months’ hunting between sixty and seventy elephants, many +of them carrying immense teeth. Towards the Chobi, where very few guns had at +that time been heard, we had remarkable sport. We shot also a number of +rhinoceros, some of them, the ‘wit rhenosters’ (white rhinoceros), +with magnificent forehorns. Altogether we had a fine season, one of the very +best I ever remember. But it was desperately hard work; the bush was awful; +water was often very scarce; and every tusk we got was, I can tell you, hardly +earned. Lions were sometimes very troublesome. We lost a horse and two oxen by +them and had some nasty adventures ourselves. +</p> + +<p> +“When we reached the Chobi River, I never saw anything like the herds of +buffalo. There were thousands of them. Sometimes you might see a troop as thick +as goats in a kraal. We shot eighty buffaloes on this trip, and might have got +any quantity more. I had my best hunting nag killed under me by an old wounded +bull, and should have been done for myself but for Visser, who came up in the +very nick of time, and shot the brute as I lay on the ground almost under his +horns. I was so bitten with the life of the veldt and the wandering fever in +those days that I should have liked to have stayed out another year and pushed +far up the Chobi, which was then as now little explored. After the parched +Thirstlands we had come through, the river with its broad blue waters, its +refreshing breezes, its palm islands, and the astounding wealth, not only of +heavy game, but of bird life, that crowded its banks and islets, seemed a very +paradise on earth. Even Gerrit Visser, as stolid, matter-of-fact a Dutchman as +you should meet in South Africa, was struck by the marvellous beauty of the +river scenery. +</p> + +<p> +“But Gerrit hated punting about in the wobbly, crank, dug-out canoes, in +which the natives took us from one island to another; and, for him, half the +fun of the hunting was spoiled by the navigation necessary to obtain it. And +so, very reluctantly on my part, we made our way back to the waggons, which had +been standing for weeks outspanned on the southern bank of the river, in charge +of our men. It was now December, the weather had become very hot, and Gerrit +was fretting and fuming all the time to get back +home—‘huis-to’ (to the house), as a Boer would say. The worst +of hunting with these married Dutchmen is that, after about six months in the +veldt, away from their wives and ‘kinder,’ they are always +fidgetting to be off home again. There never were such uxorious chaps in this +world, I do believe. Get a Britisher, married though he be, once away in the +veldt, and the passion for travel and adventure fairly lays hold of +him—it’s in the blood—and he’ll stay out with you, +knocking about, for a couple of years if you like. Look at Livingstone! Fond +though he was of his wife and children, the wandering fever, the +‘trek-geist,’ as a Boer would call it, was too much for him, and he +was latterly away from wife and children and home for years at a time. And so +Gerrit Visser and I set our faces ‘huis-to,’ and trekked for Marico +again. +</p> + +<p> +“We had a long and hard spell of travel across the ‘thirst,’ +and reached the Transvaal as lean as crows ourselves, and with our oxen, +horses, and dogs mere bags of bones. Nothing would content Gerrit but I should +go with him to his place, Water Kloof, and spend Easter there. Pushing our +jaded spans along as fast as possible, and travelling from Easter Eve all +through the night, Gerrit and I mounted our horses at daybreak and cantered on +ahead of the waggons to rouse the vrouw and have breakfast. It was a most +glorious sunrise as we entered the shallow valley, known as Water Kloof. There +had been recent rains; the valley was carpeted with fresh grass and littered +with wild flowers; the bush was green and fragrant; and the little clear stream +that ran to join the Marico River, rippled merrily along at our feet. The +mealie gardens were thriving magnificently, and the whole place looked as fair +and prosperous as a man could wish to see. Gerrit was in the highest spirits. +‘Man,’ he said to me, as we rode up to the rough wattle and daub +house, thatched with reeds, ‘it is a good farm this, and I shall give up +elephant-hunting, build a good stone house here, and settle down. Look at the +fruit trees,’—pointing to a charming green grove below the +house—‘in two years’ time the oranges will be in full +bearing. Allemaghte! It is too good a “plaats” (farm) to leave so +long, this.’ +</p> + +<p> +“We rode up to the house very quietly. Gerrit wanted to surprise his +wife. Not a soul stirred. It was now ‘sun-up.’ I was astonished +that no one was moving. We dismounted, threw our bridles over the nags’ +heads, and approached the house. ‘Katrina!’ shouted Gerrit in a +cheery voice, ‘Katrina! Beter laat dan nooit. Hier is ekke en Jan +Blakeman.’ (Katrina! Better late than never. Here am I and John +Blakeman.) As we approached the door we heard at last some one stirring inside. +The latch clicked, the door opened back, and Katrina Visser appeared, not +cheerful and full of joy, and with little Hendrik, the child, by her side, as +we had expected, but with hair dishevelled, cheeks soddened with tears, black +shadows beneath her eyes, and the eyes themselves red and bloodshot with long +weeping. She threw herself with a sob on Gerrit’s breast, and burst +afresh into an agony of tears. ‘You are too late, Gerrit, too +late,’ she sobbed forth at last. ‘The lion killed little Hendrik +yesterday afternoon, and he lies there dead in the house.’ I could not +help looking at Visser’s face at this moment. He had turned deadly white. +He swayed. I thought for the moment he must have fallen. ‘Oh, God!’ +he cried, ‘it cannot be true, wife.’ The woman felt instinctively +that the blow was almost too grievous and too sudden for her husband. Her own +grief was put aside for the moment. She released herself, kissed her man +tenderly, and took his hand. ‘Come inside, Gerrit,’ she said +softly, through her tears, ‘and see all that remains of our poor little +Hendrik.’ She turned to me. ‘Come you, too, Jan +Blakeman,’—as she always called me—‘You were always a +favourite of the child.’ It was true. I was very fond of the merry, +little yellow-headed chap; and had always some sweetstuff and other treasure at +my waggon for him. He and I were the best of friends. +</p> + +<p> +“I followed them softly into the rude dwelling, now a chamber of death. +Katrina led her husband to the wooden couch in the corner. There lay the poor +little chap, his once warm face, so fresh and ruddy, now cold, and marble +white, his prattling mouth for ever hushed. A blanket covered the body, but the +little hands had been laid outside. One of them, I noticed, had been terribly +clawed by the lion. The poor mother had washed it, and the deep crimson gashes +and scorings of the cruel claws showed very plainly. I suppose the poor little +six-year-old child had made some effort for his life, and the fierce brute had +resented it. The mother began to draw aside the blanket and show her husband +the deadly wounds. Gerrit’s great frame was now racked with irrepressible +sobs. I could witness their mutual agony no longer, and crept out. At the back +of the house I came upon a Hottentot servant, who told me the story of the +tragedy. The Marico country had by this time (1857) been fairly well cleared of +lions, but stragglers occasionally wandered in from the wilder parts of the +Transvaal, and a pair—lion and lioness—had been spoored up the +Marico River quite lately. +</p> + +<p> +“No danger, except to the cattle and goats, was, however, anticipated; +the kraals had been duly strengthened, and two or three neighbouring Boers were +shortly coming down to shoot the marauders. On the afternoon of the previous +day little Hendrik had been playing by the stream not fifty yards from the +house. Suddenly screams were heard; the Hottentot, his mistress, and a Kaffir +rushed forth, and a big yellow-maned lion was seen dragging the poor little +fellow by the middle into some jungle which grew alongside the water. The +shouts and cries of the three as they rushed down towards the brute, and +probably the report of the gun which Cobus, the Hottentot, had picked up from +the house and loosed off as he ran, had driven off the brute, but too late. The +child had been terribly bitten, right through the loins, and died in his +mother’s arms almost before they reached the house again. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the long and short of the story was this. Nothing would satisfy +Katrina but that her husband and I should follow up the lion and lake revenge +for the murder of the poor child. Gerrit and I were nothing loth, and after a +mouthful of bread and some coffee we went down to the stream and took up the +spoor. Gerrit and I each carried our rides, Cobus, the Hottentot, had a +smooth-bore ‘roer,’ and Katrina, who insisted on coming with us, +brought an old flint and steel horse pistol, which she had loaded up. We +spoored the lion for half a mile down the river to a piece of dense jungle, +where it had lain up over the remains of a small buck, which it had killed, +probably on the previous evening. It was a nasty place, but we had dogs, and +presently the brute was roused. He showed himself once and Gerrit got a +snapshot, which, as we subsequently discovered, wounded him only +slightly—just sufficiently to render him really savage. Again the dogs +went in and bayed the brute. This time the bush was more open. As a rule the +Boers, good shots as they are, are extremely cautious about tackling a lion in +covert. But Gerrit’s blood was up. He meant to avenge his child, and he +went at once towards the sound. I was running round to assist, when I heard a +report, a dull thud, and then renewed barking and fierce deep growls. I ran +through the open jungle. Katrina Visser, her pistol at full cock, was close +behind. We turned an angle of the bush, and there in an open glade lay Gerrit, +motionless beneath the paws of the lion, which half squatted, half stood over +him. At a respectable distance beyond, half a dozen big dogs dashed hither and +thither, yelping furiously. The lion’s teeth were bared, and, as he +caught sight of us, his tail, which had been waving from flank to flank, +suddenly stiffened up behind him. I knew that signal too well, and, as Katrina +cried ‘schiet! schiet!’ (shoot! shoot!), I fired. The bullet +entered the fierce brute’s chest, raked his heart and lungs, and he sank +quietly upon the instant, dead upon the body of Visser. Calling up the +Hottentot, we dragged the lion’s body from off the Boer. The instant I +saw Gerrit’s face I knew all was over. It was very clear what had +happened. The lion had sprung upon him unawares. He had missed his shot, and +with one blow of its fore-paw the brute had slain the big strong Dutchman. The +right part of the skull was literally smashed in. Well, strangely enough, +Katrina Visser was not so overcome by this horrible event as I had expected. I +think the doubling of the horror of the previous evening had been too much for +her, and had numbed something of her feelings. She was extraordinarily calm, +and throughout the next four and twenty dreadful hours bore herself +wonderfully. We buried poor Gerrit and his little lad next day under a thorn +tree a trifle to the west of the farmstead and fenced the place in strongly. +Few Dutchmen, as you know, are ever buried in consecrated ground in South +Africa. It is seldom possible up-country. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s practically the whole of the melancholy yarn. Katrina +married again a few years later. Dutch women seldom remain widows very long. +But she was never quite the same woman again, after that terrible Easter time. +She still lives at Water Kloof. I saw her only last year. Her hair, like mine, +is very grey, and she has a second family growing around her. She likes me to +look round for a chat if I am ever in Marico, and so, for old acquaintance +sake, I usually outspan for a day if I am anywhere near Water Kloof. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you fellows,” concluded the old trader, “that’s +the true story of the saddest Easter morning I ever remember to have +experienced or even heard of. Englishmen who come into this country scarcely, I +think, make sufficient allowance for what the Transvaal Dutch have gone through +in the conquest and settlement of their territory. Few families there are among +the Boers but can tell you of some such experience as I have given you +to-night. To my mind, it is scarcely wonderful that these people cling so +tightly to the soil on which so much of their best blood has been spilt. +Good-night, all. It’s late and I must turn in.” And the old fellow +rose from the fire, knocked the ashes out of his pipe, stretched himself, and +climbed into his waggon. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>Chapter Thirteen.<br/> +The Mystery of Hartebeest Fontein.</h2> + +<p> +Upon a morning of early December in the year 1880, Arend Van Driel, the Trek +Boer, stood upon his waggon-box anxiously scanning the plains for any sight of +game. Leaning upon the tilt and shading his eyes from the already powerful sun, +his feverish glance swept the great grass plains for the faintest token of +animal life. Alas, it appeared that here the veldt was deserted. The big +Dutchman’s eyes ran fruitlessly over the waste again and again, until +they rested upon a little chain of brown hills, just now rose-tinted by the +flush of the early morning sun, but nothing in the shape of a herd of game was +to be seen. With a deep sigh the Boer climbed slowly down from the waggon and +joined his family at their miserable breakfast, by the remains of the overnight +camp fire. And, indeed, Arend Van Driel had good cause for dejection. +</p> + +<p> +Two years before, he and his family had quitted the Transvaal with a great body +of Trek Boers, who had made up their minds to leave a country upon which +misrule and misfortune had long rested, and which now lay beneath the hands of +the hated British Government. The misfortunes of that ill-fated Trek have long +since become historical in the annals of the Transvaal Dutch. Thirst, famine, +fever and dysentery were soon busy among the members of one of the most +disastrous and ill-managed expeditions ever known in South Africa. The trek +cattle perished by hundreds in the Thirstlands of the Northern Kalahari, the +flocks and herds, left masterless, wandered and strayed, and disappeared by +thousands. Along the rivers and swamps of Ngamiland and the Okavango, sickness +and suffering destroyed whole families. The trek had set forth with the highest +and most exaggerated hopes, chiefly based upon the gross ignorance of these +misguided and fanatical farmers. They moved north-westward towards some unknown +Land of Canaan, where, as they fondly imagined, great snow mountains stood, +where the veldt was always rich and flourishing, where clear waters ran +abundantly, and where the wild game wandered as thick as sheep in a fold. Some +even believed, as their fathers had believed, when they moved into the +Transvaal country, that somewhere in this new and unknown land, the great Nile +river itself would be found. After more than two years of disastrous trekking, +most of these vain imaginings had been rudely dispelled, but still, their faces +set ever doggedly westward, these stubborn people toiled on. +</p> + +<p> +During the expedition, the trekkers had necessarily become much scattered; thus +Arend Van Driel and his family stood alone this December day of 1880 by a small +pan of muddy water, where they had halted to recruit their exhausted trek oxen +and the two horses that remained to them. They had quitted the Transvaal with +two hundred head of cattle and six hundred sheep and goats. These once thriving +flocks and herds were now represented by some two score of miserable sheep and +goats, mere bags of bones, which could scarcely drag one limb after another. It +was absolutely necessary to husband even these slender resources, and Van Driel +had therefore been anxiously surveying the surrounding veldt for some herd of +game from which he could secure a meal or two for his starving family. He now +moved up to the camp fire with disappointment written plainly upon his gaunt, +sun-tanned and bearded face. His wife knelt in a ragged old stuff dress +stirring some thin porridge of Kaffir corn—their only present +sustenance—in an iron pot. She looked up from underneath her sun-bonnet, +and, catching the gloom upon her husband’s face, ejaculated, “Nie +wilde, Arend?” (“No game, Arend?”) “Nie wilde, +nie,” returned Arend disconsolately. “I think the Lord means us to +die after all in this desert. Cursed was the day we ever left the +Transvaal.” He sat himself down in the red sand by his children, after +they had been helped to a small plateful of porridge each, and took and ate his +own portion. There were four children left to the Van Driels. There had been +seven when they quitted the Transvaal. Three had died of fever at Vogel Pan, a +little to the south of the Okavango. Of those remaining, Hermannus, a big lad +of fifteen, seemed fairly strong; the other three, a boy and two girls, ranging +from five to twelve, looked, poor things, pale, weak and dispirited from fever, +misery and semi-starvation. The clothes of all were tattered and ragged and +hung loosely about them. +</p> + +<p> +The interior of the big waggon hard by looked very bare for a Dutchman’s. +But, as a matter of fact, almost all the little stock of furniture and house +gear had been perforce abandoned. Ploughs, farming implements, tables and +chairs, and other impedimenta, all now lay in the middle of that dire +Thirstland between Khama’s and the Botletli River, where they had long +since been cast away to lighten the load. Even the very waggon +chairs—dear to every Boer—had been thrown away. Hermannus, the +eldest lad, was the first to finish that meagre breakfast of ground millet, +boiled in water. He now rose and in his turn climbed to the waggon and took a +survey over the country. Suddenly an exclamation broke from his lips. +“Father, there’s game half a mile away, just moving from behind +that patch of bush. I think they are hartebeest.” +</p> + +<p> +The stolid, melancholy-looking Boer was roused in an instant from his apathy. +He climbed quickly to the waggon, and in his turn gazed intently at the game. +“Yes, that’s right enough, Hermannus,” he said; +“they’re hartebeest—they must have slept behind those bushes +last night—and they’re coming straight this way. Ah! see, they have +got our wind.” Even as he spoke the troop of game, some thirty in number, +suddenly halted, turned in their tracks, and cantered in that heavy, loping +fashion, which these fleet antelopes adopt in their slower paces, towards the +heart of the plain. +</p> + +<p> +Calling to the two Kaffir servants still remaining to him to bring in the +horses, just now feeding, knee-haltered, upon the veldt a hundred yards away, +Van Driel and his son looked to their saddles and bridles, filled a water +bottle, reached down their Westley-Richards rifles and bandoliers from the +waggon hooks, and buckled on a rusty spur apiece. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall be back before sunset, wife,” said Van Driel. “I +think, after all, the Heer God means us to have a right good dinner.” And +so, mounting, he rode off with Hermannus. +</p> + +<p> +“The Heer God be with you both,” echoed Vrouw Van Driel, “and +may you bring meat—we want it badly enough.” The three younger +children cried luck after their father and brother, and waved their hands, and +so, watching the horsemen cantering away, gazed and gazed until the two forms +presently faded from mere specks into absolute oblivion, and were swallowed up +in the immensity of the great plain. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the two hunters rode steadily upon the spoor of the hartebeest. It +was a good troop, and although the chase might be a long one the Boers were so +accustomed to bagging the game they followed that they looked confidently to a +dead buck or two before afternoon. Surely, they thought, as half-hour after +half-hour they followed steadily upon the footprints, now clear in the firm +sand, now amid the long grass, hardly to be distinguished, even by the +wonderful instinct of these sons of the veldt, the hartebeest will presently +stand and rest, or feed again. But no. The antelopes had secured a good start +and had long since cantered at that deceptive pace of theirs clean out of +sight; and the tell-tale spoor indicated, as mile after mile was reeled off, +that they were still moving briskly and that their point was some far distant +one. +</p> + +<p> +The two ponies, rough and unkempt, and angular as they were, were perhaps in +better condition than the rest of the camp—whether human beings or +stock—put together. Their well-being was absolutely necessary to the +safety of the party; without them game would be desperately hard to come at; +they had, therefore, been fed pretty regularly on Kaffir corn, and still +retained condition. Moreover, they came of that hardy Cape breed which produces +some of the toughest, most courageous, and most serviceable horseflesh in the +world. The nags were all right, and hour after hour they cantered steadily on. +</p> + +<p> +It was now twelve o’clock, the sun was desperately hot, they had ridden +nearly five hours, with but one short off-saddle, and it was absolutely +necessary to give the horses another rest. Father and son, therefore, +off-saddled at a patch of thin bush, knee-haltered the nags, which at once +rolled and began to feed, and themselves rested under the scant shadow of the +brush. For nearly an hour Arend smoked in silence. Meanwhile the lad lay prone +upon his stomach, gazing straight in front of him in the direction in which the +game still headed. Out there now rose before the two hunters, swelling solidly +from the plain of yellowish-green grass, the low chain of hill, which, as they +viewed it from the waggon-box that morning, had seemed so far away. But they +had ridden eighteen good miles since breakfast; the hill stood now but four +miles away, and each cleft, krantz, and precipice of its scarred and +weather-worn sides, each dark patch of bush and undergrowth, now showed plain +and naked before their eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s where the hartebeest have made for, father,” said the +lad, at last; “shall we catch them there, think you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered the big Boer, cocking his tattered, broad-brimmed +hat yet more over his eyes, and looking very hard at the line of hill. +“They’ve gone in there, right enough, Hermannus; in by that dark +kloof yonder. But whether the kloof leads right through the hill to the country +beyond I can’t tell. If it does, we shall have a long hunt and be out all +night on the spoor; if it doesn’t we shall catch them in a trap, I hope. +Maghte! But my stomach aches for a bit of good flesh, and your mother and the +children want soup and meat badly, poor souls. Fetch in the horses, lad. +They’ve had rest, and we must push on again.” +</p> + +<p> +Hermannus rose, walked out on to the veldt, drove up the nags, and once more +they saddled up and mounted. They went very warily now, looking keenly along +the base of the little range of kopjes, to see that the hartebeests were not +feeding quietly among the scattered bush that grew about the lower slopes. But +no; the spoor still held straight ahead, and in half an hour they were at the +entrance of the kloof. It was a narrow ravine, which appeared to have been +violently rent by nature right into the heart of the hills, but which, +doubtless, the action of water, erosion, and ages of time had worn slowly and +with infinite quiet, century after century, deep into the hard rocks. After two +hundred yards of this narrow ravine, the kloof suddenly turned at a right angle +and then broadened out into an open valley about half a mile long. The spoor +had told the hunters very plainly that the antelopes had entered the kloof. But +it was not yet evident why they had travelled all that way thither. Father and +son now settled upon a plan of action. It was clear, upon looking up the +valley, that no exit was to be found at the far end. If, however, they rode +straight up the kloof they would probably drive the game right over the hills, +where to follow would be difficult and shooting not easy. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot make out why the buck have come in here,” whispered Van +Driel, meditatively, as they stood beside their horses, and, well screened by +bushes, gazed up the valley. “It’s not like hartebeest ground at +all. There must be water or new grass, or some such attraction at the head of +the kloof. We will leave the nags here fastened to the bush.” He took up +a handful of sand and let it fall lightly through his fingers. “The wind +is right enough, it blows fair down the kloof. There is plenty of cover along +the bottom here. If we leave the nags and creep very quietly among the bush we +shall probably get a fair shot or two each. The game here is seldom hunted, and +as far as we can judge the place is never visited by man. Come along!” +</p> + +<p> +The two crept slowly up the valley, moving, from bush to bush, with infinite +care and caution, their soft, home-made velschoons of water-buck hide making +little or no noise as they pressed forward. Now and again they crossed the neat +spoor of the antelopes, imprinted deep in the smooth, red, sandy soil. Then +they looked at one another and their eyes gleamed responsively. It was clear +that the game had fed slowly and carelessly towards the head of the kloof; +their rifles were loaded and cocked; the time of action was very near. +</p> + +<p> +In a quarter of an hour, or a little more, they were drawing very close to the +end of the valley; the bush grew thicker, which was all the better for their +purpose. With extraordinary pains they picked their way, the spoor still +guiding them. Suddenly Arend Van Driel, stretching back his hand in warning, +dropped from his stooping walk down upon one knee. Hermannus instantly followed +his example. Van Driel motioned his son very softly forward, and, creeping up, +the lad saw through a small opening in the bush what had arrested his +father’s progress. +</p> + +<p> +It was a glorious sight, truly. The end of the valley, bounded on three sides +by the steep and rough hill, lay before them. The ground was nearly open, and +in the centre of the rich, dark red soil flowed, over a rocky bed, a sparkling +stream of the clearest water, which issued from the hillside to the right, and +disappeared, apparently, beneath a litter of rocks on the left. Close to the +stream, within sixty to eighty yards of where the hunters were concealed, were +the hartebeests, most of them lying down; some few standing with heads down in +sleepy fashion; others, again, plucking lazily at some green young grass, which +here and there masked the good red soil. Only one of them, a knowing-looking +old cow, was really on the alert. The long, black faces, corrugated horns, and +bright bay coats of the big antelopes united, with the fair surrounding +scenery, to form a striking picture of feral life. +</p> + +<p> +Attracted by the pleasantness of this green, charming, and well-watered spot, +numbers of birds, many of them of brilliant plumage, were flitting hither and +thither, crying, some sweetly, some vociferously, one to another. Here were +gorgeous emerald cuckoos on their way south, honey birds, kingfishers, and +bee-eaters of the most resplendent plumage, and various finches and small +birds. Seldom had the two Dutchmen set eyes on a more lovely scene. +</p> + +<p> +But the aesthetic charm of the place was not for the Boers, gaunt with hunger +and privations. A look and a nod from father to son; the rifles were levelled; +the targets selected, and the loud reports rang out, terrifying the wild life +of this gem-like oasis, and rattling from krantz to krantz along the rough hill +sides. Two hartebeests instantly went down and lay struggling in their death +agonies. One of these staggered to its feet again; but Hermannus had shoved +another cartridge into his breech, and a second shot finally stretched the +animal upon the earth again, this time for good. Meanwhile, as the terrified +troop sprang to their feet and tore frantically past his right front, Arend Van +Driel rose quickly, slewed half round, and fired another shot. The bullet sped +home, raking obliquely the lungs of another antelope, which was later on found +dead two or three hundred yards down the kloof. +</p> + +<p> +The two Boers walked forward to the stream, surveyed for a minute or two their +dead game, a fat cow and a young bull, both in high condition, and then +kneeling at the water, drank long and deep, and laved their faces, arms, and +hands. The lad was now despatched at once to the bend of the kloof for the +horses, which could not only drink and feed here, but were to be freighted with +as much meat as they could carry for the camp. Before setting to work to skin +the game. Van Driel walked along the margin of the stream to the spot whence it +issued—a natural fountain among the rocks. Here, casting about, he came +upon a discovery that electrified him—first the whitened bones of a man +and a pair of spurs, afterwards an old weather-worn percussion gun, rotten and +rusty, a powder-horn, and a good-sized and very heavy metal box. Opening this +metal box with great difficulty, the Boer found it full of what he recognised +instantly as gold nuggets, many of them of considerable size. Searching yet +further among the rocks, the Boer discovered, just as Hermannus rode up with +the led horse, a carefully laid pile of much bigger nuggets, worth manifestly a +large sum of money. Who was the man whose poor remains lay bleaching in the +sand there? When had he entered the kloof? How had he died? These were +questions impossible to answer. +</p> + +<p> +Van Driel could only surmise, from the make and shape of the old percussion +smooth-bore and powder-horn, that the owner must have died there thirty or +forty years before. Looking again closely at the powder-horn, Hermannus +discovered the initials “H.D.,” carved neatly upon the side. But +H.D.’s life and death and history lay hidden among these pathetic relics, +mysteries impenetrable, insoluble. That sweet and secret valley alone knew the +truth of them. +</p> + +<p> +They turned out the box of nuggets, counting up their treasure. At the very +bottom, half hidden among sand and rubble, lay a scrap of paper, yellow, faded, +and discoloured. Hermannus, who could read, eagerly opened it. Inside, in a +tottering hand, were a few lines scrawled in pencil. But the writing was not in +Dutch, and, spell at the sentences as he might, Hermannus could make nothing of +them. +</p> + +<p> +Setting to work with a will, father and son rapidly skinned and cut up as much +of the hartebeest meat as their nags could carry; the rest of the carcases they +carefully covered up from the vultures and wild beasts. It was now dusk, +darkness would be swiftly upon them. They determined to camp for the night and +ride back to their waggon with the first streak of dawn. They made a roaring +fire, tied up their horses to a tree close at hand, cooked some meat, enjoyed a +hearty meal, and then smoked their pipes with stolid contentment. Then, making +pillows of the inner parts of their saddles, and with their feet to the fire, +they sank into profound sleep. +</p> + +<p> +It must have been towards midnight that Arend Van Driel was awakened suddenly +by the movement of his horse, which was tugging nervously at the branch to +which its head-reim was fastened, as if startled by some prowling beast of +prey. “Lions!” muttered the Boer to himself. He stirred the fire, +threw on more wood, and, rising, patted and reassured his horse, which, with +dilated nostrils, snuffed at the night air and stared with wild eyes out into +the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Van Driel picked up his rifle, lit his pipe, and sat by the fire, watching and +waiting. It was very eerie in this far and remote valley, but the Trek Boer is +a man used to solitude and a wild life, and his nervous system is, happily for +himself, not very highly developed. All the man troubled himself about was his +horseflesh. Horses are scarce in the far recesses of the interior, and Arend +had no intention of losing either of his nags by the attack of lion or leopard. +Suddenly his horse snorted at the breeze again and pulled fiercely at his reim. +Something approached—something that scared intensely the nervous animal. +With ears and eyes strained, the Boer looked out into the darkness, beyond the +ring of firelight. Hark! what was that? And then something—Van Driel +could not make out what—moved past some twenty paces away on the other +side of the fire. It looked about the height and size of a lion. The +Boer’s rifle went to his shoulder, he took rapid aim, and fired. The +report of the Westley-Richards rattled out from the rocks behind them, and, +mingled with the sound, rose a strange, wild, shuddering cry, half human, half +bestial. It was no lion’s or leopard’s cry, as Van Driel knew +instantly. What in God’s name could it be? A baboon perhaps? +</p> + +<p> +Hermannus, at the rattle of the fire arm, had sprung up from his deep slumber, +and, rifle in hand, was now glaring about him. They listened. Strange moaning +wails came to them on the soft night air from the blackness beyond the fire +there. They were terribly human. The men looked at one another with scared +faces, but uttered no word. +</p> + +<p> +The sounds grew fainter and fainter and presently ceased. +</p> + +<p> +“What was it, father?” asked the lad at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Naam van de drommel! I cannot say,” returned the Boer. “I +thought it was a lion. It is no lion, surely; it may be a baboon.” +</p> + +<p> +They sat waiting, listening intently, for another ten minutes. Then Hermannus +sprang to his feet. “Whatever it was,” he exclaimed, “the +thing is dead. I shall see what it is.” +</p> + +<p> +He plucked a big brand from the fire, and, grasping his rifle, stepped forward. +His father followed his example, and with great caution they moved out beyond +the flickering circle of the firelight. Thirty paces away their torches showed +them something. It rested on the veldt there, silent, completely motionless. +Again they advanced and stood over the thing. +</p> + +<p> +It lay there at their feet, naked, hairy, something on the figure of a man, yet +surely not a man. Blood was oozing softly from a big wound in the back, where +Van Driel’s bullet had entered. +</p> + +<p> +“An ape of some kind, father,” queried Hermannus, “but not a +baboon. What do you make of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Alas, no ape, I fear,” returned Van Driel, with a shudder. +“This is a bad night’s work. ’Tis a wild man. I have heard of +such things, but never yet have I set eyes upon one. Pick it up by the legs +there, we will carry it to the fire.” +</p> + +<p> +At the firelight they examined with repugnance and even fear the thing that had +met its death. It was a man! Nay. It had once been a man; it was now but a +travesty of mankind. Deeply tanned all over; with its shock of dark hair and +beard, now going grey, and a shaggy growth almost covering the loathsome body, +it looked a mere beast of the field. The thing had gone mostly upon hands and +knees—or upon hands and feet—and the parts that touched the soil +were thickened and callous. How many years this poor terrible relic of humanity +had lived here alone; how it had gained its living; how escaped the fierce +carnivora of the desert, were mysteries that no man could answer. The silent +rocks, the grass, the trees, the air—these were the only witnesses, and +they were for ever unite. +</p> + +<p> +There was no more sleep for the Van Driels that night. They sat talking in low, +subdued tones until dawn, and then, taking up the spoor of the wild man, ran +the trail down to a cavern among the rocks, where the poor creature had made +its lair. Here were bones; the remains of animals, of lizards, birds, locusts, +even fish, upon which, with berries, bulbs, and wild roots, the thing had +existed for all these years! +</p> + +<p> +Returning to the fire, they picked up the now stiff form, more hideous and +loathsome than ever by broad daylight, and carried it to its den. This they +sealed from the wild beasts with heavy rocks and stones. +</p> + +<p> +Then they saddled up and rode off for the waggon, which was reached by mid-day. +They and their bountiful supply of meat were received with a chorus of welcome +from the starved and ailing family, and in that lone and distressful wilderness +they presently enjoyed together a right hearty meal. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning Arend Van Driel had settled upon a plan of action. He despatched +his native “boys” on a month’s journey, far back to one of +the standing camps of the Trek Boers, upon the Okavango. So soon as they were +out of the way, he trekked with his family for Hartebeest Fontein, as they now +called the place of mystery. Arend had seen something of gold mining at +Lydenburg, in the Eastern Transvaal, and, from the discoveries he had already +made, he guessed that the valley was rich in alluvial gold. He was not +mistaken. In less than a month’s search in the rich alluvial soil at the +head of the kloof and along the bed of the stream, he and his family picked up +many a good nugget; so that, with the store already gathered by their dead +predecessors, they trekked away, carrying with them enough gold to set +themselves up in a fair way for the rest of their lives. They were not sorry to +quit the valley, with its grim secrets, and presently, after much hard and +toilsome travel, reached Transvaal soil again. +</p> + +<p> +The Dutch Afrikanders are a secretive race and keep their own counsel. +Moreover, they are the last people in the world to trumpet forth gold +discoveries for the benefit of the detested Britisher, who threatens in time to +over-run the whole of South Africa. Arend Van Driel is now one of the +wealthiest farmers in the Transvaal. His son, Hermannus, who is married and +lives on an excellent farm near, is just as comfortably off. Their Rustenburg +neighbours have puzzled for years—and still puzzle—over the return +of this family from the Mossamedes trek and their great and inexplicable +accession of wealth. But Van Driel and his good vrouw, who started on that +terrible expedition strong and hearty people on the right side of +six-and-thirty, without a grey hair between them, and came back lined and grey, +and apparently far on into middle age, are never likely to yield up their +secret. Nor is Hermannus, nor are the rest of the family. The quiet valley of +Hartebeest Fontein, with its strange discoveries and uncanny inhabitant, remain +mysteries locked safely within the breasts of each one of them. +</p> + +<p> +Hermannus, by the way, soon after their arrival in the Transvaal, got, from an +Englishman at a Klerks-dorp store, a translation of the writing upon that +pathetic bit of paper found in the box of nuggets. The translation ran thus: +</p> + +<p> +“I am camped here, with my little son, on my way prospecting from +Namaqualand. My comrade, John Finch, died at Fish River. Waggon looted by +Namaqua Hottentots. Found my way here, but horse dead of sickness and can go +neither forward nor back. Plenty of gold, but no present chance of escape. What +will become of my boy James, nine years old? God help us, I am very ill and +doubt how things may end. Henry Dursley. August, 1847.” +</p> + +<p> +That poor stained letter, which contains the secret of Hartebeest Fontein, old +Arend Van Driel, strangely enough, still cherishes in its battered metal box, +locked up securely in the dark recesses of his ancient waggon-chest, which +itself rests beside the big family bed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>Chapter Fourteen.<br/> +Charlie Thirlmere’s Lion.</h2> + +<p> +On a March morning Charlie Thirlmere and his wife were at breakfast in their +pretty flat near Park Lane. A cloud sat on Charlie’s fresh, good-looking +face. He looked at his wife curiously, and then launched into the business that +worried him. +</p> + +<p> +“Sybil,” he said, “we must pull up. I want to have a serious +talk with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t begin business at this +unearthly period,” replied Sybil. “I am going out riding in less +than an hour, and I haven’t time.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can spare ten minutes, old girl,” he said; “and things +are getting into such a hobble that we must pull up and make an alteration. If +we don’t, another year or two will see us stony, so far as I am +concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go on,” returned Sybil, putting her red lips to a cup of +tea, “and do compress your lecture. At eleven Cecil Cloudesley will be +here with a new pony we want to look at.” +</p> + +<p> +Charlie’s brows knitted into a little frown. “Oh! hang Cecil +Cloudesley and his ponies!” he exclaimed. “Three years ago when we +married,” he went on, “we had sixteen hundred a year between us. +You had seven hundred, I had nine hundred. Well, I’ve often told you +we’ve been going the pace far too much—it’s been my fault, I +admit, quite as much as yours—and now this is how we stand. I’ve +had to break into my capital—four times in three years, as Jesson and +Fosbery remind me—and now my income is reduced to something over four +hundred. Your money, thank goodness, is tied up. Eleven hundred would do us +passably well, living quietly in the country; and to that we shall have to make +up our minds. I’ve given up my nags, as you know. After July we must sell +off, give up the flat, and retrench seriously. I’ve had enough of this +sort of thing, and I’m getting heartily sick of it. I’m getting +soft and hipped, and I loathe this incessant keeping up appearances, and living +beyond one’s means. And there’s the baby. Poor little chap, he sees +precious little of us, living as we do. We must give him a chance. I’m +sure he needs fresh air and a country life far more even than we do!” +</p> + +<p> +This reference to her two-year-old child was rather a sore subject for Sybil. +She knew that in the whirling life she led, she had really neglected the +youngster. But her spirit rose instantly to combat the suggestion. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Arthur’s all right,” she returned with some sharpness. +“He was at the mater’s for a month at Christmas, and he’ll be +there again in May or June. But we can’t live on a thousand a year, +that’s certain. I suppose you can get something to do. I +can’t—I really can’t—be buried alive in the +country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” returned her husband, a little hot at the cool way in which +she had met his advance. “I’ve been thinking over things. I shall +sell out another thousand or so and go off to Rhodesia, and try and pick up +some mining claims or town lots. You must live on 900 pounds a year somehow, +and I’ll do the best I can to pick up some oof. Anyhow I’m tired of +this sort of life. I see very little of you, and you can put up with my absence +for a year, I suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“I might perhaps even exist for two years without the light of your +countenance, Charlie, if I tried <i>very</i> hard!” retorted Sybil. +</p> + +<p> +A little flush had risen to her cheeks, and a rebellious sparkle flashed in her +dark eyes. She had not reckoned upon this proposition. Charlie was useful, nay, +necessary to her in a hundred little ways, and she hated the idea of parting +from him. She was angry with herself and with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that settles it,” rejoined her husband coolly. +“I’ll try and make some coin in Mashonaland, and you stay at home +and pull in a bit. We shall be better friends when I come back. Somehow this +town life doesn’t suit either of us. We hit it off a thousand times +better when we lived at the Grange.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose and lit a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll settle up all outstanding things,” he went on; +“and if you stay in town you’ll have to do with one pony for +riding, and hire a Victoria when you want it I should advise your staying with +your mother for six months. She’ll be delighted to have you and the +youngster.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t part with either Dandy or The Barber,” returned +Sybil hotly, “and you really needn’t bother me as to my movements. +I can take care of myself very well during your absence.” +</p> + +<p> +Thirlmere glanced at his wife. She was not looking his way, her thoughts ran +elsewhere. He was extremely fond of her, and, at this moment, just as he was +about leaving her, she looked, he thought, more charming than ever. He went to +her side, stooped, and kissed her soft cheek. The caress was accepted with +something very like indifference. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, old girl,” he said. “Don’t worry yourself. +I know you are right enough. You have plenty of wits and abounding common +sense. Give up some of the crowd you are swimming with. I dare say when +I’m gone you’ll make a change and pull in. I don’t demand it. +I hope it, and expect it, from your good sense, and I know you as well as you +know yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“There, don’t preach, Charlie,” replied his wife. +“I’m awfully busy this morning. Do go and look after your own work. +If you’re off to Rhodesia, you must have heaps to do.” +</p> + +<p> +Thirlmere quitted the room, and Sybil breathed a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +Two months after this morning in March, Charlie Thirlmere was in Mashonaland, +wandering about the country in the company of a mining prospector, shooting and +exploring. They had for months very little success. Most of the likely spots +for gold had been already pegged out by their forerunners. They returned to +Salisbury and fitted out an expedition for the Zambesi Valley. They were away +seven months, discovered indications of a coalfield, and then, on their way +into Salisbury again, stumbled, within fifty miles of the town, upon a strong +gold reef. It was in a broad, rich-looking valley, of romantic beauty, +well-wooded in parts with acacia, Kaffir orange, and other trees, and hemmed in +by massive granite kopjes—huge masses of rock, strewn as if by the hands +of giants—with a pleasant little river, fringed with palmetto, meandering +beneath the rock-walls. So rich, apparently, was the reef, that they pegged out +at once, procured some native labour, built a couple of huts, and, sending into +Salisbury for dynamite, roping and windlass, and fresh implements, determined +to camp for some months, and go in for a systematic opening up of the reef. +</p> + +<p> +The weeks ran by. The hot season, the second since Thirlmere had left England, +was approaching. Already the rains were upon them, and they had begun to +experience some of the miseries of living under constant tropical downpours in +leaky native huts, thatched carelessly with grass by lazy Mashonas. Yet the +mine prospects were so good that they hung on. +</p> + +<p> +It was now December. They had sent in a native servant with their last +remaining donkey to bring out supplies and some few luxuries, and awaited his +return impatiently. They had reached the valley with four donkeys, the poor +remnants of their long Zambesi string; but lions, which were troublesome and +daring, had killed three, as well as their sole remaining horse. The camp was +very quiet, only two or three native workers were with them, and from these +they extracted precious little labour at their shafts and other operations. +John Brightling, a Cornish miner, a capital fellow, Thirlmere’s constant +companion in his prospecting operations for a full year past, was down with +fever. Thirlmere himself was feeling none too fit, but was still well enough to +tend his sick comrade. +</p> + +<p> +Night fell. It was a dark night, with no moon, and a threatening of heavy rain. +Charlie Thirlmere had had a fire kindled between the two huts—their own +and the natives’—but at nine o’clock, a drenching +thunderstorm, which came roaring and reverberating with fierce lightnings and +deafening re-echoes among the kopjes, effectually put an end to it, Brightling +had felt better towards night. After a day of racking pain, the sweating stage +had reached him; his head was clear, the fever had left him, and he had been +able to sup some of the game-broth that Thirlmere had prepared for him. He was +now sleeping quietly. +</p> + +<p> +At ten, Charlie heard the moaning roar of lions not far away. Shortly after +followed the sharp, dissonant yells of the Mashonas from their hut, fifty yards +distant. Lions were abroad, plainly. Thirlmere opened the hut door and fired a +couple of cartridges, by way of scaring off the night prowlers. Then he lay +down on his skin couch, pulled his blanket over him, and dozed off. +</p> + +<p> +How soon afterwards it was he could never tell, but he was awakened in the +black darkness by hearing some noise at the door of the hut. He picked up his +loaded carbine, and went softly that way. Gently lifting the latch, he opened +the door and peered out. Almost in the same instant, his left hand, which was +thrust a little forward, was seized in the jaws of some savage creature, armed +with frightful teeth. With a yell that leapt from rock to rock of the quiet +valley, and seemed to split the very darkness, the unfortunate man lifted his +carbine and belaboured the brute that held him fast, fiercely about the head. +But the lion—for such it was—held on grimly, chewing, and +crunching, and tugging hard at the hand now gripped so ruthlessly in those +ferocious jaws. During this frightful struggle Thirlmere felt, curiously +enough, little of actual physical pain. He was conscious of some sudden shock, +just such as he remembered from a heavy fall in hunting; but, chiefly, his mind +was concentrated in a determination to free himself at all hazards from his +captor. He ceased hitting the brute with his carbine, and instinctively poked +at the lion’s head with the muzzle end. Suddenly he encountered something +soft. It was the brute’s eye. His forefinger slipped from the +trigger-guard to the trigger itself and pulled. The bullet crashed deep into +the lion’s brain, and upon the instant the fierce creature fell dead at +his feet, dragging him to earth in its fall. Then his mind reeled into +unconsciousness and he remembered no more. +</p> + +<p> +Three minutes later, John Brightling, who had started from his bed of fever at +the sound of Charlie’s yell and the report of the rifle, had lit a +lantern, and was outside. He could scarcely believe his senses when he found, +just beyond the doorway, the body of the dead lion, with his comrade’s +senseless form lying across the grim beast’s forelegs, his left hand +still imprisoned in that terrible grip. +</p> + +<p> +Rousing the trembling natives from the adjacent hut, John, after some trouble, +succeeded in prising open the huge teeth, forcing the jaws apart, and releasing +the mangled hand—or rather, what remained of it. For the lion had bitten +three parts of that member from the rest of the limb. They got Thirlmere into +the hut; and then, while he lay still insensible, Brightling tied a ligature +tightly round the wrist, trimmed off the ghastly wound, washed the poor maimed +stump, and wrapped it in linen. Then he administered a stiff dose of brandy and +water, and Thirlmere presently began to come round. In a little while he had +pulled himself together wonderfully, and they discussed the situation. It would +take two days at least to get the doctor from Salisbury; and they had no +carbolic, meanwhile, to keep the wound sweet. What was to be done? A pot of +liquid pitch stood in one corner of the hut. Into that they inserted the still +bleeding stump, and bound up the wound again. It seemed the only thing to be +done, rude and barbarous as was the precaution. At the first streak of dawn +they despatched the fleetest among their native boys, with an urgent letter to +Salisbury for help. Fired by the promise of two sovereigns on his return, the +man set off at a steady jog-trot, vowing he would be in at the township that +evening. By eleven o’clock next day Brightling was down again in a hot +fit of malaria, while Charlie Thirlmere lay in his corner, feeling the fever of +his wound coursing through his veins and mounting to his brain. Presently he +wandered in a delirium; strange shapes and scenes passed before his distempered +mind; his tongue rambled. He called incessantly for Sybil. So the two men lay: +the hours passing on leaden wings. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +And Sybil herself was near. For a month or two after her husband’s +departure for Africa, she had led pretty much her old whirling life of pleasure +and excitement. Then things began to pall a little, and she took breath and +thought. After all, without Charlie, life seemed somehow different. She missed +him in a thousand ways. Even Cecil Cloudesley began to seem empty and inane, +and, after all, horseflesh and the society of smart people have their +limitations. By the time Goodwood was reached Sybil had made up her mind. She +had been chiefly to blame; she would try and do something for dear old Charlie, +grinding in the hot sun, in some horribly uninteresting place, out there in +Rhodesia. She sold off her ponies, gave up the flat, went down to her +mother’s, and announced that she and her child had come to stay for six +months. The stay resolved itself into much more than that period. A year and +more went by; Sybil wrote often to Charlie, but, during his long absence +towards the Zambesi, very few letters of his reached her. She became more and +more uneasy, and presently, hearing at last that he had settled for a time near +Salisbury, she determined to go out to him. Persuading her brother to accompany +her, the pair sailed for Cape Town, trained thence to Mafeking (the then limit +of the railway), and made their way by road to Salisbury. As fortune willed it, +they reached that place early in December, and made preparations to take +Charlie Thirlmere by storm. Their Cape cart and a buggy were loaded up with a +supply of good things, and they were to start at daybreak next morning. Late +that evening the Salisbury doctor came round to their hotel with a grave face. +He had had serious news of Thirlmere by a native runner; an accident had +happened; could he accompany them early next morning? +</p> + +<p> +The matter was urgent; they set off with four horses in each trap, two hours +before sun-up, and, travelling rapidly, reached Charlie Thirlmere’s hut +soon after three o’clock. Right or wrong, Sybil could not, would not, be +gainsaid. She slipped down, ran to the hut, and, standing at the open door, +looked at her husband lying there, drawn, pale, and dishevelled, in the corner. +All her heart leaped out to him. He was conscious, and knew her. +</p> + +<p> +“Sybil!” he cried feebly. “Where in God’s name have you +sprung from?” +</p> + +<p> +“My darling old boy,” she returned, kneeling at his side, and +kissing him tenderly, “it is I, surely enough, come to nurse you and get +you well, and,” (she whispered in his ear) “never to let you go +again, my husband.” +</p> + +<p> +She kissed him again and again, and then the doctor came forward. It was a very +near thing. Another dozen hours or so, and mortification would have set in. +They amputated above the wrist, and, after a most anxious and most miserable +time, pulled Charlie Thirlmere through towards Christmas. He lost his left +hand, it is true; but, as he always says, it was cheap at the price of his +subsequent happiness. +</p> + +<p> +They sold the gold claims excellently well, and the Thirlmeres now live the +happiest of lives in a pleasant English country home. No two married people can +be more devoted, or faster friends and comrades. One of the most treasured +mementoes of their African days stands in their big, cosy hall. It is the grim, +white skull of the lion, whose grinning teeth so nearly ended Charlie +Thirlmere’s existence. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +The End. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM VELDT CAMP FIRES ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +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™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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