Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fourteen.An Overhaul.“Magtig!” exclaimed Revell, “I swear I smell something roasting.”“S-s-s-h!” warned Brian, crouching low on his horse’s neck. “Dismount, every one.”A few hundred yards beneath we now saw a kraal. It lay in a deep natural basin, walled in with rugged rocks and thick bush; but so shut in was it on all sides that this seemed the only way in or out. A curl of smoke rose into the still evening air, and the sound of several deep voices in conversation was plainly audible; and with it, the strong smell of roasting meat confirmed us in the certainty that we had at length reached the object of our quest; for Kafirs very rarely kill their own cattle, and this circumstance combined with the freshness of the spoor, left no further doubt in our minds.And now, before we could formulate a plan, we heard a sound of trampling, and a number of oxen emerged from the thick bush beyond the kraal, urged forward by a single Kafir, who was driving them down to the gate of the thorn enclosure. There was no mistaking the large fine animals, white, but speckled all over with bluish black. It was Septimus Matterson’s fine span.“Wait—wait—wait!” whispered Brian, his voice in a tremble with excitement. “Let the devils bring them in—they are driving them right into our hands—and when I give the word, up and at them. We must charge right bang into them if there are five or five hundred. Down—keep down, Trask; they’ll see your hat, man.”With straining eyes we watched the savages—for three or four more had joined the single driver—as they urged the stolen beasts down to the gate and stood on each side to pass them in. The animals having been driven fast and far that day, were disposed to give no trouble, but entered the enclosure quietly, one with another.“Fifteen! They’ve killed one—and, by Jove! they are going to kill another,” whispered Brian, as the Kafirs, shutting the kraal gate behind them, advanced towards one of the largest oxen withreimsin their hands. “Now, are you all ready. We’ll capture the fellows inside. Don’t shout or anything but—up and at them!”With a headlong rush we charged down upon the kraal, but the Kafirs had seen us. A loud warning cry, and several lithe dark forms bounded like cats over the fence, and half-running, half-creeping, made for the bush as fast as ever they could pelt, while three more who were seated round a fire, each with a beef bone in his fist, gnawing the meat off, flung it down among a heap of other relics of the feast, and started up to fly. Evidently they were unaware of the smallness of our force, or perhaps took us for a posse of Mounted Police.“Look at that! Only look at that!” cried Revell, pointing to the fire, beside which lay the head and a remnant of the carcase of one of the stolen animals. And throwing all prudence to the winds, he up with his piece and let fly at one of the fleeing forms.“Steady, steady!” warned Brian. “No shooting, mind! Trask,doyou hear!”Too late. Trask had already pressed the trigger, and more fortunate—or unfortunate—than Revell, who had missed, owing to the fidgeting of his horse, one of the fleeing Kafirs was seen to stumble and fall, then, rising with an effort, dragged himself into the welcome cover of the bush.“First bird!” cried Trask, wild with excitement. “He’s dead. I saw him ‘tower.’”“No, you didn’t. You didn’t see anything,” returned Brian meaningly. “None of us saw anything of the sort, see! You only shot to scare, and I told you not to do that unless you were driven to it.”“That’s so,” said Revell, “we only shot to scare. Don’t be an idiot, Trask.”“But—” began that obtuse worthy. “Oh—ah—um—yes, I see!” he broke off as the idea at last found lodgment in his thick skull.Now all this had befallen in a very twinkling. The thieves had vanished as though into thin air—certainly into thick bush—and here we were, with fifteen out of the sixteen oxen composing the stolen span: better luck than might have fallen to our lot. But what about the stolen horses? And just then, as though in reply to my thoughts, I, who was taking no part in the foregoing wrangle, suddenly beheld two mounted figures dart away from some hiding place just the other side of the kraal. In a moment they were under cover of the bush and safe out of shot, but in that moment I had recognised the steed bestridden by the hindermost one. It was Meerkat—Beryl’s own particular and favourite horse—and it I had pledged myself to recover.Shouting my discovery to the others, I was off on the track of the fugitives, like a whirlwind. In that moment I recognised that none followed me. I heard, moreover, Brian’s voice peremptorily ordering me back, but to it I turned a deaf ear, for still clearer seemed to sound Beryl’s voice urging me forward. “Bring back Meerkat,” had been her parting words to me. And now there the horse was—not so very far in front of me. Brian might shout himself voiceless: this time I would pay no attention to him. A mad gallop, a short exhilarating pursuit, I would knock off its back the greasy rascal who was riding it, and would bring back the horse—Beryl’s horse—in triumph. The idea was more than exhilarating.Yes, but behind that lay its realisation, and this was not quite so easy. For the way was literally “dark and slippery.” Over staircase-like rocks, and rolling, slipping stones, it ran, now beneath the gloom of trees, now through lower scrub, whose boughs, flying back, more than once nearly swept me from the saddle. Listening intently, I could just catch the faint click of hoofs away in front, and with a sinking of heart I recognised that this sound seemed to be growing even more faint. The consciousness maddened me, and I spurred my faithful steed along that rugged way, plunging, floundering, but getting along somehow, in a manner not to be contemplated in cold blood.If the path was damnable, the ascent was easy, luckily, though rugged. I gave no thought as to whether any of my comrades were following, or if I did it was only a jealous misgiving lest I should not be, the first to come up with the quarry. The thieves might escape, for all I cared; the other horse might not be recovered, but recapture Beryl’s I would. Then I awoke to the unpleasing realisation that dusk was giving way to darkness, the downright sheer darkness of night.All the more reason for bringing the undertaking to a swift conclusion: wherefore I pommelled and spurred my hapless steed along with a ruthlessness of which at any other time I should be heartily ashamed. But here the end justified the means, and soon I was rewarded, for I heard the click of hoofs much nearer ahead now, and with it the smothered tone of a voice or two.Of course it should have occurred to me, had I not been transformed into a born idiot for the time being, that I was acting the part of one. For here I was, a man who had been little more than a month in the country, about to rush into the midst of unknown odds, to attack single-handed how many I knew not of fierce and savage desperadoes, right in their own especial haunt, in the thick of their own wild fastnesses; for it was highly probable that those whom I pursued had joined, or been joined by, others in front. Yet if I gave the matter a thought it was only a passing one.Now my steed pricked up its ears and began to whinny, recognising the close propinquity of its friends, and there sure enough, as the bush thinned out somewhat, I could see the two runaways barely that number of hundred yards ahead. Putting on a spurt I had halved the distance, when they halted. He who bestrode Beryl’s steed was an evil-looking savage with a string of blue beads about his neck, and an expression of contemptuous ferocity on his countenance as he faced round and awaited me, trying to conceal a long tapering assegai which he held ready to cast. But I rode straight for him, and when within thirty yards he launched the spear. Heavens! I could feel the draught created by the thing as it whizzed by my ear with almost the velocity of a bullet, and then I was upon him. But the fellow, who was quite a good horseman for a Kafir, managed to get hold of my bridle rein and, jerking it partly from my hand, hung back with it in such wise as to prevent my steed from ranging alongside of his. A mad, murderous temptation flashed through my mind to empty my shot barrel into his abominable carcase, but Brian’s emphatic warning still in my memory availed to stay my hand.I hardly know what happened then, or how. Whether it was that my horse, violently tugging backwards, succeeded in jerking the rein free, or my adversary, seeing his opportunity, had purposely let go, but the sudden recoil caused my fool of an animal to lose his balance and go clean over, taking me with him, and lo! I was rolling ignominiously upon the ground, though, fortunately, not under him. I saw the grin on the face of my late enemy, heard his jeering guffaw, and then—something swooped down over my head and shoulders shutting out sight and air in a most horrible and nauseous suffocation, pinning my arms to my sides, which several hands securely bound there. A babel of deep jeering voices filled my ears, muffled as they were, and I was seized and violently hustled forward at a great pace over a rough and stony way, the vicious dig of an assegai in my thigh emphasising a volley of injunctions which I could not understand. What I could understand, however, was that was expected to walk, and to walk smartly, too, guided by the very ungentle hands which urged me forward.

“Magtig!” exclaimed Revell, “I swear I smell something roasting.”

“S-s-s-h!” warned Brian, crouching low on his horse’s neck. “Dismount, every one.”

A few hundred yards beneath we now saw a kraal. It lay in a deep natural basin, walled in with rugged rocks and thick bush; but so shut in was it on all sides that this seemed the only way in or out. A curl of smoke rose into the still evening air, and the sound of several deep voices in conversation was plainly audible; and with it, the strong smell of roasting meat confirmed us in the certainty that we had at length reached the object of our quest; for Kafirs very rarely kill their own cattle, and this circumstance combined with the freshness of the spoor, left no further doubt in our minds.

And now, before we could formulate a plan, we heard a sound of trampling, and a number of oxen emerged from the thick bush beyond the kraal, urged forward by a single Kafir, who was driving them down to the gate of the thorn enclosure. There was no mistaking the large fine animals, white, but speckled all over with bluish black. It was Septimus Matterson’s fine span.

“Wait—wait—wait!” whispered Brian, his voice in a tremble with excitement. “Let the devils bring them in—they are driving them right into our hands—and when I give the word, up and at them. We must charge right bang into them if there are five or five hundred. Down—keep down, Trask; they’ll see your hat, man.”

With straining eyes we watched the savages—for three or four more had joined the single driver—as they urged the stolen beasts down to the gate and stood on each side to pass them in. The animals having been driven fast and far that day, were disposed to give no trouble, but entered the enclosure quietly, one with another.

“Fifteen! They’ve killed one—and, by Jove! they are going to kill another,” whispered Brian, as the Kafirs, shutting the kraal gate behind them, advanced towards one of the largest oxen withreimsin their hands. “Now, are you all ready. We’ll capture the fellows inside. Don’t shout or anything but—up and at them!”

With a headlong rush we charged down upon the kraal, but the Kafirs had seen us. A loud warning cry, and several lithe dark forms bounded like cats over the fence, and half-running, half-creeping, made for the bush as fast as ever they could pelt, while three more who were seated round a fire, each with a beef bone in his fist, gnawing the meat off, flung it down among a heap of other relics of the feast, and started up to fly. Evidently they were unaware of the smallness of our force, or perhaps took us for a posse of Mounted Police.

“Look at that! Only look at that!” cried Revell, pointing to the fire, beside which lay the head and a remnant of the carcase of one of the stolen animals. And throwing all prudence to the winds, he up with his piece and let fly at one of the fleeing forms.

“Steady, steady!” warned Brian. “No shooting, mind! Trask,doyou hear!”

Too late. Trask had already pressed the trigger, and more fortunate—or unfortunate—than Revell, who had missed, owing to the fidgeting of his horse, one of the fleeing Kafirs was seen to stumble and fall, then, rising with an effort, dragged himself into the welcome cover of the bush.

“First bird!” cried Trask, wild with excitement. “He’s dead. I saw him ‘tower.’”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t see anything,” returned Brian meaningly. “None of us saw anything of the sort, see! You only shot to scare, and I told you not to do that unless you were driven to it.”

“That’s so,” said Revell, “we only shot to scare. Don’t be an idiot, Trask.”

“But—” began that obtuse worthy. “Oh—ah—um—yes, I see!” he broke off as the idea at last found lodgment in his thick skull.

Now all this had befallen in a very twinkling. The thieves had vanished as though into thin air—certainly into thick bush—and here we were, with fifteen out of the sixteen oxen composing the stolen span: better luck than might have fallen to our lot. But what about the stolen horses? And just then, as though in reply to my thoughts, I, who was taking no part in the foregoing wrangle, suddenly beheld two mounted figures dart away from some hiding place just the other side of the kraal. In a moment they were under cover of the bush and safe out of shot, but in that moment I had recognised the steed bestridden by the hindermost one. It was Meerkat—Beryl’s own particular and favourite horse—and it I had pledged myself to recover.

Shouting my discovery to the others, I was off on the track of the fugitives, like a whirlwind. In that moment I recognised that none followed me. I heard, moreover, Brian’s voice peremptorily ordering me back, but to it I turned a deaf ear, for still clearer seemed to sound Beryl’s voice urging me forward. “Bring back Meerkat,” had been her parting words to me. And now there the horse was—not so very far in front of me. Brian might shout himself voiceless: this time I would pay no attention to him. A mad gallop, a short exhilarating pursuit, I would knock off its back the greasy rascal who was riding it, and would bring back the horse—Beryl’s horse—in triumph. The idea was more than exhilarating.

Yes, but behind that lay its realisation, and this was not quite so easy. For the way was literally “dark and slippery.” Over staircase-like rocks, and rolling, slipping stones, it ran, now beneath the gloom of trees, now through lower scrub, whose boughs, flying back, more than once nearly swept me from the saddle. Listening intently, I could just catch the faint click of hoofs away in front, and with a sinking of heart I recognised that this sound seemed to be growing even more faint. The consciousness maddened me, and I spurred my faithful steed along that rugged way, plunging, floundering, but getting along somehow, in a manner not to be contemplated in cold blood.

If the path was damnable, the ascent was easy, luckily, though rugged. I gave no thought as to whether any of my comrades were following, or if I did it was only a jealous misgiving lest I should not be, the first to come up with the quarry. The thieves might escape, for all I cared; the other horse might not be recovered, but recapture Beryl’s I would. Then I awoke to the unpleasing realisation that dusk was giving way to darkness, the downright sheer darkness of night.

All the more reason for bringing the undertaking to a swift conclusion: wherefore I pommelled and spurred my hapless steed along with a ruthlessness of which at any other time I should be heartily ashamed. But here the end justified the means, and soon I was rewarded, for I heard the click of hoofs much nearer ahead now, and with it the smothered tone of a voice or two.

Of course it should have occurred to me, had I not been transformed into a born idiot for the time being, that I was acting the part of one. For here I was, a man who had been little more than a month in the country, about to rush into the midst of unknown odds, to attack single-handed how many I knew not of fierce and savage desperadoes, right in their own especial haunt, in the thick of their own wild fastnesses; for it was highly probable that those whom I pursued had joined, or been joined by, others in front. Yet if I gave the matter a thought it was only a passing one.

Now my steed pricked up its ears and began to whinny, recognising the close propinquity of its friends, and there sure enough, as the bush thinned out somewhat, I could see the two runaways barely that number of hundred yards ahead. Putting on a spurt I had halved the distance, when they halted. He who bestrode Beryl’s steed was an evil-looking savage with a string of blue beads about his neck, and an expression of contemptuous ferocity on his countenance as he faced round and awaited me, trying to conceal a long tapering assegai which he held ready to cast. But I rode straight for him, and when within thirty yards he launched the spear. Heavens! I could feel the draught created by the thing as it whizzed by my ear with almost the velocity of a bullet, and then I was upon him. But the fellow, who was quite a good horseman for a Kafir, managed to get hold of my bridle rein and, jerking it partly from my hand, hung back with it in such wise as to prevent my steed from ranging alongside of his. A mad, murderous temptation flashed through my mind to empty my shot barrel into his abominable carcase, but Brian’s emphatic warning still in my memory availed to stay my hand.

I hardly know what happened then, or how. Whether it was that my horse, violently tugging backwards, succeeded in jerking the rein free, or my adversary, seeing his opportunity, had purposely let go, but the sudden recoil caused my fool of an animal to lose his balance and go clean over, taking me with him, and lo! I was rolling ignominiously upon the ground, though, fortunately, not under him. I saw the grin on the face of my late enemy, heard his jeering guffaw, and then—something swooped down over my head and shoulders shutting out sight and air in a most horrible and nauseous suffocation, pinning my arms to my sides, which several hands securely bound there. A babel of deep jeering voices filled my ears, muffled as they were, and I was seized and violently hustled forward at a great pace over a rough and stony way, the vicious dig of an assegai in my thigh emphasising a volley of injunctions which I could not understand. What I could understand, however, was that was expected to walk, and to walk smartly, too, guided by the very ungentle hands which urged me forward.

Chapter Fifteen.The Den of the Cattle Stealers.To give an adequate idea of my thoughts and feelings at that moment, or during those that followed, would amount to a sheer impossibility. Truly I had distinguished myself. I had undertaken to recover the stolen steed in bold and doughty fashion, and had allowed myself to be drawn into the most transparent booby-trap ever devised for the deception of mortal idiot. Instead of returning in triumph, having fulfilled Beryl’s parting injunction, here was I, strapped up helplessly, my head and face swathed in a filthy greasy Kafir blanket, only able to breathe—and that with difficulty—through its unspeakably nauseous folds. Heavens! I wonder I was not sick. Kicked and punched too, and a butt for every kind of jeer and insult from these black ruffians, although of course I could not understand the burden of the latter. But where was it going to end?Why had they not murdered me then and there? I thought. Could it be that they were taking me to some secure place where they might do it at their leisure, and hide away my body in some hole or cave where there was not the smallest chance of it ever being found, and so bearing witness against themselves? It looked like it—and the idea made my blood run cold with a very real and genuine fear.All thoughts of rescue—of immediate rescue—I was forced to put aside; delayed rescue would be too late. My comrades would hardly succeed in spooring us in the dark, and it was quite dark now; moreover, they were but three, and judging from the varying voices of those who held me, the latter must be fairly numerous. No, the situation was hopeless—abjectly hopeless. Half-dead with fatigue and semi-suffocation, my mind a prey to the most acute humiliation and self-reproach, I stumbled on—how I did so I hardly know. At last I could bear it no longer. They might kill me if they liked, but not another step would I stir until that horrible suffocating gag was removed.Something of this must have struck them too, for after a muttered consultation, they began fumbling at the cattle thongs with which I was bound, and lo; the filthy blanket was dragged off my head, and I sat drinking in the fresh night air in long draughts.“No talk—no call out,” said a voice at my side. “You talk—you call out, then—so.”It was not too dark to see the significant drawing of the hand across the speaker’s throat by which the injunction was emphasised. The latter I judged it advisable to obey—for the present at any rate.In this way we kept on through the night; it seemed to me for hours. I could make out the loom of the heights against the star-gemmed sky, and noticed that it narrowed considerably as though we were threading a long defile. More than once I stumbled, and not having the use of my hands to save myself, fell flat on my face, to the brutal amusement of the ruffians in whose power I was. I deemed it inadvisable to look about me too much, but could make out quite a dozen forms in front of me, and that there were plenty behind, I gathered from the hum of muffled voices. Indeed, another sense than that of sight went to confirm any conjecture as to their numbers, for the sweet night air was constantly poisoned by a reek of rancid grease and musky, foetid humanity. But of the three horses I could now see no sign.At last a brief halt was made, evidently at some known water-hole or spring, for soon one of them emerged from the bush bearing a great calabash, and the sound of the splashing liquid as it was poured into bowls was as very music to my ears. The long, rough, forced march; the dash and excitement which had preceded it, had done their work. I was simply parched with thirst, and said so.Thereupon the English-speaking Kafir came towards me with a smaller bowl. He put it to my lips, but before I could reach it the brute withdrew it again and dashed the contents into my face.“That all the water you get,” he laughed.It was too much. Even the fear of immediate vengeance counted for nothing at that moment. My arms were secured but my legs were not. Throwing myself backward as I sat I let out with these in such wise as to plant both feet, with the force of a battering ram, right in the pit of the stomach of my jeering tormentor as he bent over me laughing. He rebounded like an indiarubber ball, rolled half a dozen yards, and lay writhing and groaning and gasping—while I, of course, made up my mind to instant death.But to my surprise the other Kafirs seemed to think it the best joke in the world, for they burst out laughing immoderately, mocking and chaffing their damaged comrade, imitating him even, as he twisted and groaned in his agony. I remembered the saying that a crowd that laughs is not dangerous, and to that extent felt reassured. Yet, what when my victim should have recovered? That would be the time to look out for squalls.Taking advantage of their good humour, I uttered the word “Manzi.” They stared; then one fellow got up and taking the calabash, shook it. Yes, there was still a little, and pouring it into a bowl brought it to me, letting me drink this time, he still shaking with laughter over the amusement I had just afforded them. Then we resumed our way.This seemed to be along the steep side of a mountain, and judging from the increased freshness of the air we appeared to have gained a good altitude. Refreshed by my drink of water I was able to travel better, and I looked somewhat eagerly about, with an eye to possibilities, resolved, too, to keep one for any opportunity. On the one hand our way seemed overhung by cliffs; on the other, space. Finally the whole gang struck inward between what looked like narrowing rock walls, and came to a halt.And now, as the fire which had been promptly started blazed up, I saw that our resting place was beneath a gigantic overhanging slab of rock, forming a sort of cave. Beyond this I could catch sight of a patch of stars with dark tree-tops waving gently against them; the while I was guided to the back of the recess, and bidden to sit down, an invitation I had no desire to dispute, after my late exertions. But they had, apparently, no idea of loosening the thongs, and my very superficial knowledge of their tongue did not rise to the point of requesting it. In sooth, I began to wish I had treated my erstwhile tormentor with a little less violence. I could have used him as a medium of conversation at any rate.Now from some place of concealment was dragged forth a live sheep, tied by the legs; while one of the Kafirs was sharpening a butcher’s knife upon a slab of rock. Poor beast! Its condition appealed to me in that mine was exactly similar, and the probabilities were that its fate would be mine, with the difference that I should not be eaten afterwards; for it was there and then butchered, and the flaying and quartering being accomplished in a surprisingly short space of time, the entire carcase was disposed by relays upon the glowing fire, and indeed the hissing and sputtering, and the odours of the roast, filled my own nostrils with a grateful savour. I could do with a mutton chop or two, after the scanty fare and hard exertion of the recent twelve hours.Soon the feasting began, and there was a great chewing, and cracking of bones. The while I sat and endeavoured calmly to size up the whole situation. And its accessories were about as wild and grim as the most startling annals of any romance. Here was I, helpless, in the power and at the mercy of a score or so of as cut-throat a set of naked and ochre-smeared savages, as such romance could picture; forcibly brought here to this probably unknown fastness of theirs, and for what? From motives of self-preservation alone they could not afford to restore me to liberty after having once been in this, which was probably one of their most secure retreats, and I was conscious of a dire and terrible sinking of heart. Yet there was no war between ourselves and these people. They would hardly, therefore, go such lengths as to kill me, and so raise the whole countryside upon them. But as against this came another thought. There is no declared war between society and the dangerous and criminal classes in London or New York or Paris, or any other great city. Yet he who should venture into the innermost haunts of these and place himself in their power would be extremely unlikely ever to be seen again by inquiring friends; and my case here was precisely similar.Recognising that a well-fed man is likely to be in better humour than a fasting one, be he savage or civilised, I waited until these had nearly finished their repast before intimating by signs and such few words as I knew, that I should like some small share of it. They stared, laughed, then one took a strip of meat from the fire, and came over to me, holding it up in a sort of bob-cherry fashion. But I was not to be taken in so easily as that, and uttered the word for hot. At this they laughed harder than ever, and having waited long enough, I soon got outside the mutton, hunger overcoming my repugnance to being fed in so unappetising, not to say disgusting, a fashion. But the whole episode seemed to put them into high good humour, from which I had begun to augur great things, when an interruption occurred which was inauspicious in the extreme. This was caused by a new arrival, none other than the evil-looking rascal whom I had rendered temporarilyhors de combat, and who, unable to keep up with the others owing to the pain he was suffering, had now overtaken them.The first thing this fellow did was to seize a knife which was lying idle, and rush over to me, uttering a savage snarl, his repulsive countenance working hideously with vengeful ferocity. Instinctively I prepared to receive him in the same way as before, whereat he hesitated, and this I believed saved my life, for the others interfered and there was a great hubbub of voices, and a swaying to and fro of the crowd, as more got between him and me. I thought it would have ended in a free fight, but at length the fellow suffered himself to be persuaded, and subsided, growling, by the fire, to make a vehement onslaught upon such meat as still remained.Having disposed of this he came over to me again. The other Kafirs were for the most part disposing themselves for sleep, while some had lighted pipes, and were puffing away contentedly, conversing in a deep-toned, subdued hum. Indeed, but for my perilous situation the scene was one of wild and vivid picturesqueness—the great overhanging rocks reflecting the glow of the fires or throwing out weird, uncouth silhouettes from moving figures; the red forms of the grouping savages, and the outlandish but not unpleasing tones of their strange tongue; the rolling eyeballs and the gleam of white teeth, as one or other of them opened his mouth in a yawn or a grin.“What you doing here?” began the fellow.“I didn’t come willingly, I was brought. And now suppose you let me go,” I answered.“Let you go? Ha! See there.” And he pointed to something behind me.I turned. A wide dark space hitherto unnoticed caught my gaze. A black patch it looked like. No, it was a hole, a jagged irregular hole or crevice.“That hole deep—damn deep,” he went on. “Let you go? yes—down there. No find again. We cut your throat first, see—I do that—then throw you in. No find again. Ha!”I believe I went pale, and I know my flesh crept all over at the prospect of this horrible fate. But I remembered Septimus Matterson’s dictum—more than once laid down—with regard to these people: “You must never let them imagine you’re afraid of them.” So I laughed as I answered—“You daren’t do it. The police would hunt you down, and then the Government would hang every man jack of you.”“Hang? Ha! Not it. We don’t care for no damn Government. To-morrow morning you go down hole.”“Why wait till to-morrow?”The ruffian chuckled.“See better then. Leave no spoor. Light not good now—might forget something. Body found, perhaps we hang. No body found, then perhaps you not dead. Damn deep that hole. Ha!”“You’ll hang all the same,” I said. “You will be spoored here, and there will be plenty of traces of what has become of me.”“No trace. We cut your throatoverthe hole, then throw you in. Now you go to sleep. Morning soon come.”Grinning hideously the fellow rolled his blanket round him and lay down. Most of the others were already asleep, but it was not likely I should follow their example or act upon the ironical suggestion of my tormentor. Was he but trying to frighten me, I tried to think? but then, a word here and there which I had caught, and certain significant glances on the part of my gaolers, seemed to bear out all he had said. They had every motive for getting rid of me, and in such wise as to leave no trace. And here were the means all ready to their hands.

To give an adequate idea of my thoughts and feelings at that moment, or during those that followed, would amount to a sheer impossibility. Truly I had distinguished myself. I had undertaken to recover the stolen steed in bold and doughty fashion, and had allowed myself to be drawn into the most transparent booby-trap ever devised for the deception of mortal idiot. Instead of returning in triumph, having fulfilled Beryl’s parting injunction, here was I, strapped up helplessly, my head and face swathed in a filthy greasy Kafir blanket, only able to breathe—and that with difficulty—through its unspeakably nauseous folds. Heavens! I wonder I was not sick. Kicked and punched too, and a butt for every kind of jeer and insult from these black ruffians, although of course I could not understand the burden of the latter. But where was it going to end?

Why had they not murdered me then and there? I thought. Could it be that they were taking me to some secure place where they might do it at their leisure, and hide away my body in some hole or cave where there was not the smallest chance of it ever being found, and so bearing witness against themselves? It looked like it—and the idea made my blood run cold with a very real and genuine fear.

All thoughts of rescue—of immediate rescue—I was forced to put aside; delayed rescue would be too late. My comrades would hardly succeed in spooring us in the dark, and it was quite dark now; moreover, they were but three, and judging from the varying voices of those who held me, the latter must be fairly numerous. No, the situation was hopeless—abjectly hopeless. Half-dead with fatigue and semi-suffocation, my mind a prey to the most acute humiliation and self-reproach, I stumbled on—how I did so I hardly know. At last I could bear it no longer. They might kill me if they liked, but not another step would I stir until that horrible suffocating gag was removed.

Something of this must have struck them too, for after a muttered consultation, they began fumbling at the cattle thongs with which I was bound, and lo; the filthy blanket was dragged off my head, and I sat drinking in the fresh night air in long draughts.

“No talk—no call out,” said a voice at my side. “You talk—you call out, then—so.”

It was not too dark to see the significant drawing of the hand across the speaker’s throat by which the injunction was emphasised. The latter I judged it advisable to obey—for the present at any rate.

In this way we kept on through the night; it seemed to me for hours. I could make out the loom of the heights against the star-gemmed sky, and noticed that it narrowed considerably as though we were threading a long defile. More than once I stumbled, and not having the use of my hands to save myself, fell flat on my face, to the brutal amusement of the ruffians in whose power I was. I deemed it inadvisable to look about me too much, but could make out quite a dozen forms in front of me, and that there were plenty behind, I gathered from the hum of muffled voices. Indeed, another sense than that of sight went to confirm any conjecture as to their numbers, for the sweet night air was constantly poisoned by a reek of rancid grease and musky, foetid humanity. But of the three horses I could now see no sign.

At last a brief halt was made, evidently at some known water-hole or spring, for soon one of them emerged from the bush bearing a great calabash, and the sound of the splashing liquid as it was poured into bowls was as very music to my ears. The long, rough, forced march; the dash and excitement which had preceded it, had done their work. I was simply parched with thirst, and said so.

Thereupon the English-speaking Kafir came towards me with a smaller bowl. He put it to my lips, but before I could reach it the brute withdrew it again and dashed the contents into my face.

“That all the water you get,” he laughed.

It was too much. Even the fear of immediate vengeance counted for nothing at that moment. My arms were secured but my legs were not. Throwing myself backward as I sat I let out with these in such wise as to plant both feet, with the force of a battering ram, right in the pit of the stomach of my jeering tormentor as he bent over me laughing. He rebounded like an indiarubber ball, rolled half a dozen yards, and lay writhing and groaning and gasping—while I, of course, made up my mind to instant death.

But to my surprise the other Kafirs seemed to think it the best joke in the world, for they burst out laughing immoderately, mocking and chaffing their damaged comrade, imitating him even, as he twisted and groaned in his agony. I remembered the saying that a crowd that laughs is not dangerous, and to that extent felt reassured. Yet, what when my victim should have recovered? That would be the time to look out for squalls.

Taking advantage of their good humour, I uttered the word “Manzi.” They stared; then one fellow got up and taking the calabash, shook it. Yes, there was still a little, and pouring it into a bowl brought it to me, letting me drink this time, he still shaking with laughter over the amusement I had just afforded them. Then we resumed our way.

This seemed to be along the steep side of a mountain, and judging from the increased freshness of the air we appeared to have gained a good altitude. Refreshed by my drink of water I was able to travel better, and I looked somewhat eagerly about, with an eye to possibilities, resolved, too, to keep one for any opportunity. On the one hand our way seemed overhung by cliffs; on the other, space. Finally the whole gang struck inward between what looked like narrowing rock walls, and came to a halt.

And now, as the fire which had been promptly started blazed up, I saw that our resting place was beneath a gigantic overhanging slab of rock, forming a sort of cave. Beyond this I could catch sight of a patch of stars with dark tree-tops waving gently against them; the while I was guided to the back of the recess, and bidden to sit down, an invitation I had no desire to dispute, after my late exertions. But they had, apparently, no idea of loosening the thongs, and my very superficial knowledge of their tongue did not rise to the point of requesting it. In sooth, I began to wish I had treated my erstwhile tormentor with a little less violence. I could have used him as a medium of conversation at any rate.

Now from some place of concealment was dragged forth a live sheep, tied by the legs; while one of the Kafirs was sharpening a butcher’s knife upon a slab of rock. Poor beast! Its condition appealed to me in that mine was exactly similar, and the probabilities were that its fate would be mine, with the difference that I should not be eaten afterwards; for it was there and then butchered, and the flaying and quartering being accomplished in a surprisingly short space of time, the entire carcase was disposed by relays upon the glowing fire, and indeed the hissing and sputtering, and the odours of the roast, filled my own nostrils with a grateful savour. I could do with a mutton chop or two, after the scanty fare and hard exertion of the recent twelve hours.

Soon the feasting began, and there was a great chewing, and cracking of bones. The while I sat and endeavoured calmly to size up the whole situation. And its accessories were about as wild and grim as the most startling annals of any romance. Here was I, helpless, in the power and at the mercy of a score or so of as cut-throat a set of naked and ochre-smeared savages, as such romance could picture; forcibly brought here to this probably unknown fastness of theirs, and for what? From motives of self-preservation alone they could not afford to restore me to liberty after having once been in this, which was probably one of their most secure retreats, and I was conscious of a dire and terrible sinking of heart. Yet there was no war between ourselves and these people. They would hardly, therefore, go such lengths as to kill me, and so raise the whole countryside upon them. But as against this came another thought. There is no declared war between society and the dangerous and criminal classes in London or New York or Paris, or any other great city. Yet he who should venture into the innermost haunts of these and place himself in their power would be extremely unlikely ever to be seen again by inquiring friends; and my case here was precisely similar.

Recognising that a well-fed man is likely to be in better humour than a fasting one, be he savage or civilised, I waited until these had nearly finished their repast before intimating by signs and such few words as I knew, that I should like some small share of it. They stared, laughed, then one took a strip of meat from the fire, and came over to me, holding it up in a sort of bob-cherry fashion. But I was not to be taken in so easily as that, and uttered the word for hot. At this they laughed harder than ever, and having waited long enough, I soon got outside the mutton, hunger overcoming my repugnance to being fed in so unappetising, not to say disgusting, a fashion. But the whole episode seemed to put them into high good humour, from which I had begun to augur great things, when an interruption occurred which was inauspicious in the extreme. This was caused by a new arrival, none other than the evil-looking rascal whom I had rendered temporarilyhors de combat, and who, unable to keep up with the others owing to the pain he was suffering, had now overtaken them.

The first thing this fellow did was to seize a knife which was lying idle, and rush over to me, uttering a savage snarl, his repulsive countenance working hideously with vengeful ferocity. Instinctively I prepared to receive him in the same way as before, whereat he hesitated, and this I believed saved my life, for the others interfered and there was a great hubbub of voices, and a swaying to and fro of the crowd, as more got between him and me. I thought it would have ended in a free fight, but at length the fellow suffered himself to be persuaded, and subsided, growling, by the fire, to make a vehement onslaught upon such meat as still remained.

Having disposed of this he came over to me again. The other Kafirs were for the most part disposing themselves for sleep, while some had lighted pipes, and were puffing away contentedly, conversing in a deep-toned, subdued hum. Indeed, but for my perilous situation the scene was one of wild and vivid picturesqueness—the great overhanging rocks reflecting the glow of the fires or throwing out weird, uncouth silhouettes from moving figures; the red forms of the grouping savages, and the outlandish but not unpleasing tones of their strange tongue; the rolling eyeballs and the gleam of white teeth, as one or other of them opened his mouth in a yawn or a grin.

“What you doing here?” began the fellow.

“I didn’t come willingly, I was brought. And now suppose you let me go,” I answered.

“Let you go? Ha! See there.” And he pointed to something behind me.

I turned. A wide dark space hitherto unnoticed caught my gaze. A black patch it looked like. No, it was a hole, a jagged irregular hole or crevice.

“That hole deep—damn deep,” he went on. “Let you go? yes—down there. No find again. We cut your throat first, see—I do that—then throw you in. No find again. Ha!”

I believe I went pale, and I know my flesh crept all over at the prospect of this horrible fate. But I remembered Septimus Matterson’s dictum—more than once laid down—with regard to these people: “You must never let them imagine you’re afraid of them.” So I laughed as I answered—

“You daren’t do it. The police would hunt you down, and then the Government would hang every man jack of you.”

“Hang? Ha! Not it. We don’t care for no damn Government. To-morrow morning you go down hole.”

“Why wait till to-morrow?”

The ruffian chuckled.

“See better then. Leave no spoor. Light not good now—might forget something. Body found, perhaps we hang. No body found, then perhaps you not dead. Damn deep that hole. Ha!”

“You’ll hang all the same,” I said. “You will be spoored here, and there will be plenty of traces of what has become of me.”

“No trace. We cut your throatoverthe hole, then throw you in. Now you go to sleep. Morning soon come.”

Grinning hideously the fellow rolled his blanket round him and lay down. Most of the others were already asleep, but it was not likely I should follow their example or act upon the ironical suggestion of my tormentor. Was he but trying to frighten me, I tried to think? but then, a word here and there which I had caught, and certain significant glances on the part of my gaolers, seemed to bear out all he had said. They had every motive for getting rid of me, and in such wise as to leave no trace. And here were the means all ready to their hands.

Chapter Sixteen.A Dash for it.Now I, Kenrick Holt, who do this tale unfold, am not by nature an especially intrepid animal, wherefore aught in the course of this narrative which might savour of “derring do” had better be set down to impulse, circumstance, or, generically, accident. Further, I have elsewhere undertaken not to spare my own weaknesses, which for present purposes may be taken to mean that the hideous assurance just conveyed to me had left me very badly scared indeed.In palliation whereof consider the position. In all human certainty the morning light would see me as ruthlessly and as helplessly butchered as the miserable sheep which had just furnished these black cut-throats—and incidentally myself—with an evening meal. A ghastly and horrible fate, in sooth. It might remain shrouded in mystery, even as the ruffian had said, but that was a mere supplementary detail which could be of no subsequent interest to me.Rescue? That could hardly be. Brian, at any rate, would not desert me. But he could hardly follow up the spoor in the dark; even if he did not credit me with sufficient bushcraft to find my way back to them by some other track, he would never be here in time, and if he was, why, there were twenty or more to one. No, that would be a broken reed to lean upon. Besides, it was more than probable that my late companions would have their own hands full.The vindictive ruffian who had felt the weight of my foot squatted in front of me, grinning, and every now and then passing a hand across his throat by way of reminder. At last he too grew drowsy, and began to nod. Then he was quickly asleep.Now I strove to pull myself together, and with an effort rallied my shaken nerves. What was to be done? Not many hours of the night could there be left. Could I free myself? My feet were not bound. Could I not rise and, stepping lightly through the sleeping forms, gain the outside and run for it? But this idea occurred only to be dismissed. Unaided and without the use of my hands I could hardly climb down from the place without meeting with a bad fall in the attempt. If I could but loosen the bonds!As to this I had been tied up securely, yet not tightly or painfully, consequently felt little or no cramping sensation. Now after a few minutes of careful working I managed to get my right hand free of the lower coil of the thong. But no further could I get it because of a loop, and this held the wrist firmly. I strained and tugged till every muscle and joint seemed cracking, and my brain bursting, but—no yielding. Then I paused to rest, and think out some other plan.The fire was now a heap of smouldering red ashes, so that the place was almost in darkness, which, though favouring my efforts, was all against me should these meet with success. Then I would want a little light, or was in danger of stumbling over one of the sleepers. Could I once free myself and avoid this, my chances were fair, for Kaffirs are heavy sleepers, and I might gain quite a good start.But that English-speaking villain seemed possessed with a very demon of unrest, for just then he got up and went over to the fire, trying to blow it into a flame while he spread his black crooked claws over it for warmth. At last he returned to my proximity, and after a good look at me, he lay down again.All this had taken some while, and it was a good deal longer before I could make even the smallest move; and meanwhile time—precious time—was creeping on. But during it I had been thinking, and thinking hard. In the right hand pocket of my shooting-coat was a knife—a very ordinary pocket-knife—which the rascals must have overlooked in their eagerness to possess themselves of my cartridges. I knew it was there still, for I could feel it. And my right hand, partially freed, could all but reach it.I tugged and tugged. All to no purpose. Thereimwould not stretch a quarter of an inch further. Then it occurred to me that if I could not get my hand to my pocket, I might still get my pocket to my hand. The ground where I sat was rough and uneven, and by worming myself against a projection of rock I found I could do something in that direction. It was tedious work—tedious and difficult. Twice the knife slipped from my fingers, then at last I grasped it. Grasped it firmly. I was just proceeding to prize it open, when my abominable sentinel moved—stretched himself, snorted, and opened his smoke-filmed eyes. I lay quite still until the brute had subsided again. Then the knife was open.It was not very sharp, and I had some difficulty in working through the tough raw hide, but none, incidentally, in slicing my fingers over the job; but for this I didn’t care. I was now practically free. The coils, cut through in several places, fell apart. Heavens! how the blood surged through my whole being as I realised that escape was within reach. But first of all I had got to make my way over those sleeping forms, and, worst of all, over, that of my restless sentinel.Now I was ready to make the attempt. Drawing myself cautiously up I gently slid loose from the coil, and as I did so, the abominable ruffian, uttering a muffled exclamation, started up too. But that was all he did. Luckily I had practised a little in the boxing line, and now I let him have it, full, fair and square—a hard, smashing, knock-out blow under the jaw. It was delivered with battering-ram force, and laid him out, flat, inert and absolutely noiseless.The hammering of my heart, with the exertion and excitement, seemed loud enough to awaken the other sleepers as I stepped, actuallyoversome of them. One indeed moved, and I stood ready to administer the same curative to him if he showed sign of waking up, but he subsided again, and most of the others had their blankets over their heads. A moment more, a tense, trying moment, and I stood outside in the open air; and as I did so I noticed the first faint indication of dawn in the far eastern sky.The declivity was rough and stony, and the faintest clink or dislodgment of a stone might be enough to rouse those within, wherefore it behoved me to tread carefully. But even now, though temporarily free, which way should I turn, for I had but the most rudimentary idea as to my bearings? However, acting on my best judgment, I struck a downward course, and then suddenly a horrible effluvium was wafted to my nostrils.I was standing upon the brink of a hollow in the heart of the thick bush. The dawn was gradually lightening, and now, looking down into this, I could see that it was thickly strewn with innumerable bones—the bones of oxen and sheep. Two heads, unflayed and decomposed, stared up from the white mass, the great branching horns looking spectral and menacing in the uncertain light. Evidently this was the secret nest of a daring and organised gang of cattle stealers.While I was debating which way to turn, a sound fell upon my ears which was as the first thrill of security, for it was the unmistakable whicker of a horse. That meant Brian, if not all three of my late companions, returned to search for me. Yet it would not do to make too sure, wherefore as I took my way downward in the direction of the sound I did so in silence, and soon had reason to bless my caution, for after a few minutes of walking there lay before me a small kraal.It consisted of three huts, whose inmates were probably fast asleep, a thorn enclosure containing a few goats; but, best of all, tied to the gate-post, were two horses. And in these I recognised the horse I had been riding, and one of the stolen ones, by name Punch. To steal down to the spot was the work of very few minutes. Still no sign of life, not even a dog, luckily. Quickly I made my way to the horses. They seemed to recognise me, and whickered again. The goats, too, stampeded to the other side of the kraal. Would the noise waken those villains? Quickly I untied thereimwhich secured my own horse, and twisting a bight of it into his mouth by way of an impromptu bit, I cut through thereimthat held the other and mounted—of course, barebacked.Punch at once laid himself out to follow his companion, as I knew he would. But before I had gone a hundred paces I heard another whinny behind. Looking back I beheld two more horses tied to a tree, just beyond the kraal—and even at that distance I recognised Beryl’s favourite steed, Meerkat. They had been hidden by a projecting shoulder of bush until now.Athrill with excitement, for the first time since my capture I began to enjoy the adventure. I would still redeem my pledge, and restore Meerkat, so lost not a moment in turning back to release the other two. But at the same time I saw something else. Following down upon the track of my flight came two or three dark forms, then more and more. My enemies had discovered my escape, and were hot foot in pursuit. I could afford to laugh at them now, well mounted as I was, but—how about Beryl’s horse? I should hardly have time to reach it before the savages would be upon me. It was simply a race as to who should get there first.I have known few excitements in life to equal that moment. The stripe of running, leaping savages converging on my objective, the lithe, ochre-smeared forms flitting through the dark green of the bush, the gleam of assegais—and the closeness of the race. The ground was rough, and riding barebacked as I was, and with only an impromptu bridle, constituted a pretty severe test to my capabilities of horsemanship.I was there. I leaped off my steed, cut thereimwhich held Meerkat, and twisting it into his mouth in the same way, mounted him—for I was determined to save him, even if all the others had to be sacrificed. Then I cut thereimwhich held the other horse, and with all three following me, I started back, just as the foremost Kafirs leaped from the cover barely thirty yards away.Mounted as I was, the odds were by no means in my favour, for as I have said the ground was rough and, withal, the bush was thick. And now the whole crowd surged forward, uttering strident hisses and ear-splitting roars, intended to render my steed unmanageable and scatter the others—and indeed how I managed even to stick on, let alone steer through bush and over stones and shuts, I hardly know to this day. Something hit me—something hard and heavy—behind the shoulders, but without effect, the distance being too great. Twenty yards nearer and it would have knocked me headlong, for it was a hard iron-wood kerrie hurled by no unpractised hand, and as I pressed on, the three horses galloping on either side, neighing and capering, but always keeping abreast, the roars and whistles of the pursuing barbarians making the air hideous, I felt that I was in for a very lively time indeed. But the worst of it was that, thanks to the aforesaid roughness of the ground, they could travel nearly as fast as I could, and more than once I looked over my shoulder with something like despair as I saw how untiringly and persistently they kept up the pursuit. At this rate my mount would soon get blown, nor was I sure I was taking the right direction.We were racing up a long stony slope, rather more clear of bush than hitherto. Poor Meerkat was not in hard condition, and I was beginning to regret not having stuck to my first mount. Then the bang of a gun away on my left front scattered all reflections to the winds.“This way, Holt! This way!” sang out a voice, and at the same time bang went another shot.As I proceeded to follow out Brian’s injunction I looked round, just in time to see a spurt of dust fly up very near in front of my pursuers, where the bullet had struck. These had halted, and as just then there was another bang, and another bullet fell rather nearer than the first, they evidently concluded it was too warm, and began to drop down into cover.Brian was lying comfortably ensconced in a bush, inserting a fresh cartridge. “I only shot to scare,” he said, in his cool way, as I came up. “They’ll stop now.”“Are you all alone?”“Yes. Came back to look after you.”“And jolly near too late you were, old chap, for if I hadn’t managed to slip my own cable, I’d have been lying at the bottom of an infernal hole at this moment, with my throat cut from ear to ear. That’s what was sticking out for me at daybreak.”“So? Did you know those chaps were stalking you down when you started back for the two remaining horses?” he said.“Rather. I raced them for it. You see, I promised to bring back Meerkat, and I’d got to do it. But—did you see that part of it?”“Ja. Watched you all the time, but concluded that this was the best place to effect a diversion in your favour. Well, Holt—you won’t mind my saying so—but you’re no fool of an imported Britisher, and that’s a dead cert. I don’t expect Trask would have come out of things in that way.”“Oh, yes he would,” I answered with cheerful magnanimity, for I was in secret hugely pleased with myself—not from any innate vanity, but because I should return to Gonya’s Kloof with enhanced prestige. And for certain reasons I could do with all the prestige I could capture, just then.We had fallen back on where Brian had left his horse. “You can have my saddle as soon as we can get out of these kloofs,” he said. “I expect you’ll get sick of riding barebacked sooner than I shall. At present we needn’t lose any time. The other horses? Oh, they’ll follow us all right. Later on we can lead them.”“This is a nice, peaceful country of yours, Brian,” I said, as we held on our way, for we saw no more of our late enemies. “If this sort of thing happens in time of profound peace, may I ask what it’s like in time of war?”He laughed.“You may have a chance of seeing for yourself. Well, you have had an adventure, so long”—for I had told him of the sort of night I had spent. “You shouldn’t have gone chevying on after those schepsels all by yourself. I kept shouting out to you to come back, and you wouldn’t. I thought you’d soon give it up, and we had our own hands pretty full. I started the other two off with the oxen, and came back to look for you. Thought I’d find you’d only been spending the night under a bush.”

Now I, Kenrick Holt, who do this tale unfold, am not by nature an especially intrepid animal, wherefore aught in the course of this narrative which might savour of “derring do” had better be set down to impulse, circumstance, or, generically, accident. Further, I have elsewhere undertaken not to spare my own weaknesses, which for present purposes may be taken to mean that the hideous assurance just conveyed to me had left me very badly scared indeed.

In palliation whereof consider the position. In all human certainty the morning light would see me as ruthlessly and as helplessly butchered as the miserable sheep which had just furnished these black cut-throats—and incidentally myself—with an evening meal. A ghastly and horrible fate, in sooth. It might remain shrouded in mystery, even as the ruffian had said, but that was a mere supplementary detail which could be of no subsequent interest to me.

Rescue? That could hardly be. Brian, at any rate, would not desert me. But he could hardly follow up the spoor in the dark; even if he did not credit me with sufficient bushcraft to find my way back to them by some other track, he would never be here in time, and if he was, why, there were twenty or more to one. No, that would be a broken reed to lean upon. Besides, it was more than probable that my late companions would have their own hands full.

The vindictive ruffian who had felt the weight of my foot squatted in front of me, grinning, and every now and then passing a hand across his throat by way of reminder. At last he too grew drowsy, and began to nod. Then he was quickly asleep.

Now I strove to pull myself together, and with an effort rallied my shaken nerves. What was to be done? Not many hours of the night could there be left. Could I free myself? My feet were not bound. Could I not rise and, stepping lightly through the sleeping forms, gain the outside and run for it? But this idea occurred only to be dismissed. Unaided and without the use of my hands I could hardly climb down from the place without meeting with a bad fall in the attempt. If I could but loosen the bonds!

As to this I had been tied up securely, yet not tightly or painfully, consequently felt little or no cramping sensation. Now after a few minutes of careful working I managed to get my right hand free of the lower coil of the thong. But no further could I get it because of a loop, and this held the wrist firmly. I strained and tugged till every muscle and joint seemed cracking, and my brain bursting, but—no yielding. Then I paused to rest, and think out some other plan.

The fire was now a heap of smouldering red ashes, so that the place was almost in darkness, which, though favouring my efforts, was all against me should these meet with success. Then I would want a little light, or was in danger of stumbling over one of the sleepers. Could I once free myself and avoid this, my chances were fair, for Kaffirs are heavy sleepers, and I might gain quite a good start.

But that English-speaking villain seemed possessed with a very demon of unrest, for just then he got up and went over to the fire, trying to blow it into a flame while he spread his black crooked claws over it for warmth. At last he returned to my proximity, and after a good look at me, he lay down again.

All this had taken some while, and it was a good deal longer before I could make even the smallest move; and meanwhile time—precious time—was creeping on. But during it I had been thinking, and thinking hard. In the right hand pocket of my shooting-coat was a knife—a very ordinary pocket-knife—which the rascals must have overlooked in their eagerness to possess themselves of my cartridges. I knew it was there still, for I could feel it. And my right hand, partially freed, could all but reach it.

I tugged and tugged. All to no purpose. Thereimwould not stretch a quarter of an inch further. Then it occurred to me that if I could not get my hand to my pocket, I might still get my pocket to my hand. The ground where I sat was rough and uneven, and by worming myself against a projection of rock I found I could do something in that direction. It was tedious work—tedious and difficult. Twice the knife slipped from my fingers, then at last I grasped it. Grasped it firmly. I was just proceeding to prize it open, when my abominable sentinel moved—stretched himself, snorted, and opened his smoke-filmed eyes. I lay quite still until the brute had subsided again. Then the knife was open.

It was not very sharp, and I had some difficulty in working through the tough raw hide, but none, incidentally, in slicing my fingers over the job; but for this I didn’t care. I was now practically free. The coils, cut through in several places, fell apart. Heavens! how the blood surged through my whole being as I realised that escape was within reach. But first of all I had got to make my way over those sleeping forms, and, worst of all, over, that of my restless sentinel.

Now I was ready to make the attempt. Drawing myself cautiously up I gently slid loose from the coil, and as I did so, the abominable ruffian, uttering a muffled exclamation, started up too. But that was all he did. Luckily I had practised a little in the boxing line, and now I let him have it, full, fair and square—a hard, smashing, knock-out blow under the jaw. It was delivered with battering-ram force, and laid him out, flat, inert and absolutely noiseless.

The hammering of my heart, with the exertion and excitement, seemed loud enough to awaken the other sleepers as I stepped, actuallyoversome of them. One indeed moved, and I stood ready to administer the same curative to him if he showed sign of waking up, but he subsided again, and most of the others had their blankets over their heads. A moment more, a tense, trying moment, and I stood outside in the open air; and as I did so I noticed the first faint indication of dawn in the far eastern sky.

The declivity was rough and stony, and the faintest clink or dislodgment of a stone might be enough to rouse those within, wherefore it behoved me to tread carefully. But even now, though temporarily free, which way should I turn, for I had but the most rudimentary idea as to my bearings? However, acting on my best judgment, I struck a downward course, and then suddenly a horrible effluvium was wafted to my nostrils.

I was standing upon the brink of a hollow in the heart of the thick bush. The dawn was gradually lightening, and now, looking down into this, I could see that it was thickly strewn with innumerable bones—the bones of oxen and sheep. Two heads, unflayed and decomposed, stared up from the white mass, the great branching horns looking spectral and menacing in the uncertain light. Evidently this was the secret nest of a daring and organised gang of cattle stealers.

While I was debating which way to turn, a sound fell upon my ears which was as the first thrill of security, for it was the unmistakable whicker of a horse. That meant Brian, if not all three of my late companions, returned to search for me. Yet it would not do to make too sure, wherefore as I took my way downward in the direction of the sound I did so in silence, and soon had reason to bless my caution, for after a few minutes of walking there lay before me a small kraal.

It consisted of three huts, whose inmates were probably fast asleep, a thorn enclosure containing a few goats; but, best of all, tied to the gate-post, were two horses. And in these I recognised the horse I had been riding, and one of the stolen ones, by name Punch. To steal down to the spot was the work of very few minutes. Still no sign of life, not even a dog, luckily. Quickly I made my way to the horses. They seemed to recognise me, and whickered again. The goats, too, stampeded to the other side of the kraal. Would the noise waken those villains? Quickly I untied thereimwhich secured my own horse, and twisting a bight of it into his mouth by way of an impromptu bit, I cut through thereimthat held the other and mounted—of course, barebacked.

Punch at once laid himself out to follow his companion, as I knew he would. But before I had gone a hundred paces I heard another whinny behind. Looking back I beheld two more horses tied to a tree, just beyond the kraal—and even at that distance I recognised Beryl’s favourite steed, Meerkat. They had been hidden by a projecting shoulder of bush until now.

Athrill with excitement, for the first time since my capture I began to enjoy the adventure. I would still redeem my pledge, and restore Meerkat, so lost not a moment in turning back to release the other two. But at the same time I saw something else. Following down upon the track of my flight came two or three dark forms, then more and more. My enemies had discovered my escape, and were hot foot in pursuit. I could afford to laugh at them now, well mounted as I was, but—how about Beryl’s horse? I should hardly have time to reach it before the savages would be upon me. It was simply a race as to who should get there first.

I have known few excitements in life to equal that moment. The stripe of running, leaping savages converging on my objective, the lithe, ochre-smeared forms flitting through the dark green of the bush, the gleam of assegais—and the closeness of the race. The ground was rough, and riding barebacked as I was, and with only an impromptu bridle, constituted a pretty severe test to my capabilities of horsemanship.

I was there. I leaped off my steed, cut thereimwhich held Meerkat, and twisting it into his mouth in the same way, mounted him—for I was determined to save him, even if all the others had to be sacrificed. Then I cut thereimwhich held the other horse, and with all three following me, I started back, just as the foremost Kafirs leaped from the cover barely thirty yards away.

Mounted as I was, the odds were by no means in my favour, for as I have said the ground was rough and, withal, the bush was thick. And now the whole crowd surged forward, uttering strident hisses and ear-splitting roars, intended to render my steed unmanageable and scatter the others—and indeed how I managed even to stick on, let alone steer through bush and over stones and shuts, I hardly know to this day. Something hit me—something hard and heavy—behind the shoulders, but without effect, the distance being too great. Twenty yards nearer and it would have knocked me headlong, for it was a hard iron-wood kerrie hurled by no unpractised hand, and as I pressed on, the three horses galloping on either side, neighing and capering, but always keeping abreast, the roars and whistles of the pursuing barbarians making the air hideous, I felt that I was in for a very lively time indeed. But the worst of it was that, thanks to the aforesaid roughness of the ground, they could travel nearly as fast as I could, and more than once I looked over my shoulder with something like despair as I saw how untiringly and persistently they kept up the pursuit. At this rate my mount would soon get blown, nor was I sure I was taking the right direction.

We were racing up a long stony slope, rather more clear of bush than hitherto. Poor Meerkat was not in hard condition, and I was beginning to regret not having stuck to my first mount. Then the bang of a gun away on my left front scattered all reflections to the winds.

“This way, Holt! This way!” sang out a voice, and at the same time bang went another shot.

As I proceeded to follow out Brian’s injunction I looked round, just in time to see a spurt of dust fly up very near in front of my pursuers, where the bullet had struck. These had halted, and as just then there was another bang, and another bullet fell rather nearer than the first, they evidently concluded it was too warm, and began to drop down into cover.

Brian was lying comfortably ensconced in a bush, inserting a fresh cartridge. “I only shot to scare,” he said, in his cool way, as I came up. “They’ll stop now.”

“Are you all alone?”

“Yes. Came back to look after you.”

“And jolly near too late you were, old chap, for if I hadn’t managed to slip my own cable, I’d have been lying at the bottom of an infernal hole at this moment, with my throat cut from ear to ear. That’s what was sticking out for me at daybreak.”

“So? Did you know those chaps were stalking you down when you started back for the two remaining horses?” he said.

“Rather. I raced them for it. You see, I promised to bring back Meerkat, and I’d got to do it. But—did you see that part of it?”

“Ja. Watched you all the time, but concluded that this was the best place to effect a diversion in your favour. Well, Holt—you won’t mind my saying so—but you’re no fool of an imported Britisher, and that’s a dead cert. I don’t expect Trask would have come out of things in that way.”

“Oh, yes he would,” I answered with cheerful magnanimity, for I was in secret hugely pleased with myself—not from any innate vanity, but because I should return to Gonya’s Kloof with enhanced prestige. And for certain reasons I could do with all the prestige I could capture, just then.

We had fallen back on where Brian had left his horse. “You can have my saddle as soon as we can get out of these kloofs,” he said. “I expect you’ll get sick of riding barebacked sooner than I shall. At present we needn’t lose any time. The other horses? Oh, they’ll follow us all right. Later on we can lead them.”

“This is a nice, peaceful country of yours, Brian,” I said, as we held on our way, for we saw no more of our late enemies. “If this sort of thing happens in time of profound peace, may I ask what it’s like in time of war?”

He laughed.

“You may have a chance of seeing for yourself. Well, you have had an adventure, so long”—for I had told him of the sort of night I had spent. “You shouldn’t have gone chevying on after those schepsels all by yourself. I kept shouting out to you to come back, and you wouldn’t. I thought you’d soon give it up, and we had our own hands pretty full. I started the other two off with the oxen, and came back to look for you. Thought I’d find you’d only been spending the night under a bush.”

Chapter Seventeen.“Hand to the Labour—Heart and Hand.”“Bring back Meerkat,” had been Beryl’s parting injunction, and I had fulfilled it to the letter. And as I restored her favourite horse, literally with my own hands—and none the worse for his enforced travels, though the other two returned with sore backs—I was conceited enough to think that the pleased light of welcome that came over Beryl’s sweet face was not entirely due to satisfaction at his recovery, and that approbation of his rescuer bore some small share therein.“Well done, Kenrick,” sang out Iris, clapping her hands. “Man, but you’re no sort of a raw Britisher anyhow.” And I own that the dear child’s frank and homely form of approval fell gratefully upon my ears just then.“You should have seen Revell sabreing them all right and left with a sjambok when they cheeked him at that kraal,” guffawed Trask. “Oh—h—”The last in a subdued howl, evolved by the contact of Brian’s boot with the speaker’s shin, under the table. For in another moment Trask would have blundered out the whole story as a joke of the first water, in anticipation whereof Revell was beginning to redden furiously.“He got us out of that in the nick of time,” struck in Brian with his wonted tact. “Pass on the grog, Trask. Help yourself first—thanks. Well, we’ve brought back the whole plunder, except one of the oxen, and Kenrick’s gun. The first they’ve scoffed, and the second we shan’t see again, I’m afraid. Eh, dad?”“I’m afraid not. You’ve done well—very well. I never expected you’d recover so much. I’m very much obliged to you fellows for your help.”Of course we all disclaimed any expression of thanks; but later on what does this prince of good fellows do but send for a first-rate gun to replace my missing piece. No, he would not listen to any protest. I had lost my own in recovering his property, therefore it was only fair he should make it good.Later on, too, when Beryl heard the story of my own perilous and nerve-trying experience—(much of the detail of our expedition had, for obvious reasons, been kept from the children)—she said—“Why did you do it? Why did you run such a terrible risk? I would sooner have lost all the horses in the world. Heavens! and you were so near being murdered! No, you ought not to have taken such a risk. Why, I should never have forgiven myself—never. It is too horrible.”She was intensely moved. Her eyes softened strangely, and there was something of a quaver in her voice. And yet my first impressions had credited Beryl Matterson with a cold disposition! Had we been alone together now I don’t know what I might have said or done—or rather I believe I do know. As it was, I answered lightly—“Oh, I don’t suppose it would have come to that. Probably they were only trying to scare me, and, by Jove! they succeeded, I’ll own to that. When it came to the point they’d likely have turned me adrift. Don’t you think so, Mr Matterson?”“No, I don’t. They’d have killed you as sure as eggs,” was the decisive reply. “They’re a mightyschelmlot up Kameel Kloof way, and there has been more than one disappearance of white men during the last few years. But you can’t bring them to book. They swarm like red ants in that location, and no Kafir will ever give another away.”In point of fact I was not ill-pleased with this decision, simply and solely because the peril I had come through would enhance my interest in the eyes of Beryl, especially as it had been incurred in her particular service.Our return had been effected without incident or opposition, and to me there was a strong smack of the old border raiding kind of business as we brought back the recovered spoil, recovered by our own promptitude and dash. As for myself, I had undergone some experience of the noble savage in his own haunts, and began to feel quite a seasoned frontiersman. And yet barely three months ago I had been worrying along in the most approved mill-horse round in a City office. Heavens! what a change had come into my life.Immediately on our return, all concerned in it had held a council of war, confined rigidly to the four of us. The fewer in the know the better, Brian had declared, wherefore he had not disclosed the whole facts of the case even to his father. One of the thieves had been shot, whether killed or disabled of course we had no idea. On that we must keep our own counsel, absolutely and strictly, and to make assurance doubly sure we must never so much as mention the matter again even among ourselves.Incidentally the rest of us thought it just as well that Trask had accounted for him, because Trask was the weak link in the chain, whereas now that he was the one most concerned, self-preservation alone would keep him from giving away the affair under an impulse of senseless brag.“You see,” pronounced Brian, “as long as we keep dark the Kafirs’ll keep dark, too. They’ll think nothing of one fellow getting hurt, because it’s quite in accordance with their laws and customs that some one should get hurt in a little affair of the kind. But if we start stirring up things—setting the police on to the track, and so forth—why then it’s likely the other business will crop up, and that’ll be more than awkward, for theschelmwasn’t even going for us, but running away. Running away, mind. There’s no doubt about it but that we—or rather, Holt—struck upon a regular nest of cattle-thieves; but we can do nothing further under the circumstances, nothing whatever. So mum’s the word, absolutely. Is that understood?”All hands agreed to this, but none more emphatically than Trask, who, by the way, was a little less proud of his feat now that it was put in this new and exceedingly awkward light.“Very well, then, that’s settled,” declared Brian, characteristically dismissing the affair from his mind.After this things settled down at Gonya’s Kloof, ordinarily and without incident. And yet, to me, so radical was the change compared with all my former life, that every day seemed replete with incident, even what to the others was mere ordinary routine. I threw myself with zest into everything, and both Brian and his father declared after a month or two that if I went on at this rate I should know as much as they could teach me before I had been with them a year, and already knew a great deal more than Trask did after four: a pronouncement which was exceedingly gratifying to me.I look back upon those days as among the very happiest of my life. Not that it was all picnicking by any means. There was plenty of work—hard, at times distasteful, even unpleasant. There were times when such meant rising in the dark, saddling up in the grey dawn, and spending the whole long day ranging the veldt in quest of strayed stock, and that beneath a steady, cold, incessant downpour, which soon defied mere waterproof, and would have extinguished the comforting pipe but for the over-sheltering hat brim. Or, substitute for the downpour a fierce sun, burning down upon hill and kloof, until one felt almost light-headed with the heat. Or the shearing, which meant a daily round from dawn till dark in a hot stuffy shed, redolent of grease and wool, and sheep, and musky, perspiring natives—and this running into weeks. But there was always something, and seldom indeed could one call any time actually and indisputably one’s own.Does this sound hardly compatible with the statement I have made above? It need not; for however hard or arduous the work, I was happy in it. I felt that I was mastering the secret of a new walk in life, and to me a highly attractive and independent one. I was simply glowing with health, and in condition as hard as nails, for although the weather would now and again run into a trying extreme, on the whole the climate was gloriously healthy and exhilarating. Then, too, I was sharing in the only real home I had ever known—certainly the very happiest one I had ever seen. It mattered not how hard the day had been, there was always the evening, and we would sit restfully out on the stoep, smoking our pipes and chatting beneath the dark firmament aflame with stars, while the shrill bay of jackals ran weirdly along the distant hillside, and the ghostly whistle of plover circled dimly overhead and around, and the breaths of the night air were sweet with the distillation from flowering plant or shrub. Or, within the house Beryl would play for us, or sing a song or two in her sweet, natural, unaffected way. Or even the harmless squabbling of the two children would afford many a laugh.“Tired, Kenrick?” said Septimus Matterson one such evening, after an unusually hard day of it. “Ha-ha! Stock-farming isn’t all picnicking and sport, is it?”“Not much; but then I never expected it would be,” I answered. “I am only just healthily tired—just enough to thoroughly appreciate this prize comfortable chair.”“Anyway, you’re looking just twice the man you were when you came. Isn’t he, Beryl?”“Hardly that, father, or we should have to widen the front door,” she answered demurely. We all laughed.“Man, Beryl. That reminds me of Trask, when he tries to be funny,” grunted that impudent pup, George.“That remindsmethat it’s high time you were in bed, George,” returned Beryl, equable and smiling. “So off you go there now, and sharp.”Her word was law in matters of this kind, admitting of no appeal, so Master George slouched off accordingly, making a virtue of necessity by declaring he was beastly tired, and further had only stopped up to help amuse us; which final speech certainly carried that effect.Beryl remained talking with us a little while longer, then she, too, went inside.“What on earth I should do without my girl, Kenrick, I don’t know,” thereafter said her father. “Yet I suppose I shall have to some day.”“Will you?” I said vacuously, for the words raised an uncomfortable twinge.“Why, yes, I suppose so, in the ordinary way of things.”“Oh! um—yes, ah! I suppose so,” I echoed idiotically, feeling devoutly thankful that the gloom of night concealed a stupid reddening which I could feel spreading over my asinine countenance, and wondering if the other detected the inconsequent inanity of the rejoinder begotten of anarrière-pensée. But I realised keenly the only side of the situation that would reconcile me to Beryl’s father having to do without her.I had now had time to straighten out my affairs in England; and arrange for having my capital transferred to this country, though this could not be done yet, by reason of its investment requiring notice of withdrawal. I had caused such of my personal belongings as I needed—and such were not extensive—to be shipped out to me, also some money which I could touch, and this I promptly invested in live stock, under the advice of my most competent of instructors. So by now I reckoned myself fairly and squarely launched. By the way, the man whose boat had constituted the first step in my change of fortunes, having found out my identity, had put in a claim for compensation, but had been directed to wait. Now he too was paid in full, and so everybody was satisfied.We were nearing midsummer, i.e. Christmas and the New Year, but the intensifying heat notwithstanding, the face of the veldt was smiling and green, for we had had a series of splendid rains. Such a season, it was pronounced, had not been known for years. Stock was fat and thriving, and there was little or no disease. Even our turbulent neighbours had quieted down, and were busy ploughing and sowing, with the result that there was an abnormal but welcome lull in cattle lifting and other maraudings along the border, whose white inhabitants were, for the nonce, content.“It’s Kenrick who has brought us luck,” declared Iris, with a decisive nod of her pretty head, as we were metaphorically rubbing our hands over the existing state of things. “I’ve read somewhere that it’s always lucky to pick up a waif and stray.”We shouted at this. Then Brian said—“I rather think it was the waif and stray who picked you up,kleintje! What price swimming too far out, and the sharks, eh?”“Nouw ja, that’s true,” she conceded. “But you see, he was bringing us luck even then. You couldn’t get on without me,” concluded Miss Impudence. Whereat we shouted again.

“Bring back Meerkat,” had been Beryl’s parting injunction, and I had fulfilled it to the letter. And as I restored her favourite horse, literally with my own hands—and none the worse for his enforced travels, though the other two returned with sore backs—I was conceited enough to think that the pleased light of welcome that came over Beryl’s sweet face was not entirely due to satisfaction at his recovery, and that approbation of his rescuer bore some small share therein.

“Well done, Kenrick,” sang out Iris, clapping her hands. “Man, but you’re no sort of a raw Britisher anyhow.” And I own that the dear child’s frank and homely form of approval fell gratefully upon my ears just then.

“You should have seen Revell sabreing them all right and left with a sjambok when they cheeked him at that kraal,” guffawed Trask. “Oh—h—”

The last in a subdued howl, evolved by the contact of Brian’s boot with the speaker’s shin, under the table. For in another moment Trask would have blundered out the whole story as a joke of the first water, in anticipation whereof Revell was beginning to redden furiously.

“He got us out of that in the nick of time,” struck in Brian with his wonted tact. “Pass on the grog, Trask. Help yourself first—thanks. Well, we’ve brought back the whole plunder, except one of the oxen, and Kenrick’s gun. The first they’ve scoffed, and the second we shan’t see again, I’m afraid. Eh, dad?”

“I’m afraid not. You’ve done well—very well. I never expected you’d recover so much. I’m very much obliged to you fellows for your help.”

Of course we all disclaimed any expression of thanks; but later on what does this prince of good fellows do but send for a first-rate gun to replace my missing piece. No, he would not listen to any protest. I had lost my own in recovering his property, therefore it was only fair he should make it good.

Later on, too, when Beryl heard the story of my own perilous and nerve-trying experience—(much of the detail of our expedition had, for obvious reasons, been kept from the children)—she said—

“Why did you do it? Why did you run such a terrible risk? I would sooner have lost all the horses in the world. Heavens! and you were so near being murdered! No, you ought not to have taken such a risk. Why, I should never have forgiven myself—never. It is too horrible.”

She was intensely moved. Her eyes softened strangely, and there was something of a quaver in her voice. And yet my first impressions had credited Beryl Matterson with a cold disposition! Had we been alone together now I don’t know what I might have said or done—or rather I believe I do know. As it was, I answered lightly—

“Oh, I don’t suppose it would have come to that. Probably they were only trying to scare me, and, by Jove! they succeeded, I’ll own to that. When it came to the point they’d likely have turned me adrift. Don’t you think so, Mr Matterson?”

“No, I don’t. They’d have killed you as sure as eggs,” was the decisive reply. “They’re a mightyschelmlot up Kameel Kloof way, and there has been more than one disappearance of white men during the last few years. But you can’t bring them to book. They swarm like red ants in that location, and no Kafir will ever give another away.”

In point of fact I was not ill-pleased with this decision, simply and solely because the peril I had come through would enhance my interest in the eyes of Beryl, especially as it had been incurred in her particular service.

Our return had been effected without incident or opposition, and to me there was a strong smack of the old border raiding kind of business as we brought back the recovered spoil, recovered by our own promptitude and dash. As for myself, I had undergone some experience of the noble savage in his own haunts, and began to feel quite a seasoned frontiersman. And yet barely three months ago I had been worrying along in the most approved mill-horse round in a City office. Heavens! what a change had come into my life.

Immediately on our return, all concerned in it had held a council of war, confined rigidly to the four of us. The fewer in the know the better, Brian had declared, wherefore he had not disclosed the whole facts of the case even to his father. One of the thieves had been shot, whether killed or disabled of course we had no idea. On that we must keep our own counsel, absolutely and strictly, and to make assurance doubly sure we must never so much as mention the matter again even among ourselves.

Incidentally the rest of us thought it just as well that Trask had accounted for him, because Trask was the weak link in the chain, whereas now that he was the one most concerned, self-preservation alone would keep him from giving away the affair under an impulse of senseless brag.

“You see,” pronounced Brian, “as long as we keep dark the Kafirs’ll keep dark, too. They’ll think nothing of one fellow getting hurt, because it’s quite in accordance with their laws and customs that some one should get hurt in a little affair of the kind. But if we start stirring up things—setting the police on to the track, and so forth—why then it’s likely the other business will crop up, and that’ll be more than awkward, for theschelmwasn’t even going for us, but running away. Running away, mind. There’s no doubt about it but that we—or rather, Holt—struck upon a regular nest of cattle-thieves; but we can do nothing further under the circumstances, nothing whatever. So mum’s the word, absolutely. Is that understood?”

All hands agreed to this, but none more emphatically than Trask, who, by the way, was a little less proud of his feat now that it was put in this new and exceedingly awkward light.

“Very well, then, that’s settled,” declared Brian, characteristically dismissing the affair from his mind.

After this things settled down at Gonya’s Kloof, ordinarily and without incident. And yet, to me, so radical was the change compared with all my former life, that every day seemed replete with incident, even what to the others was mere ordinary routine. I threw myself with zest into everything, and both Brian and his father declared after a month or two that if I went on at this rate I should know as much as they could teach me before I had been with them a year, and already knew a great deal more than Trask did after four: a pronouncement which was exceedingly gratifying to me.

I look back upon those days as among the very happiest of my life. Not that it was all picnicking by any means. There was plenty of work—hard, at times distasteful, even unpleasant. There were times when such meant rising in the dark, saddling up in the grey dawn, and spending the whole long day ranging the veldt in quest of strayed stock, and that beneath a steady, cold, incessant downpour, which soon defied mere waterproof, and would have extinguished the comforting pipe but for the over-sheltering hat brim. Or, substitute for the downpour a fierce sun, burning down upon hill and kloof, until one felt almost light-headed with the heat. Or the shearing, which meant a daily round from dawn till dark in a hot stuffy shed, redolent of grease and wool, and sheep, and musky, perspiring natives—and this running into weeks. But there was always something, and seldom indeed could one call any time actually and indisputably one’s own.

Does this sound hardly compatible with the statement I have made above? It need not; for however hard or arduous the work, I was happy in it. I felt that I was mastering the secret of a new walk in life, and to me a highly attractive and independent one. I was simply glowing with health, and in condition as hard as nails, for although the weather would now and again run into a trying extreme, on the whole the climate was gloriously healthy and exhilarating. Then, too, I was sharing in the only real home I had ever known—certainly the very happiest one I had ever seen. It mattered not how hard the day had been, there was always the evening, and we would sit restfully out on the stoep, smoking our pipes and chatting beneath the dark firmament aflame with stars, while the shrill bay of jackals ran weirdly along the distant hillside, and the ghostly whistle of plover circled dimly overhead and around, and the breaths of the night air were sweet with the distillation from flowering plant or shrub. Or, within the house Beryl would play for us, or sing a song or two in her sweet, natural, unaffected way. Or even the harmless squabbling of the two children would afford many a laugh.

“Tired, Kenrick?” said Septimus Matterson one such evening, after an unusually hard day of it. “Ha-ha! Stock-farming isn’t all picnicking and sport, is it?”

“Not much; but then I never expected it would be,” I answered. “I am only just healthily tired—just enough to thoroughly appreciate this prize comfortable chair.”

“Anyway, you’re looking just twice the man you were when you came. Isn’t he, Beryl?”

“Hardly that, father, or we should have to widen the front door,” she answered demurely. We all laughed.

“Man, Beryl. That reminds me of Trask, when he tries to be funny,” grunted that impudent pup, George.

“That remindsmethat it’s high time you were in bed, George,” returned Beryl, equable and smiling. “So off you go there now, and sharp.”

Her word was law in matters of this kind, admitting of no appeal, so Master George slouched off accordingly, making a virtue of necessity by declaring he was beastly tired, and further had only stopped up to help amuse us; which final speech certainly carried that effect.

Beryl remained talking with us a little while longer, then she, too, went inside.

“What on earth I should do without my girl, Kenrick, I don’t know,” thereafter said her father. “Yet I suppose I shall have to some day.”

“Will you?” I said vacuously, for the words raised an uncomfortable twinge.

“Why, yes, I suppose so, in the ordinary way of things.”

“Oh! um—yes, ah! I suppose so,” I echoed idiotically, feeling devoutly thankful that the gloom of night concealed a stupid reddening which I could feel spreading over my asinine countenance, and wondering if the other detected the inconsequent inanity of the rejoinder begotten of anarrière-pensée. But I realised keenly the only side of the situation that would reconcile me to Beryl’s father having to do without her.

I had now had time to straighten out my affairs in England; and arrange for having my capital transferred to this country, though this could not be done yet, by reason of its investment requiring notice of withdrawal. I had caused such of my personal belongings as I needed—and such were not extensive—to be shipped out to me, also some money which I could touch, and this I promptly invested in live stock, under the advice of my most competent of instructors. So by now I reckoned myself fairly and squarely launched. By the way, the man whose boat had constituted the first step in my change of fortunes, having found out my identity, had put in a claim for compensation, but had been directed to wait. Now he too was paid in full, and so everybody was satisfied.

We were nearing midsummer, i.e. Christmas and the New Year, but the intensifying heat notwithstanding, the face of the veldt was smiling and green, for we had had a series of splendid rains. Such a season, it was pronounced, had not been known for years. Stock was fat and thriving, and there was little or no disease. Even our turbulent neighbours had quieted down, and were busy ploughing and sowing, with the result that there was an abnormal but welcome lull in cattle lifting and other maraudings along the border, whose white inhabitants were, for the nonce, content.

“It’s Kenrick who has brought us luck,” declared Iris, with a decisive nod of her pretty head, as we were metaphorically rubbing our hands over the existing state of things. “I’ve read somewhere that it’s always lucky to pick up a waif and stray.”

We shouted at this. Then Brian said—

“I rather think it was the waif and stray who picked you up,kleintje! What price swimming too far out, and the sharks, eh?”

“Nouw ja, that’s true,” she conceded. “But you see, he was bringing us luck even then. You couldn’t get on without me,” concluded Miss Impudence. Whereat we shouted again.

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