Thetunnel was of large dimensions, averaging twenty-five feet in height, and—when once clear of the gulley—fifteen feet in width, the floor was remarkably even, with a stiff gradient. In remote ages the tunnel had evidently been the outlet for an enormous quantity of water—possibly a mountain lake—but the supply had long since diminished and had found a new outlet.
Just within the entrance to the tunnel a guard of warriors was drawn up in a recess, in one corner of which a fire was burning.
As the returning Makoh'lengas passed, every tenth man was given a lighted torch, in order to illuminate the otherwise dark approach, and soon the tunnel was brilliantly lit up, while the flambeaux gave off very little smoke and emitted pleasant odours.
The bearers of the two litters were evidently anxious not to cause their passengers any further inconvenience, for the two men in front held the poles in their hands with thearms drooping to the full extent. The men behind raised their ends of the poles upon their shoulders, so that the litters were kept inpractically a horizontal position.
During the passage of the tunnel the same silence on the part of the warriors was observed, the only sounds being the pattering of hundreds of bare feet upon the smooth rock and the hiss of the flaring torches.
The subterranean march occupied about five minutes, then into the blazing sunlight the long procession emerged.
Colin was frankly interested. He felt that as the threatened danger had passed away, thanks to the amulet, there was little possibility of its recurrence, especially as the lads' captors were now treating them with consideration. True, Sinclair no longer had the swastika in his possession, but whether that would influence further proceedings remained a matter for speculation.
It was a strange sight that greeted Colin's gaze as the litter came to a standstill on the Makoh'lenga terrace. Although this was by no means the summit of the mountain it was several miles in length and about one and a half in breadth.
On the side nearer the mountain were hundreds of stone and plaster-built houses with thatched roofs. Each house had largeglazeless windows shaded by wide porches, while every door was open.
Subsequently Sinclair discovered that the doorways were open for the simple reason that there were no outside doors. It was a custom of the Makoh'lenga to keep "open house," the natives being so scrupulously honest that there was no necessity for anyone to bolt and bar his household goods and chattels.
Each house was surrounded by a small, highly-cultivated garden, while outside the village were common fields, both under cultivation and for grazing purposes, the grass being particularly rich and capable of supporting large herds of domestic cattle and flocks of sheep and goats, the latter bearing a strong resemblance to the Angoras.
At some distance from the houses were buildings given over to the manufacture of metal, woodwork, pottery, and cotton and worsted goods, the Makoh'lenga being skilled artisans. There were several ingenious machines used in connection with the various industries, many of these being driven by water-power.
Gold, copper, and iron were worked into manufactured goods to a large extent, but the Makoh'lenga seemed ignorant of how to produce steel or even cast-iron.
Colin soon discovered that the warriors whohad escorted Tiny and himself were only a small portion of the Makoh'lenga fighting men. News of the expected arrival of the two white men had already been communicated by means of the peculiar sound-producing instrument, and every man capable of bearing arms had turned out to greet the returning members of the expedition and their captives.
The chums had the unusual experience of being carried slowly along the front of the quadruple line of warriors, yet they were treated with absolute respect, and neither by word or gesture did the Makoh'lenga do anything to offend their involuntary guests.
The inspection over, Colin and Tiny were carried to the raised mound where the Chief had taken his stand. A gong sounded a single, low-pitched note, and the Chief held up a mysterious amulet, uttering a few words which were, of course, unintelligible to the lads.
Instantly every warrior bent and laid his spear on the ground. Then every hand was raised aloft, and a full-throated chorus broke from hundreds of lips. It sounded like a paean in honour of the restoration of the sacred amulet to the Makoh'lenga.
Then, in the stillness that succeeded the roar of voices, the Chief made a sign with his golden staff. Instantly the ranks broke, and in a few minutes the place was practicallydeserted, every man hurrying to his own quarters, save for a few warriors in personal attendance upon the head of the remarkable and mysterious tribe.
To one of these attendants the Chief gave some instructions. The man, a magnificent specimen of humanity, although a good two inches shorter than his chief, saluted and signed to Colin and Tiny to accompany him.
Five minutes later the lads found themselves in one of the houses, where a meal of roast lamb, maize, bread, and several varieties of vegetables awaited them.
A native youth appeared with a large earthenware basin filled with water and a couple of rough cotton cloths. Without any preliminaries, this copper-coloured valet washed the chums' faces and hands, ignoring Tiny's attempt to perform his own ablutions.
Then the native youth looked puzzled. It was part of the ceremony to wash the feet of the guests, but the fact that Colin and Tiny wore laced boots and pig-skin leggings worried him as to how to proceed. Finally he seized hold of Sinclair's feet and placed them in the bowl of water and gravely washed and dried the leather foot-gear.
Desmond, seeing that his turn was coming next, took the precaution of removing his leggings and boots, but the result upset bothhis calculations and those of his valet. The latter, who had never before seen a human foot encased in hide, imagined that the white man was performing some act of magic. He started to his feet, upset the bowl, and with a look of amazement took to his heels and disappeared.
"That's done it," ejaculated Tiny.
"He certainly looked surprised," admitted Colin. "But I don't suppose there's any harm done. Let's start grub. It smells delicious, and I'm on the verge of starvation."
The chums set-to with avidity, for ten hours had elapsed since they had last eaten. The meal justified the appetising odour, the only drawback being that there were no knives and forks provided, and only two wooden utensils resembling small shovels. However, by the aid of their own knives Colin and Tiny made up for the deficiencies and thoroughly enjoyed the repast.
"Now," remarked Desmond, after the meal. "What's the programme?"
"Goodness knows," replied Colin. "If we could only let Colonel Narfield know we're all right I wouldn't mind a scrap. These fellows are an interesting sort; except for the preliminary canter, they've treated us jolly well; the food's good, our surroundings are clean,and the air's simply topping. I could do with a month of this."
"That's all very well," admitted Desmond, "You said we were all right; are we?"
"It certainly looks like it," said Colin. "And we are on the eve of a discovery. We've fallen in with a highly-civilised tribe. With the exception of our Mr. Van der Wyck," (Colin always termed his former cabin mate "our" Mr. Van der Wyck to distinguish him from the old farmer) "no one seems to have come in contact with them. I suppose I'm right in saying these fellows are the Makoh'lenga? What a story we'll have to tell when we get back to Kilembonga."
"If we do," interposed the pessimistic Tiny.
"Why if?" asked Sinclair. "They surely don't mean to keep us here for ever. And if they meant us harm they would have knocked us on the head and not troubled to swot up here with us."
"That's all very well," conceded Desmond. "Did you ever read about the Aztecs?"
"The original inhabitants of Mexico? Yes. Didn't Cortez conquer them with a mere handful of Spanish troops?"
"Yes; but that isn't my point," continued Tiny. "They went in for human sacrifices, and they made a point in certain cases of keeping their victims for a twelvemonth before theydid them in. During that twelvemonth they fed them up in fine style, and gave them no end of a good time. I wonder if these Makoh'lenga fellows are trying on the same sort of stunt with us? We aren't out of the wood by a long chalk, old son."
Forthe next three weeks Colin and Desmond had little to complain of. Apart from their anxiety to communicate with their friends, they really had a rather pleasant holiday. They were well-fed, housed, and cared for, and up to a certain point allowed liberty of action.
Their greatest difficulty was their inability to understand the Makoh'lenga language. Although it resembled the Zulu dialects in the way in which the guttural "clicks" occurred, in almost every other word there was nothing else in common with the native tongues spoken in that part of the Dark Continent.
The chums did not submit to their altered conditions without making efforts to secure their freedom. Very shortly after their arrival they decided to make an attempt to escape. Waiting until it was past midnight and the whole village appeared to be wrapped in slumber, they stole softly through the doorlessaperture of their quarters, and made their way towards the tunnel.
It was a moonless night, but the stars were shining brightly, although there was a mist rising from the ground.
Without molestation they drew clear of the village, crossed the open belt of ground, and gained the mouth of the oblique shaft. Here they paused and listened intently. The tunnel was in Cimmerian darkness.
No sound beyond the distant murmur of the waterfall broke the stillness. If the lads could pass the guards stationed in the rocky recess their chances of escape would be most favourable.
Cautiously, and feeling their way step by step, Colin and Desmond entered the gloomy tunnel. As a matter of precaution they had removed their boots, and carried them slung round their necks, and their bare feet made no noise as they encountered the smooth, hard rock that formed the floor of the tunnel.
With beating hearts they approached the hewn-out cavity where they had seen the guards on the occasion of their arrival. The fire no longer burned in the recess. Like the rest of the subterranean passage, the place was in darkness.
Hardly able to credit their good fortune, the chums increased their pace, and gained thenarrow track between the waterfall and the end of the gorge.
image: 06_jove.jpg{Illustration: "'WE'VE DONE IT, BY JOVE!'" [p.231}
"We've done it, by Jove!" soliloquised Sinclair. "We're through."
These thoughts had hardly flashed across his mind when a heavy hand descended upon the shoulder of each of the lads. Turning, they found themselves in the grip of a tall, powerfully-built man, while others, springing seemingly from nowhere, barred the way to freedom.
To Colin's and Tiny's astonishment, their captor made no attempt to harm them. With an air of superior detachment, he pointed in the direction of the tunnel, and exclaimed:
"Intchi!"
The significance of the word was plain. Feeling very small, indeed, the chums turned and retraced their steps, speculating when they arrived at their quarters what would be their punishment in the morning.
Days passed, but seemingly no notice was taken of the attempt to break out. Nevertheless, the mere fact of having been caught red-handed acted as a deterrent to a further effort in that direction. Had they been kicked or beaten they would not have been daunted, but they had a wholesome dread of being ridiculed.
After a while Desmond hit upon anotherplan. Tearing leaves from his pocketbook, he wrote several notes to Colonel Narfield, wrapping each paper round a stone. On the outside he wrote the address, and also drew a rough sketch of the colonel as he usually appeared out of doors, and also a drawing of Kilembonga. This was with the idea of conveying the name and address to any fairly intelligent native who might pick up the little packages.
During the night the lads hurled the weighted papers far over the cliff, hoping that they might fall into the hands of anyone except a Makoh'lenga, since the territory of this mysterious tribe was bounded by the lofty wall of rock.
The following evening, after the chums had been for a walk round the village, the papers were restored to them. Every one had been picked up, neatly smoothed out and folded, and left on the table with the evening meal.
"Stumped, middle wicket!" exclaimed Tiny ruefully. "Here we are, and here we remain, as far as I can see."
"They've got us properly set," agreed Colin. "They know it, otherwise they wouldn't give so much rope. We might try heliographing."
"They'd spot that right away," demurred Tiny.
"Possibly, but they might think we were doing some sort of rite, and let us carry on," replied Sinclair. He pointed to a plate of burnished silver hanging on one of the walls. "That thing will do the trick, I fancy. We'll have a shot at it, any old way."
But the opportunity never arrived, for just as the chums were on the point of turning in they heard a din without. This was quite unusual, for the Makoh'lenga were given to act as silently as possible. It was fairly late in the evening—nearly ten o'clock—at which hour the majority of the inhabitants had retired for the night.
"What's up now, I wonder?" exclaimed Colin, making for the open doorway, with Tiny a close second.
It was now close on the time of full moon. The huge, yellow orb was within thirty degrees of its zenith, and the light was almost as strong as that of a summer's day in England.
Approaching the village was a solid mass of armed men, and every warrior in the place was turning out to meet them. At first the chums imagined that the two parties were antagonistic towards each other, but they were wrong in their surmise. The two bands fused, and in a dense mass they marched onwards, every man shouting at the top of his voice and brandishing his spear.
Arriving at the open space between the houses and the brink of the cliff, the Makoh'lenga warriors halted in four columns with perfect alignment.
In front stood four indunas, or chiefs, one of them being he who had directed the operations resulting in the capture of Colin and Tiny, while a few paces ahead of the four stood another individual, whose elaborate dress of red and white silk, with a golden breast-plate and helmet, proclaimed him to be of the very highest rank. He alone of all the Makoh'lenga departed from the custom of simplicity in costume.
Presently this gorgeous potentate addressed the now silent warriors. When he had finished his lengthy speech he was greeted with shouts of acclamation in which the word "Umkomasi" occurred frequently.
"Umkomasi!" exclaimed Colin. "Why, that was the name our Van der Wyck mentioned."
Before Desmond could offer any remark about a dozen men detached themselves from the mass of warriors, and ran towards the house where the chums were quartered.
Unceremoniously Desmond and Sinclair were seized, their arms bound behind their backs, and hurried into the presence of the Chief Umkomasi.
For a few moments the latter looked steadily at the captives, then at a sign they were led to a position midway between the four regiments. An order rang out, and as one man the armed Makoh'lenga stepped out, forming into one long column, with Umkomasi leading and the other chiefs at the head of their respective regiments, while Colin and Tiny, surrounded by their guards, were placed in the centre of the column.
At the end of a three-mile march, beyond the limits explored by the chums in their wanderings, the Makoh'lenga ascended a zigzag path that appeared to be the only means of communicating with theextensive vastnessthat rose from the lofty tableland in which the village was built.
Arriving at the summit, the warriors broke into a steady run, like men who were behind time in keeping an appointment.
Colin and Tiny had to run, too, in spite of being hampered by having their arms bound, but the gentle application of a couple of spear points quickly settled any disinclination on the part of the captives to increase their pace.
At length the warriors came to a halt in a vast natural amphitheatre, the ground sloping gradually from a depression nearly half a mile in diameter. Only in a comparatively small section did the enclosing bank rise steeply.Here rocks rose abruptly to a height of nearly two hundred feet, and in the centre of this cliff was a lofty cave, with an entrance so wide that the interior was visible to every man drawn up in orderly formation without.
Into the cave Umkomasi and his immediate subordinates entered, making obeisance as they did so. Then, closely guarded, Colin and Tiny were urged towards the enormous cavity.
It was a hideous scene that met their horrified eyes. The walls of the cave were of glittering quartz, with rich veins of virgin gold. That in itself would not have frozen the blood in their veins; it was the terrible object that confronted them in the centre of the cave.
Fashioned of solid gold was an enormous image of a lion, with wide-open jaws and one paw upraised, displaying formidable talons. Either by mechanical means or by some hidden human agency the paw was moving slowly yet remorselessly in the glare of a hundred torches upheld by a double row of motionless men.
Immediately underneath the paw was a block of gold with six rings set in it—three on either side, while a few paces in front of the hideous image was a raised slab of gold on which lay a cushion of white cloth.
On the cushion lay a small object, which Colin and Tiny recognised as the swastika. The amulet, instead of bringing them good luck, had landed Colin and his chum into a very tight corner, indeed!
Withgreat ceremony Umkomasi made obeisance to the amulet, his example being followed by each of the subordinate chieftains in turn. Then, while every warrior in the amphitheatre knelt and touched the ground with his forehead, Umkomasi paid reverence to the gigantic golden idol.
The amulet, the mystic symbol of the Makoh'lenga, had been found in the profane possession of strangers. It had been recovered, and atonement had to be made to the Golden Lion, in order to quell its wrath. More than that, the two white men from whom it had been recovered had to pay the penalty for their transgressions—and the penalty was death by being torn by the descending paw of the huge metallic beast.
All this was explained by Umkomasi to the two bound captives. They did not understand what he said, and Umkomasi knew that they didn't. It was part of the ritual, and had to be carried out; but both Colinand Tiny realised that they were in imminent peril of death in a most cruel and prolonged form.
Colin remembered the words of his cabin-mate in the Cape-bound liner; how he deprecated any suggestion on the lad's part to probe the secret of the mysterious Makoh'lenga.
Sinclair had wanted to, it was true, but the present trouble was not of his seeking. If he had blundered into the Makoh'lenga country in spite of warnings, it was his look-out. But he had not; the Makoh'lenga had captured Tiny and him while they were engaged in a shooting expedition some miles from the boundaries of the Makoh'lenga territory.
Again, if Van der Wyck spoke the truth, how came it that he ventured his life amongst these disciples of refined cruelty, and contrived to escape unharmed? Had he really assisted the Chief Umkomasi and been given the amulet as a mark of gratitude? Or had the Afrikander stolen the mysterious symbol?
That was likely. It rather coincided with the supposition that Van der Wyck was a desperate adventurer who made his living by robbery. But, on the other hand, how could he penetrate into the closely-guarded fastnesses of Makoh'lenga and get away with the amulet unless with the consent of the guardians of the precious bauble?
All these thoughts ran through Colin's mind as he gazed at the grotesque, ungainly lump of gold fashioned after the king of beasts. His first thoughts of terror had passed. His senses were numbed to the horrors of his surroundings. He found himself hoping that when the supreme moment came the end would be sharp, and that he would meet it with the fortitude of his race.
Presently Colin noticed a certain liveliness on the part of Umkomasi and his supporters. They were keenly regarding a circular patch of moonlight that fell upon the floor of the cave, within a foot or so of the base of the sacrificial altar.
The beam streamed through a small aperture in the roof of the cave, and its significance in connection with the hideous rites was plain. In a few minutes—in a quarter of an hour at the most—that patch of moonlight would fall upon the golden idol.
That would be the signal for the terrible paw to fall, to crush beneath its weight the victims of the idol's vengeance.
It was not on the occasion of every full moon that these conditions occurred, otherwise Colin and his chum would have been haled to their deaths twenty-eight days previously. But that did not alter the fact that the most unpleasant time had arrived when the earth'ssatellite followed an orbit that took it immediately in line with the axis of the shaft through the roof of the sacrificial cave.
Then Colin found himself wondering what would happen if an eclipse darkened the moon. He had heard of an opportune eclipse proving a means of salvation to travellers in peril of their lives at the hands of savages.
But it was a forlorn hope. There was not so much as a partial darkening of the moon. Even if there were it would take at least a couple of hours to effect total obscuration, and by that time....
Umkomasi gave an order. From a recess in the cave half-a-dozen men bounded forward with ropes in their hands.
Throwing the coil over their shoulders, the six stalwart natives heaved and strained at the sacrificial stone, dragging it from under the idol. The paw of the golden lion was now motionless, poised in the air ready to descend upon the stone when it was replaced with its living victim.
These preparations made, the six menlook inquiringly at Umkomasi. The Chief gave no sign. He was carefully observing the slow progress of that patch of silvery light across the floor of the cave.
Suddenly Desmond fell with a dull thud. He had fainted under the excessive strain ofthe last few minutes. Colin could render him no assistance. His arms, being bound, prevented him, while, in point of fact, he was beginning to feel faint and dizzy himself.
"Perhaps it's as well," he soliloquised. "Tiny won't feel anything while he's like that. Wish I were in his state, too."
Desmond's collapse had no effect upon the natives. They looked on impassively, waiting for a sign from their Chief. The disc of the moon was lapping the shoulder of the idol.
A word of command, and the double line of torch-bearers held the torches behind them, throwing the centre of the cave into deep shadows. The six attendants stiffened themselves like beasts of prey about to spring upon their victims.
Before Umkomasi could utter the fatal orders there was a commotion in the armed ranks drawn up in the arena. Angrily the Chief looked in that direction to find the reason for the unwonted noise.
Colin turned and looked also. He could hardly believe the evidence of his eyes, for limping between the columns of warriors was a tall, bearded white man with a canvas haversack on his shoulder, calling peremptorily upon the name of Umkomasi.
With an effort Sinclair moistened his dry lips and raised his voice, shouting in a crackedhigh-pitched tone that he hardly recognised as his own:
"Van der Wyck!"
"Right-o, sonny," replied the Afrikander, briskly. "You'll be all right; leave it to me."
Umkomasi was on the horns of a dilemma. If he did not give the fatal order almost at once the sacrifice would be too late. He also seemed anxious to order Van der Wyck to be removed, yet he obviously feared the white man.
Van der Wyck forestalled the Chief. In a voice of thunder he bade the six assistants to make themselves scarce. They obeyed with considerable alacrity.
Then deliberately walking up to where Colin stood, the Afrikander cut the rope that bound him.
"See to your friend," he said, handing Sinclair the knife. "You'll be all right, I'll promise you. Don't move until I tell you. I've a few words to say to these gentlemen, particularly to my acquaintance, Umkomasi."
Van der Wyckwith a fluent command of the Makoh'lenga tongue, figuratively had Umkomasi on toast. He handled the situation briskly and decisively, giving the Chief very little opening and dismissing the latter's arguments in a manner that left him powerless.
In vain Umkomasi protested that the sacred amulet, which he admitted having given to the Afrikander, had passed into unauthorised hands; that his captives had no right to be possessed of the swastika.
He had heard from native sources that two young white men were in the country with the mystic jewel in their possession, and he had taken prompt measures to secure both it and them.
"You must release them instantly, Umkomasi," demanded Van der Wyck.
"I dare not," replied the Chief. "They are dedicated to the Golden Lion. If the Golden Lion is deprived of his sacrifices he will be angry, and dire calamity will befall my people."
"It won't," rejoined the Afrikander. "My power is greater by far than that of the Golden Lion."
"It is easy to say so," remarked Umkomasi. "The Golden Lion weighs as much as, or more than, one hundred fat oxen——"
"And by my magic I can overthrow him," asserted Van der Wyck. "Without placing so much as a finger on the Golden Lion I can hurl him from his place. Umkomasi, is it not unwise to put your trust in a false idol and risk the certain vengeance of the Great White One when by placing your trust in the White Emperor beyond the seas you and your people will live in peace and thrive exceedingly?"
"If I could but believe in what you say," began the Chief, wistfully.
"Seeing is believing, O Umkomasi," interposed Van der Wyck. "Go outside, you and your petty chiefs, your servants and your torch-bearers. Wait without and see my magic eat up the Golden Lion. And, also," he added as an afterthought, "tell those priests—the rascals who move the paw and who sit within the idol and deceive your people—tell them to clear out as they value their hides. Quickly, for I'm in a hurry."
Knowing that Umkomasi would carry out his commands, Van der Wyck turned his back upon the Chief, set his haversack on the ground,and assisted Colin to carry the still unconscious Tiny into the open-air.
Quickly the Chief and his assistants followed, while the armed ranks of the Makoh'lenga looked on in awe-struck silence.
"Remain here, Umkomasi," commanded the Afrikander. "Remain here, lest death overtake you."
With that Van der Wyck re-entered the cave, leaving the nearest Makoh'lenga a good hundred yards from the mouth of the gloomy and horrible abode of the Golden Lion.
In less than five minutes he reappeared, limping briskly to the spot where Umkomasi stood.
"Have you overthrown the Golden Lion, O Great One?" enquired the Chief. "You have brought me no proof that you have done so, neither do you look as if you had been exerting much strength."
"I have not laid a finger upon the Golden Lion, O Umkomasi," declared the Afrikander. "But I have cast my spells upon him, and lo! he will be utterly destroyed."
Taking up his stand a couple of paces in front of the puzzled chief, Van der Wyck consulted his watch, utterly unconcerned by the fact that behind him were four thousand armed warriors, any of whom, at their Chief's bidding, would have hurled his spear with unerring aiminto the middle of the Afrikander's broad back.
Suddenly a tremendous flash leapt from the mouth of the cave, followed by an enormous cloud of black smoke. A loud, ear-splitting detonation rent the air. The ground trembled with the vibrations of a stupendous explosion.
When the smoke cleared away, and the bright moonbeams lighted up the scene, the cave was no longer in existence. The mountain, shaken and torn by the detonation of sixty pounds of powerful explosive, had collapsed, entirely filling up the cave and the idol with thousands of tons of granite.
"That's done it," ejaculated Van der Wyck, turning to Colin. "There goes my chance of making a fortune. But it's jolly well worth it. Come along, we'll make tracks. I'll get these fellows to carry your chum. I've a dozen 'boys' waiting at the edge of the forest."
"Now, young men," said Van der Wyck. "Having got you out of this mess, perhaps you will tell me how and why you got into it?"
It was close on mid-day. Van der Wyck had "out-spanned" on the edge of the forest. His native "boys" were either jabbering or sleeping, while the horses and oxen browsed before resuming their trek.
Colin related the series of events that led up to their capture by the Makoh'lenga, laying particular stress upon the fact that neither he nor his chum attempted to probe the secrets of the mysterious tribe.
"H'm," ejaculated the Afrikander. "That puts a different construction on things.Allemachte, when I heard you were in those fellows' clutches I thought you had neglected my advice and had started to discover things. Almost every kraal within a couple of hundred miles knew of your capture, but the natives have such a wholesome respect for Umkomasithat they dare not give information. I heard the news quite by accident from one of Sibenga's crowd, so I came on straightaway. Luckily I brought every ounce of blasting powder I possessed with me; but it rather spoiled my chances of making a bit out of Umkomasi."
"Have you been long in East Africa?" asked Colin.
"Some weeks," was the reply. "When I left you in Cape Town I meant to go to Mafeking. You see, I had a farm left me by an uncle who died while I was fighting Huns round about this very spot. But somehow I decided to let the farm go a bit, and have a look round the old familiar places before I settled to work. I had an idea of doing a bit of bartering with Umkomasi, who, I think I told you, was in my debt. And I meant to look you up at Kilembonga, so you see I hadn't forgotten you."
For some minutes Colin sat and thought. He wanted to ask Van der Wyck a question, but, somehow, he rather dreaded doing so.
"Better do it," he soliloquised, "and get it off my chest. It'll clear the air."
He still hesitated. Evidently the Afrikander read his thoughts.
"What is bothering you now?" he asked.
"I want to ask you something, and I hardlylike to," said Colin. "You might be very annoyed."
"It takes a lot to make me very annoyed," rejoined Van der Wyck. "I'll let you try, anyway. Out with it."
"You don't happen to be known as Jan Groute, do you?" asked Sinclair.
Van der Wyck held his sides, threw back his head, and roared with laughter until the tears came into his eyes.
"Allemachte!" he exclaimed, when he was able to regain his speech. "You'll be calling me Ned Kelly, Claude Duval, Deadwood Dick, or even Robin Hood next. No, I've been a good many things in the last twenty-five years, but bush-ranging or train robbery isn't in my line. What made you think that?"
Colin told him.
"It is certainly strange," admitted the Afrikander. "I can give no reason why the chief bandit gave you the go-by in the train. Perhaps he took a fancy to you. And you say your boss, Colonel Narfield, wrote to me?"
"Yes," replied Desmond, "but we know the letter went to the wrong address."
"Shouldn't have got it in any case," observed Van der Wyck, "until I got back to Mafeking. That may be very soon, now; you see, it's not much use digging for goldunder five hundred feet of rock. I was hoping to get a little gold from the Makoh'lenga."
"Sorry, it was our fault," said Colin.
"Not at all," declared the Afrikander. "I would not be much of a pal if I hadn't done my best to get you out of a mess. You did the same for me, you'll remember. By the by, what did you do with the swastika?"
"The Makoh'lenga collared it," said Sinclair. "It's buried underneath the rock, unless it was blown to atoms!"
"Wrong again," exclaimed the Afrikander. "You're rather off things in the guessing line just now. Here it is. I took charge of it when I fired Umkomasi and his friends out of the cave."
And once more Colin Sinclair became the possessor of the Amulet of the Makoh'lenga.
* * * * *
"Any news?" asked Farmer Van der Wyck.
Colonel Narfield shook his head.
The native postman had just departed, leaving a batch of correspondence for the owner of Kilembonga. Beyond a few letters from home, posted nine weeks earlier, there was little of interest except a note from District Commissioner Wynyard.
"No," replied the Colonel. "No news ofthe lads. I'm beginning to fear—here's a line from Wynyard. He's heard nothing, of course, and pooh-poohs the Makoh'lenga theory. He adds the information that Jan Groute and his gang were laid by the heels at Pondogo's Kraal, and they are all snugly under lock and key at Tabora. That's why he hasn't been able to ride over and see us recently. There are some newspapers. One of them is theJo'burg Express. Care to have a look at it?"
The two men entered the living-room. Tenpenny Nail was engaged in laying the table for the evening meal. "Here, you," exclaimed Colonel Narfield, pointing to the table, "what's all this? I have not told you that I was having more friends to supper."
Tenpenny Nail grinned.
"All right, sah!" he replied. "Dey come one-time quick."
"Who?" demanded the Colonel.
"Massa Colin, I 'specks," answered Tenpenny Nail, quietly. "Three white mans an' heap plenty boys. You no make savee, den ask Blue Fly."
"Rot!" exclaimed Colonel Narfield, yet, curious to know how the rumour originated, he went out on to the stoep and called Blue Fly.
Evidently something was in the air, for the Haussas and the East African natives weregreatly excited. All declared that Colin and Desmond were on the way to the house.
They seemed so emphatic about it that the Colonel and the old Boer went to the gate and looked down the road. Not a soul was in sight, although the track was clearly visible for at least two miles until it descended the remote sides of a hill.
None of the servants had gone in that direction, and no one had arrived with the exception of the postman, and he had not come from Sibenga's Kraal, but from an entirely opposite quarter.
"Blue Fly, you lying rascal!" exclaimed the Colonel. "You've been drinking."
"Me, no, sah," declared the Haussa emphatically. "Nyagava him tell. No lie, Nyagava."
Nyagava was an East African who worked as a blacksmith on the estate. The Colonel knew from personal observation that he had not been out of the workshops since nine o'clock that morning.
"Tell Nyagava I want him," ordered Colonel Narfield.
But Blue Fly did not move. He was gazing steadfastly down the road.
"Dey come!" he shouted.
Sure enough the top of a white canvas tilt was appearing over the crest of the hill. Thencame the leaders of a span of oxen tugging at the heavy, slow-moving vehicle.
"By Jove!" ejaculated the astonished Colonel.
"Your man was right, Colonel Narfield," said the old farmer quietly, as he lowered his binoculars. "There are three white men on the front of the wagon. I can't quite distinguish their faces, but perhaps you might."
He handed his companion the glasses. The Colonel adjusted the focus.
"By all that's wonderful!" he shouted. "It is Colin and Desmond."
Limping slightly, the Colonel went to meet the long-lost ones. Piet Van der Wyck, equally overjoyed, accompanied him, while crowding behind them were dozens and dozens of the Kilembonga employees yelling, dancing, and shouting themselves hoarse.
In the van of this little crush one of the most conspicuous figures was McFrazer, who, throwing aside his usual stolidity, was dancing a Scottish reel with Tenpenny Nail as his awkward but none the less enthusiastic partner.
For the next quarter of an hour Colonel Narfield's words and actions were a trifle confused, while Colin and Tiny were simply overwhelmed with demonstrations of exuberant joy.
"Where's our Van der Wyck?" inquired Colin, at length.
He was missing. So was the old farmer. They were discovered sitting in the wagon, grasping each other's hands.
"My nephew Piet," announced Van der Wyck senior. "I thought he was killed in the war."
"And this is my Uncle Piet," exclaimed the younger Van der Wyck. "I had a letter from Mafeking, while I was serving with Deventer's Column, telling me that he had died. A double blunder. Anyway, it's all right all round now. And Uncle Piet can vouch for it that I'm not Jan Groute," he added with a chuckle.
"No need," rejoined Colonel Narfield. "We know now who Jan Groute is and where he is. But come along. Supper is ready and places laid for you three. How did I know? I didn't. For any further information ask Tenpenny Nail."