Chapter Sixteen.

Chapter Sixteen.The Attempted Escape.Dawes, prompt to discern that his young companion had seen or heard something to unnerve him, was not long in getting at the whole story of the latter’s discovery.“It’s a pity you turned your explorations in that direction, Ridgeley,” was his verdict, “for I’m afraid the result has knocked you out of time some—and it’s still more a pity that Vunawayo should have stumbled across you up there, because of course he saw that you were a bit upset, and it gives them a sort of a hold on us. Well now, you see, my plan is the best in the long run. You must try and make a break for it, and see what you can do for the rest of us.”But still Gerard refused, refused uncompromisingly to leave his comrade alone in the power of these barbarians. At length it was agreed they should toss up which should make the attempt.“Here, you’d better do the throwing, or you’ll be swearing I’ve hocussed the coin,” said Dawes, with a dry smile. “By Jove, I’ve tossed for many a thing, from drinks upwards, but never for quite such a life-and-death business as this. Still, I hope you may win, for I tell you candidly you would stand a bad chance if left here. Well, heads you go, tails I stay. What’s it to be—two out of three, or ‘sudden death’?”“Sudden death sounds unlucky. Two out of three we’ll say. You throw.”“All right,” said Dawes, producing a shilling and contemplating it with that dry, quizzical look of his that did duty for most men’s laugh. “Her most Gracious Majesty isn’t in it up here compared with Ingonyama—confusion to the latter. Now—call.” And up went the coin.“Heads!” sang out Gerard. Heads it was.Up went the coin again. This time “tails” turned up.“So far a draw. Now for the casting vote,” said Dawes.“Heads!” cried Gerard again. “Hurra— No. I’ve lost—though I’ve won the toss,” he ended, as the coin, having wobbled indecisively, settled down, head uppermost, on the waggon-box.“That’s as it should be,” said Dawes. “The next thing is to choose our time. A rainy, dark night would be the best. Zulus, you know, hate being out of doors at night. They’re as frightened of bogies as so many children. But there’s no chance of any such luck, I’m afraid. Well, we must just watch our opportunity.”The latter came. Two nights after the decision by lot there was a gathering and a war-dance at the Igazipuza kraal. Throughout the afternoon the warriors were parading and singing, and towards sundown there was a great beef-killing, at which Gerard himself assisted, and in order to lull suspicion, affected great interest in the spearing of the doomed cattle, half of which, frenzied with apprehension and the clamour of the crowd, broke loose and temporarily escaped their slayers, affording much sport to the excited savages in hunting them down one by one, and slaughtering them, amid an indescribable uproar.“Now, Ridgeley, you have got everything you will require,” said Dawes. “The map, ammunition, everything. The row will be at its thickest in less than an hour. That will be the time. Even the guards at the entrance to this hole will be so taken up watching the fun down here, you may be able to slip past them.”But Fortune was destined to prove unfavourable. As the moment for making the attempt drew near, and even John Dawes the imperturbable felt his pulses beat quicker, messengers arrived from the chief requesting—though the request was really a command—their presence at the gathering.It was disconcerting, at first. But Dawes’s keen faculties saw in the apparent difficulty his opportunity. The messengers were few in number, and eager to get back themselves to the scene of the festivities. He readily fell in with the request, and with great deliberation replied that they would saddle up their horses and ride over forthwith. This proposal, so far from being received with suspicion, excited no surprise. Zulus are great sticklers for etiquette; therefore it struck the messengers as in no wise strange that the two white men should elect to put in their appearance with every adjunct of state at their command—to wit, on horseback.“God bless you, Ridgeley,” said Dawes, with unwonted seriousness, contriving, under cover of saddling up, to exchange a firm hand-clasp with his young companion, unseen by the messengers. “When we get near the kraal, then edge off and make a dash for it. I’ll give you the word.”Their outspan was some three or four hundred yards distant from the kraal. As they approached the latter, they could see that the war-dance was in full swing. In the red glow of the great fires the forms of hundreds of excited savages, in all their wild paraphernalia, showed forth weird, monstrous, fantastic, as they went through their barbarous performance, and the thunder of the war-song gathered in volume, swelling up to the star-lit heavens like the fierce roar of ravening beasts. Gerard’s heart was beating like a hammer.“Now, Ridgeley! Now is your time!” whispered Dawes, as the messengers who were escorting them had in their eagerness been gradually increasing their distance in advance.Gerard, who had learnt promptitude in a sufficiently hard and practical school, said not a word. Wrenching round his horse’s head, for the animal was loath to part from its companion, he spurred away into the dark bush, straight for the head of the valley. And as he rode, from all the agonised suspense of his young heart, went up an unspoken prayer that he might succeed, that he might be the means of rescuing his companion from the deadly peril which lowered over him, which lowered over them both.The kraal was already left behind on his right, the wild tumult of the war-dance began to grow fainter. A puff of cool air fanned his face. He had almost gained the ridge. Could it be—dared he hope—that he was after all to meet with no opposition? Could it be that the guards had all been summoned to attend the revelry? Ha! what was that?In the light of the stars—and South African starlight can be very bright—he saw dark forms running, converging on his line of flight, could even distinguish the white on their shields, the occasional glint on the point of an assegai. Then a line of figures started up right before him, as it were out of the earth itself, barring his way, and a deep-toned, peremptory voice called upon him to halt.It was a critical, a fearful moment, yet he hesitated not. Putting his horse right at the foremost, he charged through. And then the wild Igazipuza war-cry rent the night, and he could hear the whiz of flying assegais past his head.Even then he would not use a weapon—would not fire. Like lightning it flashed through his brain that he must get through bloodlessly—without taking a life—or not at all. He might kill one or more of his assailants. He might even thus ensure his own escape; but in that case would he not be dooming to death his comrade? Would not the latter be inevitably sacrificed? Would not the revengeful and exasperated barbarians demand life for life, blood for blood? Seldom, we trow, has one so young in years been called upon to face so difficult and delicate a dilemma, seldom has he disposed of it so resolutely, so judiciously.He heard the swarming rush of his pursuers as they charged down the hill on either side of him. His pulses bounded, and his steed, maddened with excitement and terror, snorted and tugged at the reins as the terrible slogan rang forth from those fierce throats, expressing in curdling meaning their veritable thirst for blood—“Igazi—pu—za!”And now with a thrill of unspeakable exaltation, he realised that he was goingdownhill, that he was actually outside that hated and ill-omened hollow which had been their drear prison-house all these weary weeks. Every drop of blood in his veins tingled; every nerve thrilled. But the pursuers kept up their pace horribly, and the way was rough, fearfully rough. Even the sure-footed Basuto pony stumbled and floundered in the darkness; once or twice came down nearly on his knees.“Igazi—pu—za!”The frightful shout thundered still in his wake, still as close as before. In the darkness, on the steep and ragged descent the fleet-footed savages could almost keep pace with the horse. With the very brief start he had been able to obtain, they would surely run him down sooner or later. His steed could not keep on at that pace for ever. Besides, a hole, an excrescence in the ground, a false step, anything, and he would be at their mercy.On he kept. The air seemed to tear past his ears as he sped. The stars overhead were as a whirling wheel of fire-works. Would not Nature even come to his aid, afford him a hiding-place, a refuge? The rugged mountains loomed black to the sky in all their savage wildness. Oh for a few miles of level stretch to yield him the precious start which should be the saving of him, the saving of them both! And then it seemed that his despairing wish was answered. A black line rose right across his way. It was a wide belt of forest land. Here at any rate he might find hiding—shelter—some means of baffling the pursuers.For although the fierce shouts of the latter had long since ceased, not on that account did he flatter himself they had given up the chase. These bloodhounds would not abandon their prey so readily. Even though the morning might see him a long distance from their haunt, yet would he by no means be safe. The Igazipuza were drawn mainly from the Aba Qulusi clan, who inhabited almost exclusively the mountainous region of northern Zululand. Not among these could he look for help, for guidance in reaching the kraal of the king.And, indeed, could he so look to any? What if the war with the English had actually broken out? In that case he would be a lawful prey to the first armed band he should meet. The hand of every man, woman, and child in the country would be against him.The first thing, however, was to evade those now in pursuit of him, and with feelings of the deepest thankfulness, Gerard plunged into the dark, welcome shades of the forest. But here a new drawback, a new peril arose to confront him. The ground was hardly less rough than the open hillside, and being in shadow, he could not see to guide his horse, with the result that now and again the animal would crash right into a bush, or stumble and slide over the roots of a tree, at the same time nearly braining his rider against a limb of the same. Or a buck would start up and rush away headlong through the covert, making a prodigious clatter, and, as sound travels far at night, the keen ears of his enemies would have no difficulty in following him by their sense of hearing alone.How long he thus pursued his course Gerard could hardly have told; but at length the deep-drawn breathing and stumbling gait of his steed warned him that it was high time the latter had a rest, however brief. So he dismounted, and having listened a moment, loosened the girths, but without removing the saddle, and then stood listening again.If he had come upon this expedition in search of adventure, assuredly he had found it, thought Gerard, as he stood there by his horse, with the bridle in his hand ready to mount at the very first alarm; as he stood there in the midnight darkness of the forest, listening with beating heart for the stealthy footsteps of his pursuing enemies. As a situation of wild, adventurous peril, assuredly this one would be hard to surpass.He might thus have been standing about half an hour, when a faint, far-away rustling was borne to his ears. At the same time his horse began to show signs of uneasiness. That was enough. In a moment he had tightened up the girths, and was in the saddle again.The rest, though brief, had meant new life to the horse. The game little Basuto stepped briskly out, but the kloof suddenly narrowed into a steep defile, a dry watercourse in fact, and here the hoofs made such an abominable clatter on the stones as to bring Gerard’s heart into his mouth. It could be heard for miles in the still silence of the night.On he pressed, obliged to follow the lay of the land—a long, narrow defile between steep mountain slopes. Would it never end? It seemed not, as each fresh rise surmounted, only revealed the same winding gloomy gorge, black in the darkness.Another rest, this time of longer duration, and he pressed on again. And then as the first streak of dawn began to tinge the sky, Gerard noted that he had got clear of the mountains, and was riding over rolling, bush-clad, and comparatively level country, but always gradually descending. One thing puzzled him however. By the position of the rising dawn he had travelled too much to the westward. That he had not travelled in a circle he felt sure. Then as the dawn lightened he saw in front of him a straggling irregular rift in the expanse of bush beneath, and listening intently his ear thought to detect the sound of water. Yes, it was water—a river. Drawing out the rough map Dawes had prepared for him, he decided that it must be the Black Umfolosi. If so he had made very fair distance. Surely he was nearly out of danger as far as his pursuers were concerned.The next thing was to discover a place to cross. A little further on was a rocky conical eminence. By ascending this he could command a view of the river, and would thus save the time occupied by riding up and down, it might be for any distance, in search of a practicable drift. His horse needed another rest, and while the animal was benefiting by this he himself could ascend the hillock and take his observations, thus killing two birds with one stone. A fatally erroneous move.But having resolved upon it, Gerard lost no time in carrying it out. Leaving his horse with the bridle drawn over its head, and the saddle girths merely loosened as before, he set to work to climb thekopje.The sides were rugged and steep, and the rocky summit was crowned with bush and prickly aloes. A good view of the lay of the land rewarded his efforts. For miles the bush country stretched away, and here and there the dim blue line of a mountain in the distance. Beneath, the river seemed to flow around a bend in a long smooth reach. It was probably deep at this point, in which event he would have to ride eastward along its bank in search of a drift. By comparing the direction it took with the position of the sunrise he felt sure he had reached the Black Umfolosi.And now as the glorious hues of sunrise began to flush and glow in the east, and the varying voices of the wilderness arose in glad and joyous greeting of another day, the piping of birds, and the hum of insects, Gerard’s pulses beat with an unwonted sense of exhilaration, of vivid delight in his new-found freedom. Fatigue or exhaustion he had not as yet begun to feel, for, as we have shown, he was in splendid condition by reason of his open-air life. But he began to feel uncommonly hungry, and the only food he had been able to bring with him were a few pieces of bread, crammed hurriedly into his pockets. These, however, hard and stale as they were, came in uncommonly acceptable now, and he devoured them ravenously.“That’s better,” he said to himself, rising slowly. “Now for one farewell survey, and then on again.” And then he dropped back among the bushes and aloes as if he had been shot.He had left his horse in an open glade. From his elevated perch he could see the animal peacefully grazing, and he saw something more. Stealing upon it, flitting from bush to bush, came a number of armed Zulus.With a fatal fascination he watched their movements. On they crept, half crouching, half gliding, but approaching with incredible rapidity. He could mark them signalling to each other, then as two or three of them rose to peer forward, he saw on their foreheads and chests the blood-red disc, the ominous distinguishing mark of the Igazipuza. That these were his pursuers of the previous night was established beyond a doubt.He watched them as they drew near the horse. But instead of running forward to secure the animal, they suddenly crouched down and lay motionless. The significance of this manoeuvre was plain enough to Gerard. They reckoned that he would return to the horse, and their plan was to lie in wait and pounce out upon him when he should do so.He had a rifle with him—the double gun had been left with Dawes—and now he thought how he could astonish them, how easily he could pick off, at any rate, one or two of them. But what good purpose would that serve? It would draw the whole band on to his hiding-place, and he could not hope to resist them ultimately. Besides, the objection to blood shedding which had held good at first held good still. Dawes was still in their power.Then he thought—thought hard and coherently. He must abandon the horse and steal away. The savages would get tired of watching there for ever. They would quit their ambush and come in search of him, or, at any rate, some of them might. They would light upon his spoor, and easily track him. He must make good his own escape while there was yet time.Acting on this resolve he sent one more look at the lurking barbarians; then, crawling carefully down the other side of thekopjeso as to leave it between himself and them, he made for the river, judging that upon its banks he was likely to find a hiding-place if anywhere.To gain it took him some little time. We said that the river here flowed in a long smooth reach, and this reach was thickly bordered with trees and overhanging bushes. Nothing could have answered his purpose better. But, as he gained it, he sent one look backward at his late resting-place, and that look was sufficient to show him that he had left that refuge not a moment too soon. There was a flash and movement of something upon the rocky apex. His enemies had taken up the spoor and had followed it thither.In this conjecture he was, as it happened, wrong, the real fact being that the same idea had entered their heads as had entered his; viz. that thekopjewould make a convenient observatory, and two or three of them had ascended to explore accordingly. Once there, however, they promptly lighted upon the spoor leading away from it, and were at that very moment engaged in signalling the discovery to the residue of the band below.And now Gerard knew that further flight was useless. With his horse still under him he might have stood some chance, and bitterly did he reproach himself for his carelessness and folly in cutting himself loose from his staunch little steed. On foot the fleet barbarians would run him down with the untiring persistency of bloodhounds. His only chance was to hide.But where? Eagerly, anxiously he explored the river-bank. Plenty of hiding-places were there, for as we have said, the trees and bushes overhung the water in thick profusion. It was not sufficient, however, merely to conceal himself, he must do so in such wise as to leave no spoor, no clue to his hiding-place.And as the young adventurer fled swiftly along the river-bank his heart was filled with a bitter despair. Death stared him in the face at every turn—death, violent but swift, on the weapons of his enemies, or death by torture at their hands—here or when they dragged him back captive to their wild stronghold. The ruthless persistency of their pursuit seemed to point to no other intention. The sight of the grisly stake and its impaled burden came back to his recollection and rendered him desperate. All considerations of policy were thrown to the winds. He would sell his life dearly now.Still there was a chance, and he resolved to make the most of it. Casting his eyes keenly around he noticed a quick rapid movement, then a splash. An iguana lying along a tree trunk which sloped out almost horizontally over the water, alarmed by his presence, had run to the end of the boughs and dived in. The idea struck him as an inspiration. In a moment he was up the tree; then, following the example of the iguana, he let himself drop into the water as noiselessly as possible.It was over his head, but his feet touched ground almost immediately. Then he rose again, and keeping under cover of the bank began to swim upstream. The current being deep was sluggish, and Gerard, who was a strong, powerful swimmer, made good headway. Carefully avoiding the slightest splash he had swum about two hundred yards, when he became sensible of a strange, but ever so slight vibration. It was caused by the tread of footsteps on the bank.He dived and swam beneath the surface in order to avoid leaving any ripple. When at last he arose to breathe he found he was beneath a huge overhanging bush, whose branches trailed down into the water. Nothing could be better for his purpose.Holding on by a bough, he drew a long deep breath. Then peering cautiously forth through the foliage he watched and listened. Again came that barely perceptible vibration of the bank, and he thought he could detect the muffled sound of voices.The shadow of the tree-fringed bank lay in an irregular line upon the water. The sun was now almost straight upstream, reducing the shadow to a mere three or four yards of width. And, a short distance below him, projecting from this line of shadow, Gerard, from his concealment could make out the moving silhouettes of three or four heads. His ruthless pursuers were right over his hiding-place. Would they discover it or pass it by?

Dawes, prompt to discern that his young companion had seen or heard something to unnerve him, was not long in getting at the whole story of the latter’s discovery.

“It’s a pity you turned your explorations in that direction, Ridgeley,” was his verdict, “for I’m afraid the result has knocked you out of time some—and it’s still more a pity that Vunawayo should have stumbled across you up there, because of course he saw that you were a bit upset, and it gives them a sort of a hold on us. Well now, you see, my plan is the best in the long run. You must try and make a break for it, and see what you can do for the rest of us.”

But still Gerard refused, refused uncompromisingly to leave his comrade alone in the power of these barbarians. At length it was agreed they should toss up which should make the attempt.

“Here, you’d better do the throwing, or you’ll be swearing I’ve hocussed the coin,” said Dawes, with a dry smile. “By Jove, I’ve tossed for many a thing, from drinks upwards, but never for quite such a life-and-death business as this. Still, I hope you may win, for I tell you candidly you would stand a bad chance if left here. Well, heads you go, tails I stay. What’s it to be—two out of three, or ‘sudden death’?”

“Sudden death sounds unlucky. Two out of three we’ll say. You throw.”

“All right,” said Dawes, producing a shilling and contemplating it with that dry, quizzical look of his that did duty for most men’s laugh. “Her most Gracious Majesty isn’t in it up here compared with Ingonyama—confusion to the latter. Now—call.” And up went the coin.

“Heads!” sang out Gerard. Heads it was.

Up went the coin again. This time “tails” turned up.

“So far a draw. Now for the casting vote,” said Dawes.

“Heads!” cried Gerard again. “Hurra— No. I’ve lost—though I’ve won the toss,” he ended, as the coin, having wobbled indecisively, settled down, head uppermost, on the waggon-box.

“That’s as it should be,” said Dawes. “The next thing is to choose our time. A rainy, dark night would be the best. Zulus, you know, hate being out of doors at night. They’re as frightened of bogies as so many children. But there’s no chance of any such luck, I’m afraid. Well, we must just watch our opportunity.”

The latter came. Two nights after the decision by lot there was a gathering and a war-dance at the Igazipuza kraal. Throughout the afternoon the warriors were parading and singing, and towards sundown there was a great beef-killing, at which Gerard himself assisted, and in order to lull suspicion, affected great interest in the spearing of the doomed cattle, half of which, frenzied with apprehension and the clamour of the crowd, broke loose and temporarily escaped their slayers, affording much sport to the excited savages in hunting them down one by one, and slaughtering them, amid an indescribable uproar.

“Now, Ridgeley, you have got everything you will require,” said Dawes. “The map, ammunition, everything. The row will be at its thickest in less than an hour. That will be the time. Even the guards at the entrance to this hole will be so taken up watching the fun down here, you may be able to slip past them.”

But Fortune was destined to prove unfavourable. As the moment for making the attempt drew near, and even John Dawes the imperturbable felt his pulses beat quicker, messengers arrived from the chief requesting—though the request was really a command—their presence at the gathering.

It was disconcerting, at first. But Dawes’s keen faculties saw in the apparent difficulty his opportunity. The messengers were few in number, and eager to get back themselves to the scene of the festivities. He readily fell in with the request, and with great deliberation replied that they would saddle up their horses and ride over forthwith. This proposal, so far from being received with suspicion, excited no surprise. Zulus are great sticklers for etiquette; therefore it struck the messengers as in no wise strange that the two white men should elect to put in their appearance with every adjunct of state at their command—to wit, on horseback.

“God bless you, Ridgeley,” said Dawes, with unwonted seriousness, contriving, under cover of saddling up, to exchange a firm hand-clasp with his young companion, unseen by the messengers. “When we get near the kraal, then edge off and make a dash for it. I’ll give you the word.”

Their outspan was some three or four hundred yards distant from the kraal. As they approached the latter, they could see that the war-dance was in full swing. In the red glow of the great fires the forms of hundreds of excited savages, in all their wild paraphernalia, showed forth weird, monstrous, fantastic, as they went through their barbarous performance, and the thunder of the war-song gathered in volume, swelling up to the star-lit heavens like the fierce roar of ravening beasts. Gerard’s heart was beating like a hammer.

“Now, Ridgeley! Now is your time!” whispered Dawes, as the messengers who were escorting them had in their eagerness been gradually increasing their distance in advance.

Gerard, who had learnt promptitude in a sufficiently hard and practical school, said not a word. Wrenching round his horse’s head, for the animal was loath to part from its companion, he spurred away into the dark bush, straight for the head of the valley. And as he rode, from all the agonised suspense of his young heart, went up an unspoken prayer that he might succeed, that he might be the means of rescuing his companion from the deadly peril which lowered over him, which lowered over them both.

The kraal was already left behind on his right, the wild tumult of the war-dance began to grow fainter. A puff of cool air fanned his face. He had almost gained the ridge. Could it be—dared he hope—that he was after all to meet with no opposition? Could it be that the guards had all been summoned to attend the revelry? Ha! what was that?

In the light of the stars—and South African starlight can be very bright—he saw dark forms running, converging on his line of flight, could even distinguish the white on their shields, the occasional glint on the point of an assegai. Then a line of figures started up right before him, as it were out of the earth itself, barring his way, and a deep-toned, peremptory voice called upon him to halt.

It was a critical, a fearful moment, yet he hesitated not. Putting his horse right at the foremost, he charged through. And then the wild Igazipuza war-cry rent the night, and he could hear the whiz of flying assegais past his head.

Even then he would not use a weapon—would not fire. Like lightning it flashed through his brain that he must get through bloodlessly—without taking a life—or not at all. He might kill one or more of his assailants. He might even thus ensure his own escape; but in that case would he not be dooming to death his comrade? Would not the latter be inevitably sacrificed? Would not the revengeful and exasperated barbarians demand life for life, blood for blood? Seldom, we trow, has one so young in years been called upon to face so difficult and delicate a dilemma, seldom has he disposed of it so resolutely, so judiciously.

He heard the swarming rush of his pursuers as they charged down the hill on either side of him. His pulses bounded, and his steed, maddened with excitement and terror, snorted and tugged at the reins as the terrible slogan rang forth from those fierce throats, expressing in curdling meaning their veritable thirst for blood—

“Igazi—pu—za!”

And now with a thrill of unspeakable exaltation, he realised that he was goingdownhill, that he was actually outside that hated and ill-omened hollow which had been their drear prison-house all these weary weeks. Every drop of blood in his veins tingled; every nerve thrilled. But the pursuers kept up their pace horribly, and the way was rough, fearfully rough. Even the sure-footed Basuto pony stumbled and floundered in the darkness; once or twice came down nearly on his knees.

“Igazi—pu—za!”

The frightful shout thundered still in his wake, still as close as before. In the darkness, on the steep and ragged descent the fleet-footed savages could almost keep pace with the horse. With the very brief start he had been able to obtain, they would surely run him down sooner or later. His steed could not keep on at that pace for ever. Besides, a hole, an excrescence in the ground, a false step, anything, and he would be at their mercy.

On he kept. The air seemed to tear past his ears as he sped. The stars overhead were as a whirling wheel of fire-works. Would not Nature even come to his aid, afford him a hiding-place, a refuge? The rugged mountains loomed black to the sky in all their savage wildness. Oh for a few miles of level stretch to yield him the precious start which should be the saving of him, the saving of them both! And then it seemed that his despairing wish was answered. A black line rose right across his way. It was a wide belt of forest land. Here at any rate he might find hiding—shelter—some means of baffling the pursuers.

For although the fierce shouts of the latter had long since ceased, not on that account did he flatter himself they had given up the chase. These bloodhounds would not abandon their prey so readily. Even though the morning might see him a long distance from their haunt, yet would he by no means be safe. The Igazipuza were drawn mainly from the Aba Qulusi clan, who inhabited almost exclusively the mountainous region of northern Zululand. Not among these could he look for help, for guidance in reaching the kraal of the king.

And, indeed, could he so look to any? What if the war with the English had actually broken out? In that case he would be a lawful prey to the first armed band he should meet. The hand of every man, woman, and child in the country would be against him.

The first thing, however, was to evade those now in pursuit of him, and with feelings of the deepest thankfulness, Gerard plunged into the dark, welcome shades of the forest. But here a new drawback, a new peril arose to confront him. The ground was hardly less rough than the open hillside, and being in shadow, he could not see to guide his horse, with the result that now and again the animal would crash right into a bush, or stumble and slide over the roots of a tree, at the same time nearly braining his rider against a limb of the same. Or a buck would start up and rush away headlong through the covert, making a prodigious clatter, and, as sound travels far at night, the keen ears of his enemies would have no difficulty in following him by their sense of hearing alone.

How long he thus pursued his course Gerard could hardly have told; but at length the deep-drawn breathing and stumbling gait of his steed warned him that it was high time the latter had a rest, however brief. So he dismounted, and having listened a moment, loosened the girths, but without removing the saddle, and then stood listening again.

If he had come upon this expedition in search of adventure, assuredly he had found it, thought Gerard, as he stood there by his horse, with the bridle in his hand ready to mount at the very first alarm; as he stood there in the midnight darkness of the forest, listening with beating heart for the stealthy footsteps of his pursuing enemies. As a situation of wild, adventurous peril, assuredly this one would be hard to surpass.

He might thus have been standing about half an hour, when a faint, far-away rustling was borne to his ears. At the same time his horse began to show signs of uneasiness. That was enough. In a moment he had tightened up the girths, and was in the saddle again.

The rest, though brief, had meant new life to the horse. The game little Basuto stepped briskly out, but the kloof suddenly narrowed into a steep defile, a dry watercourse in fact, and here the hoofs made such an abominable clatter on the stones as to bring Gerard’s heart into his mouth. It could be heard for miles in the still silence of the night.

On he pressed, obliged to follow the lay of the land—a long, narrow defile between steep mountain slopes. Would it never end? It seemed not, as each fresh rise surmounted, only revealed the same winding gloomy gorge, black in the darkness.

Another rest, this time of longer duration, and he pressed on again. And then as the first streak of dawn began to tinge the sky, Gerard noted that he had got clear of the mountains, and was riding over rolling, bush-clad, and comparatively level country, but always gradually descending. One thing puzzled him however. By the position of the rising dawn he had travelled too much to the westward. That he had not travelled in a circle he felt sure. Then as the dawn lightened he saw in front of him a straggling irregular rift in the expanse of bush beneath, and listening intently his ear thought to detect the sound of water. Yes, it was water—a river. Drawing out the rough map Dawes had prepared for him, he decided that it must be the Black Umfolosi. If so he had made very fair distance. Surely he was nearly out of danger as far as his pursuers were concerned.

The next thing was to discover a place to cross. A little further on was a rocky conical eminence. By ascending this he could command a view of the river, and would thus save the time occupied by riding up and down, it might be for any distance, in search of a practicable drift. His horse needed another rest, and while the animal was benefiting by this he himself could ascend the hillock and take his observations, thus killing two birds with one stone. A fatally erroneous move.

But having resolved upon it, Gerard lost no time in carrying it out. Leaving his horse with the bridle drawn over its head, and the saddle girths merely loosened as before, he set to work to climb thekopje.

The sides were rugged and steep, and the rocky summit was crowned with bush and prickly aloes. A good view of the lay of the land rewarded his efforts. For miles the bush country stretched away, and here and there the dim blue line of a mountain in the distance. Beneath, the river seemed to flow around a bend in a long smooth reach. It was probably deep at this point, in which event he would have to ride eastward along its bank in search of a drift. By comparing the direction it took with the position of the sunrise he felt sure he had reached the Black Umfolosi.

And now as the glorious hues of sunrise began to flush and glow in the east, and the varying voices of the wilderness arose in glad and joyous greeting of another day, the piping of birds, and the hum of insects, Gerard’s pulses beat with an unwonted sense of exhilaration, of vivid delight in his new-found freedom. Fatigue or exhaustion he had not as yet begun to feel, for, as we have shown, he was in splendid condition by reason of his open-air life. But he began to feel uncommonly hungry, and the only food he had been able to bring with him were a few pieces of bread, crammed hurriedly into his pockets. These, however, hard and stale as they were, came in uncommonly acceptable now, and he devoured them ravenously.

“That’s better,” he said to himself, rising slowly. “Now for one farewell survey, and then on again.” And then he dropped back among the bushes and aloes as if he had been shot.

He had left his horse in an open glade. From his elevated perch he could see the animal peacefully grazing, and he saw something more. Stealing upon it, flitting from bush to bush, came a number of armed Zulus.

With a fatal fascination he watched their movements. On they crept, half crouching, half gliding, but approaching with incredible rapidity. He could mark them signalling to each other, then as two or three of them rose to peer forward, he saw on their foreheads and chests the blood-red disc, the ominous distinguishing mark of the Igazipuza. That these were his pursuers of the previous night was established beyond a doubt.

He watched them as they drew near the horse. But instead of running forward to secure the animal, they suddenly crouched down and lay motionless. The significance of this manoeuvre was plain enough to Gerard. They reckoned that he would return to the horse, and their plan was to lie in wait and pounce out upon him when he should do so.

He had a rifle with him—the double gun had been left with Dawes—and now he thought how he could astonish them, how easily he could pick off, at any rate, one or two of them. But what good purpose would that serve? It would draw the whole band on to his hiding-place, and he could not hope to resist them ultimately. Besides, the objection to blood shedding which had held good at first held good still. Dawes was still in their power.

Then he thought—thought hard and coherently. He must abandon the horse and steal away. The savages would get tired of watching there for ever. They would quit their ambush and come in search of him, or, at any rate, some of them might. They would light upon his spoor, and easily track him. He must make good his own escape while there was yet time.

Acting on this resolve he sent one more look at the lurking barbarians; then, crawling carefully down the other side of thekopjeso as to leave it between himself and them, he made for the river, judging that upon its banks he was likely to find a hiding-place if anywhere.

To gain it took him some little time. We said that the river here flowed in a long smooth reach, and this reach was thickly bordered with trees and overhanging bushes. Nothing could have answered his purpose better. But, as he gained it, he sent one look backward at his late resting-place, and that look was sufficient to show him that he had left that refuge not a moment too soon. There was a flash and movement of something upon the rocky apex. His enemies had taken up the spoor and had followed it thither.

In this conjecture he was, as it happened, wrong, the real fact being that the same idea had entered their heads as had entered his; viz. that thekopjewould make a convenient observatory, and two or three of them had ascended to explore accordingly. Once there, however, they promptly lighted upon the spoor leading away from it, and were at that very moment engaged in signalling the discovery to the residue of the band below.

And now Gerard knew that further flight was useless. With his horse still under him he might have stood some chance, and bitterly did he reproach himself for his carelessness and folly in cutting himself loose from his staunch little steed. On foot the fleet barbarians would run him down with the untiring persistency of bloodhounds. His only chance was to hide.

But where? Eagerly, anxiously he explored the river-bank. Plenty of hiding-places were there, for as we have said, the trees and bushes overhung the water in thick profusion. It was not sufficient, however, merely to conceal himself, he must do so in such wise as to leave no spoor, no clue to his hiding-place.

And as the young adventurer fled swiftly along the river-bank his heart was filled with a bitter despair. Death stared him in the face at every turn—death, violent but swift, on the weapons of his enemies, or death by torture at their hands—here or when they dragged him back captive to their wild stronghold. The ruthless persistency of their pursuit seemed to point to no other intention. The sight of the grisly stake and its impaled burden came back to his recollection and rendered him desperate. All considerations of policy were thrown to the winds. He would sell his life dearly now.

Still there was a chance, and he resolved to make the most of it. Casting his eyes keenly around he noticed a quick rapid movement, then a splash. An iguana lying along a tree trunk which sloped out almost horizontally over the water, alarmed by his presence, had run to the end of the boughs and dived in. The idea struck him as an inspiration. In a moment he was up the tree; then, following the example of the iguana, he let himself drop into the water as noiselessly as possible.

It was over his head, but his feet touched ground almost immediately. Then he rose again, and keeping under cover of the bank began to swim upstream. The current being deep was sluggish, and Gerard, who was a strong, powerful swimmer, made good headway. Carefully avoiding the slightest splash he had swum about two hundred yards, when he became sensible of a strange, but ever so slight vibration. It was caused by the tread of footsteps on the bank.

He dived and swam beneath the surface in order to avoid leaving any ripple. When at last he arose to breathe he found he was beneath a huge overhanging bush, whose branches trailed down into the water. Nothing could be better for his purpose.

Holding on by a bough, he drew a long deep breath. Then peering cautiously forth through the foliage he watched and listened. Again came that barely perceptible vibration of the bank, and he thought he could detect the muffled sound of voices.

The shadow of the tree-fringed bank lay in an irregular line upon the water. The sun was now almost straight upstream, reducing the shadow to a mere three or four yards of width. And, a short distance below him, projecting from this line of shadow, Gerard, from his concealment could make out the moving silhouettes of three or four heads. His ruthless pursuers were right over his hiding-place. Would they discover it or pass it by?

Chapter Seventeen.How Dawes Fared.Having parted with his young companion, John Dawes rode on, outwardly cool and unconcerned, though in effect his mind misgave him. For he knew that in all human probability he had but a few minutes more to live. The critical moment would be that of the discovery of Gerard’s defection, and if he and his party escaped massacre in the outburst of fury which was sure to follow, why their escape would smack of the nature of a miracle about as much as anything he had ever known in his life.Fortune favoured him, favoured them both, so far. In their impatience to get back to the scene of the revels, the messengers had increased the distance between themselves and the horsemen, and when Gerard had made his dash for it, the shouting and stamping of the wild war-dance had so far deadened all other sounds that the receding of his horse’s hoofs passed unnoticed by the escort, to whose ears, in fact, during the general tumult, the tread of one horse made as much noise as that of two.Not until he entered the kraal did they make the discovery that he was alone, and even then, to a quick suspicious query as to what had become of his companion, Dawes’s reply that he supposed the latter had gone back to the waggons for something he had forgotten, suggested no distrust. These white men had been their prisoners for weeks, they thought, and the guard on the ridge was as strong to-night as ever.Familiar as he was with such sights, the appearance of the Igazipuza kraal as he rode into it that night, struck John Dawes as about the most wild and terrific aspect of savagery unchecked as he had ever beheld. The great open space of its inner circle was crowded with figures. Equidistant from each other, far enough from the palisade to be safe from accident, and yet sufficiently at the side to be out of the way of the dancers, four huge fires were burning. Facing each other in two great crescents, fully armed with shield and assegai, knobkerrie and battle-axe, their leaders standing out a little in advance of the lines, the warriors stood, and the red gushing flames of the great fires, lighting up the wild fantastically arranged figures with a truly demoniacal glare, imparted to these raving, howling human wolves an aspect of indescribable ferocity. Starting, softly at first, by the leaders of the chorus, the fierce thrilling chant of the war-song, taken up by the ranks, gathered in strength with every repetition, soon rising to a perfect roar of deep chest notes as the savages, rattling their shields and weapons, threw themselves into the excitement of the thing, beating time with the rhythmic thunder of their feet as the tread of one man, turning themselves hither and thither, muscles quivering, eyeballs rolling in the fierce frenzy of the stimulating exercise. The while the women, squatted around against the palisade, were keeping up a high, shrill accompaniment to the deep-throated roar of the warriors, but never for a moment did that fierce, wild thrilling chant lose its rhythm or degenerate into discord.Ingonyama, with four or fiveindunasstood at the upper end of the kraal overlooking the ceremonies. The chief was arrayed in a war-shirt of flowing hair. Over this he wore the magnificent lion’s skin purchased from Dawes. It was arranged in such wise that the grinning open jaws crowned him as a head-dress, which, with the sweeping black mane falling around his shoulders, and the skin and tail, trailing far behind him on the ground, gave him a most formidable and ferocious appearance, as of course he intended it should. In his hand he held a short-handled, heavy battle-axe, and between his eyes was painted the small red disk.He took no notice of Dawes, as the latter rode up and dismounted. Indeed his attention was occupied with other matters, for the dance had ceased, and the warriors, forming up into companies, were marching up to where he was seated with his attendants. Then halting before their chief they began to sing, in long-drawn recitative, a series of strophes in which he was hailed by every extravagant title, and endowed with every attribute of wisdom and valour and ferocity. This being ended, shields and weapons were raised aloft, and the companies, wheeling, filed back into the central place, and falling into their crescent formation took up the war-dance again with unabated vigour.Ingonyama, not ill-pleased that his white “guest” should witness this testimony to his power and influence, sank back into a sitting posture, and motioned to the latter to follow his example. But Dawes pretended not to notice the invitation, and remained standing. He did notice, however, the shield-bearer holding the great white shield behind the chief, which instance of affectation of royal state he stored up for future use.“Greeting, Jandosi,” said Ingonyama, graciously, for by this time the native corruption of the trader’s name had leaked out through his servants, and by it he was now known to all. “Where is your brother?” meaning Gerard.“Where?” repeated Dawes, taming to look round, as it were with indifferent surprise. “He should be here, though. He most have returned to the waggons for something. Still, he should be here.”It happened that just at that moment the chant of the dancing song had sunk rather low. Borne upon the still night air, faint and distant, there floated to the ears of those who were not taking part in the revelry, a long-drawn roar.“Igazi—pu—za.”“Hau!” exclaimed Ingonyama, with a start, listening intently.Again from the far hillside came the wild slogan. And now theindunasechoed the astonishment of their chief. The guard on the ridge was aroused.All manner of expressions flitted across Ingonyama’s face—rage, mortification, intense puzzlement. The cry should have rung out loud and clear, considering the short distance which lay between the kraal and the ridge, whereas it sounded miles and miles away. The real fact, however, being that the first alarm was completely drowned by the noise and uproar of the war-dance, and the song in honour of the chief, and by this time the guards were far enough away in pursuit of Gerard. John Dawes felt every nerve thrill within him. The critical moment had arrived.“Thou liest, Jandosi,” said Ingonyama, and a look of stern and deadly meaning came over his features, grim and ferocious, scowling beneath the great jaws of the lion. “Thou liest, Jandosi. Thy brother has fled;attemptedto flee, rather,” he added significantly; “for no man ever quitted the kraal of the Igazipuza without bidding farewell to its chief.”“Am I responsible for what he has done?” answered Dawes, coolly. “He is young, remember, and young blood is restless blood. Perchance he was tired of sitting still for ever.”“Am I a child—are these children, Jandosi, that you fill up our ears with such tales as this?” said the chief sternly. “Where is your brother?”“Am I an owl—am I a bat, Ingonyama, that you would strain my eyes into seeing through the dark? If, as you say, my brother has fled, how then can I tell where he is at this moment? Rather should the question come from me to yourself, whom men name as anIsanusi(witch-doctor, or seer) of renown.”“Hau!” burst from the councillors in wild amaze at the audacity of this white man.“Your eyes?” echoed Ingonyama, and his voice came low and trembling with suppressed fury. “Your eyes, Jandosi?Há! You shall not indeedstrainyour eyes seeing through the dark,for I will make them dark for ever.”The fell meaning of the tone and words was plain to John Dawes. The crisis had come.“Move not,” he returned quickly, his decisive ringing tone arresting as by magic the signal which the chief was about to make. “Before that happens we will sit in darkness together. Stir but a finger, Ingonyama, and the tribe Igazipuzi may proceed to the election of a new chief.”With the muzzle of a revolver pointing full at his breast, the butt in the hand of a man whose daring and resolution was known to all, no wonder Ingonyama should sit rigid and paralysed. His councillors shared his dazed immovability. What marvellous thing was to happen next, they thought?Dawes, who was standing beside his horse, prepared for the first hostile move, had not raised his arm. He had merely brought the weapon to bear after the method known as “firing from the hip.” To all outward appearance he was merely conversing rather animatedly with the chief.The latter stared at him as though he could hardly believe his senses. But there was the little round ring, pointing full upon his breast from barely six yards off. The merest pressure of a finger, and it would let out his life as he sat.“You have treated us ill, Ingonyama,” went on Dawes, sternly. “We have no quarrel with the people of the Zulu; on the contrary, we are at peace. Yet you have kept us here against our will, and treated us as enemies. In two days ‘my tongue’ speaks at Undini, in the ears of the Great Great One, by whose lightyoulive.”This reference to the king, by one of his favourite titles, had a strange effect upon this chief, whom the speaker by this time more than half suspected of being a rebellious and plotting vassal. For an instant it seemed that the latter’s uncontrollable rage would triumph over his fear of death. But he only said, with a sneer—“Not so, Jandosi. ‘Your tongue,’ however long, will be brought back here. Long before the end of two days it will have ceased to speak for ever. When a tongue is too long, we cut it.Ha! We have a Tooth here which can bite it short. Your ‘tongue’ shall be bitten on the point of The Tooth, Jandosi.Ha!”Which being rendered out of the vernacular of “dark” talking, dear to the South African native, into plain English, meant that in the chief’s opinion Gerard would assuredly be recaptured, and in that event would be adjudged to the hideous fate of the wretch whose body he had found impaled on the summit of The Tooth.“I think not, Ingonyama. I think my ‘tongue’ will speak at Undini in words that will move the Lion of the Zulu to wrath. It may be that it will speak of another Lion, who sits beneath the white shield as a king, who within the territory of the great king levies war upon and treats as enemies the friends of the Lion of the Zulu. Yet it is not too late. You have but to give the word, now this night, that I and mine may depart unmolested, and I can draw back my ‘tongue’ before it reaches as far as Undini, for I am a peaceable trader, and have no wish to mix myself up in anybody’s quarrels.”A deep-chested gasp of wonder escaped his listeners.“You are a bold man, Jandosi,” exclaimed the chief.“My life has its value, but the life of the chief of the Igazipuza has a far greater one. And this I hold in my hand.”Another astonished gasp escaped the hearers. This statement was only too true. Here, in the heart of the Igazipuza kraal—his ferocious warriors going through their appalling war-dance, with the aspect of fiends let loose, but a few paces distant—Ingonyama in his heart of hearts quailed before this solitary white man dictating terms. Again had a policy of boldness succeeded.“Return to your waggons, Jandosi,” said the chief at length. “I would think this matter over. You shall know my answer in the morning.”Most men would have pressed for a reply there and then, but John Dawes was nothing if not judicious. He thoroughly understood the policy of providing a broad bridge for a fleeing foe. His object was gained, viz. to secure himself at the moment of the popular outburst, and he had nearly succeeded.“Now are the counsels of good sense about to triumph,” he replied. “Take till the morning to consider, even then may my ‘tongue’ be recalled. And now, send one of theseindunasto go with me to the waggons and to remain the night, for your people are turbulent and rude at times, Ingonyama, and I would avoid trouble with them.”The chief thought a moment, then uttered a word or two. One of the councillors stood up.“Good,” said Dawes. “Fare thee well, O wearer of the lion’s skin. Between the eyes was the life let out—may that never be the lot of its wearer, O chief of the Igazipuza.”He knew that Ingonyama was for the time being cowed, and that it was incumbent upon him to return to his waggons before the reaction should set in. Yet as he rode at a foot-pace out of the kraal, with theindunawalking beside him, as he passed behind the ranks of excited barbarians almost within touching distance, he honestly expected every moment to be his last. A word from the chief, a cry, a signal, and that armed mass would fall upon him in a moment and hack him into a thousand pieces. Still, for some unaccountable reason, the “word” remained unspoken, the signal was not given. It might be that Ingonyama had further and more fell designs; it might be that he was acting in good faith, anyhow Dawes reached his waggons unmolested.But he had ample reason to congratulate himself in securing the presence of theinduna—or hostage as the latter really was—for by-and-by, as the warriors discovered the escape of Gerard, they came surging around the waggons in a wild, clamourous, threatening crowd. Even then, in the presence of one of the most trusted councillors of the chief, a massacre seemed imminent, but eventually they drew off.Throughout that night as Dawes lay, feigning sleep but never more fully awake in his life, he was wondering how his young companion had fared. So far, the latter must have effected his escape, inasmuch as he had not been brought back. Whether he would ultimately succeed depended largely on the vigour and persistency wherewith the Igazipuza should prosecute the pursuit.But that he himself was the right man to remain behind, John Dawes was now more than ever convinced. Where would Gerard have been, for instance, under the critical circumstances of that night? The only thing to do now was to await with what patience he might the result of his comrade’s enterprise.

Having parted with his young companion, John Dawes rode on, outwardly cool and unconcerned, though in effect his mind misgave him. For he knew that in all human probability he had but a few minutes more to live. The critical moment would be that of the discovery of Gerard’s defection, and if he and his party escaped massacre in the outburst of fury which was sure to follow, why their escape would smack of the nature of a miracle about as much as anything he had ever known in his life.

Fortune favoured him, favoured them both, so far. In their impatience to get back to the scene of the revels, the messengers had increased the distance between themselves and the horsemen, and when Gerard had made his dash for it, the shouting and stamping of the wild war-dance had so far deadened all other sounds that the receding of his horse’s hoofs passed unnoticed by the escort, to whose ears, in fact, during the general tumult, the tread of one horse made as much noise as that of two.

Not until he entered the kraal did they make the discovery that he was alone, and even then, to a quick suspicious query as to what had become of his companion, Dawes’s reply that he supposed the latter had gone back to the waggons for something he had forgotten, suggested no distrust. These white men had been their prisoners for weeks, they thought, and the guard on the ridge was as strong to-night as ever.

Familiar as he was with such sights, the appearance of the Igazipuza kraal as he rode into it that night, struck John Dawes as about the most wild and terrific aspect of savagery unchecked as he had ever beheld. The great open space of its inner circle was crowded with figures. Equidistant from each other, far enough from the palisade to be safe from accident, and yet sufficiently at the side to be out of the way of the dancers, four huge fires were burning. Facing each other in two great crescents, fully armed with shield and assegai, knobkerrie and battle-axe, their leaders standing out a little in advance of the lines, the warriors stood, and the red gushing flames of the great fires, lighting up the wild fantastically arranged figures with a truly demoniacal glare, imparted to these raving, howling human wolves an aspect of indescribable ferocity. Starting, softly at first, by the leaders of the chorus, the fierce thrilling chant of the war-song, taken up by the ranks, gathered in strength with every repetition, soon rising to a perfect roar of deep chest notes as the savages, rattling their shields and weapons, threw themselves into the excitement of the thing, beating time with the rhythmic thunder of their feet as the tread of one man, turning themselves hither and thither, muscles quivering, eyeballs rolling in the fierce frenzy of the stimulating exercise. The while the women, squatted around against the palisade, were keeping up a high, shrill accompaniment to the deep-throated roar of the warriors, but never for a moment did that fierce, wild thrilling chant lose its rhythm or degenerate into discord.

Ingonyama, with four or fiveindunasstood at the upper end of the kraal overlooking the ceremonies. The chief was arrayed in a war-shirt of flowing hair. Over this he wore the magnificent lion’s skin purchased from Dawes. It was arranged in such wise that the grinning open jaws crowned him as a head-dress, which, with the sweeping black mane falling around his shoulders, and the skin and tail, trailing far behind him on the ground, gave him a most formidable and ferocious appearance, as of course he intended it should. In his hand he held a short-handled, heavy battle-axe, and between his eyes was painted the small red disk.

He took no notice of Dawes, as the latter rode up and dismounted. Indeed his attention was occupied with other matters, for the dance had ceased, and the warriors, forming up into companies, were marching up to where he was seated with his attendants. Then halting before their chief they began to sing, in long-drawn recitative, a series of strophes in which he was hailed by every extravagant title, and endowed with every attribute of wisdom and valour and ferocity. This being ended, shields and weapons were raised aloft, and the companies, wheeling, filed back into the central place, and falling into their crescent formation took up the war-dance again with unabated vigour.

Ingonyama, not ill-pleased that his white “guest” should witness this testimony to his power and influence, sank back into a sitting posture, and motioned to the latter to follow his example. But Dawes pretended not to notice the invitation, and remained standing. He did notice, however, the shield-bearer holding the great white shield behind the chief, which instance of affectation of royal state he stored up for future use.

“Greeting, Jandosi,” said Ingonyama, graciously, for by this time the native corruption of the trader’s name had leaked out through his servants, and by it he was now known to all. “Where is your brother?” meaning Gerard.

“Where?” repeated Dawes, taming to look round, as it were with indifferent surprise. “He should be here, though. He most have returned to the waggons for something. Still, he should be here.”

It happened that just at that moment the chant of the dancing song had sunk rather low. Borne upon the still night air, faint and distant, there floated to the ears of those who were not taking part in the revelry, a long-drawn roar.

“Igazi—pu—za.”

“Hau!” exclaimed Ingonyama, with a start, listening intently.

Again from the far hillside came the wild slogan. And now theindunasechoed the astonishment of their chief. The guard on the ridge was aroused.

All manner of expressions flitted across Ingonyama’s face—rage, mortification, intense puzzlement. The cry should have rung out loud and clear, considering the short distance which lay between the kraal and the ridge, whereas it sounded miles and miles away. The real fact, however, being that the first alarm was completely drowned by the noise and uproar of the war-dance, and the song in honour of the chief, and by this time the guards were far enough away in pursuit of Gerard. John Dawes felt every nerve thrill within him. The critical moment had arrived.

“Thou liest, Jandosi,” said Ingonyama, and a look of stern and deadly meaning came over his features, grim and ferocious, scowling beneath the great jaws of the lion. “Thou liest, Jandosi. Thy brother has fled;attemptedto flee, rather,” he added significantly; “for no man ever quitted the kraal of the Igazipuza without bidding farewell to its chief.”

“Am I responsible for what he has done?” answered Dawes, coolly. “He is young, remember, and young blood is restless blood. Perchance he was tired of sitting still for ever.”

“Am I a child—are these children, Jandosi, that you fill up our ears with such tales as this?” said the chief sternly. “Where is your brother?”

“Am I an owl—am I a bat, Ingonyama, that you would strain my eyes into seeing through the dark? If, as you say, my brother has fled, how then can I tell where he is at this moment? Rather should the question come from me to yourself, whom men name as anIsanusi(witch-doctor, or seer) of renown.”

“Hau!” burst from the councillors in wild amaze at the audacity of this white man.

“Your eyes?” echoed Ingonyama, and his voice came low and trembling with suppressed fury. “Your eyes, Jandosi?Há! You shall not indeedstrainyour eyes seeing through the dark,for I will make them dark for ever.”

The fell meaning of the tone and words was plain to John Dawes. The crisis had come.

“Move not,” he returned quickly, his decisive ringing tone arresting as by magic the signal which the chief was about to make. “Before that happens we will sit in darkness together. Stir but a finger, Ingonyama, and the tribe Igazipuzi may proceed to the election of a new chief.”

With the muzzle of a revolver pointing full at his breast, the butt in the hand of a man whose daring and resolution was known to all, no wonder Ingonyama should sit rigid and paralysed. His councillors shared his dazed immovability. What marvellous thing was to happen next, they thought?

Dawes, who was standing beside his horse, prepared for the first hostile move, had not raised his arm. He had merely brought the weapon to bear after the method known as “firing from the hip.” To all outward appearance he was merely conversing rather animatedly with the chief.

The latter stared at him as though he could hardly believe his senses. But there was the little round ring, pointing full upon his breast from barely six yards off. The merest pressure of a finger, and it would let out his life as he sat.

“You have treated us ill, Ingonyama,” went on Dawes, sternly. “We have no quarrel with the people of the Zulu; on the contrary, we are at peace. Yet you have kept us here against our will, and treated us as enemies. In two days ‘my tongue’ speaks at Undini, in the ears of the Great Great One, by whose lightyoulive.”

This reference to the king, by one of his favourite titles, had a strange effect upon this chief, whom the speaker by this time more than half suspected of being a rebellious and plotting vassal. For an instant it seemed that the latter’s uncontrollable rage would triumph over his fear of death. But he only said, with a sneer—

“Not so, Jandosi. ‘Your tongue,’ however long, will be brought back here. Long before the end of two days it will have ceased to speak for ever. When a tongue is too long, we cut it.Ha! We have a Tooth here which can bite it short. Your ‘tongue’ shall be bitten on the point of The Tooth, Jandosi.Ha!”

Which being rendered out of the vernacular of “dark” talking, dear to the South African native, into plain English, meant that in the chief’s opinion Gerard would assuredly be recaptured, and in that event would be adjudged to the hideous fate of the wretch whose body he had found impaled on the summit of The Tooth.

“I think not, Ingonyama. I think my ‘tongue’ will speak at Undini in words that will move the Lion of the Zulu to wrath. It may be that it will speak of another Lion, who sits beneath the white shield as a king, who within the territory of the great king levies war upon and treats as enemies the friends of the Lion of the Zulu. Yet it is not too late. You have but to give the word, now this night, that I and mine may depart unmolested, and I can draw back my ‘tongue’ before it reaches as far as Undini, for I am a peaceable trader, and have no wish to mix myself up in anybody’s quarrels.”

A deep-chested gasp of wonder escaped his listeners.

“You are a bold man, Jandosi,” exclaimed the chief.

“My life has its value, but the life of the chief of the Igazipuza has a far greater one. And this I hold in my hand.”

Another astonished gasp escaped the hearers. This statement was only too true. Here, in the heart of the Igazipuza kraal—his ferocious warriors going through their appalling war-dance, with the aspect of fiends let loose, but a few paces distant—Ingonyama in his heart of hearts quailed before this solitary white man dictating terms. Again had a policy of boldness succeeded.

“Return to your waggons, Jandosi,” said the chief at length. “I would think this matter over. You shall know my answer in the morning.”

Most men would have pressed for a reply there and then, but John Dawes was nothing if not judicious. He thoroughly understood the policy of providing a broad bridge for a fleeing foe. His object was gained, viz. to secure himself at the moment of the popular outburst, and he had nearly succeeded.

“Now are the counsels of good sense about to triumph,” he replied. “Take till the morning to consider, even then may my ‘tongue’ be recalled. And now, send one of theseindunasto go with me to the waggons and to remain the night, for your people are turbulent and rude at times, Ingonyama, and I would avoid trouble with them.”

The chief thought a moment, then uttered a word or two. One of the councillors stood up.

“Good,” said Dawes. “Fare thee well, O wearer of the lion’s skin. Between the eyes was the life let out—may that never be the lot of its wearer, O chief of the Igazipuza.”

He knew that Ingonyama was for the time being cowed, and that it was incumbent upon him to return to his waggons before the reaction should set in. Yet as he rode at a foot-pace out of the kraal, with theindunawalking beside him, as he passed behind the ranks of excited barbarians almost within touching distance, he honestly expected every moment to be his last. A word from the chief, a cry, a signal, and that armed mass would fall upon him in a moment and hack him into a thousand pieces. Still, for some unaccountable reason, the “word” remained unspoken, the signal was not given. It might be that Ingonyama had further and more fell designs; it might be that he was acting in good faith, anyhow Dawes reached his waggons unmolested.

But he had ample reason to congratulate himself in securing the presence of theinduna—or hostage as the latter really was—for by-and-by, as the warriors discovered the escape of Gerard, they came surging around the waggons in a wild, clamourous, threatening crowd. Even then, in the presence of one of the most trusted councillors of the chief, a massacre seemed imminent, but eventually they drew off.

Throughout that night as Dawes lay, feigning sleep but never more fully awake in his life, he was wondering how his young companion had fared. So far, the latter must have effected his escape, inasmuch as he had not been brought back. Whether he would ultimately succeed depended largely on the vigour and persistency wherewith the Igazipuza should prosecute the pursuit.

But that he himself was the right man to remain behind, John Dawes was now more than ever convinced. Where would Gerard have been, for instance, under the critical circumstances of that night? The only thing to do now was to await with what patience he might the result of his comrade’s enterprise.

Chapter Eighteen.How Gerard Fared.Gerard, up to his chin in water, concealed by the sweeping boughs, stood back within his hiding-place hardly daring to breathe.Then it was that his quickness of foresight in swimming rather than wading, in swimming beneath the surface rather than in the ordinary way, stood him in good stead, for the first would have troubled the water, while the second would have sent a line of bubbles floating down the sluggish current, revealing the method of his escape to his pursuers. Now they were puzzled.By the greatest good luck the manner and place of his entering the river had been perfect for its purpose. He had got upon the tree trunk in such wise as to leave no spoor. Even in letting himself down into the water by the branches, he had managed so as to avoid breaking off a shower of twigs and fresh leaves, or even bark, to float down and indicate the way of his disappearance. The spoor seemed to come abruptly to an end—as if the fugitive had been whisked up to the skies. The Zulus were puzzled.They squatted in a ring with their heads together and discussed matters. What did it mean? The fugitive could not have climbed a tree. In the first place there was no tree with sufficient foliage to afford him cover; in the second, he was not in any tree within sight; in the third, the spoor did not lead up to the foot of any tree. For Gerard, by a deft spring of a couple of yards, had landed himself upon the nearly horizontal trunk without treading beneath it. They came to the unanimous conclusion that he must have got into the river. But how? The spoor no more led to the river than it did to any tree. Still, there he must be.Acting upon this idea they spread themselves out to search along beneath the bank, and then it was that Gerard first discovered their shadowed heads upon the water. But searching along the bank was no simple matter, for the bank itself was a high clayey wall, perpendicular for the most part, and often overhanging. Moreover it was concealed by profusion of bushes, whose tangled boughs swept right down into the water itself, as we have shown.Gerard, in his hiding-place, could hear the muffled hum of conversation, though he could not distinguish the words. Then he heard the rustle of the bushes drawing nearer and nearer above his head. To keep his balance he was obliged to hold on to a bough with one hand, while the other held his rifle, not even above water. He himself was submerged to the chin; fortunately the weather was hot, and his involuntary bath, so far, was not in itself unpleasant.A sound over his head caused him to look upward—then start back as far as he could go. Something shot down from above, and there passed within a few inches of Gerard’s horrified eyes the broad blade of a great stabbing assegai. It was immediately withdrawn, then down it came again, this time narrowly failing to transfix the hand by which he supported himself on the bough. The blood ran chill within his veins, as he saw what had happened. The Igazipuza had spliced a short-handled broad-bladed assegai to a pole, and with this improvised lance were going along the bank prodding down into every likely looking place which they could not otherwise reach.He flattened himself as far back as he could against the perpendicular bank, and again the murderous blade came stabbing down, grazing his shoulder this time. Heavens! he could get no further back. The next thrust would transfix him. The perspiration stood in cold beads upon his forehead, and his brain seemed to be whirling round as again and again he watched the deadly spear descend. Then hope returned. He seemed far enough in under the bank to be just outside any thrust they could make from above. They appeared unable to get his angle. Surely they would decide that he was not there, and move on.And this was in fact what happened, and Gerard began to breathe freely again. He need not have though.There was silence for a few minutes. Had they gone on—given up the search? It almost seemed like it. And then just as hope was beginning to burn once more, there travelled to his ears a sound which quenched it utterly.He heard a splash, as of somebody entering the water, nearly a hundred yards up the stream—a guarded, would-be noiseless sort of splash—then another and another, and the purport thereof was plain. His pursuers had adopted another plan. They intended to search along beneath the bank in person.Silently, and with the most intense caution, Gerard worked himself into such a position that he could watch this new move. By the ripples on the water, by the shaking of the bushes, he could see they were drawing nearer and nearer. Then the dark forms of three warriors came full into view as, half swimming, half wading, they passed an exposed point. And now they were barely sixty yards off.If only it was dark—dusk even! But the day had only just begun. His enemies had the whole of it before them. In despair he looked around. Was there no escape? No—none.Yet in the blackest moment of dead despair there leapt forth hope, a hope so wild, extravagant, that Gerard was almost unnerved by the extravagance of it. The river-bank, as we have said, was perpendicular, and the soil of the nature of clay, and the action of the water had worn along the base of this a number of holes, all now below the surface, for the river was a trifle above its normal level. All? We are wrong. All—save one.In the high bank immediately behind his head, some few inches long and barely an inch above the surface of the water, was an aperture, hardly in fact distinguishable. But Gerard, his quickness of resource sharpened by his imminent peril, saw it, saw in it a possible means of escape.The hole continued under the water, almost to the ground. He thrust his foot in, then his entire leg. He could not touch the end. He thrust his hand into the portion above water and reached upward. It seemed a hollow dome, just large enough for his head. If he could stand upright in this strange recess the searchers might pass within a few inches of him without discovery.But he must attempt it at once, so that the slight disturbance of the water which was unavoidable should have time to clear off before they arrived. Holding his breath—and his rifle, which though soaked and useless for the time being, he would not let go as long as he could avoid it—he dived into the aperture, and as he felt his footing and his head rose above water, he found it was even as he had expected. He was in darkness, save for the light which came in under the water and through the narrow crevice exposed. He could, however, breathe without difficulty, for the air came in by the same way. But there was a terribly damp and earthy exhalation about it, which suggested an unpleasant sensation of being entombed alive.No room was there, however, for any mere fanciful and imaginative apprehensions, for scarce was he ensconced within his strange and well-nigh miraculous place of refuge than a disturbance of the water which came rippling into the hole in little wavelets, momentarily shutting out the air, pointed to the near approach of his enemies. Hardly daring to breathe himself, he could hear the laboured breathing and the stealthy splash of someone swimming or wading. They had almost gained his late hiding-place, then! Where would he have been but for this later one?And then—oh, horror! was he not premature in his congratulations? He had discovered the recess. Why should not they? And having discovered it, why should they not resort to the same plan as that which they had adopted to sound his other possible or actual hiding-places, viz. to thrust in their assegais as far as they would go? He would in that case be slaughtered like a rat in a trap, denied even the option of selling his life. Could he not get back far enough into the hole to be beyond the reach of spears? No. For even if it went back far enough—as to which he was in ignorance—he dared not trouble the water to anything like the extent such a change of position would involve. He must take his chance.He heard the splash draw near, then the rustle of the overhanging boughs as the searchers put them aside. The savages had gained his late hiding-place. They stood upon the very spot which he had up till a minute or two ago occupied. He expected each moment to feel the sharp dig of the spear-points cleaving his vitals.Not thus, however, was his suspense destined to be interrupted, but in a different manner, hardly less startling, hardly less fatal. From those on the bank there thrilled forth a warning cry, loud, quick, terrible—“Xwaya ni ’zingwenya!” (“Look out! Alligators!”)There was silence for a moment. Gerard heard a quick, smothered ejaculation of dismay; then a sound of splashing, and once more the bushes were put aside. His enemies had precipitately abandoned the search, and were intent on securing their own safety. And now the horror of his own position came fully home to him. This new and truly hideous peril was one he had not foreseen. The alligator is scarce enough in the rivers of Zululand, still it exists, or did at that time. So intent had he been on escaping from his human enemies, that he had not given a thought to the existence of the grisly denizens of these long, smooth reaches. And here he was at their mercy. Even this very hole which had afforded him so opportune a refuge might be the den of one of these voracious monsters. And with the thought, it was all that poor Gerard could do to keep his nerves in hand, to retain his self-possession. With this new horror and his long immersion he began to feel chilled to the bone. That dark death-trap was like a tomb. His teeth chattered and his knees shook beneath him. His head seemed whirling round and round. He expected to feel himself seized by those horrible grinding jaws, gnashed to fragments while utterly powerless to make a struggle against his loathsome assailants. An unspeakably terrible fate!Meanwhile the first sharp warning cry had changed into a wild uproar. Shouting, stamping with their feet, hurling sticks and stones into the water, the Igazipuza on the bank were endeavouring to scare off the voracious reptiles until their comrades should be safe ashore again, and indeed the frightful din of which they were guilty was enough to scare the life out of every alligator between the Tugela and the Zambesi. Gerard could stand the position no longer. Under cover of the noise, and in the certainty that the attention of his enemies would be folly occupied, he slipped from the recess back into his former and more open hiding-place, and, parting the branches peered eagerly forth.At first he could distinguish nothing. The surface of the smooth reach gleamed like a mirror in the sunlight. Then he perceived a dark, moving object gliding down stream, furrowing up the dazzling surface into lines of fire, and his heart well-nigh failed him for horror and despair. In the long bony head just showing above water, the bull-nosed snout, the stealthy glide, he recognised the most hideous and repulsive of reptiles, an alligator, and not a small one, either.The brute seemed to care not overmuch for all the shouting and turmoil on the bank. Whether it was that he knew instinctively there were no firearms in the party, or was conscious of his superiority in his own element, his self-possession was complete. He glided quietly on, then halted, then turned himself hither and thither, wheeled in a circle, and halted again, his flat, ugly head lying on the water like the stump of a tree.Now that their comrades were safe on land again, the Igazipuza had ceased their clamour. Indeed, they rather laid themselves out to observe quietness, for the appearance of the alligator suggested a new idea. If the fugitive was still hiding along the bank he would assuredly come forth, preferring to take his chances at their hands to the certainty of death at the jaws of the horrible brute. Even if otherwise it would still be rather fun to see him dragged forth and devoured. The alligator was their hunting-dog, they must not scare it away when it was about to show them some sport. So they sat still, eagerly watching it.Not less eagerly was it watched by the fugitive himself. Gerard, from his hiding-place stared forth upon the monster with a frightful fascination. It was lying out in the stream barely fifty yards distant. As he gazed, it sank out of sight suddenly and noiselessly. Only a few bubbles marked the place where it had been.The situation was becoming, if possible, more horrible still. As long as he could see the enemy it was bad enough. Now that he no longer could, it was ten times worse, and he pictured the amphibious demon gliding beneath the water to seize him. What chance had he, standing in it up to his neck? The water, though not altogether clear, was sufficiently so to enable him just to see the bottom, and now he hardly dared look down in it, lest he should descry the hideous squab form of the frightful reptile, and gaping jaws opening to close upon him. Then he looked out again. There was the flat, dark object lying on the surface exactly where it had disappeared, and—near it was another. Oh, Heavens! There were two of them!The cunning plan of the Igazipuza nearly succeeded. So inexpressibly revolting did the prospect of such a fate appear, that Gerard was on the point of quitting his concealment, of coming forth to meet his death in open day on the spears of his enemies rather than remain there to be torn limb from limb beneath the water by these loathsome monsters. But still something kept him back, a resolution to hold out as long as life was left; for not only did his own life hang upon the ultimate carrying out of his mission, but that of Dawes and those dependent on them. So he summoned all his determination to his aid, and resolved to hold out courageously.With the instinct of a true adventurer, he began to sum up his resources, and they were practicallynil. His firearms were soaked, and even if they would go off, he might just as well surrender to his enemies as fire a shot. He had a knife—a large sheath-knife—which had formed part of his original outfit, and of which he was secretly proud. It was an elaborate concern, with a brass-studded sheath and a blade like a young claymore, and had been the object of much good-natured banter on the part of Dawes, who pronounced it of doubtful ornamentality, and still more doubtful utility, for it was too awkward and cumbersome for a hunting-knife, though he conceded it might come in handy some day to throw at a fellow, the only conceivable purpose to which it could be turned. Now, however, the great dagger-like weapon seemed to Gerard to be worth its weight in gold, for in it lay his sole resource. To be sure, a hand-to-hand conflict with a full-sized alligator in his own element, perhaps with two, armed only with a knife however large, is a formidable undertaking enough, yet Gerard was strong and athletic, and his courage was now the courage of despair.He could hear the muttered conversation of his human enemies on the bank, where they sat overlooking the river a little higher up than his place of concealment, and again he looked at the alligators. The latter were moving again, slowly gliding to and fro, approaching somewhat nearer his position. Were they beginning to scent his presence? It seemed like it, from their uneasy suspicious movements.And now Gerard made up his mind that if he was to fight, he must himself be out of the water. But how? seeing that the clay bank was perpendicular, and the bush that screened him was not high enough to shelter him, even if he could get out of the water, not to mention the prodigious rustle which would certainly betray him to the quick ears of the watchful savages, did he attempt to spring into its branches. Ah! He thought he saw a plan. By cutting a step or two in the clay bank, he could raise himself almost entirely out of the water. It would only be up to his knees, at any rate, and he could hold on to a bough with his left hand, while he fought desperately for his life with his right. But he must abandon his rifle.And then his very reluctance to do this suggested to him a further expedient. Those terrible jaws must be held at something more than mere arm’s length. Fishing out of his pocket somereimpjes, or strips of raw hide, which no dweller in the South Africanveldt, somehow or other, ever seems to be without, he spliced his great knife quickly but securely to the end of the rifle, thus turning the latter into a most efficient bayonet, instead of being forced to abandon it. Having thus made his preparations, he again peered forth to watch the alligators.And what a lifetime did it seem to him, standing there submerged, a hunted fugitive, the spears of his enemies lying in wait for him on the bank, possibly the stake of torture, the ravenous jaws of the loathsome monsters below. The hot rays of the sun, mounting higher and higher, beat down fiercely upon his hiding-place, which, in this instance, was fortunate, since it neutralised the shivery chill engendered by his long immersion. Minutes seemed hours. He could not hold out for ever. Exhaustion would come upon him, and then— Ha! Now for it!The alligators, which had been cruising to and fro in an aimless sort of way, were now heading straight for his place of concealment. Had they scented him? Forty yards—thirty—twenty—he watched them with a horrible fascination. Then they both disappeared. Now was the time. Placing a foot in the nick he had cut in the clay bank, and with his left hand firmly grasping a bough overhead, Gerard drew himself up. By cautiously shifting his position, he gained a little more height, and thus hanging by the grip of his left hand, his body bent out over the water, in which he had stood up to his knees, Gerard awaited the attack of the formidable reptiles.

Gerard, up to his chin in water, concealed by the sweeping boughs, stood back within his hiding-place hardly daring to breathe.

Then it was that his quickness of foresight in swimming rather than wading, in swimming beneath the surface rather than in the ordinary way, stood him in good stead, for the first would have troubled the water, while the second would have sent a line of bubbles floating down the sluggish current, revealing the method of his escape to his pursuers. Now they were puzzled.

By the greatest good luck the manner and place of his entering the river had been perfect for its purpose. He had got upon the tree trunk in such wise as to leave no spoor. Even in letting himself down into the water by the branches, he had managed so as to avoid breaking off a shower of twigs and fresh leaves, or even bark, to float down and indicate the way of his disappearance. The spoor seemed to come abruptly to an end—as if the fugitive had been whisked up to the skies. The Zulus were puzzled.

They squatted in a ring with their heads together and discussed matters. What did it mean? The fugitive could not have climbed a tree. In the first place there was no tree with sufficient foliage to afford him cover; in the second, he was not in any tree within sight; in the third, the spoor did not lead up to the foot of any tree. For Gerard, by a deft spring of a couple of yards, had landed himself upon the nearly horizontal trunk without treading beneath it. They came to the unanimous conclusion that he must have got into the river. But how? The spoor no more led to the river than it did to any tree. Still, there he must be.

Acting upon this idea they spread themselves out to search along beneath the bank, and then it was that Gerard first discovered their shadowed heads upon the water. But searching along the bank was no simple matter, for the bank itself was a high clayey wall, perpendicular for the most part, and often overhanging. Moreover it was concealed by profusion of bushes, whose tangled boughs swept right down into the water itself, as we have shown.

Gerard, in his hiding-place, could hear the muffled hum of conversation, though he could not distinguish the words. Then he heard the rustle of the bushes drawing nearer and nearer above his head. To keep his balance he was obliged to hold on to a bough with one hand, while the other held his rifle, not even above water. He himself was submerged to the chin; fortunately the weather was hot, and his involuntary bath, so far, was not in itself unpleasant.

A sound over his head caused him to look upward—then start back as far as he could go. Something shot down from above, and there passed within a few inches of Gerard’s horrified eyes the broad blade of a great stabbing assegai. It was immediately withdrawn, then down it came again, this time narrowly failing to transfix the hand by which he supported himself on the bough. The blood ran chill within his veins, as he saw what had happened. The Igazipuza had spliced a short-handled broad-bladed assegai to a pole, and with this improvised lance were going along the bank prodding down into every likely looking place which they could not otherwise reach.

He flattened himself as far back as he could against the perpendicular bank, and again the murderous blade came stabbing down, grazing his shoulder this time. Heavens! he could get no further back. The next thrust would transfix him. The perspiration stood in cold beads upon his forehead, and his brain seemed to be whirling round as again and again he watched the deadly spear descend. Then hope returned. He seemed far enough in under the bank to be just outside any thrust they could make from above. They appeared unable to get his angle. Surely they would decide that he was not there, and move on.

And this was in fact what happened, and Gerard began to breathe freely again. He need not have though.

There was silence for a few minutes. Had they gone on—given up the search? It almost seemed like it. And then just as hope was beginning to burn once more, there travelled to his ears a sound which quenched it utterly.

He heard a splash, as of somebody entering the water, nearly a hundred yards up the stream—a guarded, would-be noiseless sort of splash—then another and another, and the purport thereof was plain. His pursuers had adopted another plan. They intended to search along beneath the bank in person.

Silently, and with the most intense caution, Gerard worked himself into such a position that he could watch this new move. By the ripples on the water, by the shaking of the bushes, he could see they were drawing nearer and nearer. Then the dark forms of three warriors came full into view as, half swimming, half wading, they passed an exposed point. And now they were barely sixty yards off.

If only it was dark—dusk even! But the day had only just begun. His enemies had the whole of it before them. In despair he looked around. Was there no escape? No—none.

Yet in the blackest moment of dead despair there leapt forth hope, a hope so wild, extravagant, that Gerard was almost unnerved by the extravagance of it. The river-bank, as we have said, was perpendicular, and the soil of the nature of clay, and the action of the water had worn along the base of this a number of holes, all now below the surface, for the river was a trifle above its normal level. All? We are wrong. All—save one.

In the high bank immediately behind his head, some few inches long and barely an inch above the surface of the water, was an aperture, hardly in fact distinguishable. But Gerard, his quickness of resource sharpened by his imminent peril, saw it, saw in it a possible means of escape.

The hole continued under the water, almost to the ground. He thrust his foot in, then his entire leg. He could not touch the end. He thrust his hand into the portion above water and reached upward. It seemed a hollow dome, just large enough for his head. If he could stand upright in this strange recess the searchers might pass within a few inches of him without discovery.

But he must attempt it at once, so that the slight disturbance of the water which was unavoidable should have time to clear off before they arrived. Holding his breath—and his rifle, which though soaked and useless for the time being, he would not let go as long as he could avoid it—he dived into the aperture, and as he felt his footing and his head rose above water, he found it was even as he had expected. He was in darkness, save for the light which came in under the water and through the narrow crevice exposed. He could, however, breathe without difficulty, for the air came in by the same way. But there was a terribly damp and earthy exhalation about it, which suggested an unpleasant sensation of being entombed alive.

No room was there, however, for any mere fanciful and imaginative apprehensions, for scarce was he ensconced within his strange and well-nigh miraculous place of refuge than a disturbance of the water which came rippling into the hole in little wavelets, momentarily shutting out the air, pointed to the near approach of his enemies. Hardly daring to breathe himself, he could hear the laboured breathing and the stealthy splash of someone swimming or wading. They had almost gained his late hiding-place, then! Where would he have been but for this later one?

And then—oh, horror! was he not premature in his congratulations? He had discovered the recess. Why should not they? And having discovered it, why should they not resort to the same plan as that which they had adopted to sound his other possible or actual hiding-places, viz. to thrust in their assegais as far as they would go? He would in that case be slaughtered like a rat in a trap, denied even the option of selling his life. Could he not get back far enough into the hole to be beyond the reach of spears? No. For even if it went back far enough—as to which he was in ignorance—he dared not trouble the water to anything like the extent such a change of position would involve. He must take his chance.

He heard the splash draw near, then the rustle of the overhanging boughs as the searchers put them aside. The savages had gained his late hiding-place. They stood upon the very spot which he had up till a minute or two ago occupied. He expected each moment to feel the sharp dig of the spear-points cleaving his vitals.

Not thus, however, was his suspense destined to be interrupted, but in a different manner, hardly less startling, hardly less fatal. From those on the bank there thrilled forth a warning cry, loud, quick, terrible—

“Xwaya ni ’zingwenya!” (“Look out! Alligators!”)

There was silence for a moment. Gerard heard a quick, smothered ejaculation of dismay; then a sound of splashing, and once more the bushes were put aside. His enemies had precipitately abandoned the search, and were intent on securing their own safety. And now the horror of his own position came fully home to him. This new and truly hideous peril was one he had not foreseen. The alligator is scarce enough in the rivers of Zululand, still it exists, or did at that time. So intent had he been on escaping from his human enemies, that he had not given a thought to the existence of the grisly denizens of these long, smooth reaches. And here he was at their mercy. Even this very hole which had afforded him so opportune a refuge might be the den of one of these voracious monsters. And with the thought, it was all that poor Gerard could do to keep his nerves in hand, to retain his self-possession. With this new horror and his long immersion he began to feel chilled to the bone. That dark death-trap was like a tomb. His teeth chattered and his knees shook beneath him. His head seemed whirling round and round. He expected to feel himself seized by those horrible grinding jaws, gnashed to fragments while utterly powerless to make a struggle against his loathsome assailants. An unspeakably terrible fate!

Meanwhile the first sharp warning cry had changed into a wild uproar. Shouting, stamping with their feet, hurling sticks and stones into the water, the Igazipuza on the bank were endeavouring to scare off the voracious reptiles until their comrades should be safe ashore again, and indeed the frightful din of which they were guilty was enough to scare the life out of every alligator between the Tugela and the Zambesi. Gerard could stand the position no longer. Under cover of the noise, and in the certainty that the attention of his enemies would be folly occupied, he slipped from the recess back into his former and more open hiding-place, and, parting the branches peered eagerly forth.

At first he could distinguish nothing. The surface of the smooth reach gleamed like a mirror in the sunlight. Then he perceived a dark, moving object gliding down stream, furrowing up the dazzling surface into lines of fire, and his heart well-nigh failed him for horror and despair. In the long bony head just showing above water, the bull-nosed snout, the stealthy glide, he recognised the most hideous and repulsive of reptiles, an alligator, and not a small one, either.

The brute seemed to care not overmuch for all the shouting and turmoil on the bank. Whether it was that he knew instinctively there were no firearms in the party, or was conscious of his superiority in his own element, his self-possession was complete. He glided quietly on, then halted, then turned himself hither and thither, wheeled in a circle, and halted again, his flat, ugly head lying on the water like the stump of a tree.

Now that their comrades were safe on land again, the Igazipuza had ceased their clamour. Indeed, they rather laid themselves out to observe quietness, for the appearance of the alligator suggested a new idea. If the fugitive was still hiding along the bank he would assuredly come forth, preferring to take his chances at their hands to the certainty of death at the jaws of the horrible brute. Even if otherwise it would still be rather fun to see him dragged forth and devoured. The alligator was their hunting-dog, they must not scare it away when it was about to show them some sport. So they sat still, eagerly watching it.

Not less eagerly was it watched by the fugitive himself. Gerard, from his hiding-place stared forth upon the monster with a frightful fascination. It was lying out in the stream barely fifty yards distant. As he gazed, it sank out of sight suddenly and noiselessly. Only a few bubbles marked the place where it had been.

The situation was becoming, if possible, more horrible still. As long as he could see the enemy it was bad enough. Now that he no longer could, it was ten times worse, and he pictured the amphibious demon gliding beneath the water to seize him. What chance had he, standing in it up to his neck? The water, though not altogether clear, was sufficiently so to enable him just to see the bottom, and now he hardly dared look down in it, lest he should descry the hideous squab form of the frightful reptile, and gaping jaws opening to close upon him. Then he looked out again. There was the flat, dark object lying on the surface exactly where it had disappeared, and—near it was another. Oh, Heavens! There were two of them!

The cunning plan of the Igazipuza nearly succeeded. So inexpressibly revolting did the prospect of such a fate appear, that Gerard was on the point of quitting his concealment, of coming forth to meet his death in open day on the spears of his enemies rather than remain there to be torn limb from limb beneath the water by these loathsome monsters. But still something kept him back, a resolution to hold out as long as life was left; for not only did his own life hang upon the ultimate carrying out of his mission, but that of Dawes and those dependent on them. So he summoned all his determination to his aid, and resolved to hold out courageously.

With the instinct of a true adventurer, he began to sum up his resources, and they were practicallynil. His firearms were soaked, and even if they would go off, he might just as well surrender to his enemies as fire a shot. He had a knife—a large sheath-knife—which had formed part of his original outfit, and of which he was secretly proud. It was an elaborate concern, with a brass-studded sheath and a blade like a young claymore, and had been the object of much good-natured banter on the part of Dawes, who pronounced it of doubtful ornamentality, and still more doubtful utility, for it was too awkward and cumbersome for a hunting-knife, though he conceded it might come in handy some day to throw at a fellow, the only conceivable purpose to which it could be turned. Now, however, the great dagger-like weapon seemed to Gerard to be worth its weight in gold, for in it lay his sole resource. To be sure, a hand-to-hand conflict with a full-sized alligator in his own element, perhaps with two, armed only with a knife however large, is a formidable undertaking enough, yet Gerard was strong and athletic, and his courage was now the courage of despair.

He could hear the muttered conversation of his human enemies on the bank, where they sat overlooking the river a little higher up than his place of concealment, and again he looked at the alligators. The latter were moving again, slowly gliding to and fro, approaching somewhat nearer his position. Were they beginning to scent his presence? It seemed like it, from their uneasy suspicious movements.

And now Gerard made up his mind that if he was to fight, he must himself be out of the water. But how? seeing that the clay bank was perpendicular, and the bush that screened him was not high enough to shelter him, even if he could get out of the water, not to mention the prodigious rustle which would certainly betray him to the quick ears of the watchful savages, did he attempt to spring into its branches. Ah! He thought he saw a plan. By cutting a step or two in the clay bank, he could raise himself almost entirely out of the water. It would only be up to his knees, at any rate, and he could hold on to a bough with his left hand, while he fought desperately for his life with his right. But he must abandon his rifle.

And then his very reluctance to do this suggested to him a further expedient. Those terrible jaws must be held at something more than mere arm’s length. Fishing out of his pocket somereimpjes, or strips of raw hide, which no dweller in the South Africanveldt, somehow or other, ever seems to be without, he spliced his great knife quickly but securely to the end of the rifle, thus turning the latter into a most efficient bayonet, instead of being forced to abandon it. Having thus made his preparations, he again peered forth to watch the alligators.

And what a lifetime did it seem to him, standing there submerged, a hunted fugitive, the spears of his enemies lying in wait for him on the bank, possibly the stake of torture, the ravenous jaws of the loathsome monsters below. The hot rays of the sun, mounting higher and higher, beat down fiercely upon his hiding-place, which, in this instance, was fortunate, since it neutralised the shivery chill engendered by his long immersion. Minutes seemed hours. He could not hold out for ever. Exhaustion would come upon him, and then— Ha! Now for it!

The alligators, which had been cruising to and fro in an aimless sort of way, were now heading straight for his place of concealment. Had they scented him? Forty yards—thirty—twenty—he watched them with a horrible fascination. Then they both disappeared. Now was the time. Placing a foot in the nick he had cut in the clay bank, and with his left hand firmly grasping a bough overhead, Gerard drew himself up. By cautiously shifting his position, he gained a little more height, and thus hanging by the grip of his left hand, his body bent out over the water, in which he had stood up to his knees, Gerard awaited the attack of the formidable reptiles.

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