ground just twice as fast as the two footmen toiling along in front of
them. Already the hoof-strokes of the galloping horses could be
distinguished by the two runners.
"Baas," gasped Poeskop, "we shall just reach the timber, and that's all.
We shall want three minutes to get breath and steady ourselves."
Well and stoutly as they ran, it seemed as if the last three hundred
yards that separated them from the islet of bush never would be
accomplished. The haven was reached at last, and the two fugitives
plunging in, sank down behind a couple of trees having a low screen of
bush in front of them, and prepared for action.
The nearest of their pursuers, Karl Engelbrecht, was now but three
hundred yards away. A hundred yards behind him galloped a native
servant; then followed Minho, the Portuguese, and another mounted
native. Engelbrecht drew rein, jumped from his horse, and taking quick
aim, fired at the two runners just as they took shelter behind the
trees. The bullet whistled idly by. The Boer waited till his comrades
came up, and then, spreading out a few yards apart, they advanced at a
walk upon the islet, their plan evidently being to envelop it. By the
time they had approached within two hundred yards, the fugitives had
recovered breath, and were prepared for them.
"Baas," whispered Poeskop, a fierce light gleaming in his set face, "you
are the best shot. Fire first. Take plenty time."
Guy nodded. They were lying down; and resting his elbows on the ground
and putting up his Martini rifle, he aimed at the big figure of the
Boer, who, now mounted again, was advancing upon the patch of covert.
Two hundred and fifty yards was the distance. The ivory rifle-sight was
upon the Boer's body, Guy's finger upon the trigger. Should he fire?
No, the lad thought; he would not spill the man's blood if he could help
it. He lowered the rifle, and, taking aim at Engelbrecht's horse,
pulled. It was a long shot, but a pretty good target. The result was,
perhaps, most unexpected to Karl Engelbrecht himself, who had scarcely
anticipated much resistance. At the loud report of the Martini, his
horse fell instantly to the ground. In the next minute the poor beast
was choking in its death struggle. Karl stumbled to his feet with a big
Dutch oath, dropped in the grass, and, taking aim for the place whence
the shot had been fired, let drive. It was a good shot; so good that
the Westley-Richards .450 sporting bullet hit the tree behind which Guy
crouched, striking it a terrific smack, within six inches of the lad's
face.
Guy shifted his position and prepared for another shot. Meanwhile,
Poeskop had got the Boer within range, and had let drive three
successive shots in such close proximity to Engelbrecht's carcass that
that worthy had deemed it wise to beat a hasty retreat. Worming himself
through the grass, therefore, Engelbrecht crawled back a hundred paces
or more, where he was joined by Antonio Minho, who, from that
comparatively long range, now fired a shot or two at the patch of bush
in front of them.
Meanwhile, one of the natives was riding round to the left, evidently
with the object of getting a flanking shot into the defenders' position.
Guy had no intention of being thus outflanked. He realized that his
opponents meant business, and that this was no time for leniency, or any
half-hearted measures. The mounted native came round within less than
two hundred yards. As he turned and pulled up his horse, in order to
fire from the saddle, Guy got a fair bead on him, and, pulling trigger,
sent a bullet into the man's shoulder. The native staggered in his
saddle, dropped his rifle with a loud yell, and, sorely wounded, lay
forward upon the neck of his horse and rode off. Circling away from the
dangerous proximity of the islet, the man rejoined his master, and fell
fainting to the soil. Poeskop was delighted with the success of the
defence thus far. The group of assailants was now some three hundred
and fifty yards away, but a well-judged bullet from the Bushman's rifle
struck the wounded native's horse, and completed the discomfiture of the
party. Karl Engelbrecht, cursing the young Englishman and his
assistant, and swearing horrible vengeance at some future time, now
deemed it well to retreat. A dead and wounded horse, and a badly
injured native, was sufficient punishment for him. Tying up his man's
wound, and putting him upon the spare horse, the Boer and his party now
drew sullenly off, their retreat hastened by the figures of two horsemen
which they descried far off upon the plain behind Guy and Poeskop. On
the way back to their mountain retreat, Minho rode a little off the
route to secure the Englishman's unfortunate horse, which was now
grazing on the veldt. Finding that the poor beast was too lame to
travel, he shot it dead. This brutal act was witnessed by Poeskop from
a tree into which he had climbed.
"Poor Blesbok," said Guy, at the intelligence. "I'll do my best to make
things level with the brutes. I'm sorry now I didn't shoot Engelbrecht
instead of his horse. I had a fair chance, and let it go. As for that
Portuguese cur, I'll be even with him, somehow or other."
"My baas," returned Poeskop, grinning in high contentment, "if you'll
take my advice, you'll never give Karl Engelbrecht another chance in
this world. You might as well offer a good joint of meat to a stinking
hyaena. If you don't watch it and kill Karl, he'll kill you. I know
him. He'll never rest till he has another slap at us. Never mind;
we've bested him this time, and we'll best him again...... Hurrah! here
come Baas Blakeney and Baas Tom. They'll be pleased, anyway."
Guy and the Bushman stepped out of the covert which had proved so timely
a refuge for them, and, waving their rifles, drew the attention of the
two horsemen, who were now cantering towards them. In twenty minutes
they were together once more.
*Chapter XV.*
*THE KLOOF.*
The mutual congratulations that ensued were very real and heartfelt.
"My dear Guy," said his uncle, as he threw himself from his horse and
wrung his nephew's hand, "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you safe
and sound. I have imagined all sorts of dangers from your captivity.
Now tell us what has happened."
Guy related as shortly as possible all his adventures since he had left
their camp. Then Poeskop told of his doings, and how he had managed the
rescue.
"Well, you have both done excellently well," said Mr. Blakeney. "It's a
clever feat to have outwitted these scoundrels, and beaten them off as
you have done. We heard your firing as we waited at the edge of the
forest yonder, and galloped this way. But you had really finished the
fight, and well beaten Engelbrecht, before we could take a hand. I
congratulate you, Guy. Here comes in the advantage of an athletic
training and early practice in rifle-shooting. An old veldt man could
not have done better. The question now is, What are these rascals
likely to be up to? I don't think Engelbrecht, after this mauling, will
be very keen to attack us again. And in our own camp, and with all our
own men about us, we should have no trouble in repelling him. Still, we
must keep a sharp lookout."
Poeskop, questioned as to his idea of the Boer's future movements, was
of opinion that Engelbrecht would never think of attacking them with his
present force. He might go off and try to raise more men. But that
would take time; and in the meanwhile they would be at the Gold Kloof,
and could make more ample preparations against further assaults. On the
whole, the Bushman was of opinion that Engelbrecht would certainly try
to take his revenge; but he inclined to the belief that it would
probably be more in the way of an ambush on the coastward trek. This
could be guarded against by careful scouting.
They returned to their own camp, where Jan Kokerboom and the other men
welcomed them with great delight. Guy's first action on getting back
was to do something to show his gratitude to Poeskop for his clever and
courageous rescue. He knew that the little Bushman had always immensely
admired a Marlin repeating carbine which he (Guy) sometimes used. Taking
this out of the wagon, he now handed it to his follower.
"Here, Poeskop," he said; "here's a little present for you. You did me
a real good turn, and I shall never forget it. You are a good fellow,
and when we come to the town again I hope to do something more for you.
I was in a very tight place when you crept into Karl Engelbrecht's camp
and got me out of it."
Poeskop duly returned thanks, and the incident ended. But the real
feeling of friendship between the young Englishman and the half-wild
Bushman was yet further cemented by the events of these few days.
They trekked once more, and after steady travelling for some days
further, through a wild and remote wilderness, came at length to that
goal of their desires, the Gold Kloof. One magnificent evening they
outspanned under the shadow of a great mass of towering mountain, the
highest peak of which must have been full seven thousand feet high.
Within this range lay their secret. As the white men looked up at the
peaked and serrated crests of the berg before them--now glowing with
crimson and rose under the magic of the African sunset--they could not
help being sensible of the spell of mystery and expectation cast over
them by the witchery of that wonderful hour and the sight of this
magnificent mountain land, which had lain here during ages of the past,
remote and unknown, hugging within its solitudes the wealth that all
civilized men covet so greatly. The fires of evening passed, and the
mountains sank into more sober colouring. Puces and mauves and brown,
contrasted in the deeper shadows with cobalt and indigo, were succeeded
by yet darker and more sombre hues. Finally night sank, and only the
faint looming of the great berg could be perceived. A thin silver
crescent of a moon swam in the palest green sky; the stars pricked forth
in amazing brilliancy; and the whole firmament became arrayed in its
night robe of the deepest and most velvety blue-black.
They spent a most cheery evening by the camp fire, and turned in to
sleep with all sorts of anticipations for the morrow.
After breakfast the next morning they advanced, under the guidance of
Poeskop, into the heart of the mountain. Trekking through a wide and
well-timbered valley, bordered on either side by towering and majestic
walls, they entered suddenly--after the dry country through which they
had for six weeks been travelling--upon what seemed to the two lads a
perfect fairyland. Rain had lately fallen, and nature, responding in her
eager way to the welcome moisture, had awakened, as by the spell of a
magician's wand, into a most wonderful and verdurous beauty. The grass
grew green in the valley, the trees were arrayed in new and brilliant
foliage, the flowers everywhere checkered the veldt and shed splendour
upon the hillsides. Acres of lilies--white, pink and white, crimson,
and pale blue--starred the earth; while irises, gladioli, pelargoniums,
heliophilas, and many other flowers, flourished in wild luxuriance. The
round, plushlike, yellow and orange balls of the acacia trees spread
abroad upon the soft breeze a most delicious, honey-like scent. Up the
mountain sides various heaths, now in the full beauty of their
flowering, brilliantly relieved the dark greens and red browns of bush
and rock. Huge aloes stood sentinel upon the kloofsides, and held aloft
immense spikes of dark crimson flowers. Amid all this wealth of flower
life, innumerable birds of gay and brilliant plumage, now on their way
south with the rains, flew hither and thither. Here were to be noticed
especially those lovely feathered creatures, the emerald, the golden,
and Klaas's cuckoos, whose glorious colouring is among the chief marvels
of South African bird life. Gorgeous sunbirds dipped their long tongues
into the sugary hearts of the blossoms scattered so plentifully around;
and resplendent kingfishers of divers hues sped in arrowy flight up and
down the clear stream that murmured through the centre of the valley.
Far aloft, wheeling and circling above the tall mountain peak which
dominated the range, numbers of vultures were to be seen, cleaving the
clear air of morning with wonderfully majestic flight.
"Hullo, Poeskop!" said Tom; "aasvogels?"
"Ja, Baas Tom," rejoined the Bushman; "they nest in the cliffs yonder.
So long as I can remember, and I first saw these valleys when I was so
high"--he stooped his hand within a couple of feet of the earth--"the
aasvogels have bred here. From the side of the berg yonder you can
overlook the Gold Kloof."
"Can you, though?" broke in Guy. "Let's push on. How long will it take
to reach the place?"
"It is a longish trek yet," said Poeskop. "We have to go winding
through the hills, and it will be late afternoon before we reach the
poort."
They moved steadily up the lovely kloof until midday, when they
outspanned for a couple of hours to rest and feed the oxen. The work
had been heavy. Many small trees had to be cut down to admit the passage
of the wagon, boulders had to be pushed and levered aside, and all were
glad of rest and refreshment. At two o'clock they inspanned and trekked
again. Two valleys lay before them. Poeskop led them up that lying on
the right hand. More tree-cutting and hard travel lay before them. The
gorge was in places so littered with monstrous boulders that progress at
times seemed almost impossible.
"I don't quite understand it, baas," said the Bushman, as he walked by
Mr. Blakeney's side in front of the wagon. "The mountain seems to have
been falling about here. When I last came this way there was nothing
like the quantity of rocks that there now are about the valley."
"Perhaps there has been a bit of an earthquake in these parts," rejoined
Mr. Blakeney. "I don't quite understand such a litter of boulders
myself. The natural work of time and weather would hardly suffice to
account for this valley of rocks. The mountains seem to have been in
labour hereabouts."
At four o'clock they came at length to a mighty angle of mountain, where
the face of the cliff, jutting out from the main mass of rock wall,
ought, according to Poeskop's notion, to bear some faint resemblance to
the profile of a man. But much of the cliff had fallen, and, as Poeskop
confessed, the likeness had vanished.
"Now, my baases," said the Bushman, his bleared eyes gleaming with
suppressed excitement, "after we turn that hoek you will see a narrow
poort, and beyond that lies the kloof where the gold is. Come!"
Leaving the wagon, the four pressed on. The mountains encircling them
had here, at the farther end of the valley, narrowed greatly. The
precipices that frowned above them seemed almost menacing in their
proximity. The place was wondrously silent. They turned the angle of
the cliff, and then Poeskop suddenly halted in his tracks and stared
about him. He seemed utterly bewildered.
"Where, where is the poort?" he stammered, glaring wildly in front and
upon either side. "Where?" He rubbed his eyes and looked again. "The
poort is gone!" he said solemnly. "What has happened?--Poeskop knows
not!"
"What do you mean, Poeskop?" demanded Mr. Blakeney, somewhat sternly.
"Don't play the fool."
"I am not playing the fool, baas," answered the little yellow man, a
strange quiver of anguish in his voice. "The poort has gone. Look!"
And indeed it was not difficult for Mr. Blakeney and the two boys,
staring in front of them, to picture what had happened. The mountain
walls, through which a narrow cleft--Poeskop's poort or pass--had, not
three years before, led, had fallen in. Some mighty convulsion of
nature had so shattered and shaken them that they had collapsed; and
where, as the Bushman explained, he had passed through between beetling
walls, a solid barrier of rock and boulders, strangely riven and
tumbled, now rose in a vast mass before them to a height of at least
four hundred feet.
Poeskop stood, with scared and fallen face, staring at this strange and
utterly unlooked-for obstacle.
"What is to be done now?" he said ruefully, "and how are we to get at
the gold? We cannot climb that cliff; and if we could, we should not be
able to get down on the other side."
"When you passed through the poort here, which is now blocked up," said
Mr. Blakeney, "how far did you go before you came out into the Gold
Kloof?"
"About a quarter of a mile, baas," answered Poeskop.
"And do you mean to tell me," pursued his interrogator, "that there is
no other passage into the kloof?"
"None whatever, baas," answered the Bushman. "I know it well--every
yard, every foot of it. In the old days, before this thing
happened"--he pointed to the barrier of cliff and _debris_--"you walked
through a quarter of a mile of narrow poort, in some places no more than
ten feet across, and came out into the kloof. The kloof is shut in by
high walls, much higher in some parts than this, and there is no other
way of getting in or out. Of that I am as certain as I am that in one
hour it will be nightfall. If we had wings, we could get into the
valley. Without them, I don't think it is possible. The cliffs are
high and sheer; not even a baboon could get down them."
They went sorrowfully back to the wagon, outspanned for the night, and,
after supper, sat discussing long and earnestly the solution of the
difficult problem that lay before them.
"I know!" cried Guy suddenly. "We'll have to make a rope-ladder, or a
ladder of some sort. We're bound to get into this place. I know my
father would, if he were here!"
Mr. Blakeney smiled at the lad's enthusiasm.
"Rather a large order, isn't it?" he said. "Five or six hundred feet of
rope-ladder! And where's the rope to come from? We may have as much as
a couple of hundred feet on the wagon. I brought that much, thinking we
might need it; but for the rest, I for one don't see my way to it."
"I know, baas!" cried Poeskop. "We can do it; but it will take time.
There is plenty game round about here. We can shoot elands, and
hartebeest, and zebras, and blue wildebeest, and cut riems and bray
them; and there is your rope-ladder."
"I believe you are right," said Mr. Blakeney thoughtfully. "The thing
never occurred to my mind. It's an excellent idea, and if we can carry
it through we shall be beholden to you, Guy. Our plan now is to start
right away and begin shooting game. Only the largest animals will be of
use to us. We shall want big and strong raw-hide riems, roughly
dressed."
Next morning they set about the task to which they had now to devote
themselves. It was an unpleasant and most thankless business, this of
slaying game merely for their hides. They compared themselves with the
skin-hunting Transvaal and Free State Boers of a generation before; and
at the end of a week all thoroughly loathed the job. Yet it had to be
done. Day after day the three white men rode out into the plains and
shot game, and rode back to camp laden with skins. These the five
natives cut into long thongs, or riems, and dressed and brayed in the
rough but effectual South African fashion. At the end of fifteen days
this part of the work was accomplished. Next they set to work to make
the ladder. First, Mr. Blakeney and Poeskop, after a careful survey of
the country, found their way up a long, gently-sloping nek on the
northerly or left-hand side of the valley in which they were encamped,
by which they attained the edge of the Gold Kloof. That evening, when
they came in with their report, their discovery was received with
rapturous applause by all in camp. Next morning Mr. Blakeney, Guy, Tom,
and Poeskop sallied forth with four horses, laden with over five hundred
feet of rope and riems, to measure the depth of the cliff wall down
which they were to hang their rope-ladder. It was a long and toilsome
ascent; but at length the little party stood above the kloof, and
knee-haltering the horses, crept to the edge of the chasm and looked
over.
It was a wonderful scene. Far below lay spread one of the fairest
valleys that the eye of man has ever rested upon. Green and well bushed
it was in places, and here and there thorn trees and wild olives spread
their shade. Through the very centre of the valley ran a clear,
shallowish stream, which seemed to take its source in a narrow cleft or
ravine far up at the eastern end of the kloof. A troop of graceful red
pallah wandered along the stream, apparently no whit the worse for their
imprisonment in this lovely valley. Wildfowl and wading birds of various
kinds checkered the surface of the stream, or ran hither and thither
along the yellowish-red sands of the shallows. The kloof appeared to be
about a mile and a half long by half a mile in breadth. Right in front
of the watchers, on the other side of the valley, towered the mountain
of the aasvogels, around the summit of which numbers of huge vultures
were circling in the clear sunlit air.
"What a lovely spot!" exclaimed Tom. "It looks like gold all over."
"Yes," added Guy; "and it's quite certain we've got it all to
ourselves."
"How does the stream escape out of this kloof?" asked Mr. Blakeney of
Poeskop.
"It makes its way somewhere under the mountain, baas," answered the
Bushman, "and comes out to the right of the poort where I used to
enter--"
"And from there flows down the valley where our camp lies?" interrupted
Mr. Blakeney.
"Ja, baas, that is just so," said the Bushman.
"Poeskop," again interrogated Guy, "whereabouts does the gold chiefly
lie?"
"All along the banks of the river-bed, Baas Guy," returned Poeskop, "and
in the river, right through the kloof. But the most of it is in the
upper half of the kloof. Right up towards the deep, narrow cleft where
the stream runs down from the mountain," he added, pointing to the far
end of the valley, "there is plenty gold; heaps of it. You may find
nuggets about the stream every ten yards or so."
"That's all right, Guy," broke in Mr. Blakeney. "No doubt the matrix of
the gold lies in the bowel of the mountain yonder. Ages of time and hot
sun, and weathering, and no doubt such convulsions as lately barred the
poort through which Poeskop used to enter the kloof, loosened the gold,
and the rains and torrents have washed the stuff down-stream and worn it
into nuggets. That roughly is, I suppose, how it all happened.--Now,"
he continued, "let us get to work, and measure the depth of this wall of
cliff."
They undid the rope and riem, and fastened them together. Then they
tied a big stone to one end and lowered it over the precipice. It
seemed ages before that stone touched the floor of the kloof. But at
last it did so; and carefully marking the distance, they hauled it up
again. Then, with a yard measure which they had brought with them, they
measured the length required. Four hundred and twenty feet three
inches, exactly, lay between them and the level of the treasure they
sought. Hastily repacking the rope and riem on the four horses, they
set off at once for camp, bent now on constructing their ladder of rope
and hide as expeditiously as possible.
For three long days all hands were busily employed at work on the
ladder. At length it was completed, and lay in four portions, ready to
be conveyed to the edge of the cliff. It was a question whether or not
they would use steps, or rungs, of wood or of hide. The latter were
finally settled upon. It would have taken much longer to cut and
prepare and fasten wooden rungs; and, upon the whole, steps of raw hide
seemed to the adventurers lighter and more easy to fasten to the rest of
the structure.
A long night's rest, and then, leaving Jan Kokerboom and Mangwalaan to
guard the camp, they packed the ladder upon four oxen, and taking with
them Seleti, the Bechuana lad, and September, the Zulu, set off for the
cliff top. Arrived there, it was a matter of two long hours before they
had pieced the four portions of the ladder together and made all ready.
Then came the work of getting the ladder over the cliff. Poeskop had
been busily reconnoitring the wall of the precipice before they set to
work. He had chosen an excellent spot, where the rock walls sheered
gently inwards towards the base. Very carefully they let the ladder
over, and lowered it yard by yard. At last, after one or two delays, it
touched the bottom of the kloof. Hearty cheers from Guy and Tom, in
which Poeskop's shrill voice joined, signalized the successful
accomplishment of a difficult piece of work.
"Now then," said Mr. Blakeney, "who's first?"