the soil, and glanced sullenly at the Englishman.
"However," went on Mr. Blakeney, in a less serious tone, "I don't want
to pursue an unpleasant subject, and I'm not much of a predicant.[#]
But before I show you your wounded men, I want to know what you and your
people are going to do."
[#] Predikant, Boer Dutch for preacher or parson.
"We are going to leave Karl Engelbrecht and trek back by ourselves to
Benguela," returned the Boer; "and I am deputed to say we are all sorry
we ever interfered with you."
"Well," answered Mr. Blakeney, "that's better news. Now come and look at
your dead and wounded."
First assisting to bury the dead men, whose names were taken down by Mr.
Blakeney, the Boer was conducted to the camp, where he spoke with his
wounded comrades. The upshot of his visit was that two of the more
lightly wounded Dutchmen were carried away that afternoon on horses sent
up for them, while the remaining two, whose injuries precluded their
immediate removal, were left in the English camp. At the end of a week
these men also were in a fit state to travel, and, being carried down
the hill in a rude litter, were got to their own wagons.
Three days later the same Boer envoy, Roelof Vorster, who had first
appeared with the flag of truce, came, accompanied by a friend, for the
last time to the Englishmen's camp. With them marched half a dozen
native servants carrying six fine tusks of ivory. These were deposited
near Mr. Blakeney's wagon. The Boers' mission was this. They wished,
on behalf of themselves and their fellows, again to express their sorrow
that they had joined forces with Karl Engelbrecht, and they desired to
thank the Englishmen from their hearts for the aid, nursing, and care
bestowed upon their wounded men; and they tendered the six tusks of
ivory as some small token of their gratitude. Mr. Blakeney thanked
them, and accepted the present.
"Not that we want the ivory," he remarked; "but I believe you honestly
mean what you say. Take my advice. Give up the companionship of such
rascals as Karl Engelbrecht, and make up your minds to leave
filibustering alone. It doesn't pay you in the long run. When do you
trek, and what has become of Engelbrecht?"
"We trek to-morrow early," returned Vorster. "I believe Engelbrecht
treks also to-morrow. But we have no traffic with him now. He is the
cause of our losses, and we have nothing more to say to him. Now,
Meneer Blakeney, we have come to say farewell. You are an honest man,
and we shall none of us forget your kindness, and the kindness of the
young meneers with you."
They had coffee together, said their good-byes, and the Boers quitted
the camp. Next day, Poeskop, who had gone out to reconnoitre the Boer
outspan place beyond the mountain, reported that all the wagons had
departed, the Boers trekking west for Benguela, while Karl Engelbrecht's
solitary wagon had gone northward by itself.
At last, then, the English party felt that their troubles and dangers
were completely at an end. Their shadowers had vanished, defeated
utterly. One of them, Antonio Minho, lay dead and buried above the
Kloof of Gold; the other had taken himself off, his evil schemes
wrecked, his plottings scattered to the winds. They breathed again, and
were now all prepared to return to that absorbing quest on which they
had travelled hither. Next morning the four diggers went down the ladder
again, and settled themselves in the kloof for the last week of their
gold quest. By that time Mr. Blakeney reckoned that their work would be
accomplished, and that they would have accumulated gold to the value,
roughly, of some L55,000. Over their camp fire, the evening before,
they had been discussing these matters. Should they camp for a month
longer, and trust to their good fortune bringing them yet further store
of wealth? Although they had ransacked the more open deposits of the
valley pretty thoroughly, they might look, with renewed exertion, to win
probably another L20,000. And if they cared to spend more time, and
embark in yet bigger operations, they might, by turning the course of
the river, uncover still greater wealth. Such a task, however, even if
they had the strength and the numbers to accomplish it, meant severe
digging of many weeks' duration. Moreover, the rains were at hand, and
in another month, probably, the pleasant stream, which now rippled so
placidly through the kloof, would be a raging torrent, with which, until
some months had elapsed, it would be impossible to deal.
"Well, uncle," said Guy, "for my part I shall have had enough of digging
and gold-finding, after this next week's work. We have, as you say,
already won, or in sight, some L55,000, which will be more than enough
for the whole lot of us. If we want more we can come again some day, or
perhaps get a concession from the Portuguese Government, peg out claims,
and form a company."
"But," interrupted Mr. Blakeney, "I'm by no means certain that this
kloof is in Portuguese territory at all. So far as I can discover, after
much examination and cross-questioning of Poeskop, the Portuguese have
never visited this piece of country at all, much less exercised any
rights over it. I am inclined to think our gold valley lies in a kind
of no-man's-land, and is not even owned or claimed by any sort of native
chief. Sooner or later it may fall to the lot of England, which I
heartily hope it may do.
"There is one matter you've touched upon, Guy," continued his uncle,
"which I think we ought to discuss here and now. Whose do you make out
this gold to be that we have been digging out for these weeks past?"
"Why, the firm's," said Guy, with a laugh; "the long firm--you, Tom, and
myself."
"No, that will hardly do, I think," answered Mr. Blakeney. "To you,
most certainly, belongs the lion's share. If your father had lived he
would have come here and made his fortune; and it is only right that
you, to whom your father willed, as it were, this wonderful valley,
should succeed him."
"My dear Uncle Charles," interrupted Guy eagerly, "please don't talk
like that. What should I have done without you? You have fitted out
the expedition, planned the whole thing, brought me here, shown me how
to find the stuff--done everything, in fact. I know my father said
something in his last letter about our going halves, but that is
manifestly unfair to you, who have had the whole weight of this
discovery on your shoulders. If you like to let me stand in to the
extent of, say, one-third of the plunder, I shall be more than well
content. Even a quarter, or less, would satisfy me well."
"My dear Guy," answered his uncle, "you are talking rank nonsense, and I
can't listen to you. What I propose is this. You shall take two-thirds
of the value of the gold, if and when we manage to get to Cape Town, or
some other market. And, mind you, we haven't by any means marketed our
stuff yet. Of the remaining one-third, I think Tom, for all his
trouble, ought to have a share, say a quarter--or say L5,000--with which
he can make a real good start in farming some day, and build himself a
house. I think such a settlement ought to content us all."
"No, no, no, uncle!" broke in Guy. "I will never agree to any such
absurd division. You have done everything for me, and practically
carried me here and found the gold for me. Where on earth should I have
been without you?"
After a good deal more discussion, Guy remained quite unconvinced by the
quiet but weighty arguments of his uncle. Finally it was agreed between
them that the arrangement ought to be as Guy's father had proposed, and
that the gold should be divided equally between them. Then came the
remuneration of the men. Poeskop, questioned as to what he would like to
have as his reward for showing the way to the kloof, replied that he did
not know--he would leave it to his masters. Perhaps enough money to buy
a horse, a new rifle, and ten head of cattle would be about the mark.
This, of course, his masters put aside as inadequate. Although the gold
was of little use to him--in all these years he had never attempted to
win or dispose of it--it was but fair that he should be well paid for
his secret. He had expressed a wish to return to Bechuanaland with his
new baases. It was arranged that the sum of L1,000 should be put at his
disposal, so soon as the gold was realized. With this he could buy some
land, stock it, and have enough over to purchase a wagon. As for the
rest of the men, Mr. Blakeney and the boys agreed that a hundred pounds
apiece, in addition to the wages paid to them during the expedition,
would be handsome remuneration for their services.
For the next few days, then, the four diggers, having descended once
more into the kloof, were working away industriously, picking, and
digging, and washing. They had skimmed most of the cream from the rich
treasure of the valley, and the gold they now won had to be sought
deeper and required much more labour. Still it was there, and their
operations unearthed some wonderfully rich nuggets, weighing pounds
instead of ounces. They felt, one and all, absolutely at peace in their
pursuit. They had defeated their enemies, slain and wounded some, and
driven off the remainder, and were now free from the long anxiety which
had pursued them during their journey from the coast. The shadowers had
vanished, and now not a cloud appeared in the sky of their prosperity.
So thought all of them; all, that is, except Poeskop, whose mind
oftentimes ran on recent events. Somehow the Bushman had always
regretted that he had not traced Karl Engelbrecht farther afield in his
flight. He knew Karl well--too well; he knew his savage and vengeful
nature; and he could somehow never quite venture to assure himself that
the man and his evil plottings were for ever done with. This feeling
grew upon him, and on the fifth evening of their sojourn in the kloof it
had overmastered him to such an extent that he begged his young baas and
Mr. Blakeney to let him climb the ladder and spend a day in scouting
about the surrounding country.
"Why," said Guy, with a smile, as they sat at supper that evening, "what
can you possibly want to go spying again for? Our troubles from that
quarter are all at an end. Engelbrecht and his friends had such a dose
of it that they will never want to tackle us again. You're getting
fanciful, Poeskop!"
"Ja, Baas Guy," returned the Bushman, with a grin; "I am fanciful. I
always have been since I lived naked in the veldt and dug for roots.
And my fancy now is that I should like to climb the ladder to-night, and
go beyond the camp and have a look round. I feel restless, shut up
here, and I want a change."
"But you can't climb to-night, Poeskop?" argued Mr. Blakeney. "I don't
want to stop your going. I daresay it will do you good to have a day
off and prowl around. But you had better wait till morning."
"_Nie_, baas," persisted the little man, "I think I will go to-night.
There will be a young moon coming up directly, and I see well enough. I
could climb that ladder, mind you, baas, if the night were as dark as
pitch."
So Poeskop had his way, and presently, taking his carbine on his back,
went silently to the ladder, and climbed away into the dim heights above
them, with steps so secret and so stealthy that the watchers below heard
and saw absolutely nothing. The Bushman disappeared into the night,
vanishing up the cliff face very much as a bat vanishes into the dark
spaces in which it loves to make its flight.
And, in very sooth, Poeskop had reason for uneasiness. Karl Engelbrecht
was not yet done with his revenge. After retiring beaten from the
attack on the English camp, he had trekked out of the mountains, and
outspanned with the remnant of his Boer allies some ten miles away.
There, after mutual recriminations, the two parties split up, and the
filibusters who had joined forces with him, disgusted with their losses
and their ill-success, moved away for the coast. Engelbrecht himself, as
had been observed by Poeskop, had trekked northward into unknown veldt.
But the Boer, although he had betaken himself beyond the ken of the
gold-seekers, had by no means abated one jot or tittle of the fierce
anger and hatred that had for so long possessed him. In a few days he
had recovered from the flesh wound sustained in the attack on the
English camp. During these days of enforced quiet his mind, still
consumed by an overpowering passion for revenge, turned over incessantly
murderous plans against the men who had so lately defeated him. If, by
some means, he could gain the gold valley and lie in ambush, he might
surely, he thought to himself, with the aid of his henchman Quasip, a
notably good shot, dispose of two of the most hated of his rivals
without much difficulty. Poeskop and the man Blakeney should fall to
their first two barrels, and they could surely manage the two lads
thereafter. There were risks, it was true--risks which, in his calmer
moments, he would have weighed in the balance many times before
accepting; but in his present frame of mind the man saw red and nothing
else. Revenge called him loudly back to the Gold Kloof; and go he must.
Somehow or other he would find means of compassing the destruction of
his foes.
Taking with him his Hottentot Quasip, and accompanied by a native
after-rider mounted on a spare horse, Karl Engelbrecht then rode back
for the mountains surrounding the Gold Kloof. He had with him a
fortnight's supply of biltong and other necessaries, but he reckoned
upon accomplishing his designs within a week. They approached the
mountains by a narrow ravine some miles to the right of the main valley
by which the gold-finders had found their way into the hills. By this
means Engelbrecht hoped to escape any scouting observations made by the
English party. From this ravine the after-rider, Klaas, was sent back
with the three horses to Engelbrecht's outspan, two days distant, with
minute instructions to return to the same place seven days thence.
Then, climbing the mountain, the Boer and his Hottentot set out to find
the way to the Gold Kloof. It was a long and a difficult task, but,
thanks to their instinct of locality, they made their way over the
hills, and, passing under the vultures' peak, found themselves next day
overlooking the Gold Kloof on the opposite side to that on which the
rope-ladder hung. Several times during this day they reconnoitred most
carefully for the gold-searchers, whom they could see at work far
beneath them. They passed on to the head of the kloof, and marked very
carefully the cliffs and edges of the ravine whence issued the stream
that ran down the gold valley.
"Now," said Engelbrecht to his companion, after regarding the place from
every point of view for a long hour, "supposing we get down into the
kloof by the rope-ladder yonder, and supposing we settle these precious
folk below, what are we to do if their servants in the camp above cut or
pull up the ladder?"
"_Ek wit nie, baas_ [I don't know, master]," replied the Hottentot. "We
should be in a nasty place."
"Well, I'll tell you," answered the Boer. "We could _build_ our way out
of the kloof by light ladders. There are two difficult places down this
krantz which we couldn't scale. The rest is climbable. If we are put
to it, we will build ladders, set them against these places, and get
out. It is to be done. The axes we have with us I brought for some
such job. I can make a ladder as well as any man in Benguela or
Mossamedes, and if we are shut up in the kloof yonder we'll just set to
work and build ourselves out of it. Two ladders, one of forty feet at
the base, another of thirty feet half-way up, will, I reckon, pass us
over those dangerous places; the rest is climbable."
That afternoon the two men, making a wide circuit, got round the head of
the ravine, and approached the Englishmen's camp in the rear. The camp,
as we have seen, had at its back a shoulder of the mountain.
Engelbrecht, in the evening, before sunset, reconnoitred this shoulder,
and discovered that with care the descent could be made. There were
many bushes, by the aid of which the steep declivity could be
accomplished. The English party, as a matter of fact, had somewhat
neglected this approach. They knew only of one avenue to their camp,
that by which they themselves had made their way thither, and by which
also their enemies had attacked them. And now all danger of any fresh
assault seemed far remote.
That night Engelbrecht and his Hottentot slept among some bush on the
mountain side, within three hundred yards of the English camp. They had
well calculated the movements of the gold-seekers and their native
servants guarding the camp, and had determined to hazard the descent by
the rope-ladder at about two hours after sunrise next morning. By that
time, they reckoned, the party down the kloof would have quitted their
resting-place and gone off for the head of the valley, where their
operations now lay. Three of the servants in the camp would probably be
away--so Quasip, from his previous spying operations, reckoned it
out--with the oxen and horses, grazing far down the hill. Jan Kokerboom
would most likely be alone at the wagon. If they could avoid his
scrutiny, as they hoped to be able to do, they could descend the ladder
and conceal themselves without difficulty in the kloof below. In the
afternoon, as the diggers returned to their sleeping-place, they could
be easily ambuscaded. Some dangers there might be--dangers which had
been pointed out to his master by Quasip; but in the mind of the Boer,
thirsting as he was for revenge at any price, these were as naught
compared with the chances of success. At dawn the pair of ruffians
descended very softly from their place of concealment, and letting
themselves down the steep declivity with the greatest care and caution,
by means of bushes and stunted olive-wood trees, which lent them
invaluable aid, safely accomplished their purpose. Now, seeking the
centre of a clump of high bush close to the cliff edge, they lay within
a hundred and fifty yards of the ladder, and about two hundred yards
from the camp, from which they were still completely screened. Two
hours went by. Surely by this time the coast must be nearly clear, and
their attempt might be made? With extreme caution Engelbrecht raised
himself from his hiding-place, and, peering through the bushes, looked
down into the kloof. Far away, up near the head of the valley, he could
discern two or three men, their figures dwarfed by the distance, at
work. That was right enough. Now for the attempt on the ladder.
With beating hearts the two men crawled quietly from the bush in which
they were ensconced, and crept, well under the lee of more bush, towards
the ladder. Up to half an hour ago they had heard voices about the camp
and the lowing of cattle. The voices had ceased, and the cattle had
evidently been driven down hill to pasture; all was now quiet. If any
one remained in camp it would be Jan Kokerboom, and presumably he would
be asleep. Very slowly, very cautiously, the two men crawled on hands
and knees towards the ladder. The journey was safely accomplished.
They lay now by the ladder of rope and hide, seventy yards only from the
camp, but concealed from it by some high bush and a little group of wild
olive trees. Karl Engelbrecht now nodded to his henchman to begin the
descent. Quasip little liked the job; but he was the servant of an
iron-willed and ruthless master, and he knew he had to go through with
it. Rising very cautiously, he gripped the upper part of the ladder and
went over the side.
It was a breathless moment for both. The Hottentot, his face deeply
puckered with anxiety, began the downward climb. Engelbrecht shuffled
his huge form to the edge of the cliff and saw his man's descent. He
watched him till the lower angle of the cliff concealed him from view.
The movement of the ladder presently ceased. Quasip had reached the
bottom. His own turn had now come. Mingled with some natural feeling
of suspense was also a sense of elation. His man was down the cliff;
half their difficulties were over. In ten minutes he himself would be
safely at the foot, near to that great pile of gold--and then revenge
and plunder. The blood of his hated enemies and a vast treasure would be
his.
But Karl Engelbrecht, cleverly as he and his Hottentot had laid their
plans, and made their approach to the ladder, had overlooked or never
suspected one elemental fact in the situation. They were in complete
ignorance that on the previous night Poeskop, their arch-enemy Poeskop,
whom they now supposed to be far away up the kloof, digging for gold
with his masters, had ascended the ladder. And Poeskop for the last
five minutes had been attentively regarding Karl Engelbrecht.
Something--he never afterwards could explain satisfactorily why or how
it was--but something that morning had impelled him to remain in camp,
mending his old, ragged pair of trousers, and to send Jan Kokerboom, who
loved stalking and was not difficult to persuade, to shoot a head of
game down the hill. While Poeskop sat silent and reflective, under the
shade of the wagon, patching his old breeches, some faint sound, or
vibration rather, from the direction of the edge of the cliff, caught
his preternaturally sharp ears. He listened. Yes, he was certain now:
there was a sound from the direction of the ladder. He knew that sound,
but it puzzled him why he should hear it just then. None of his masters
could be climbing upward!
Poeskop was instantly on the alert. Creeping, with the silence and
adroitness of a serpent, in the direction of the cliff edge, he
presently peeped through the bushes, and beheld his arch-enemy Karl
Engelbrecht, lying prone on the lip of the precipice, evidently watching
very intently some one on the ladder. For a moment the Bushman was
uncertain what to do. Then it dawned upon him, from the movements of
Engelbrecht, that the person beneath was descending and not climbing the
ladder. He decided to wait for the Boer's next move, which, indeed, was
not long in coming.
Engelbrecht softly rose, gripped the ladder fairly, and began to
descend. His great frame disappeared over the cliff edge. Then a
wonderful smile, a smile of triumphant hatred, swept over Poeskop's
face. He knew now that at last his hated enemy was delivered into his
hands. He waited till the big Boer was a third of the way down the
precipice, and then, swiftly creeping to the edge, looked over. Karl
Engelbrecht was going steadily down, hand under hand. He was not
accustomed to a task like this; but he had nerves of steel and a good
head, and he was getting used to the dizzy height and the sway of the
ladder. Suddenly an exclamation from the cliff above him made him look
up. What he saw struck, for the first time in his life, a freezing
terror at his heart. He saw above him, leering at him with fiendish
glee and malevolence, the face of Poeskop, the Bushman.
"So," cried Poeskop in Dutch, "I have you at last! At last, Karl
Engelbrecht! I have waited a long time, but now I am even with you,
_edele heer_ [noble sir]," he added, with jeering sarcasm. "You won't
like the fall, but you've got to face it, and you'll strike plaguy hard
at the bottom. At last, Karl, the devil has thee! The devil has thee!"
Death, indeed, stared the Boer in the face. He knew he was doomed; he
knew that nothing in this world would turn the fell purpose of the man
above him. But, brute as he was, Engelbrecht was no coward, and, setting
his teeth, he made one despairing attempt to snatch salvation. His
rifle hung at his back. Clinging to the rope-ladder with one hand, he
disengaged the weapon with marvellous dexterity, swinging as he was over
that frightful abyss, and, pointing it upward, tried to align it on the
Bushman. Next instant he pulled trigger, the bullet whizzed far upward
into space, and the report of the rifle rattled with deafening
reverberation around the cliffs.
Poeskop delayed no longer. The madness of revenge ran seething through
his veins. Whipping out his long hunting knife from its sheath, he
hacked with desperate energy at the tough hide of the ladder. One side
went, the ladder drooped and collapsed, and the Boer hung helpless and
awry by the frail support of the other side only.