passion, as he shore and hacked for the last three times at the raw
hide. With the final frantic stroke the remaining strand went, and with
it the whole ladder and its burden. From a height of three hundred feet
Karl Engelbrecht fell to the bottom of the cliff. Thrice he turned over
in mid-air; then, with a sickening thud, his huge frame struck the hard
earth, within a few feet of his startled Hottentot. That terrific fall
reduced the giant upon the instant to little more than a hideous pulp of
broken bones, blood, and pounded flesh; and from the moment of the
impact, the Boer neither breathed nor stirred again.
*Chapter XIX.*
*HOMEWARD BOUND.*
The report of Engelbrecht's rifle shot had at once roused the attention
of the gold-diggers at the head of the kloof; and although the final
catastrophe had overtaken the Boer before they had extricated themselves
from some bush behind which they were working, they were all three
instantly aware that something was happening in the neighbourhood of the
upper camp.
"Come, lads," said Mr. Blakeney, "we must be off. I don't know what's
up, but there's some mischief brewing, I'm certain."
At once they set off at a steady trot towards the rope-ladder. They had
traversed some six hundred yards, and emerged from a small grove of
thorn trees about three hundred yards from the ladder foot, when an
exclamation from Guy suddenly brought them to a halt.
"Look!" he cried. "There's some one--Poeskop, I believe--at the top of
the cliff; and, by Jove, the ladder's gone!"
Mr. Blakeney and Tom stared hard at the cliff top, and saw at once that
Guy's assertion was right. Poeskop it was, gesticulating at the summit
of the precipice, and the ladder had vanished.
"There's something very wrong here," exclaimed Mr. Blakeney. "Come on!"
They were not long in covering the last three hundred yards that
separated them from the foot of the cliff, and there a strange and
tragic scene awaited them.
Standing alone, by the confused heap of the fallen ladder, which itself
partly covered the dead body of Karl Engelbrecht, was the Hottentot
Quasip, who was evidently much too terrified by the appalling tragedy
that had taken place to attempt any hostilities. The man was trembling
with terror, and, as Mr. Blakeney approached him, threw down his rifle
and awaited the Englishman's speech.
"What does all this mean?" asked Mr. Blakeney sternly, holding his rifle
in readiness.
It was some moments before the Hottentot could pull himself sufficiently
together to reply coherently. Then he spoke.
"My baas there," he said, pointing to the dead Boer, "was coming to
attack you. He made me climb down first, and then started himself.
Some one from your camp above must have seen him. The baas fired a shot
as he hung on the ladder, and then the ladder was cut, and he fell to
the bottom and was killed."
"A pretty story, indeed," was Mr. Blakeney's comment, as he moved a pace
or two forward and picked up the man's rifle. "So you two meant, I
suppose, to stalk and murder us while we were at our work.--And but for
Poeskop's fancy to climb out last night," he added, turning aside to
Guy and Tom, "they might very well have accomplished their purpose.
Poeskop's restlessness was providential indeed. The little man's
instincts are wonderful."
"Yes," said Guy, "he seems almost to smell danger when it's about."
"Well," went on Mr. Blakeney, gazing at the awful remains of the dead
Boer, lying a mere huddle of broken humanity beneath the tangle of the
ladder, "we shall have no more trouble from that quarter, which is a
blessing. But we're in a very pretty mess. I suppose Poeskop had no
alternative in cutting the ladder and hurling Engelbrecht to the bottom,
but he has left us in a very awkward predicament. What's to be done, I
wonder?"
"Hadn't we better secure this miserable Hottentot?" said Tom, glancing
at Quasip.
"Yes, you're right, Tom," replied his father. "I don't suppose he'll
attempt anything again, now his precious baas is done for; and he looks
as if all the stuffing were knocked out of him. But we may as well make
sure."
Tom went to their camping ground hard by, and brought back a couple of
raw-hide riems. With these they fastened the wrists and ankles of the
Hottentot, and placed him under the shade of an olive tree. The man
submitted quietly enough. As they had surmised, all the fight had been
frightened out of him.
"Now," said Mr. Blakeney, "we must see what we can do with Poeskop."
Coming out from under the cliff, they looked up and saw Poeskop's yellow
face far above them, peering anxiously over the precipice. The Bushman
put his hands to his mouth and shouted shrilly. It was some minutes
before they could make out his words, so great a distance was between
them. Then Tom suddenly said,--
"I have it. He asks: 'Is Engelbrecht dead?'"
Making a speaking trumpet of his hands, Mr. Blakeney roared out very
slowly, in deep, stentorian tones, "Ja, Engelbrecht is dood!"
There was a fine echo up the cliff. It was quite clear that Poeskop
comprehended the message. He rose to his feet, and clapped his hands
with joy. Then, throwing himself down once more, he asked again in
Dutch,--
"What shall I do, baas?"
They understood him, after several repetitions, and Mr. Blakeney again
shouted up the cliff,--
"Get riems. Make a rope, and let down."
For some minutes it seemed that the Bushman could not comprehend this
message. Then, after more repetitions, delivered very slowly, it dawned
upon him, and he shouted down,--
"Yes! In three days."
After this message he sprang to his feet and disappeared.
"Well," said Mr. Blakeney, "we're in a curious position, and must look
upon ourselves as prisoners for the present. With ordinary luck I think
Poeskop and the other men will be able to relieve us. What Poeskop has
bolted away for is quite clear. He knows he has somehow got to find
three hundred and twenty feet of hide rope. Altogether I think they may
have up there--the remnants of what we did not use for the
ladder--eighty or a hundred feet. He and the other three men have got
to find the rest. They'll, of course, go out, leaving one man in charge
of the oxen and horses, and shoot game till they get enough raw hide for
the purpose. Poeskop says three days; I believe it will be nearer a week
before they can do the business. I don't think there will be any
interruptions, but I'll ask the Hottentot what became of the other party
of Boers."
Five minutes' cross-questioning of Quasip elicited the fact that
Engelbrecht and his allies had quarrelled, after the repulse of their
attack on the camp, and that the Boers had trekked for Benguela.
"That's all right," said Mr. Blakeney to the two lads. "Barring
accidents, our men will perform their task, and put together a rope
strong enough to haul up the ladder here. Now we'll have some food, and
then settle to work again. We've got three or four days before us, and
we may as well make the best of them, and add to our stock of gold.
Luckily we've got a week's supply of flour, coffee, and other
necessaries. We have plenty of meat, and can shoot more when we need
it. We shall be all right, and must just go about our work quietly till
the rope comes."
They turned away from the dread spectacle of the dead Boer, and
rekindled their fire. A kettle being boiled, they made some coffee.
Mr. Blakeney ate some lunch, but the two lads, beyond drinking some
coffee and eating a morsel of bread apiece, had little stomach for the
meal. The horror of the tragedy of Karl Engelbrecht had upset them.
"Pater," said Tom, "I can eat no lunch, and I don't think Guy has much
appetite either. That sight over yonder has fairly sickened me."
"Well," said his father, "it is rather horrible, I grant. I became
hardened to horrors of this kind in the Basuto War of 1879. At the
storming of Morosi's Mountain in that year we witnessed many unpleasant
incidents, which hardened one's stomach to scenes of this kind. This
fall of Engelbrecht is, I admit, far worse than the state of affairs the
morning after our fight the other day, when we had to look after the
enemy's dead and wounded."
"Yes, uncle, far worse," added Guy. "I, for one, shall never forget the
ending of Karl Engelbrecht. It's horrible!"
After lunch they went back to the scene of the tragedy. The Hottentot
Quasip, on being questioned, volunteered to help them.
"Baas," he said, addressing Mr. Blakeney, "you think badly of me, and I
daresay you have good cause. But I am not so bad as you think me. I
was Engelbrecht's servant, and had to do his bidding. If I dared to
disobey him I should have been flogged, and perhaps shot. Like your own
man, Poeskop, I was afraid of him, and only wanted to get out of his
service."
"Well, that may or may not be," said Mr. Blakeney coolly. "Anyhow, I'll
give you a chance. I'll untie you, and if you work for us quietly and
well during the daytime you shall have your liberty. At night you'll
have to be tied up, until we feel we can trust you."
"Very well, baas," said the man. "That is good enough for me. I'll
prove to you that I am willing to work for my skorf, and that I am not
so bad as you may think me."
Untying the Hottentot, therefore, they set him to work with pick and
spade to dig a grave for his dead master. They themselves, meanwhile,
proceeded to disentangle the ladder from the confusion in which it had
fallen. This was a work of some little time. Then they removed the
battered corpse of Karl Engelbrecht--a terrible spectacle--and laid it
in the grave dug by Quasip. This done, they proceeded up the valley,
and spent the remainder of the day in their gold-mining operations.
They took the Hottentot with them; it was evident that he was sincere in
his attempt to please them. He plied pick and shovel, and worked away
steadily till dusk, when they relinquished their labours and returned to
their camping ground.
For the next three days they steadily pushed on with their mining work.
On the whole they did much better than they had anticipated, coming upon
a fresh and very rich find of gold, which lay a few feet below the
surface in some alluvial ground at the head of the stream. Each night
they added considerably to the big pile of treasure already accumulated
near the ladder foot. That morning Poeskop had appeared at daybreak at
the top of the cliff, and shouted down to them. It was difficult to
gather clearly what he said, but they understood him to mean that in two
more days he would be ready for them.
"That means five days' waiting instead of three," said Tom, as they
returned to breakfast.
"Yes, it's a long wait," replied his father. "But I expect they may
have had some trouble in shooting game and getting hide for the rope.
However, a day or so extra down here won't hurt us."
"Not a bit," said Guy, who took the whole matter very good humouredly.
"We shall be all the richer."
"Oh, that's all very well," retorted Tom, "but I want to get out of this
place. I shan't feel happy till I'm on the top of the cliff yonder, and
we've inspanned the oxen and are trekking for home. By the way, pater,"
he went on, "which route are we going home? By Mossamedes or Benguela?"
"Well, Tom," returned his father, "that's what I've been puzzling my
head over for a long time past. If we go out by a Portuguese port we
shall have to show our gold; there will be all sorts of inquiries; and
very possibly the authorities may try and lay claim to the whole of our
findings. Not only do I think this possible, but much more than
probable. That would be a pretty ending to all our adventures, dangers,
and hard work."
"Uncle," exclaimed Guy, "we'll never yield a red cent of this gold to
any Portuguese in the world! These filibusters of Boers have had a shot
for us and our treasure. It isn't likely that we shall cart our nuggets
to Mossamedes, and calmly allow these Portuguese, who, as you have shown
us, have misgoverned their country so shamefully for three or four
hundred years, to rob us in that way. Besides, it's much more than
doubtful whether we are in Portuguese territory here at all."
"Quite so, Guy," replied Mr. Blakeney. "I'm entirely with you. For
several days past I have been turning the whole thing over in my mind.
I am honestly certain, from Poeskop's information, that we have
discovered and won this gold in neutral ground--in land belonging to no
man. That being so, we're not going to allow the Portuguese authorities
even a royalty on our find. To avoid any disturbance with them we shall
have to make a long and troublesome trek right across country to
Bechuanaland. This will take us several months. It's a nasty business.
We shall have to go through feverish veldt, and the rains will be upon
us. Still, it's the only thing to be done, and we shall have to do it.
What do you lads say? Are you prepared for further difficulties?"
"Of course we are, pater," broke in Tom. "Anything is better than
meekly handing over our hard-won gold to the Portuguese Government.
Guy, what do you say?" he added, turning to his cousin.
"Why, I'm entirely with you, Tom," returned Guy. "I say trek south and
east, by all means, for Bechuanaland."
"Carried _nem. con._," said Tom cheerfully. "Pater, we'll travel by the
overland route. What do you make out our course to be? I confess I'm
rather vague. I suppose we'll have to pass Lake Ngami, cross the
Kalahari thirst-land, and go down through Khama's Country and the
Protectorate."
"That's just what we shall have to do, lads," said Mr. Blakeney. "Once
at Lake Ngami, we shall manage very well, although the 'thirst' is a bad
one after you leave the Lake River, before reaching Khama's chief town,
Palachwe. But the main difficulties lie between here and Lake Ngami.
We shall have to find our way down to the Okavango, cross that river
somewhere--by no means a simple operation with a heavily-loaded
wagon--and trek for the lake. I confess I don't like the look of the
first part of the journey. It's almost unknown country, and bound to
give us a lot of trouble."
On the fourth morning of their enforced confinement in the kloof, Jan
Kokerboom appeared at the top of the cliff, showed the end of a raw-hide
rope, which he dangled over the precipice, and made them understand that
all would be ready next day. On the fifth day, therefore, the three
adventurers awoke betimes with cheerful anticipations. They had
finished their gold-digging; their heap of treasure was completed; and
they now only looked forward to a speedy escape from the valley in which
they had delved so long and so successfully. Quasip was, as usual,
unbound, and allowed to wait on them at breakfast. Poeskop's face had
not yet appeared over the top of the precipice, but they confidently
looked forward to setting eyes on his yellow visage very shortly. They
made an excellent meal of stewed guinea-fowl, which Guy had shot the
evening before; and a whole tin of marmalade--a piece of reckless
extravagance, Mr. Blakeney called it--was, in celebration of their last
meal in the Gold Kloof, sacrificed for the occasion.
Half an hour after breakfast, cheers of applause greeted the appearance
of Poeskop at the head of the cliff. It was quite clear he was in as
high spirits as his masters beneath him. He waved his hand to them and
shouted. The Bushman was joined by Jan Kokerboom, and then Mangwalaan
and September peered over with grinning faces. Then all withdrew from
the edge, and the tail end of the rope began to creep down the face of
the precipice.
To the watchers below it seemed an unconscionable time before it reached
the bottom; but at last it was within reach of their fingers. Then a
hearty cheer from the lads informed Poeskop at the top that all was
well. Next, the end of the rope was made fast to the ladder, and the
business of hoisting up the ladder itself began. It was a long, and by
no means an easy, operation. There were several sticks and stoppages,
requiring care and manipulation on the part of the hoisters; but at
length, at the end of a couple of hours, the task was completed, the
ladder hoisted, and the upper end securely fastened. Then, with all the
nimbleness of an ape, down came Poeskop. His story was a simple one.
They had shot game in order to obtain hide and make the fresh rope, and
the beasts of chase had not been so plentiful, or so easy to come by, as
on the former occasion. Moreover, the absence of the three best shots
in the party, Mr. Blakeney, Tom, and Guy, had made a good deal of
difference. However, the task was accomplished, and communication once
more restored.
That very afternoon began the work of carrying up the gold. This was a
long and most tedious process. It was impossible, owing to the severity,
and it may be added the risk, of the climb, to carry up more than a
small load at a time. But all hands save one set willingly to work, and
by degrees the business was done. Seleti, the humorist and butt of the
camp, still raftered from his wound, and was not equal to the descent of
the rope-ladder. He had never, in fact, attempted it; and the very real
terror and distress which he once exhibited at the prospect of the
downward climb, or indeed at any near approach to the edge of the cliff,
had disarmed his master's anger, although it was not sufficient to deter
the chaff and laughter of his fellow-servants.
However, Seleti was kept well occupied in cooking for the party, doing
odd jobs, and looking after the oxen and horses. In two days the long
and severe labour of bringing up the gold was over. They had worked
from earliest dawn till the fading of the last gleam of daylight, and
all were tired out by their exertions. None of them, they declared,
ever wanted to see the bottom of the kloof again, or to climb that awful
ladder. They had brought up the last of the stores and implements, and
all were stiff and sore from their great strain. Most of them had raw
and blistered hands from much handling of the ropes. Quasip, although
viewed at first with much disfavour by the rest of the natives, proved
himself so cheerful and so willing that gradually he wore down the
enmity of all his captors, and was taken into some degree of favour.
Having transferred the heap of gold from the bottom to the top of the
cliff, it was now put into strong new sacks, tied up, and sealed. The
sacks and the rough sealing wax were the products of Tom's fertile
imagination. He had insisted on their being bought at Cape Town. If,
he urged, they were going to find gold, why not take appliances for
securing the safety of the treasure? Many times during the expedition
had Tom been chaffed for his pains; but the laugh was now on his side,
and he did not forget to remind Guy and Mr. Blakeney of the fact. The
wagon was carefully reloaded, the gold being placed at the bottom, with
the remaining stores, which had now very considerably diminished, at the
top. There was just room for Mr. Blakeney's kartel and no more, and the
after-part of the interior of the wagon carried as much as it could
hold. All things now being in order, the oxen were inspanned, and the
long trek for home began.
They quitted the kloof and its neighbouring mountains with strangely
mingled feelings. Joy and satisfaction were theirs, in that they had
conquered all their obstacles, achieved their purpose, and gained a
considerable fortune. The whole expedition had been full of romantic
incident. They had passed through many adventures, and had escaped many
perils. Upon the whole, fair as was the Gold Kloof and its vicinity,
they were not sorry to set eyes upon it for the last time. Death and
tragedy had had their part there; and somehow, as Guy said, and they all
agreed, the kloof would, in the recollection of each one of them, always
be associated with that last terrible episode in their Odyssey--the
death of Karl Engelbrecht.
Once more, then, as the wagon rolled away down the mountain, the three
white men and Poeskop crept to the edge of the precipice, and looked for
the last time on the fair and lovely valley, which for them had proved
indeed an El Dorado. Then, mounting their horses, they slowly followed
the wagon.
It was a long trek before the wayfarers reached British Bechuanaland.
Travelling south, and crossing various streams, they presently struck
the Kuito River, and followed it down to its junction with the Okavango.
Somewhat lower down they crossed the Okavango, after much difficulty,
and travelled south-east until they reached Lake Ngami. During this
part of their journey they underwent many adventures, and suffered at
times much from fever. The rains fell, and they were delayed for weeks
by the impassable state of the country. Crossing the Kalahari to
Khama's Country, they recovered much of their health and spirits in the
pure and dry air of this desert region. At Palachwe, where they arrived
in rags, and with scarcely any remnant of their stores left to them,
they were enabled to refit, and to procure all necessary provisions for
their trek south through the Protectorate. Finally, five months after
quitting the Gold Kloof, they reached Johannesburg, whither they had
travelled direct, for the purpose of realizing their treasure. During
all this long wandering, the Hottentot Quasip, who had begged to be
allowed to travel with them, had served them well and faithfully, and
proved himself a reliable man all round. Thenceforth, having purged
himself of his unfortunate connection with the ruffian Engelbrecht,
which he always declared had been his misfortune and not his fault, Mr.
Blakeney took him into regular employment.
At Johannesburg the gold was safely and quietly disposed of. Mr.
Blakeney had roughly estimated the value of the treasure, after making
due deductions, at about L58,000. The gold turned out to be singularly
free from impurities, and the price realized for it amounted to L62,000.
After setting apart, therefore, Poeskop's L1,000, paying each of their
men their wages and the sum of L100 by way of bonus, and a further bonus
of L50 to Quasip, there remained for division between Guy Hardcastle and
Mr. Blakeney the sum of rather more than L60,000, which, as all parties
agreed, furnished a sufficiently handsome return for the risks, labours,
and hardships of less than a year's adventure. From Mr. Blakeney's share
had to be deducted, according to agreement, Tom's portion of L5,000.
At Bamborough Farm, whither they returned at once after disposing of
their gold at Johannesburg, their reception was a memorable one. It was
a joyful meeting, indeed, after their long absence--an absence
accentuated by the fact that, during many months, Mrs. Blakeney and her
children had had no communication of any kind from the trekkers. For
this she had been to some extent prepared; yet, none the less, those
long months of silence and of doubt had been very trying to her and her
girls. Some happy weeks of reunion had passed before the wanderers had
told the tale of their adventures in full, and completely satisfied the
natural curiosity of their hearers.
Guy Hardcastle and Tom Blakeney took part in the Boer War, fighting in
the same colonial contingent, and each retiring at the close of the
great struggle with the rank of captain. Their adventures in that
stirring campaign cannot, for lack of space, be related here.
Guy is now settled on a fine farm in British Bechuanaland, adjoining his
uncle's ranch. Here he has built himself a roomy and most comfortable
homestead, and, having induced his fair cousin, Ella Blakeney, to become
his partner and his helpmate for life, has settled down to an existence
for which he is admirably fitted. He and his wife mean, however, by no
means to grow rusty in their Bechuanaland home. They pay an occasional
visit to Cape Town or its marine suburbs, and during their honeymoon
made a trip of some duration to the Old Country; this trip they intend
to repeat at intervals.
Tom, who looked after their place for them during their absence, is a
near neighbour of theirs, living, thus far, as a bachelor on a farm of
his own within a few miles of their own homestead and of Bamborough. For
the present he vows that his adventures are by no means ended, and that
he has no intention of settling down to married life. Of these
declarations, however, his sisters, who know Tom and his idiosyncrasies
fairly well, are profoundly sceptical.
THE END.