I looked, and there to my right appeared the party of Boers, headed by

the Vrouw Prinsloo, who held the remnants of an old umbrella over her

head. To the left advanced a number of Zulu nobles and councillors, in

front of whom waddled Dingaan arrayed in his bead dancing dress. He was

supported by two stalwart body-servants, whilst a third held a shield

over his head to protect him from the sun, and a fourth carried a large

stool, upon which he was to sit. Behind each party, also, I perceived a

number of Zulus in their war-dress, all of them armed with broad

stabbing spears.

The two parties arrived at the stone upon which I was sitting almost

simultaneously, as probably it had been arranged that they should do,

and halted, staring at each other. As for me, I sat still upon my stone

and smoked on.

“Allemachte! Allan,” puffed the Vrouw Prinsloo, who was breathless with

her walk up the hill, “so here you are! As you did not come back, I

thought you had run away and left us, like that stinkcat Pereira.”

“Yes, _Tante_ (aunt), here I am,” I answered gloomily, “and I wish to

heaven that I was somewhere else.”

Just then Dingaan, having settled his great bulk upon the stool and

recovered his breath, called to the lad Halstead, who was with him, and

said:

“O Tho-maas, ask your brother, Macumazahn, if he is ready to try to

shoot the vultures. If not, as I wish to be fair, I will give him a

little more time to make his magic medicine.”

I replied sulkily that I was as ready as I was ever likely to be.

Then the Vrouw Prinsloo, understanding that the king of the Zulus was

before her, advanced upon him, waving her umbrella. Catching hold of

Halstead, who understood Dutch, she forced him to translate an

harangue, which she addressed to Dingaan.

Had he rendered it exactly as it came from her lips, we should all have

been dead in five minutes, but, luckily, that unfortunate young man had

learnt some of the guile of the serpent during his sojourn among the

Zulus, and varied her vigorous phrases. The gist of her discourse was

that he, Dingaan, was a black-hearted and bloody-minded villain, with

whom the Almighty would come even sooner or later (as, indeed, He did),

and that if he dared to touch one hair of her or of her companions’

heads, the Boers, her countrymen, would prove themselves to be the

ministers of the Almighty in that matter (as, indeed, they did). As

translated by Halstead into Zulu, what she said was that Dingaan was

the greatest king in the whole world; in fact, that there was not, and

never had been, any such a king either in power, wisdom, or personal

beauty, and that if she and her companions had to die, the sight of his

glory consoled them for their deaths.

“Indeed,” said Dingaan suspiciously, “if that is what this man-woman

says, her eyes tell one story and her lips another. Oh! Tho-maas, lie

no more. Speak the true words of the white chieftainess, lest I should

find them out otherwise, and give you to the slayers.”

Thus adjured, Halstead explained that he had not yet told all the

words. The “man-woman,” who was, as he, Dingaan, supposed, a great

chieftainess among the Dutch, added that if he, the mighty and glorious

king, the earth-shaker, the world-eater, killed her or any of her

subjects, her people would avenge her by killing him and his people.

“Does she say that?” said Dingaan. “Then, as I thought, these Boers are

dangerous, and not the peaceful folk they make themselves out to be,”

and he brooded for a while, staring at the ground. Presently he lifted

his head and went on: “Well, a bet is a bet, and therefore I will not

wipe out this handful, as otherwise I would have done at once. Tell the

old cow of a chieftainess that, notwithstanding her threats, I stick to

my promise. If the little Son of George, Macumazahn, can shoot three

vultures out of five by help of his magic, then she and her servants

shall go free. If not, the vultures which he has missed shall feed on

them, and afterwards I will talk with her people when they come to

avenge her. Now, enough of this _indaba_. Bring those evildoers here

that they may thank and praise me, who give them so merciful an end.”

So the grandfather, the father, and the son were hustled before Dingaan

by the soldiers, and greeted him with the royal salute of “_bayète_.”

“O king,” said the old man, “I and my children are innocent. Yet if it

pleases you, O king, I am ready to die, and so is my son. Yet we pray

you to spare the little one. He is but a boy, who may grow up to do you

good service, as I have done to you and your House for many years.”

“Be silent, you white-headed dog!” answered Dingaan fiercely. “This lad

is a wizard, like the rest of you, and would grow up to bewitch me and

to plot with my enemies. Know that I have stamped out all your family,

and shall I then leave him to breed another that would hate me? Begone

to the World of Spirits, and tell them how Dingaan deals with

sorcerers.”

The old man tried to speak again, for evidently he loved this

grandchild of his, but a soldier struck him in the face, and Dingaan

shouted:

“What! Are you not satisfied? I tell you that if you say more I will

force you to kill the boy with your own hand. Take them away.”

Then I turned and hid my face, as did all the white folk. Presently I

heard the old man, whom they had saved to the last that he might

witness the deaths of his descendants, cry in a loud voice:

“On the night of the thirtieth full moon from this day I, the

far-sighted, I, the prophet, summon thee, Dingaan, to meet me and mine

in the Land of Ghosts, and there to pay—”

Then with a roar of horror the executioners fell on him and he died.

When there was silence I looked up, and saw that the king, who had

turned a dirty yellow hue with fright, for he was very superstitious,

was trembling and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“You should have kept the wizard alive,” he said in a shaky voice to

the head slayer, who was engaged in cutting three more nicks on the

handle of his dreadful kerry. “Fool, I would have heard the rest of his

lying message.”

The man answered humbly that he thought it best it should remain

unspoken, and got himself out of sight as soon as possible. Here I may

remark that by an odd coincidence Dingaan actually was killed about

thirty moons from that time. Mopo, his general, who slew his brother

Chaka, slew him also with the help of Umslopogaas, the son of Chaka. In

after years Umslopogaas told me the story of the dreadful ghost-haunted

death of this tyrant, but, of course, he could not tell me exactly upon

what day it happened. Therefore I do not know whether the prophecy was

strictly accurate.[3]

[3] For the history of the death of Dingaan, see the Author’s “Nada

the Lily.”

The three victims lay dead in the hollow of the Hill of Death.

Presently the king, recovering himself, gave orders that the spectators

should be moved back to places where they could see what happened

without frightening the vultures. So the Boers, attended by their band

of soldiers, who were commanded to slay them at once if they attempted

to escape, went one way, and Dingaan and his Zulus went the other,

leaving Hans and myself alone behind our bush. As the white people

passed me, Vrouw Prinsloo wished me good luck in a cheerful voice,

although I could see that her poor old hand was shaking, and she was

wiping her eyes with the _vatdoek_. Henri Marais, also in broken tones,

implored me to shoot straight for his daughter’s sake. Then came Marie,

pale but resolute, who said nothing, but only looked me in the eyes,

and touched the pocket of her dress, in which I knew the pistol lay

hid. Of the rest of them I took no notice.

The moment, that dreadful moment of trial, had come at last; and oh!

the suspense and the waiting were hard to bear. It seemed an age before

the first speck, that I knew to be a vulture, appeared thousands of

feet above me and began to descend in wide circles.

“Oh, baas,” said poor Hans, “this is worse than shooting at the geese

in the Groote Kloof. Then you could only lose your horse, but now—”

“Be silent,” I hissed, “and give me the rifle.”

The vulture wheeled and sank, sank and wheeled. I glanced towards the

Boers, and saw that they were all of them on their knees. I glanced

towards the Zulus, and saw that they were watching as, I think, they

had never watched anything before, for to them this was a new

excitement. Then I fixed my eyes upon the bird.

Its last circle was accomplished. Before it pounced it hung on wide,

outstretched wings, as the others had done, its head towards me. I drew

a deep breath, lifted the rifle, got the foresight dead upon its

breast, and touched the hair-trigger. As the charge exploded I saw the

_aasvogel_ give a kind of backward twist. Next instant I heard a loud

clap, and a surge of joy went through me, for I thought that the bullet

had found its billet. But alas! it was not so.

The clap was that of the air disturbed by the passing of the ball and

the striking of this air against the stiff feathers of the wings.

Anyone who has shot at great birds on the wing with a bullet will be

acquainted with the sound. Instead of falling the vulture recovered

itself. Not knowing the meaning of this unaccustomed noise, it dropped

quietly to earth and sat down near the bodies, pitching forward in the

natural way and running a few paces, as the others had done that

afternoon. Evidently it was quite unhurt.

“Missed!” gasped Hans as he grasped the rifle to load it. “Oh! why did

you not throw a stone on to the first heap?”

I gave Hans a look that must have frightened him; at any rate, he spoke

no more. From the Boers went up a low groan. Then they began to pray

harder than ever, while the Zulus clustered round the king and

whispered to him. I learned afterwards that he was giving heavy odds

against me, ten to one in cattle, which they were obliged to take,

unwillingly enough.

Hans finished loading, capped and cocked the rifle, and handed it to

me. By now other vultures were appearing. Being desperately anxious to

get the thing over one way or another, at the proper moment I took the

first of them. Again I covered it dead and pressed. Again as the gun

exploded I saw that backward lurch of the bird, and heard the clap of

the air upon its wings. Then—oh horror!—this _aasvogel_ turned quietly,

and began to mount the ladder of the sky in the same fashion as it had

descended. I had missed once more.

“The second heap of stones has done this, baas,” said Hans faintly, and

this time I did not even look at him. I only sat down and buried my

face in my hands. One more such miss, and then—

Hans began to whisper to me.

“Baas,” he said, “those _aasvogels_ see the flash of the gun, and shy

at it like a horse. Baas, you are shooting into their faces, for they

all hang with their beaks toward you before they drop. You must get

behind them, and fire into their tails, for even an _aasvogel_ cannot

see with its tail.”

I let fall my hands and stared at him. Surely the poor fellow had been

inspired from on high! I understood it all now. While their beaks were

towards me, I might fire at fifty vultures and never hit one, for each

time they would swerve from the flash, causing the bullet to miss them,

though but by a little.

“Come,” I gasped, and began to walk quickly round the edge of the

depression to a rock, which I saw opposite about a hundred yards away.

My journey took me near the Zulus, who mocked me as I passed, asking

where my magic was, and if I wished to see the white people killed

presently. Dingaan was now offering odds of fifty cattle to one against

me, but no one would take the bet even with the king.

I made no answer; no, not even when they asked me “if I had thrown down

my spear and was running away.” Grimly, despairingly, I marched on to

the rock, and took shelter behind it with Hans. The Boers, I saw, were

still upon their knees, but seemed to have ceased praying. The children

were weeping; the men stared at each other; Vrouw Prinsloo had her arm

about Marie’s waist. Waiting there behind the rock, my courage returned

to me, as it sometimes does in the last extremity. I remembered my

dream and took comfort. Surely God would not be so cruel as to suffer

me to fail and thereby bring all those poor people to their deaths.

Snatching the rifle from Hans, I loaded it myself; nothing must be

trusted to another. As I put on the cap a vulture made its last circle.

It hung in the air just as the others had done, and oh! its tail was

towards me. I lifted, I aimed between the gathered-up legs, I pressed

and shut my eyes, for I did not dare to look.

I heard the bullet strike, or seem to strike, and a few seconds later I

heard something else—the noise of a heavy thud upon the ground. I

looked, and there with outstretched wings lay the foul bird dead, stone

dead, eight or ten paces from the bodies.

“Allemachte! that’s better,” said Hans. “You threw stones on to _all_

the other heaps, didn’t you, baas?”

The Zulus grew excited, and the odds went down a little. The Boers

stretched out their white faces and stared at me; I saw them out of the

corner of my eye as I loaded again. Another vulture came; seeing one of

its companions on the ground, if in a somewhat unnatural attitude,

perhaps it thought that there could be nothing to fear. I leaned

against my rock, aimed, and fired, almost carelessly, so sure was I of

the result. This time I did not shut my eyes, but watched to see what

happened.

The bullet struck the bird between its thighs, raked it from end to

end, and down it came like a stone almost upon the top of its fellow.

“Good, good!” said Hans with a guttural chuckle of delight. “Now, baas,

make no mistake with the third, and ‘_als sall recht kommen_’ (all

shall be well).”

“Yes,” I answered; “_if_ I make no mistake with the third.”

I loaded the rifle again myself, being very careful to ram down the

powder well and to select a bullet that fitted perfectly true to the

bore. Moreover, I cleared the nipple with a thorn, and shook a little

fine powder into it, so as to obviate any chance of a miss-fire. Then I

set on the cap and waited. What was going on among the Boers or the

Zulus I do not know. In this last crisis of all our fates I never

looked, being too intent upon my own part in the drama.

By now the vultures appeared to have realised that something unusual

was in progress, which threatened danger to them. At any rate, although

by this time they had collected in hundreds from east, west, north, and

south, and were wheeling the heavens above in their vast, majestic

circles, none of them seemed to care to descend to prey upon the

bodies. I watched, and saw that among their number was that great king

bird which had bitten Hans in the face; it was easy to distinguish him,

because he was so much larger than the others. Also, he had some white

at the tips of his wings. I observed that certain of his company drew

near to him in the skies, where they hung together in a knot, as though

in consultation.

They separated out again, and the king began to descend, deputed

probably to spy out the land. Down he came in ever-narrowing turns,

till he reached the appointed spot for the plunge, and, according to

the immemorial custom of these birds, hung a while before he pounced

with his head to the south and his great, spreading tail towards me.

This was my chance, and, rejoicing in having so large a mark, I got the

sight upon him and pulled. The bullet thudded, some feathers floated

from his belly, showing that it had gone home, and I looked to see him

fall as the others had done. But alas! he did not fall. For a few

seconds he rocked to and fro upon his great wings, then commenced to

travel upwards in vast circles, which grew gradually more narrow, till

he appeared to be flying almost straight into the empyrean. I stared

and stared. Everybody stared, till that enormous bird became, first a

mere blot upon the blue, and at length but a speck. Then it vanished

altogether into regions far beyond the sight of man.

“Now there is an end,” I said to Hans.

“_Ja_, baas,” answered the Hottentot between his chattering teeth,

“there is an end. You did not put in enough powder. Presently we shall

all be dead.”

“Not quite,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Hans, load the rifle, load it

quick. Before they die there shall be another king in Zululand.”

“Good, good!” he exclaimed as he loaded desperately. “Let us take that

fat pig of a Dingaan with us. Shoot him in the stomach, baas; shoot him

in the stomach, so that he too may learn what it is to die slowly. Then

cut my throat, here is my big knife, and afterwards cut your own, if

you have not time to load the gun again and shoot yourself, which is

easier.”

I nodded, for it was in my mind to do these things. Never could I stand

still and see those poor Boers killed, and I knew that Marie would look

after herself.

Meanwhile, the Zulus were coming towards me, and the soldiers who had

charge of them were driving up Marais’s people, making pretence to

thrust them through with their assegais, and shouting at them as men do

at cattle. Both parties arrived in the depression at about the same

time, but remained separated by a little space. In this space lay the

corpses of the murdered men and the two dead _aasvogels_, with Hans and

myself standing opposite to them.

“Well, little Son of George,” puffed Dingaan, “you have lost your bet,

for you did but kill two vultures out of five with your magic, which

was good as far as it went, but not good enough. Now you must pay, as I

would have paid had you won.”

Then he stretched out his hand, and issued the dreadful order of

“_Bulala amalongu!_” (Kill the white people). “Kill them one by one,

that I may see whether they know how to die, all except Macumazahn and

the tall girl, whom I keep.”

Some of the soldiers made a dash and seized the Vrouw Prinsloo, who was

standing in front of the party.

“Wait a little, King,” she called out as the assegais were lifted over

her. “How do you know that the bet is lost? He whom you call Macumazahn

hit that last vulture. It should be searched for before you kill us.”

“What does the old woman say?” asked Dingaan, and Halstead translated

slowly.

“True,” said Dingaan. “Well, now I will send her to search for the

vulture in the sky. Come back thence, Fat One, and tell us if you find

it.”

The soldiers lifted their assegais, waiting the king’s word. I

pretended to look at the ground, and cocked my rifle, being determined

that if he spoke it, it should be his last. Hans stared upwards—I

suppose to avoid the sight of death—then suddenly uttered a wild yell,

which caused everyone, even the doomed people, to turn their eyes to

him. He was pointing to the heavens, and they looked to see at what he

pointed.

This was what they saw. Far, far above in that infinite sea of blue

there appeared a tiny speck, which his sharp sight had already

discerned, a speck that grew larger and larger as it descended with

terrific and ever-growing speed.

_It was the king vulture falling from the heavens—dead!_

Down it came between the Vrouw Prinsloo and the slayers, smashing the

lifted assegai of one of them and hurling him to the earth. Down it

came, and lay there a mere mass of pulp and feathers.

“O Dingaan,” I said in the midst of the intense silence that followed,

“it seems that it is I who have won the bet, not you. I killed this

king of birds, but being a king it chose to die high up and alone, that

is all.”

Dingaan hesitated, for he did not wish to spare the Boers, and I,

noting his hesitation, lifted my rifle a little. Perhaps he saw it, or

perhaps his sense of honour, as he understood the word, overcame his

wish for their blood. At any rate, he said to one of his councillors:

“Search the carcase of that vulture and see if there is a bullet hole

in it.”

The man obeyed, feeling at the mass of broken bones and flesh. By good

fortune he found, not the hole, for that was lost in the general

destruction of the tissues, but the ball itself, which, having pierced

the thick body from below upwards, had remained fast in the tough skin

just by the back-bone where the long, red neck emerges from between the

wings. He picked it out, for it was only hanging in the skin, and held

it up for all to see.

“Macumazahn has won his bet,” said Dingaan. “His magic has conquered,

though by but a very little. Macumazahn, take these Boers, they are

yours, and begone with them out of my country.”

CHAPTER XV.

RETIEF ASKS A FAVOUR

Now and again during our troubled journey through life we reach little

oases of almost perfect happiness, set jewel-like here and there in the

thorny wilderness of time. Sometimes these are hours of mere animal

content. In others they are made beautiful by waters blowing from our

spiritual springs of being, as in those rare instances when the

material veil of life seems to be rent by a mighty hand, and we feel

the presence and the comfort of God within us and about us, guiding our

footsteps to the ineffable end, which is Himself. Occasionally,

however, all these, physical satisfaction and love divine and human,

are blended to a whole, like soul and body, and we can say, “Now I know

what is joy.”

Such an hour came to me on the evening of that day of the winning of my

bet with Dingaan, when a dozen lives or so were set against my nerve

and skill. These had not failed me, although I knew that had it not

been for the inspiration of the Hottentot Hans (who sent it, I wonder?)

they would have been of no service at all. With all my thought and

experience, it had never occurred to me that the wonderful eyes of the

vultures would see the flash of the powder even through the pervading

sunlight, and swerve before the deadly bullet could reach them.

On that night I was indeed a hero in a small way. Even Henri Marais

thawed and spoke to me as a father might to his child, he who always

disliked me in secret, partly because I was an Englishman, partly

because I was everything to his daughter and he was jealous, and partly

for the reason that I stood in the path of his nephew, Hernan Pereira,

whom he either loved or feared, or both. As for the rest of them, men,

women and children, they thanked and blessed me with tears in their

eyes, vowing that, young as I was, thenceforth I and no other should be

their leader. As may be imagined, although it is true that she set down

my success to her meal of bullock’s liver and the nap which she had

insisted on my taking, the Vrouw Prinsloo was the most enthusiastic of

them all.

“Look at him,” she said, pointing with her fat finger at my

insignificant self and addressing her family. “If only I had such a

husband or a son, instead of you lumps that God has tied to me like

clogs to the heels of a she-ass, I should be happy.”

“God did that in order to prevent you from kicking, old vrouw,” said

her husband, a quiet man with a vein of sardonic humour. “If only He

had tied another clog to your tongue, I should be happy also”; whereon

the vrouw smacked his head and her children got out of the way

sniggering.

But the most blessed thing of all was my interview with Marie. All that

took place between us can best be left to the imagination, since the

talk of lovers, even in such circumstances, is not interesting to

others. Also, in a sense, it is too sacred to repeat. One sentence I

will set down, however, because in the light of after events I feel

that it was prophetic, and not spoken merely by chance. It was at the

end of our talk, as she was handing me back the pistol that I had given

her for a certain dreadful purpose.

“Three times you have saved my life, Allan—once at Maraisfontein, once

from starvation, and now from Dingaan, whose touch would have meant my

death. I wonder whether it will ever be my turn to save yours?”

She looked down for a little while, then lifted her head and laid her

hand upon my shoulder, adding slowly: “Do you know, Allan, I think that

it will at the—” and suddenly she turned and left me with her sentence

unfinished.

So thus it came about that by the help of Providence I was enabled to

rescue all these worthy folk from a miserable and a bloody death. And

yet I have often reflected since that if things had gone differently;

if, for instance, that king _aasvogel_ had found strength to carry

itself away to die at a distance instead of soaring straight upwards

like a towering partridge, as birds injured in the lungs will often

do—I suppose in search of air—it might have been better in the end.

Then I should certainly have shot Dingaan dead and every one of us

would as certainly have been killed on the spot. But if Dingaan had

died that day, Retief and his companions would never have been

massacred. Also as the peaceful Panda, his brother, would, I suppose,

have succeeded to the throne, probably the subsequent slaughter at

Weenen, and all the after fighting, would never have taken place. But

so it was fated, and who am I that I should quarrel with or even

question the decrees of fate? Doubtless these things were doomed to

happen, and they happened in due course. There is nothing more to be

said.

Early on the following morning we collected our oxen, which, although

still footsore, were now full fed and somewhat rested. An hour or two

later began our trek, word having come to us from Dingaan that we must

start at once. Also he sent us guides, under the command of the captain

Kambula, to show us the road to Natal.

I breakfasted that day with the Reverend Mr. Owen and his people, my

object being to persuade him to come away with us, as I did not

consider that Zululand was a safe place for white women and children.

My mission proved fruitless. Mrs. Hulley, the wife of the absent

interpreter, who had three little ones, Miss Owen and the servant, Jane

Williams, were all of them anxious enough to do as I suggested. But Mr.

and Mrs. Owen, who were filled with the true fervour of missionaries,

would not listen. They said that God would protect them; that they had

only been a few weeks in the country, and that it would be the act of

cowards and of traitors to fly at the very beginning of their work.

Here I may add that after the massacre of Retief they changed their

opinion, small blame to them, and fled as fast as anyone else.

I told Mr. Owen how very close I had gone to shooting Dingaan, in which

event they might all have been killed with us. This news shocked him

much. Indeed, he lectured me severely on the sins of bloodthirstiness

and a desire for revenge. So, finding that we looked at things

differently, and that it was of no use wasting breath in argument, I

wished him and his people good-bye and good fortune and went upon my

way, little guessing how we should meet again.

An hour later we trekked. Passing by the accursed hill, Hloma Amabutu,

where I saw some gorged vultures sleeping on the rocks, we came to the

gate of the Great Kraal. Here, to my surprise, I saw Dingaan with some

of his councillors and an armed guard of over a hundred men, seated

under the shade of two big milk trees. Fearing treachery, I halted the

wagons and advised the Boers to load their rifles and be ready for the

worst. A minute or so later young Thomas Halstead arrived and told me

that Dingaan wished to speak with us. I asked him if that meant that we

were to be killed. He answered, “No, you are quite safe.” The king had

received some news that had put him in a good humour with the white

people, and he desired to bid us farewell, that was all.

So we trekked boldly to where Dingaan was, and, stopping the wagons,

went up to him in a body. He greeted us kindly enough, and even gave me

his fat hand to shake.

“Macumazahn,” he said, “although it has cost me many oxen, I am glad

that your magic prevailed yesterday. Had it not done so I should have

killed all these your friends, which would have been a cause of war

between me and the Amaboona. Now, this morning I have learned that

these Amaboona are sending a friendly embassy to me under one of their

great chiefs, and I think that you will meet them on the road. I charge

you, therefore, to tell them to come on, having no fear, as I will

receive them well and listen to all they have to say.”

I answered that I would do so.

“Good,” he replied. “I am sending twelve head of cattle with you, six

of them for your food during your journey, and six as a present to the

embassy of the Amaboona. Also Kambula, my captain, has charge to see

you safely over the Tugela River.”

I thanked him and turned to go, when suddenly his eye fell upon Marie,

who, foolishly enough, took this opportunity to advance from among the

others and speak to me about something—I forget what.

“Macumazahn, is that the maiden of whom you spoke to me?” asked

Dingaan; “she whom you are going to marry?”

I answered, “Yes.”

“By the head of the Black One,” he exclaimed, “she is very fair. Will

you not make a present of her to me, Macumazahn?”

I answered, “No; she is not mine to give away.”

“Well, then, Macumazahn, I will pay you a hundred head of cattle for

her, which is the price of a royal wife, and give you ten of the

fairest girls in Zululand in exchange.”

I answered that it could not be.

Now the king began to grow angry.

“I will keep her, whether you wish it or no,” he said.

“Then you will keep her dead, O Dingaan,” I replied, “for there is more

of that magic which slew the vultures.”

Of course, I meant that Marie would be dead. But as my knowledge of the

Zulu tongue was imperfect, he understood the words to mean that _he_

would be dead, and I think they frightened him. At any rate, he said:

“Well, I promised you all safe-conduct if you won your bet, so _hamba

gachlé_ (go in peace). I wish to have no quarrel with the white folk,

but, Macumazahn, you are the first of them who has refused a gift to

Dingaan. Still, I bear you no grudge, and if you choose to come back

again, you will be welcome, for I perceive that, although so small, you

are very clever and have a will of your own; also that you mean what

you say and speak the truth. Tell the People of George that my heart is

soft towards them.” Then he turned and walked away through the gates of

the kraal.

Glad enough was I to see the last of him, for now I knew that we were

safe, except from such accidents as may overtake any travellers through

a wild country. For the present, at any rate until after he had seen

this embassy, Dingaan wished to stand well with the Boers. Therefore it

was obvious that he would never make an irreparable quarrel with them

by treacherously putting us to death as we trekked through his country.

Being sure of this, we went on our way with light hearts, thanking

Heaven for the mercies which had been shown to us.

It was on the third day of our trek, when we were drawing near to the

Tugela, that we met the Boer embassy, off-saddled by a little stream

where we proposed to outspan to rest the oxen while we ate our midday

meal. They were sleeping in the heat of the day and saw nothing of us

till we were right on to them, when, catching sight of our Zulu advance

guard, they sprang up and ran for their rifles. Then the wagons emerged

from the bush, and they stared astonished, wondering who could be

trekking in that country.

We called to them in Dutch not to be afraid and in another minute we

were among them. While we were yet some way off my eye fell upon a

burly, white-bearded man whose figure seemed to be familiar to me, and

towards him I went, taking no heed of the others, of whom there may

have been six or seven. Soon I was sure, and advancing with

outstretched hand, said:

“Good-day, Mynheer Piet Retief. Who would have thought that we who

parted so far away and so long ago would live to meet among the Zulus?”

He stared at me.

“Who is it? Who is it? Allemachte! I know now. The little Englishman,

Allan Quatermain, who shot the geese down in the Old Colony. Well, I

should not be surprised, for the man you beat in that match told me

that you were travelling in these parts. Only I understood him to say

that the Zulus had killed you.”

“If you mean Hernan Pereira,” I answered, “where did you meet him?”

“Why, down by the Tugela there, in a bad way. However, he can tell you

all about that himself, for I have brought him with me to show us the

path to Dingaan’s kraal. Where is Pereira? Send Pereira here. I want to

speak with him.”

“Here I am,” answered a sleepy voice, the hated voice of Pereira

himself, from the other side of a thick bush, where he had been

slumbering. “What is it, commandant? I come,” and he emerged,

stretching himself and yawning, just as the remainder of my party came

up. He caught sight of Henri Marais first of all, and began to greet

him, saying: “Thank God, my uncle, you are safe!”

Then his eyes fell on me, and I do not think I ever saw a man’s face

change more completely. His jaw dropped, the colour left his cheeks,

leaving them of the yellow which is common to persons of Portuguese

descent; his outstretched hand fell to his side.

“Allan Quatermain!” he ejaculated. “Why, I thought that you were dead.”

“As I should have been, Mynheer Pereira, twice over if you could have

had your way,” I replied.

“What do you mean, Allan?” broke in Retief.

“I will tell you what he means,” exclaimed the Vrouw Prinsloo, shaking

her fat fist at Pereira. “That yellow dog means that twice he has tried

to murder Allan—Allan, who saved his life and ours. Once he shot at him

in a kloof and grazed his cheek; look, there is the scar of it. And

once he plotted with the Zulus to slaughter him, telling Dingaan that

he was an evildoer and a wizard, who would bring a curse upon his

land.”

Now Retief looked at Pereira.

“What do you say to this?” he asked.

“What do I say?” repeated Pereira, recovering himself. “Why, that it is

a lie or a misunderstanding. I never shot at Heer Allan in any kloof.

Is it likely that I should have done so when he had just nursed me back

to life? I never plotted with the Zulus for his death, which would have

meant the deaths of my uncle and my cousin and of all their companions.

Am I mad that I should do such a thing?”

“Not mad, but bad,” screamed the vrouw. “I tell you, Heer Retief, it is

no lie. Ask those with me,” she added, appealing to the others, who,

with the exception of Marais, answered as with one voice:

“No; it is no lie.”

“Silence!” said the commandant. “Now, nephew Allan, tell us your

story.”

So I told him everything, of course leaving out all details. Even then

the tale was long, though it did not seem to be one that wearied my

hearers.

“Allemachte!” said Retief when I had finished, “this is a strange

story, the strangest that ever I heard. If it is true, Hernan Pereira,

you deserve to have your back set against a tree and to be shot.”

“God in heaven!” he answered, “am I to be condemned on such a tale—I,

an innocent man? Where is the evidence? This Englishman tells all this

against me for a simple reason—that he has robbed me of the love of my

cousin, to whom I was affianced. Where are his witnesses?”

“As to the shooting at me in the kloof, I have none except God who saw

you,” I answered. “As to the plot that you laid against me among the

Zulus, as it chances, however, there is one, Kambula, the captain who

was sent to take me as you had arranged, and who now commands our

escort.”

“A savage!” exclaimed Pereira. “Is the tale of a savage to be taken

against that of a white man? Also, who will translate his story? You,

Mynheer Quatermain, are the only one here who knows his tongue, if you

do know it, and you are my accuser.”

“That is true,” remarked Retief. “Such a witness should not be admitted

without a sworn interpreter. Now listen; I pass judgment as commandant

in the field. Hernan Pereira, I have known you to be a rogue in the

past, for I remember that you cheated this very young man, Allan

Quatermain, at a friendly trial of skill at which I was present; but

since then till now I have heard nothing more of you, good or bad.

To-day this Allan Quatermain and a number of my own countrymen bring

grave charges against you, which, however, at present are not capable

of proof or disproof. Well, I cannot decide those charges, whatever my

own opinion may be. I think that you had better go back with your

uncle, Henri Marais, to the trek-Boers, where they can be laid before a

court and settled according to law.”

“If so, he will go back alone,” said the Vrouw Prinsloo. “He will not

go back with us, for we will elect a field-cornet and shoot him—the

stinkcat, who left us to starve and afterwards tried to kill little

Allan Quatermain, who saved our lives”; and the chorus behind her

echoed:

“_Ja, ja_, we will shoot him.”

“Hernan Pereira,” said Retief, rubbing his broad forehead, “I don’t

quite know why it is, but no one seems to want you as a companion.

Indeed, to speak truth, I don’t myself. Still, I think you would be

safer with me than with these others whom you seem to have offended.

Therefore, I suggest that you come on with us. But listen here, man,”

he added sternly, “if I find you plotting against us among the Zulus,

that hour you are dead. Do you understand?”

“I understand that I am one slandered,” replied Pereira. “Still, it is

Christian to submit to injuries, and therefore I will do as you wish.

As to these bearers of false witness, I leave them to God.”

“And I leave you to the devil,” shouted Vrouw Prinsloo, “who will

certainly have you soon or late. Get out of my sight, stinkcat, or I

will pull your hair off.” And she rushed at him, flapping her dreadful

_vatdoek_—which she produced from some recess in her raiment—in his

face, driving him away as though he were a noxious insect.

Well, he went I know not where, and so strong was public opinion

against him that I do not think that even his uncle, Henri Marais,

sought him out to console him.

When Pereira was gone, our party and that of Retief fell into talk, and

we had much to tell. Especially was the commandant interested in the

story of my bet with Dingaan, whereby I saved the lives of all my

companions by shooting the vultures.

“It was not for nothing, nephew, that God Almighty gave you the power

of holding a gun so straight,” said Retief to me when he understood the

matter. “I remember that when you killed those wildfowl in the Groote

Kloof with bullets, which no other man could have done, I wondered why

you should have such a gift above all the rest of us, who have

practised for so many more years. Well, now I understand. God Almighty

is no fool; He knows His business. I wish you were coming back with me

to Dingaan; but as that tainted man, Hernan Pereira, is of my company,

perhaps it is better that you should stay away. Tell me, now, about

this Dingaan; does he mean to kill us?”

“Not this time, I think, uncle,” I answered; “because first he wishes

to learn all about the Boers. Still, do not trust him too far just

because he speaks you softly. Remember, that if I had missed the third

vulture, we should all have been dead by now. And, if you are wise,

keep an eye upon Hernan Pereira.”

“These things I will do, nephew, especially the last of them; and now

we must be getting on. Stay; come here, Henri Marais; I have a word to

say to you. I understand that this little Englishman, Allan Quatermain,

who is worth ten bigger men, loves your daughter, whose life he has

saved again and again, and that she loves him. Why, then, do you not

let them marry in a decent fashion?”

“Because before God I have sworn her to another man—to my nephew,

Hernan Pereira, whom everyone slanders,” answered Marais sulkily.

“Until she is of age that oath holds.”

“Oho!” said Retief, “you have sworn your lamb to that hyena, have you?

Well, look out that he does not crack your bones as well as hers, and

perhaps some others also. Why does God give some men a worm in their

brains, as He does to the _wildebeeste_, a worm that always makes them

run the wrong way? I don’t know, I am sure; but you who are very

religious, Henri Marais, might think the matter over and tell me the

answer when next we meet. Well, this girl of yours will soon be of age,

and then, as I am commandant down yonder where she is going, I’ll see

she marries the man she wants, whatever you say, Henri Marais. Heaven

above us! I only wish it were my daughter he was in love with. A fellow

who can shoot to such good purpose might have the lot of them”; and

uttering one of his great, hearty laughs, he walked off to his horse.

On the morrow of this meeting we forded the Tugela and entered the

territory that is now called Natal. Two days’ short trekking through a

beautiful country brought us to some hills that I think were called

Pakadi, or else a chief named Pakadi lived there, I forget which.

Crossing these hills, on the further side of them, as Retief had told

us we should do, we found a large party of the trek-Boers, who were

already occupying this land on the hither side of the Bushman’s River,

little knowing, poor people, that it was fated to become the grave of

many of them. To-day, and for all future time, that district is and

will be known by the name of Weenen, or the Place of Weeping, because

of those pioneers who here were massacred by Dingaan within a few weeks

of the time of which I write.

Nice as the land was, for some reason or other it did not quite suit my

fancy, and therefore, in view of my approaching marriage with Marie,

having purchased a horse from one of the trek-Boers, I began to explore

the country round. My object was to find a stretch of fertile veld

where we could settle when we were wedded, and such a spot I discovered

after some trouble. It lay about thirty miles away to the east, in the

loop of a beautiful stream that is now known as the Mooi River.

Enclosed in this loop were some thirty thousand acres of very rich,

low-lying soil, almost treeless and clothed with luxuriant grasses

where game was extraordinarily numerous. At the head of it rose a

flat-topped hill, from the crest of which, oddly enough, flowed a

plentiful stream of water fed by a strong spring. Half-way down this

hill, facing to the east, and irrigable by the stream, was a plateau

several acres in extent, which furnished about the best site for a

house that I know in all South Africa. Here I determined we would build

our dwelling-place and become rich by the breeding up of great herds of

cattle. I should explain that this ground, which once, as the remains

of their old kraals showed, had belonged to a Kaffir tribe killed out

by Chaka, the Zulu king, was to be had for the taking.

Indeed, as there was more land than we could possibly occupy, I

persuaded Henri Marais, the Prinsloos and the Meyers, with whom I had

trekked from Delagoa, to visit it with me. When they had seen it they

agreed to make it their home in the future, but meanwhile elected to

return to the other Boers for safety’s sake. So with the help of some

Kaffirs, of whom there were a few in the district, remnants of those

tribes which Chaka had destroyed, I pegged out an estate of about

twelve thousand acres for myself, and, selecting a site, set the

natives to work to build a rough mud house upon it which would serve as

a temporary dwelling. I should add that the Prinsloos and the Meyers

also made arrangements for the building of similar shelters almost

alongside of my own. This done, I returned to Marie and the trek-Boers.

On the morning after my return to the camp Piet Retief appeared there

with his five or six companions. I asked him how he had got on with

Dingaan.

“Well enough, nephew,” he answered. “At first the king was somewhat

angry, saying that we Boers had stolen six hundred head of his cattle.

But I showed him that it was the chief, Sikonyela, who lives yonder on

the Caledon River, who had dressed up his people in white men’s clothes

and put them upon horses, and afterwards drove the cattle through one

of our camps to make it appear that we were the thieves. Then he asked

me what was my object in visiting him. I answered that I sought a grant

of the land south of the Tugela to the sea.

“‘Bring me back the cattle that you say Sikonyela has stolen,’ he said,

‘and we will talk about this land.’ To this I agreed and soon after

left the kraal.”

“What did you do with Hernan Pereira, uncle?” I asked.

“This, Allan. When I was at Umgungundhlovu I sought out the truth of

that story you told me as to his having made a plot to get you killed

by the Zulus on the ground that you were a wizard.”

“And what did you discover, uncle?”

“I discovered that it was true, for Dingaan told me so himself. Then I

sent for Pereira and ordered him out of my camp, telling him that if he

came back among the Boers I would have him put on his trial for

attempted murder. He said nothing, but went away.”

“Whither did he go?”

“To a place that Dingaan gave him just outside his kraal. The king said

that he would be useful to him, as he could mend guns and teach his

soldiers to shoot with them. So there, I suppose, he remains, unless he

has thought it wiser to make off. At any rate, I am sure that he will

not come here to trouble you or anyone.”

“No, uncle, but he may trouble you _there_,” I said doubtfully.

“What do you mean, Allan?”

“I don’t quite know, but he is black-hearted, a traitor by nature, and

in one way or the other he will stir up sorrow. Do you think that he

will love you, for instance, after you have hunted him out like a

thief?”

Retief shrugged his shoulders and laughed as he answered:

“I will take my chance of that. What is the use of troubling one’s head

about such a snake of a man? And now, Allan, I have something to ask

you. Are you married yet?”

“No, uncle, nor can be for another five weeks, when Marie comes of age.

Her father still holds that his oath binds him, and I have promised

that I will not take her till then.”

“Does he indeed, Allan? I think that Henri Marais is ‘_kransick_’ (that

is, cracked), or else his cursed nephew, Hernan, has fascinated him, as

a snake does a bird. Still, I suppose that he has the law on his side,

and, as I am commandant, I cannot advise anyone to break the law. Now

listen. It is no use your staying here looking at the ripe peach you

may not pluck, for that only makes the stomach sick. Therefore the best

thing that you can do is to come with me to get those cattle from

Sikonyela, for I shall be very glad of your company. Afterwards, too, I

want you to return with me to Zululand when I go for the grant of all

this country.”

“But how about my getting married?” I asked in dismay.

“Oh! I dare say you will be able to marry before we start. Or if not,

it must be when we return. Listen now; do not disappoint me in this

matter, Allan. None of us can speak Zulu except you, who takes to these

savage languages like a duck to water, and I want you to be my

interpreter with Dingaan. Also the king specially asked that you should

come with me when I brought the cattle, as he seems to have taken a

great fancy to you. He said that you would render his words honestly,

but that he did not trust the lad whom he has there to translate into

Dutch and English. So you see it will help me very much in this big

business if you come with me.”

Still I hesitated, for some fear of the future lay heavy on my heart,

warning me against this expedition.

“Allemachte!” said Retief angrily, “if you will not grant me a favour,

let it be. Or is it that you want reward? If so, all I can promise you

is twenty thousand acres of the best land in the country when we get

it.”

“No, Mynheer Retief,” I replied; “it is no question of reward; and as

for the land, I have already pegged out my farm on a river about thirty

miles to the east. It is that I do not like to leave Marie alone,

fearing lest her father should play some trick on me as regards her and

Hernan Pereira.”

“Oh, if that is all you are afraid of, Allan, I can soon settle

matters; for I will give orders to the prédicant Celliers that he is

not to marry Marie Marais to anyone except yourself, even if she asks

him. Also I will order that if Hernan Pereira should come to the camp,

he is to be shut up until I return to try him. Lastly, as commandant, I

will name Henri Marais as one of those who are to accompany us, so that

he will be able to plot nothing against you. Now are you satisfied?”

I said “Yes” as cheerfully as I could, though I felt anything but

cheerful, and we parted, for, of course, the Commandant Retief had much

to occupy him.

Then I went and told Marie what I had promised. Somewhat to my surprise

she said that she thought I had acted wisely.

“If you stayed here,” she added, “perhaps some new quarrel would arise

between you and my father which might make bitterness afterwards. Also,

dear, it would be foolish for you to offend the Commandant Retief, who

will be the great man in this country, and who is very fond of you.

After all, Allan, we shall only be separated for a little while, and

when that is done we have the rest of our lives to spend together. As

for me, do not be afraid, for you know I will never marry anyone but

you—no, not to save myself from death.”

So I left her somewhat comforted, knowing how sound was her judgment,

and went off to make my preparations for the expedition to Sikonyela’s

country.

All this conversation with Retief I have set down in full, as nearly as

I can remember it, because of its fateful consequences. Ah! if I could

have foreseen; if only I could have foreseen!

CHAPTER XVI.

THE COUNCIL

Two days later we started to recover Dingaan’s cattle, sixty or seventy

of us, all well armed and mounted. With us went two of Dingaan’s

captains and a number of Zulus, perhaps a hundred, who were to drive

the cattle if we recovered them. As I could speak their language I was

more or less in command of this Zulu contingent, and managed to make

myself very useful in that capacity. Also, during the month or so of

our absence, by continually conversing with them, I perfected myself

considerably in my knowledge of their beautiful but difficult tongue.

Now it is not my intention to write down the details of this

expedition, during which there was no fighting and nothing serious

happened. We arrived in due course at Sikonyela’s and stated our

errand. When he saw how numerous and well armed we were, and that

behind us was all the might of the Zulu army, that wily old rascal

thought it well to surrender the stolen cattle without further to-do,

and with these some horses which he had lifted from the Boers. So,

having received them, we delivered them over to the Zulu captains, with

instructions to drive them carefully to Umgungundhlovu. The commandant

sent a message by these men to the effect that, having fulfilled his

part of the compact, he would wait upon Dingaan as soon as possible in

order to conclude the treaty about the land.

This business finished, Retief took me and a number of the Boers to

visit other bodies of the emigrant Dutch who were beyond the

Drakensberg, in what is now the Transvaal territory. This occupied a

long time, as these Boers were widely scattered, and at each camp we

had to stop for several days while Retief explained everything to its

leaders. Also he arranged with them to come down into Natal, so as to

be ready to people it as soon as he received the formal cession of the

country from Dingaan. Indeed, most of them began to trek at once,

although jealousies between the various commandants caused some of the

bands, luckily for themselves, to remain on the farther side of the

mountains.

At length, everything being settled, we rode away, and reached the

Bushman’s River camp on a certain Saturday afternoon. Here, to my joy,

we found all well. Nothing had been heard of Hernan Pereira, while the

Zulus, if we might judge from messengers who came to us, seemed to be

friendly. Marie, also, had now quite recovered from the fears and

hardships which she had undergone. Never had I seen her look so sweet

and beautiful as she did when she greeted me, arrayed no longer in

rags, but in a simple yet charming dress made of some stuff that she

had managed to buy from a trader who came up to the camp from Durban.

Moreover, I think that there was another reason for the change, since

the light of dawning happiness shone in her deep eyes.

The day, as I have said, was Saturday, and on the Monday she would come

of age and be free to dispose of herself in marriage, for on that day

lapsed the promise which we had given to her father. But, alas! by a

cursed perversity of fate, on this very Monday at noon the Commandant

Retief had arranged to ride into Zululand on his second visit to

Dingaan, and with Retief I was in honour bound to go.

“Marie,” I said, “will not your father soften towards us and let us be

married to-morrow, so that we may have a few hours together before we

part?”

“I do not know, my dear,” she answered, blushing, “since about this

matter he is very strange and obstinate. Do you know that all the time

you were absent he never mentioned your name, and if anyone else spoke

it he would get up and go away!”

“That’s bad,” I said. “Still, if you are willing, we might try.”

“Indeed and indeed, Allan, I am willing, who am sick of being so near

to you and yet so far. But how shall we do so?”

“I think that we will ask the Commandant Retief and the Vrouw Prinsloo

to plead for us, Marie. Let us go to seek them.”

She nodded, and hand in hand we walked through the Boers, who nudged

each other and laughed at us as we passed to where the old vrouw was

seated on a stool by her wagon drinking coffee. I remember that her

_vatdoek_ was spread over her knees, for she also had a new dress,

which she was afraid of staining.

“Well, my dears,” she said in her loud voice, “are you married already

that you hang so close together?”

“No, my aunt,” I answered; “but we want to be, and have come to you to

help us.”

“That I will do with all my heart, though to speak truth, young people,

at your age, as things are, I should have been inclined to help myself,

as I have told you before. Heaven above us! what is it that makes

marriage in the sight of God? It is that male and female should declare

themselves man and wife before all folk, and live as such. The pastor

and his mumblings are very well if you can get them, but it is the

giving of the hand, not the setting of the ring upon it; it is the

vowing of two true hearts, and not words read out of a book, that make

marriage. Still, this is bold talk, for which any reverend prédicant

would reprove me, for if young folk acted on it, although the tie might

hold good in law, what would become of his fee? Come, let us seek the

commandant and hear what he has to say. Allan, pull me up off this

stool, where, if I had my way, after so much travelling, I should like

to sit while a house was built over my head and for the rest of my

life.”

I obeyed, not without difficulty, and we went to find Retief.

At the moment he was standing alone, watching two wagons that had just

trekked away. These contained his wife with other members of his

family, and some friends whom he was sending, under the charge of the

Heer Smit, to a place called Doornkop, that lay at a distance of

fifteen miles or more. At this Doornkop he had already caused a rough

house, or rather shed, to be built for the Vrouw Retief’s occupation,

thinking that she would be more comfortable and perhaps safer there

during his absence than at the crowded camp in a wagon.

“Allemachte! Allan,” he said, catching sight of me, “my heart is sore;

I do not know why. I tell you that when I kissed my old woman good-bye

just now I felt as though I should never see her again, and the tears

came into my eyes. I wish we were all safe back from Dingaan. But

there, there, I will try to get over to see her to-morrow, as we don’t

start till Monday. What is it that you want, Allan, with that ‘_mooi

mesje_’ of yours?”—and he pointed to the tall Marie.

“What would any man want with such a one, save to marry her?” broke in

the Vrouw Prinsloo. “Now, commandant, listen while I set out the tale.”

“All right, aunt, only be brief, for I have no time to spare.”

She obeyed, but I cannot say that she was brief.

When at last the old lady paused, breathless, Retief said:

“I understand everything; there is no need for you young people to

talk. Now we will go and see Henri Marais, and, if he is not madder

than usual, make him listen to reason.”

So we walked to where Marais’s wagon stood at the end of the line, and

found him sitting on the _disselboom_ cutting up tobacco with his

pocket-knife.

“Good-day, Allan,” he said, for we had not met since my return. “Have

you had a nice journey?”

I was about to answer when the commandant broke in impatiently:

“See here, see here, Henri, we have not come to talk about Allan’s

journey, but about his marriage, which is more important. He rides with

me to Zululand on Monday, as you do, and wants to wed your daughter

to-morrow, which is Sunday, a good day for the deed.”

“It is a day to pray, not to give and be given in marriage,” commented

Marais sulkily. “Moreover, Marie does not come of age before Monday,

and until then the oath that I made to God holds.”

“My _vatdoek_ for your oath!” exclaimed the vrouw, flapping that awful

rag in his face. “How much do you suppose that God cares what you in

your folly swore to that stinkcat of a nephew of yours? Do you be

careful, Henri Marais, that God does not make of your precious oath a

stone to fall upon your head and break it like a peanut-shell.”

“Hold your chattering tongue, old woman,” said Marais furiously. “Am I

to be taught my duty to my conscience and my daughter by you?”

“Certainly you are, if you cannot teach them to yourself,” began the

vrouw, setting her hands upon her hips.

But Retief pushed her aside, saying:

“No quarrelling here. Now, Henri Marais, your conduct about these two

young people who love each other is a scandal. Will you let them be

married to-morrow or not?”

“No, commandant, I will not. By the law I have power over my daughter

till she is of age, and I refuse to allow her to marry a cursed

Englishman. Moreover, the prédicant Celliers is away, so there is none

to marry them.”

“You speak strange words, Mynheer Marais,” said Retief quietly,

“especially when I remember all that this ‘cursed Englishman’ has done

for you and yours, for I have heard every bit of that story, though not

from him. Now hearken. You have appealed to the law, and, as

commandant, I must allow your appeal. But after twelve o’clock

to-morrow night, according to your own showing, the law ceases to bind

your daughter. Therefore, on Monday morning, if there is no clergyman

in the camp and these two wish it, I, as commandant, will marry them

before all men, as I have the power to do.”

Then Marais broke into one of those raving fits of temper which were

constitutional in him, and to my mind showed that he was never quite

sane. Oddly enough, it was on poor Marie that he concentrated his

wrath. He cursed her horribly because she had withstood his will and

refused to marry Hernan Pereira. He prayed that evil might fall on her;

that she might never bear a child, and that if she did, it might die,

and other things too unpleasant to mention.

We stared at him astonished, though I think that had he been any other

man than the father of my betrothed, I should have struck him. Retief,

I noticed, lifted his hand to do so, then let it fall again, muttering:

“Let be; he is possessed with a devil.”

At last Marais ceased, not, I think, from lack of words, but because he

was exhausted, and stood before us, his tall form quivering, and his

thin, nervous face working like that of a person in convulsions. Then

Marie, who had dropped her head beneath this storm, lifted it, and I

saw that her deep eyes were all ablaze and that she was very white.

“You are my father,” she said in a low voice, “and therefore I must

submit to whatever you choose to say to me. Moreover, I think it likely

that the evil which you call down will fall upon me, since Satan is

always at hand to fulfil his own wishes. But if so, my father, I am

sure that this evil will recoil upon your own head, not only here, but

hereafter. There justice will be done to both of us, perhaps before

very long, and also to your nephew, Hernan Pereira.”

Marais made no answer; his rage seemed to have spent itself. He only

sat himself again upon the _disselboom_ of the wagon and went on

cutting up the tobacco viciously, as though he were slicing the heart

of a foe. Even the Vrouw Prinsloo was silent and stared at him whilst

she fanned herself with the _vatdoek_. But Retief spoke.

“I wonder if you are mad, or only wicked, Henri Marais,” he said. “To

curse your own sweet girl like this you must be one or the other—a

single child who has always been good to you. Well, as you are to ride

with me on Monday, I pray that you will keep your temper under control,

lest it should bring us into trouble, and you also. As for you, Marie,

my dear, do not fret because a wild beast has tried to toss you with

his horns, although he happens to be your father. On Monday morning you

pass out of his power into your own, and on that day I will marry you

to Allan Quatermain here. Meanwhile, I think you are safest away from

this father of yours, who might take to cutting your throat instead of

that tobacco. Vrouw Prinsloo, be so good as to look after Marie Marais,

and on Monday morning next bring her before me to be wed. Until then,

Henri Marais, I, as commandant, shall set a guard over you, with orders

to seize you if it should be necessary. Now I advise you to take a

walk, and when you are calm again, to pray God to forgive you your

wicked words, lest they should be fulfilled and drag you down to

judgment.”

Then we all went, leaving Henri Marais still cutting up his tobacco on

the _disselboom_.

On the Sunday I met Marais walking about the camp, followed by the

guard whom Retief had set over him. To my surprise he greeted me almost

with affection.

“Allan,” he said, “you must not misunderstand me. I do not really wish

ill to Marie, whom I love more dearly than I do my life; God alone

knows how much I love her. But I made a promise to her cousin, Hernan,

my only sister’s only child, and you will understand that I cannot

break that promise, although Hernan has disappointed me in many

ways—yes, in many ways. But if he is bad, as they say, it comes with

that Portuguese blood, which is a misfortune that he cannot help, does

it not? However bad he may be, as an honest man I am bound to keep my

promise, am I not? Also, Allan, you must remember that you are English,

and although you may be a good fellow in yourself, that is a fault

which you cannot expect me to forgive. Still, if it is fated that you

should marry my daughter and breed English children—Heaven above! to

think of it, English children!—well, there is nothing more to be said.

Don’t remember the words I spoke to Marie. Indeed, I can’t remember

them myself. When I grow angry, a kind of rush of blood comes into my

brain, and then I forget what I have said,” and he stretched out his

hand to me.

I shook it and answered that I understood he was not himself when he

spoke those dreadful words, which both Marie and I wished to forget.

“I hope you will come to our wedding to-morrow,” I added, “and wipe

them out with a father’s blessing.”

“To-morrow! Are you really going to be married to-morrow?” he

exclaimed, his sallow face twitching nervously. “O God, it was another

man that I dreamed to see standing by Marie’s side. But he is not here;

he has disgraced and deserted me. Well, I will come, if my gaolers will

suffer it. Good-bye, you happy bridegroom of to-morrow, good-bye.”

Then he swung round and departed, followed by the guards, one of whom

touched his brow and shook his head significantly as he passed me.

I think that Sunday seemed the longest day I ever spent. The Vrouw

Prinsloo would scarcely allow me even a glimpse of Marie, because of

some fad she had got into her mind that it was either not proper or not

fortunate, I forget which, that a bride and bridegroom should associate

on the eve of their marriage. So I occupied myself as best I could.

First I wrote a long letter to my father, the third that I had sent,

telling him everything that was going to happen, and saying how grieved

I was that he could not be present to marry us and give us his

blessing.

This letter I gave to a trader who was trekking to the bay on the

following morning, begging him to forward it by the first opportunity.

That duty done, I saw about the horses which I was taking into

Zululand, three of them, two for myself and one for Hans, who

accompanied me as after-rider. Also the saddlery, saddle-bags, guns and

ammunition must be overhauled, all of which took some time.

“You are going to spend a strange _wittebroodsweek_ [white-bread-week,

or, in other words, honeymoon], baas,” said Hans, squinting at me with

his little eyes, as he brayed away at a buckskin which was to serve as

a saddle-cloth. “Now, if _I_ was to be married to-morrow, I should stop

with my pretty for a few days, and only ride off somewhere else when I

was tired of her, especially if that somewhere else chanced to be

Zululand, where they are so fond of killing people.”

“I dare say you would, Hans; and so would I, if I could, you be sure.

But, you see, the commandant wants me to interpret, and therefore it is

my duty to go with him.”

“Duty; what is duty, baas? Love I understand. It is for love of you

that I go with you; also for fear lest you should cause me to be beaten

if I refused. Otherwise I would certainly stop here in the camp, where

there is plenty to eat and little work to do, as, were I you, I should

do also for love of that white missie. But duty—pah! that is a

fool-word, which makes bones of a man before his time and leaves his

girl to others.”

“Of course, you do not understand, Hans, any more than you coloured

people understand what gratitude is. But what do you mean about this

trek of ours? Are you afraid?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “A little, perhaps, baas. At least, I should

be if I thought about the morrow, which I don’t, since to-day is enough

for me, and thinking about what one can’t know makes the head ache.

Dingaan is not a nice man, baas; we saw that, didn’t we? He is a hunter

who knows how to set a trap. Also he has the Baas Pereira up there to

help him. So perhaps you might be more comfortable here kissing Missie

Marie. Why do you not say that you have hurt your leg and cannot run?

It would not be much trouble to walk about on a crutch for a day or

two, and when the commandant was well gone, your leg might heal and you

could throw the stick away.”

“Get thee behind me, Satan,” I muttered to myself, and was about to

give Hans a piece of my mind when I recollected that the poor fellow

had his own way of looking at things and could not be blamed. Also, as

he said, he loved me, and only suggested what he thought would tend to

my joy and safety. How could I suppose that he would be interested in

the success of a diplomatic mission to Dingaan, or think anything about

it except that it was a risky business? So I only said:

“Hans, if you are afraid, you had better stop behind. I can easily find

another after-rider.”

“Is the baas angry with me that he should speak so?” asked the

Hottentot. “Have I not always been true to him; and if I should be

killed, what does it matter? Have I not said that I do not think about

to-morrow, and we must all go to sleep sometime? No; unless the baas

beats me back, I shall come with him. But, baas”—this in a wheedling

tone—“you might give me some brandy to drink your health in to-night.

It is very good to get drunk when one has to be sober, and perhaps

dead, for a long time afterwards. It would be nice to remember when one

is a spook, or an angel with white wings, such as the old baas, your

father, used to tell us about in school on the Sabbath.”

At this point, finding Hans hopeless, I got up and walked away, leaving

him to finish our preparations.

That evening there was a prayer-meeting in the camp, for although no

pastor was present, one of the Boer elders took his place and offered

up supplications which, if simple and even absurd in their wording, at

least were hearty enough. Amongst other requests, I remember that he

petitioned for the safety of those who were to go on the mission to

Dingaan and of those who were to remain behind. Alas! those prayers

were not heard, for it pleased the Power to Whom they were addressed to

decree otherwise.

After this meeting, in which I took an earnest share, Retief who just

before it began had ridden in from Doornkop, whither he had been to

visit his wife, held a kind of council, whereat the names of those who

had volunteered or been ordered to accompany him, were finally taken

down. At this council there was a good deal of discussion, since many

of the Boers did not think the expedition wise—at any rate, if it was

to be carried out on so large a scale. One of them, I forget which, an

old man, pointed out that it might look like a war party, and that it

would be wiser if only five or six went, as they had done before, since

then there could be no mistake as to the peaceful nature of their

intentions.

Retief himself combated this view, and at last turned suddenly to me,

who was listening near by, and said:

“Allan Quatermain, you are young, but you have a good judgment; also,

you are one of the very few who know Dingaan and can speak his

language. Tell us now, what do you think?”

Thus adjured, I answered, perhaps moved thereto more than I thought by

Hans’s talk, that I, too, considered the thing dangerous, and that

someone whose life was less valuable than the commandant’s should go in

command.

“Why do you say so, nephew,” he said irritably, “seeing that all white

men’s lives are of equal value, and I can smell no danger in the

business?”

“Because, commandant, I do smell danger, though what danger I cannot

say, any more than a dog or a buck can when it sniffs something in the

air and barks or runs. Dingaan is a tamed tiger just now, but tigers

are not house cats that one can play with them, as I know, who have

felt his claws and just, only just, come out from between them.”

“What do you mean, nephew?” asked Retief in his direct fashion. “Do you

believe that this _swartzel_” (that is, black creature) “means to kill

us?”

“I believe that it is quite possible,” I answered.

“Then, nephew, being a reasonable man as you are, you must have some

ground for your belief. Come now, out with it.”

“I have none, commandant, except that one who can set the lives of a

dozen folk against a man’s skill in shooting at birds on the wing, and

who can kill people to be a bait for those birds, is capable of

anything. Moreover, he told me that he did not love you Boers, and why

should he?”

Now, all those who were standing about seemed to be impressed with this

argument. At any rate, they turned towards Retief, anxiously waiting

for his reply.

“Doubtless,” answered the commandant, who, as I have said, was

irritable that night, “doubtless those English missionaries have

poisoned the king’s mind against us Boers. Also,” he added

suspiciously, “I think you told me, Allan, that the king said he liked

you and meant to spare you, even if he killed your companions, just

because you also are English. Are you sure that you do not know more

than you choose to tell us? Has Dingaan perhaps confided something to

you—just because you are English?”

Then noting that these words moved the assembled Boers, in whom race

prejudice and recent events had created a deep distrust of any born of

British blood, I grew very angry and answered:

“Commandant, Dingaan confided nothing to me, except that some Kaffir

witch-doctor, who is named Zikali, a man I never saw, had told him that

he must not kill an Englishman, and therefore he wished to spare me,

although one of your people, Hernan Pereira, had whispered to him that

I ought to be killed. Yet I say outright that I think you are foolish

to visit this king with so large a force. Still, I am ready to do so

myself with one or two others. Let me go, then, and try to persuade him

to sign this treaty as to the land. If I am killed or fail, you can

follow after me and do better.”

“Allemachte!” exclaimed Retief; “that is a fair offer. But how do I

know, nephew, that when we came to read the treaty we should not find

that it granted all the land to you English and not to us Boers? No,

no, don’t look angry. That was not a right thing to say, for you are

honest whatever most of your blood may be. Nephew Allan, you who are a

brave man, are afraid of this journey. Now, why is that, I wonder? Ah!

I have it. I had forgotten. You are to be married to-morrow morning to

a very pretty girl, and it is not natural that you should wish to spend

the next fortnight in Zululand. Don’t you see, brothers, he wants to

get out of it because he is going to be married, as it is natural that

he should, and therefore he tries to frighten us all? When we were

going to be married, should we have wished to ride away at once to

visit some stinking savage? Ach! I am glad I thought of that just as I

was beginning to turn his gloomy colour, like a chameleon on a black

hat, for it explains everything,” and he struck his thigh with his big

hand and burst into a roar of laughter.

All the company of Boers who stood around began to laugh also,

uproariously, for this primitive joke appealed to them. Moreover, their

nerves were strained; they also dreaded this expedition, and therefore

they were glad to relieve themselves in bucolic merriment. Everything

was clear to them now. Feeling myself in honour bound to go on the

embassy, as I was their only interpreter, I, artful dog, was trying to

play upon their fears in order to prevent it from starting, so that I

might have a week or two of the company of my new-wed wife. They saw

and appreciated the joke.

“He’s slim, this little Englishman,” shouted one.

“Don’t be angry with him. We should have done as much ourselves,”

replied another.

“Leave him behind,” said a third. “Even the Zulus do not send a

new-married man on service.” Then they smacked me on the back, and

hustled me in their rude, kindly manner, till at length I fell into a

rage and hit one of them on the nose, at which he only laughed the

louder, although I made it bleed.

“See here, friends,” I said, as soon as silence was restored; “married

or no, whoever does not ride to Dingaan, I ride to him, although it is

against my judgment. Let those laugh loudest who laugh last.”

“Good!” cried one; “if you set the pace we shall soon be home again,

Allan Quatermain. Who would not with Marie Marais at the end of the

journey?”

Then, followed by their rough and mocking laughter, I broke away from

them, and took refuge in my wagon, little guessing that all this talk

would be brought up against me on a day to come.

In a certain class of uneducated mind foresight is often interpreted as

guilty knowledge.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE MARRIAGE

I was awakened on my wedding morning by the crash and bellowing of a

great thunderstorm. The lightning flashed fearfully all about us,

killing two oxen quite near to my wagon, and the thunder rolled and

echoed till the very earth seemed to shake. Then came a wail of cold

wind, and after that the swish of torrential rain. Although I was well

accustomed to such natural manifestations, especially at this season of

the year, I confess that these sights and sounds did not tend to raise

my spirits, which were already lower than they should have been on that

eventful day. Hans, however, who arrived to help me put on my best

clothes for the ceremony, was for once consoling.

“Don’t look sick, baas,” he said, “for if there is storm in the

morning, there is shine at night.”

“Yes,” I answered, speaking more to myself than to him, “but what will

happen between the storm of the morning and the peace of the night?”

It was arranged that the commission, which, counting the native

after-riders, consisted of over a hundred people, among them several

boys, who were little more than children, was to ride at one hour

before noon. Nobody could get about to make the necessary preparations

until the heavy rain had passed away, which it did a little after eight

o’clock. Therefore when I left the wagon to eat, or try to eat some

breakfast, I found the whole camp in a state of bustle.

Boers were shouting to their servants, horses were being examined,

women were packing the saddle-bags of their husbands and fathers with

spare clothes, the pack-beasts were being laden with biltong and other

provisions, and so forth.

In the midst of all this tumult I began to wonder whether my private

business would not be forgotten, since it seemed unlikely that time

could be found for marriages. However, about ten o’clock when, having

done everything that I had to do, I was sitting disconsolately upon my

wagon box, being too shy to mix with that crowd of busy mockers or to

go to the Prinsloos’ camp to make inquiries, the vrouw herself

appeared.

“Come on, Allan,” she said, “the commandant is waiting and swearing

because you are not there. Also, there is another waiting, and oh! she

looks lovely. When they see her, every man in the camp will want her

for himself, whether he has got a wife or not, for in that matter,

although you mayn’t think so just now, they are all the same as the

Kaffirs. Oh! I know them, I know them, a white skin makes no

difference.”

While she held forth thus in her usual outspoken fashion, the vrouw was

dragging me along by the hand, just as though I were a naughty little

boy. Nor could I get free from that mighty grip, or, when once her

great bulk was in motion, match my weight against it. Of course, some

of the younger Boers, who, knowing her errand, had followed her, set up

a shout of cheers and laughter, which attracted everybody to the

procession.

“It is too late to hang back now, Englishman.” “You must make the best

of a bad business.” “If you wanted to change your mind, you should have

done it before,” men and women roared and screamed with many other such

bantering words, till at length I felt myself turn the colour of a red

vlei lily.

So we came at last to where Marie stood, the centre of an admiring

circle. She was clothed in a soft white gown made of some simple but

becoming stuff, and she wore upon her dark hair a wreath woven by the

other maidens in the camp, a bevy of whom stood behind her.

Now we were face to face. Our eyes met, and oh! hers were full of love

and trust. They dazzled and bewildered me. Feeling that I ought to

speak, and not knowing what to say, I merely stammered “Good morning,”

whereon everyone broke into a roar of laughter, except Vrouw Prinsloo,

who exclaimed:

“Did any one ever see such a fool?” and even Marie smiled.

Then Piet Retief appeared from somewhere dressed in tall boots and

rough riding clothes, such as the Boers wore in those days. Handing the

_roer_ he was carrying to one of his sons, after much fumbling he

produced a book from his pocket, in which the place was marked with a

piece of grass.

“Now then,” he said, “be silent, all, and show respect, for remember I

am not a man just now. I am a parson, which is quite a different thing,

and, being a commandant and a veld cornet and other officers all rolled

into one, by virtue of the law I am about to marry these young people,

so help me God. Don’t any of you witnesses ever say afterwards that

they are not rightly and soundly married, because I tell you that they

are, or will be.” He paused for breath, and someone said, “Hear, hear,”

or its Dutch equivalent, whereon, having glared the offender into

silence, Retief proceeded:

“Young man and young woman, what are your names?”

“Don’t ask silly questions, commandant,” broke in Vrouw Prinsloo; “you

know their names well enough.”

“Of course I do, aunt,” he answered; “but for this purpose I must

pretend not to know them. Are you better acquainted with the law than I

am? But stay, where is the father, Henri Marais?”

Someone thrust Marais forward, and there he stood quite silent, staring

at us with a queer look upon his face and his gun in his hand, for he,

too, was ready to ride.

“Take away that gun,” said Retief; “it might go off and cause

disturbance or perhaps accidents,” and somebody obeyed. “Now, Henri

Marais, do you give your daughter to be married to this man?”

“No,” said Marais softly.

“Very well, that is just like you, but it doesn’t matter, for she is of

age and can give herself. Is she not of age, Henri Marais? Don’t stand

there like a horse with the staggers, but tell me; is she not of age?”

“I believe so,” he answered in the same soft voice.

“Then take notice, people all, that this woman is of age, and gives

herself to be married to this man, don’t you, my dear?”

“Yes,” answered Marie.

“All right, now for it,” and, opening the book, he held it up to the

light, and began to read, or, rather, to stumble, through the marriage

service.

Presently he stuck fast, being, like most Boers of his time, no great

scholar, and exclaimed:

“Here, one of you help me with these hard words.”

As nobody volunteered, Retief handed the book to me, for he knew that

Marais would not assist him, saying:

“You are a scholar, Allan, being a clergyman’s son. Read on till we

come to the important bits, and I will say the words after you, which

will do just as well and be quite according to law.”

So I read, Heaven knows how, for the situation was trying enough, until

I came to the crucial questions, when I gave the book back.

“Ah!” said Retief; “this is quite easy. Now then, Allan, do you take

this woman to be your wife? Answer, putting in your name, which is left

blank in the book.”

I replied that I did, and the question was repeated to Marie, who did

likewise.

“Well then, there you are,” said Retief, “for I won’t trouble you with

all the prayers, which I don’t feel myself parson enough to say. Oh!

no, I forgot. Have you a ring?”

I drew one off my finger that had been my mother’s—I believe it had

served this same purpose at the wedding of her grandmother—and set the

thin little hoop of gold upon the third finger of Marie’s left hand. I

still wear that ring to-day.

“It should have been a new one,” muttered Vrouw Prinsloo.

“Be silent, aunt,” said Retief; “are there any jewellers’ shops here in

the veld? A ring is a ring, even if it came off a horse’s bit. There, I

think that is all. No, wait a minute, I am going to say a prayer of my

own over you, not one out of this book, which is so badly printed that

I cannot read it. Kneel down, both of you; the rest may stand, as the

grass is so wet.”

Now, bethinking herself of Marie’s new dress, the vrouw produced her

_vatdoek_ from a capacious pocket, and doubled up that dingy article

for Marie to kneel on, which she did. Then Pieter Retief, flinging down

the book, clasped his hands and uttered this simple, earnest prayer,

whereof, strangely enough, every word remains fast in my mind. Coming

as it did, not from a printed page, but from his honest and believing

heart, it was very impressive and solemn.

“O God above us, Who sees all and is with us when we are born, when we

are married, when we die, and if we do our duty for all time afterwards

in Heaven, hear our prayer. I pray Thee bless this man and this woman

who appear here before Thee to be wed. Make them love each other truly

all their lives, be these long or short, be they sick or well, be they

happy or in sorrow, be they rich or poor. Give them children to be

reared up in Thy Word, give them an honest name and the respect of all

who know them, and at last give them Thy Salvation through the Blood of

Jesus the Saviour. If they are together, let them rejoice in each

other. If they are apart, let them not forget each other. If one of

them dies and the other lives, let that one who lives look forward to

the day of reunion and bow the head to Thy Will, and keep that one who

dies in Thy holy Hand. O Thou Who knowest all things, guide the lives

of these two according to Thy eternal purpose, and teach them to be

sure that whatever Thou doest, is done for the best. For Thou art a

faithful Creator, Who wishes good to His children and not evil, and at

the last Thou wilt give them that good if they do but trust in Thee

through daylight and through darkness. Now let no man dare to put

asunder those whom Thou hast joined together, O Lord God Almighty,

Father of us all. Amen.”

So he prayed, and all the company echoed that Amen from their hearts.

That is all except one, for Henri Marais turned his back on us and

walked away.

“So,” said Retief, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his coat, “you

are the last couple that ever I mean to marry. The work is too hard for

a layman who has bad sight for print. Now kiss each other; it is the

right thing to do.”

So we kissed, and the congregation cheered.

“Allan,” went on the commandant, pulling out a silver watch like a

turnip, “you have just half an hour before we ride, and the Vrouw

Prinsloo says that she has made you a wedding meal in that tent there,

so you had best go eat it.”

To the tent we went accordingly, to find a simple but bounteous feast

prepared, of which we partook, helping each other to food, as is, or

was, the custom with new-wedded folk. Also, many Boers came in and

drank our healths, although the Vrouw Prinsloo told them that it would

have been more decent to leave us alone. But Henri Marais did not come

or drink our healths.

Thus the half-hour went all too swiftly, and not a word did we get

alone. At last in despair, seeing that Hans was already waiting with

the horses, I drew Marie aside, motioning to everyone to stand back.

“Dearest wife,” I said in broken words, “this is a strange beginning to

our married life, but you see it can’t be helped.”

“No, Allan,” she answered, “it can’t be helped; but oh! I wish my heart

were happier about your journey. I fear Dingaan, and if anything should

chance to you I shall die of grief.”

“Why should anything chance, Marie? We are a strong and well-armed

party, and Dingaan looks on us peacefully.”

“I don’t know, husband, but they say Hernan Pereira is with the Zulus,

and he hates you.”

“Then he had better mind his manners, or he will not be here long to

hate anybody,” I answered grimly, for my gorge rose at the thought of

this man and his treacheries.

“Vrouw Prinsloo,” I called to the old lady, who was near, “be pleased

to come hither and listen. And, Marie, do you listen also. If by chance

I should hear anything affecting your safety, and send you a message by

someone you can trust, such as that you should remove yourselves

elsewhere or hide, promise me that you will obey it without question.”

“Of course I will obey you, husband. Have I not just sworn to do so?”

Marie said with a sad smile.

“And so will I, Allan,” said the vrouw; “not because I have sworn

anything, but because I know you have a good head on your shoulders,

and so will my man and the others of our party. Though why you should

think you will have any message to send, I can’t guess, unless you know

something that is hidden from us,” she added shrewdly. “You say you

don’t; well, it is not likely you would tell us if you did. Look! They

are calling, you must go. Come on, Marie, let us see them off.”

So we went to where the commission was gathered on horseback, just in

time to hear Retief addressing the people, or, rather, the last of his

words.

“Friends,” he said, “we go upon an important business, from which I

hope we shall return happily within a very little time. Still, this is

a rough country, and we have to deal with rough people. Therefore my

advice to all you who stay behind is that you should not scatter, but

keep together, so that in case of any trouble the men who are left may

be at hand to defend this camp. For if they are here you have nothing

to fear from all the savages in Africa. And now God be with you, and

good-bye. Come, trek, brothers, trek!”

Then followed a few moments of confusion while men kissed their wives,

children and sisters in farewell, or shook each other by the hand. I,

too, kissed Marie, and, tumbling on to my horse somehow, rode away, my

eyes blind with tears, for this parting was bitter. When I could see

clearly again I pulled up and looked back at the camp, which was now at

some distance. It seemed a peaceful place indeed, for although the

storm of the morning was returning and a pall of dark cloud hung over

it, the sun still shone upon the white wagon caps and the people who

went to and fro among them.

Who could have thought that within a little time it would be but a

field of blood, that those wagons would be riddled with assegais, and

that the women and children who were moving there must most of them lie

upon the veld mutilated corpses dreadful to behold? Alas! the Boers,

always impatient of authority and confident that their own individual

judgment was the best, did not obey their commandant’s order to keep

together. They went off this way and that, to shoot the game which was

then so plentiful, leaving their families almost without protection.

Thus the Zulus found and slew them.

Presently as I rode forward a little apart from the others someone

overtook me, and I saw that it was Henri Marais.

“Well, Allan,” he said, “so God has given you to me for a son-in-law.

Who would have thought it? You do not look to me like a new-married

man, for that marriage is not natural when the bridegroom rides off and

leaves the bride of an hour. Perhaps you will never be really married

after all, for God, Who gives sons-in-law, can also take them away,

especially when He was not asked for them. Ah!” he went on, lapsing

into French, as was his wont when moved, “_qui vivra verra! qui vivra

verra!_” Then, shouting this excellent but obvious proverb at the top

of his voice, he struck his horse with the butt of his gun, and

galloped away before I could answer him.

At that moment I hated Henri Marais as I had never hated anyone before,

not even his nephew Hernan. Almost did I ride to the commandant to

complain of him, but reflecting to myself, first that he was

undoubtedly half mad, and therefore not responsible for his actions,

and secondly that he was better here with us than in the same camp with

my wife, I gave up the idea. Yet alas! it is the half-mad who are the

most dangerous of lunatics.

Hans, who had observed this scene and overheard all Marais’s talk, and

who also knew the state of the case well enough, sidled his horse

alongside of me, and whispered in a wheedling voice:

“Baas, I think the old baas is _kransick_ and not safe. He looks like

one who is going to harm someone. Now, baas, suppose I let my gun off

by accident; you know we coloured people are very careless with guns!

The Heer Marais would never be troubled with any more fancies, and you

and the Missie Marie and all of us would be safer. Also, _you_ could

not be blamed, nor could I, for who can help an accident? Guns will go

off sometimes, baas, when you don’t want them to.”

“Get out,” I answered. Yet if Hans’s gun had chanced to “go off,” I

believe it might have saved a multitude of lives!

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE TREATY

Our journey to Umgungundhlovu was prosperous and without incident. When

we were within half a day’s march from the Great Kraal we overtook the

herd of cattle that we had recaptured from Sikonyela, for these beasts

had been driven very slowly and well rested that they might arrive in

good condition. Also the commandant was anxious that we should present

them ourselves to the king.

Driving this multitude of animals before us—there were over five

thousand head of them—we reached the Great Place on Saturday the 3rd of

February about midday, and forced them through its gates into the

cattle kraals. Then we off-saddled and ate our dinner under those two

milk trees near the gate of the kraal where I had bid good-bye to

Dingaan.

After dinner messengers came to ask us to visit the king, and with them

the youth, Thomas Halstead, who told the commandant that all weapons

must be left behind, since it was the Zulu law that no man might appear

before the king armed. To this Retief demurred, whereon the messengers

appealed to me, whom they had recognised, asking if that were not the

custom of their country.

I answered that I had not been in it long enough to know. Then there

was a pause while they sent for someone to bear evidence; at the time I

did not know whom, as I was not near enough to Thomas Halstead to make

inquiries. Presently this someone appeared, and turned out to be none

other than Hernan Pereira.

He advanced towards us attended by Zulus, as though he were a chief,

looking fat and well and handsomer than ever. Seeing Retief, he lifted

his hat with a flourish and held out his hand, which, I noted, the

commandant did not take.

“So you are still here, Mynheer Pereira!” he said coldly. “Now be good

enough to tell me, what is this matter about the abandoning of our

arms?”

“The king charges me to say—” began Hernan.

“Charges you to say, Mynheer Pereira! Are you then this black man’s

servant? But continue.”

“That none must come into his private enclosure armed.”

“Well, then, mynheer, be pleased to go tell this king that we do not

wish to come to his private enclosure. I have brought the cattle that

he desired me to fetch, and I am willing to deliver them to him

wherever he wishes, but we will not unarm in order to do so.”

Now there was talk, and messengers were despatched, who returned at

full speed presently to say that Dingaan would receive the Boers in the

great dancing place in the midst of the kraal, and that they might

bring their guns, as he wished to see how they fired them.

So we rode in, making as fine a show as we could, to find that the

dancing place, which measured a good many acres in extent, was lined

round with thousands of plumed but unarmed warriors arranged in

regiments.

“You see,” I heard Pereira say to Retief, “these have no spears.”

“No,” answered the commandant, “but they have sticks, which when they

are a hundred to one would serve as well.”

Meanwhile the vast mob of cattle were being driven in a double stream

past a knot of men at the head of the space, and then away through

gates behind. When the beasts had all gone we approached these men,

among whom I recognised the fat form of Dingaan draped in a bead

mantle. We ranged ourselves in a semicircle before him, and stood while

he searched us with his sharp eyes. Presently he saw me, and sent a

councillor to say that I must come and interpret for him.

So, dismounting, I went with Retief, Thomas Halstead, and a few of the

leading Boers.

“_Sakubona_ [Good day], Macumazahn,” said Dingaan. “I am glad that you

have come, as I know that you will speak my words truly, being one of

the People of George whom I love, for Tho-maas here I do not trust,

although he is also a Son of George.”

I told Retief what he said.

“Oh!” he exclaimed with a grunt, “it seems that you English are a step

in front of us Boers, even here.”

Then he went forward and shook hands with the king, whom, it will be

remembered, he had visited before.

After that the _indaba_ or talk began, which I do not propose to set

out at length, for it is a matter of history. It is enough to say that

Dingaan, after thanking Retief for recovering the cattle, asked where

was Sikonyela, the chief who had stolen them, as he wished to kill him.

When he learned that Sikonyela remained in his own country, he became,

or affected to become, angry. Then he asked where were the sixty horses

which he heard we had captured from Sikonyela, as they must be given up

to him.

Retief, by way of reply, touched his grey hairs, and inquired whether

Dingaan thought that he was a child that he, Dingaan, should demand

horses which did not belong to him. He added that these horses had been

restored to the Boers, from whom Sikonyela had stolen them.

When Dingaan had expressed himself satisfied with this answer, Retief

opened the question of the treaty. The king replied however, that the

white men had but just arrived, and he wished to see them dance after

their own fashion. As for the business, it might “sit still” till

another day.

So in the end the Boers “danced” for his amusement. That is, they

divided into two parties, and charged each other at full gallop, firing

their guns into the air, an exhibition which seemed to fill all present

with admiration and awe. When they paused, the king wished them to go

on firing “a hundred shots apiece,” but the commandant declined, saying

he had no more powder to waste.

“What do you want powder for in a peaceful country?” asked Dingaan

suspiciously.

Retief answered through me:

“To kill food for ourselves, or to protect ourselves if any evil-minded

men should attack us.”

“Then it will not be wanted here,” said Dingaan, “since I will give you

food, and as I, the king, am your friend, no man in Zululand dare be

your enemy.”

Retief said he was glad to hear it, and asked leave to retire with the

Boers to his camp outside the gate, as they were all tired with riding.

This Dingaan granted, and we said good-bye and went away. Before I

reached the gate, however, a messenger, I remember it was my old friend

Kambula, overtook me, and said that the king wished to speak with me

alone. I answered him that I could not speak with the king alone

without the permission of the commandant. Thereon Kambula said:

“Come with me, I pray you, O Macumazahn, since otherwise you will be

taken by force.”

Now, I told Hans to gallop on to Retief, and tell him of my

predicament, for already I saw that at some sign from Kambula I was

being surrounded by Zulus. He did so, and presently Retief came back

himself accompanied only by one man, and asked me what was the matter

now. I informed him, translating Kambula’s words, which he repeated in

his presence.

“Does the fellow mean that you will be seized if you do not go, or I

refuse to allow you to do so?”

To this question Kambula’s answer was:

“That is so, _Inkoos_, since the king has private words for the ear of

Macumazahn. Therefore we must obey orders, and take him before the

king, living or dead.”

“Allemachte!” exclaimed Retief, “this is serious,” and, as though to

summon them to my help, he looked behind him towards the main body of

the Boers, who by this time were nearly all of them through the gate,

which was guarded by a great number of Zulus. “Allan,” he went on, “if

you are not afraid, I think that you must go. Perhaps it is only that

Dingaan has some message about the treaty to send to me through you.”

“I am not afraid,” I answered. “What is the use of being afraid in a

place like this?”

“Ask that Kaffir if the king gives you safe conduct,” said Retief.

I did so, and Kambula answered:

“Yes, for this visit. Who am I that I can speak the king’s unspoken

words?” [which meant, guarantee his will in the future.]

“A dark saying,” commented Retief. “But go, Allan, since you must, and

God bring you back safe again. It is clear that Dingaan did not ask

that you should come with me for nothing. Now I wish I had left you at

home with that pretty wife of yours.”

So we parted, I going to the king’s private enclosure on foot and

without my rifle, since I was not allowed to appear before him armed,

and the commandant towards the gate of the kraal accompanied by Hans,

who led my horse. Ten minutes later I stood before Dingaan, who greeted

me kindly enough, and began to ask a number of questions about the

Boers, especially if they were not people who had rebelled against

their own king and run away from him.

I answered, Yes, they had run away, as they wanted more room to live;

but I had told him all about that when I saw him before. He said he

knew I had, but he wished to hear “whether the same words came out of

the same mouth, or different words,” so that he might know if I were a

true man or not. Then, after pausing a while, he looked at me in his

piercing fashion and asked:

“Have you brought me a present of that tall white girl with eyes like

two stars, Macumazahn? I mean the girl whom you refused to me, and whom

I could not take because you had won your bet, which gave all the white

people to you; she for whose sake you make brothers of these Boers, who

are traitors to their king?”

“No, O Dingaan,” I answered; “there are no women among us. Moreover,

this maid is now my wife.”

“Your wife!” he exclaimed angrily. “By the Head of the Black One, have

you dared to make a wife of her whom I desired? Now say, boy, you

clever Watcher by Night; you little white ant, who work in the dark and

only peep out at the end of your tunnel when it is finished; you

wizard, who by your magic can snatch his prey out of the hand of the

greatest king in all the world—for it was magic that killed those

vultures on Hloma Amabutu, not your bullets, Macumazahn—say, why should

I not make an end of you at once for this trick?”

I folded my arms and looked at him. A strange contrast we must have

made, this huge, black tyrant with the royal air, for to do him justice

he had that, at whose nod hundreds went the way of death, and I, a mere

insignificant white boy, for in appearance, at any rate, I was nothing

more.

“O Dingaan,” I said coolly, knowing that coolness was my only chance,

“I answer you in the words of the Commandant Retief, the great chief.

Do you take me for a child that I should give up my own wife to you who

already have so many? Moreover, you cannot kill me because I have the

word of your captain, Kambula, that I am safe with you.”

This reply seemed to amuse him. At any rate, with one of those almost

infantile changes of mood which are common to savages of every degree,

he passed from wrath to laughter.

“You are quick as a lizard,” he said. “Why should I, who have so many

wives, want one more, who would certainly hate me? Just because she is

white, and would make the others, who are black, jealous, I suppose.

Indeed, they would poison her, or pinch her to death in a month, and

then come to tell me she had died of fretting. Also, you are right; you

have my safe conduct, and must go hence unharmed this time. But look

you, little lizard, although you escape me between the stones, I will

pull off your tail. I have said that I want to pluck this tall white

flower of yours, and I will pluck her. I know where she dwells. Yes,

just where the wagon she sleeps in stands in the line, for my spies

have told me, and I will give orders that whoever is killed, she is to

be spared and brought to me living. So perhaps you will meet this wife

of yours here, Macumazahn.”

Now, at these ominous words, that might mean so much or so little, the

sweat started to my brow, and a shiver went down my back.

“Perhaps I shall and perhaps I shall not, O king,” I answered. “The

world is as full of chances to-day as it was not long ago when I shot

at the sacred vultures on Hloma Amabutu. Still, I think that my wife

will never be yours, O king.”

“_Ow!_” said Dingaan; “this little white ant is making another tunnel,

thinking that he will come up at my back. But what if I put down my

heel and crush you, little white ant? Do you know,” he added

confidentially, “that the Boer who mends my guns and whom here we call

‘Two-faces,’ because he looks towards you Whites with one eye and

towards us Blacks with the other, is still very anxious that I should

kill you? Indeed, when I told him that my spies said that you were to

ride with the Boers, as I had requested that you should be their

Tongue, he answered that unless I promised to give you to the vultures,

he would warn them against coming. So, since I wanted them to come as I

had arranged with him, I promised.”

“Is it so, O king?” I asked. “And pray why does this Two-faces, whom we

name Pereira, desire that I should be killed?”

“_Ow!_” chuckled the obese old ruffian; “cannot you with all your

cleverness guess that, O Macumazahn? Perhaps it is he who needs the

tall white maiden, and not I. Perhaps if he does certain things for me,

I have promised her to him in payment. And perhaps,” he added, laughing

quite loud, “I shall trick him after all, keeping her for myself, and

paying him in another way, for can a cheat grumble if he is

out-cheated?”

I answered that I was an honest man, and knew nothing about cheats, or

at what they could or could not grumble.

“Yes, Macumazahn,” replied Dingaan quite genially. “That is where you

and I are alike. We are both honest, quite honest, and therefore

friends, which I can never be with these Amaboona, who, as you and

others have told me, are traitors. We play our game in the light, like

men, and who wins, wins, and who loses, loses. Now hear me, Macumazahn,

and remember what I say. Whatever happens to others, whatever you may

see, you are safe while I live. Dingaan has spoken. Whether I get the

tall white girl, or do not get her, still _you_ are safe; it is on my

head,” and he touched the gum-ring in his hair.

“And why should I be safe if others are unsafe, O king?” I asked.

“Oh! if you would know that, ask a certain ancient prophet named

Zikali, who was in this land in the days of Senzangacona, my father,

and before then—that is, if you can find him. Also, I like you, who are

not a flat-faced fool like these Amaboona, but have a brain that turns

in and out through difficulties, as a snake does through reeds; and it

would be a pity to kill one who can shoot birds wheeling high above him

in the air, which no one else can do. So whatever you see and whatever

you hear, remember that you are safe, and shall go safely from this

land, or stay safely in it if you will, to be my voice to speak with

the Sons of George.

“Now return to the commandant, and say to him that my heart is his

heart, and that I am very pleased to see him here. To-morrow, and

perhaps the next day, I will show him some of the dances of my people,

and after that I will sign the writing, giving him all the land he asks

and everything else he may desire, more than he can wish, indeed.

_Hamba gachlé_, Macumazahn,” and, rising with surprising quickness from

his chair, which was cut out of a single block of wood, he turned and

vanished through the little opening in the reed fence behind him that

led to his private huts.

As I was being conducted back to the Boer camp by Kambula, who was

waiting for me outside the gate of the labyrinth which is called

_isiklohlo_, I met Thomas Halstead, who was lounging about, I think in

order to speak with me. Halting, I asked him straight out what the

king’s intentions were towards the Boers.

“Don’t know,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders, “but he seems so

sweet on them that I think he must be up to mischief. He is wonderfully

fond of you, too, for I heard him give orders that the word was to be

passed through all the regiments that if anyone so much as hurt you, he

should be killed at once. Also, you were pointed out to the soldiers

when you rode in with the rest, that they might all of them know you.”

“That’s good for me as far as it goes,” I replied. “But I don’t know

why I should need special protection above others, unless there is

someone who wants to harm me.”

“There is that, Allan Quatermain. The _indunas_ tell me that the

good-looking Portugee, whom they call ‘Two-faces,’ asks the king to

kill you every time he sees him. Indeed, I’ve heard him myself.”

“That’s kind of him,” I answered, “but, then, Hernan Pereira and I

never got on. Tell me what is he talking about to the king when he

isn’t asking him to kill me.”

“Don’t know,” he said again. “Something dirty, I’ll be bound. One may

be sure of that by the native name they have given him. I think,

however,” he added in a whisper, “that he has had a lot to do with the

Boers being allowed to come here at all in order to get their treaty

signed. At least, one day when I was interpreting and Dingaan swore

that he would not give them more land than was enough to bury them in,

Pereira told him that it didn’t matter what he signed, as ‘what was

written with the pen could be scratched out with the spear.’”

“Indeed! And what did the king say to that?”

“Oh! he laughed and said it was true, and that he would give the Boer

commission all their people wanted and something over for themselves.

But don’t you repeat that, Quatermain, for if you do, and it gets to

the ear of Dingaan, I shall certainly be killed. And, I say, you’re a

good fellow, and I won a big bet on you over that vulture shooting, so

I will give you a bit of advice, which you will be wise to take. You

get out of this country as soon as you can, and go to look after that

pretty Miss Marais, whom you are sweet on. Dingaan wants her, and what

Dingaan wants he gets in this part of the world.”

Then, without waiting to be thanked, he turned and disappeared among a

crowd of Zulus, who were following us from curiosity, leaving me

wondering whether or no Dingaan was right when he called this young man

a liar. His story seemed to tally so well with that told by the king

himself, that on the whole I thought he was not.

Just after I had passed the main gateway of the great town, where, his

office done, Kambula saluted and left me, I saw two white men engaged

in earnest conversation beneath one of the milk trees which, as I think

I have already mentioned, grow, or grew, there. They were Henri Marais

and his nephew. Catching sight of me, Marais walked off, but Pereira

advanced and spoke to me, although, warned perhaps by what had happened

to him in the case of Retief, I am glad to say he did not offer me his

hand.

“Good day to you, Allan,” he said effusively. “I have just heard from

my uncle that I have to congratulate you, about Marie I mean, and,

believe me, I do so with all my heart.”

Now, as he spoke these words, remembering what I had just heard, my

blood boiled in me, but I thought it wise to control myself, and

therefore only answered:

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he went on, “we have both striven for this prize, but as

it has pleased God that you should win it, why, I am not one to bear

malice.”

“I am glad to hear it,” I replied. “I thought that perhaps you might

be. Now tell me, to change the subject, how long will Dingaan keep us

here?”

“Oh! two or three days at most. You see, Allan, luckily I have been

able to persuade him to sign the treaty about the land without further

trouble. So as soon as that is done, you can all go home.”

“The commandant will be very grateful to you,” I said. “But what are

you going to do?”

“I do not know, Allan. You see, I am not a lucky fellow like yourself

with a wife waiting for me. I think that perhaps I shall stop here a

while. I see a way of making a great deal of money out of these Zulus;

and having lost everything upon that Delagoa Bay trek, I want money.”

“We all do,” I answered, “especially if we are starting in life. So

when it is convenient to you to settle your debts I shall be glad.”