The morning after the hunt was gloomy and dispiriting, for the weather
had undergone a complete change daring the night, and now, instead of
blue sky and a sunny landscape, a dense vaporous curtain hung over the
kloofs, everywhere thick, heavy and impenetrable, while from the dull
grey sky fell a continuous and soaking drizzle.
"I say, but it'll be poor fun riding back in this," exclaimed Hicks,
contemplating the spongy ground splashed by the drippings from the iron
roof. "We shall have to wait until it clears."
"Shall we? Speak for yourself, Mr Hicks. _We_ are not made of sugar,"
said Ethel, mockingly. She was in high spirits this morning and
brimming over with mischief.
"Now that _is_ rational," put in a voice behind her. "Hadn't we better
start at once?"
She turned. "Oh, so you are afraid of the elements, too. Then out of
consideration for you two, we shall have to wait. Or shall we go on and
leave them, Laura?"
"They deserve it," said Laura. Then dubiously: "It's a nuisance,
though, because I know aunt will be expecting us back."
"Now look here," rejoined Claverton, quietly. "Your aunt specially
authorised me to see that you did nothing rash. Getting wet through
under circumstances totally unnecessary is an eminently rash proceeding.
Wherefore I am constrained to lay an embargo on anything of the kind.
More especially as by two o'clock there will not be a cloud in the sky."
"Won't there? Two to one there will. What shall it be?" cut in
Armitage.
"Jack never bets. At least I heard him not many days ago striving hard
to convince a Methodist parson of that fact," said Claverton, appealing
to the company in general.
"Wanted to throw him off his guard and book the devil-dodger for a
venture. Besides, it wasn't a parson, it was only that humbugging old
Garthorpe, who goes about preaching, and--"
"I should have thought you had found out he wasn't such an ass as he
looked, Jack," said Naylor, significantly.
Armitage looked rather foolish at this; and one or two who knew the joke
tittered slightly.
"Hallo, what's the jest? Trundle it up, Naylor, we don't often catch
Jack napping," said Claverton.
"Oh, I'll tell you myself," exclaimed the victim of it, airily. "Well,
you know, I was down at Thorman's place one evening, and old Garthorpe
came jogging up on that spindle-shanked nag of his. It was just about
feeding time, so he off-saddled and got his head well into the trough in
no time. Daring the evening we were talking a lot about the war scare,
and the old chap stuck out that it was all bosh, in fact insinuated that
we were a pack of funks. _He_ wasn't afraid of the Kafirs, he said, not
one of them would hurt him, and so on. This rather put our backs up,
you know; there was myself, and Johnson, and Gough, and a couple of
Dutchmen, so we hit upon a little scheme to give the old fellow a bit of
a funk when he left. It was as dark as pitch--"
"`And smelt of cheese,'" put in Claverton. "Why not do justice to the
quotation?"
"Confound it, if you can spin the yarn better than I can, do so, by all
means," retorted Armitage, in mock dudgeon.
"He wants to get out of it," said Ethel. "It won't do, though, we
insist upon hearing it."
"Well, then, as I was saying, when that fellow interrupted me, it was as
dark as pitch, but the moon would soon be up. I and Johnson laid our
heads together, and arranged that we two and Gough should blacken our
faces and go and waylay old Garthorpe in the drift about half a mile
from the house. Well, we slipped out one by one and got ourselves up in
style, red blankets and all, looked as thorough-paced cut-throats as
ever you clapped eyes on--"
"Can quite believe it," murmured the former interrupter.
"There he is again," exclaimed Armitage, wrathfully. "Well, we got down
into the drift and soon we heard the horse's feet, and old Garthorpe
came mooning along, concocting some sermon or other for the next day,
which was Sunday. The moon had just risen, but was not bright enough to
betray our identity. We jumped out of the bush. Johnson collared the
bridle, and the other two of us drew up in line across the path. What
does the old chap do, but quick as lightning pull out a revolver and
poke it into Johnson's face. He dropped the bridle like a hot potato
and skipped into the bush, and then old Garthorpe levels it dead at us.
We looked sharp to follow Johnson's example, and then the old chap rode
quietly on, chuckling to himself. Gough swears he heard him say
`somethinged scoundrels,' but that may have been part of the sermon he
was concocting. Anyhow, he turned the tables on us most completely."
"Probably the revolver wasn't loaded," suggested Claverton.
"Revolver! Sorra a bit. It was a pipe-case. We three skedaddled for
our lives before a preaching old humbug at the fag-end of an old
pipe-case."
A roar went up from his auditors at the picture.
"Fact," repeated Armitage. "Tell you what, though; that thing looked
plaguey like a pistol in the moonlight. Besides, it's just the sort of
thing a fellow would bring out, you know, under the circumstances. Old
Garthorpe went bragging about it all over the shop, and very soon the
joke got wind. But this is all very well. How about our bet,
Claverton?"
"Oh, all right, I'll take you. Two to one in half-crowns there won't be
a cloud in the sky by two o'clock."
"Done," said Armitage. "Any one else game?"
But no one was. "We are not going to encourage anything so disreputable
as that betting mania of yours," said Ethel.
"Well, good people," called out Jim's jovial tones, as he swung himself
out of his dripping mackintosh, and stamped and scraped to rid his boots
of the mud before entering, "how about a start this morning? Not much
chance of it, is there, unless you are ready to swim for it."
"Well, _we_ must," said Naylor; "I must be home to-day. I'm expecting
Smith round my way about those slaughter-oxen this afternoon, and if I'm
not there, away goes a good bargain."
"Besides, we shall be all right in the trap," said his wife. "Laura,
why not come with us, if you are in a hurry to get back? We could
manage to make room for you and Ethel, and your horses could be led."
"Thanks; but I don't think we ought to desert our escort in that way,"
she answered. The plan suggested in no wise fell in with her views--
nor, we may add, with those of Ethel.
"It'll be outrageously shabby of you if you do, and in fact we shan't
allow it," said Claverton.
"The damned Britishers are made of salt--afraid of a little rain,"
growled Thorman, in a low tone, at the other side of the room.
Jeffreys, to whom the remark was addressed, and who had reasons of his
own for abhorring the "imported" element, acquiesced in the sneer, and
just then they were summoned to breakfast. It cleared in the afternoon
with startling suddenness, and as the equestrians started for home, the
blue sky was without a cloud.
"This is lovely," exclaimed Ethel, as they cantered along; "but,"--and
the bright laughing face clouded--"isn't it a nuisance? Will Jeffreys
is going back with us."
"What, all the way?" said Claverton. "I thought we were going to choke
him off at Van Rooyen's, where we picked him up."
"No such luck. He's going back to Seringa Vale; at least, so Mr
Armitage says."
"Oh, that may be only Jack's chaff; but--"
He checked himself as something seemed to strike him. "Bosh!" he
thought, "Jack only sees that she rather hates the bullet-headed fool,
and is trying to take a rise out of her." Then aloud: "That fellow Jack
is a confounded nuisance at times, and yet on the whole I think he's an
acquisition."
"Oh, yes; he makes one laugh so often, which is a great thing. Just
look at him now, for instance."
Both turned to watch the interesting object of their discussion, who was
evidently about to keep up his reputation--for Allen, whose decrepit
steed had gone dead lame, and was incapable of carrying him, had
received the loan of the volatile Waschbank, which sprightly quadruped
was evidently rather more than a handful to him. Armitage perceiving
this, delighted to get behind and by dint of sundry clicking noises,
softly articulated, to induce the already excited animal to plunge and
shake his head frantically, and make violent attempts at bolting, to the
dire discomfiture of the rider, who clutched the bridle spasmodically
with both hands, holding on, as it were, "by the skin of his teeth."
"It's rather a shame," mused Claverton, as they contemplated the
performance. "Why can't he let the poor devil alone, even for half an
hour? Allen isn't a bad fellow, although he's an ass in some things."
"Look out, Allen. Hold on, pay out your rein, or, by George, he'll have
you off!" Armitage was saying, while Jeffreys rode behind sardonically
enjoying the other's discomfiture. And the warning came none too soon,
for Waschbank, finding the increased pressure of the rather sharp curb,
which his rider was bearing on more and more heavily, defied his frantic
attempts at a bolt, sought to vary the entertainment by suddenly
rearing. Then as Allen, in a panic, quickly slackened the reins,
grasping at the same time a bit of the mane, away went Waschbank with a
rush and a snort, his rider still clinging on like grim Death. But this
was not to last long, for one of the said rider's long spurs digging
violently into his flank, the animal put down his head, and springing
into the air, all four feet at once, promptly shot the hapless Allen
into space and a thorn-bush which grew handy. Then after vainly
endeavouring in the course of half-a-dozen more "bucks" to rid himself
of his saddle, the amiable brute gave a loud snort and started for home
at a hand gallop.
"Hallo, Allen!" cried Claverton, dismounting to haul him out of the
bush. "Jump up, old man. Not hurt, are you? That's it?" as the other
staggered to his feet groaning and wincing; as well he might, for his
"continuations" were stuck as full of thorns as a well-stocked
pincushion is of pins. "Better thorns than broken bones, you know.
What's to be done? At the rate that brute's going he'll be within a
hundred yards of Buffel's Kloof by now, or we might have exchanged.
Sticks is as quiet as a village scold on board the ducking-stool."
"Plenty more thorn-bushes," sneered Jeffreys, in a load aside. "But
it's a safe enough offer now that Waschbank's gone home."
"I say," began Jack, in mock concern, "what are we to do? Toss up who
shall pursue the absconding Waschbank with a pinch of salt, eh?"
"Humbugging apart, though," said Claverton, "we are only about a mile
from Van Rooyen's; the best thing for Allen to do will be to walk on
there, and the Dutchman will be able to rig him out with some sort of a
mount to take him home."
This was arranged, and they rode on.
"I think Jack carries his jokes too far sometimes," remarked Claverton.
"He'll find his level some day."
They soon arrived at Van Rooyen's, and the Dutchman, having enjoyed a
hearty laugh over poor Allen's mishap, sent for the steadiest old
roadster in his paddock and mounted the dethroned hero thereon; and
after resting an hour, which somehow had nearly dragged itself out to
two, the party were in the saddle again, bound for their respective
homes. But it is the Seringa Vale quartette--for the obnoxious Jeffreys
had, after all, left them at Van Rooyen's--whom we shall now follow. It
was late when they left Buffel's Kloof, and now, as they rode over the
rising ground which shut the Dutchman's farmstead from sight behind, the
very short gloaming of a South African day was already drawing in.
"I don't know how it is; as a rule I enjoy a ride at night," said Ethel,
"but this evening I can't help wishing we were safe at home, I feel
quite low and nervous;" and she shivered.
"I know how it is. You've caught cold," replied her companion. "It's a
particularly warm evening, and you're shivering as if it were
mid-winter. Here--wait a bit--and put this on."
In a trice he had unstrapped an ample waterproof cloak from his saddle,
and, dismounting, wrapped it twice round her, tightly and securely, yet
so as not to impede the management of the reins.
"Thanks. No, I wasn't cold--it's very absurd--but I feel as if
something dreadful was going to happen. A kind of presentiment."
"Nonsense, child. You have been catching cold; but we shall both be
catching it hot soon for being so outrageously late. Come along, here's
a nice level bit, and those two are a good mile ahead."
"Yes, it's too absurd of me," she said, as they cantered on; "but--I
felt a drop of rain."
They looked up. Sure enough the sky had suddenly clouded over, and
several large raindrops splashed down upon the road.
"We are in for a shower, I'm afraid," said Claverton. "Nothing for it
but leg-bail. However, that ancient garment will keep you as dry as a
chip, unless it has suddenly performed the feat in physiology which Holy
Writ associates with the Ethiopian."
They rode on with heads bent forward, for a fierce gust drove the rain,
which had now increased to a deluging shower, right into their faces.
"Look at that!" exclaimed Ethel, in a terrified voice, as a vivid flash
played around them, causing the horses to start and swerve. It was
followed by a deep roll of thunder--long, loud, and startlingly near.
"Who'd have thought it?" said her companion. "It may be just a passing
flash or so, and we shall ride through it in a minute." He spoke
cheerfully; nevertheless, there was anxiety in the quick, half-furtive
glance which he cast upwards and around.
"Do you think so? It may not be much, after all; and I'm an awful
coward," she answered, trying to laugh; but her voice shook with
apprehension, and her face was pale in the vivid gleam which fell around
them, and faded, leaving the gathering gloom almost pitchy from
contrast. "Do let's go back," she added.
"Too late. It would take almost as long to get back to Van Rooyen's, as
to reach home. Besides, we should get into the thick of it--it's all
behind us."
They rode on. The path lay along a high ridge, and the surrounding
_veldt_ looked indescribably desolate as a furious blast tore and howled
over the wild waste, driving the rain into their eyes. But suddenly
wind and rain alike ceased; and lo! a great stream of jagged fire shot
down upon the road in front, accompanied by a terrific crash--a crash as
though the earth had yawned asunder and they were floating in a sea of
flame. The horses, affrighted by the appalling sight and the strong
smell of burning which was plainly perceptible, snorted and plunged, and
then stood still, trembling in every limb.
"We had better leave the road," said Claverton. "We shall be safe
enough down in the kloof; though here it _is_ a trifle nasty."
"Shall I dismount?" she asked.
"No; sit still and follow me. Can you steer your horse all right, or
would you rather I led him?"
"Oh, no; I can manage."
They went down and down, deeper and deeper through the long, wet grass
and dripping bushes; and now and again a flash would light up the far
depths of the great, dark kloof with a blue gleam, and the thunder
roared and reverberated among the rocks and krantzes beyond. Before
they had gone far, Claverton dismounted and kept a firm hand on his
companion's bridle, for the horse slipped and stumbled over the wet
stones on the steep side of the kloof. Ethel did not speak, but her
lips would convulsively tighten with fear as each vivid lightning-flash
played around them, with its terrific accompaniment. She was horribly
afraid of thunderstorms, even when safe at home, but to be benighted
thus in the open _veldt_, in the midst of such a one as this, was simply
appalling.
"At any rate we are safe enough here, though it is infamously wet," said
her escort, reassuringly; "and--by George, we are in luck's way--there's
a house!"
A roof became apparent at the bottom of the ravine, and in a few minutes
they had reached it. But disappointment was in store, for the welcome
haven of refuge turned out to be an old disused shanty, formerly run up
for the accommodation of some road party, or possibly had served as an
out-station for those in charge of grazing stock. Nevertheless, though
a tumble-down and sorry-looking tenement, yet it would afford a
tolerably substantial shelter from the drenching fury of the storm.
Claverton lifted his companion from her saddle, and pushing open the
mouldering door, which creaked with an unearthly noise on its rusty
hinges, they stood inside.
"Not exactly the marble halls of the poet's dream--deuced cold they must
have been at times--but it's wet outside and dry in here, which makes
all the difference," he remarked, as he struck a match and surveyed the
interior of the sorry apartment. The dilapidated thatch hung in
cobwebbed festoons, throwing out ghostly, waving shadows in the
flickering light; and a cockroach or two, alarmed by this sudden
intrusion, scurried along the worm-eaten beams. "Wait half a second,"
he went on, "while I just go and hitch up the horses, and then we'll
proceed to make ourselves as comfortable as circumstances will allow."
"Oh, Arthur, don't leave me alone, even for a moment! I am so
frightened!" she exclaimed, clinging to his arm. The name slipped out
in her terror, but she was quite unhinged, and noticed it not.
"Frightened? You foolish child," he answered, reassuringly; "there's
nothing to be afraid of now--Look. We can afford to laugh at the storm
here, and will be as snug as anything directly."
"But it's so dark, and--"
"Dark. Well, yes; unfortunately the last tenant forgot to leave any
candles for our benefit, which was uncivil of him, to say the least of
it. However, `the Heaven above' is kindly doing its best to supply the
deficiency, and we'll meet it half-way by starting a famous blaze."
So saying, he gathered together some old bits of board which lay about,
and, chipping them into small fragments, built up a fire well in the
middle of the room--for the fireplace was choked up with dust and fallen
bricks--and, lighting it, the flames darted up, crackling and
sputtering, and diffusing a genial and revivifying warmth.
"There. The smoke will go out through the thatch, and at any rate it
won't be worse than in a Kafir hut. You're not very wet, are you? No,
I thought my old poncho hadn't lost its cunning. And now you won't be
afraid to stay by yourself a minute while I look after the horses. It's
dark as pitch outside, and the brutes will be wandering Heaven knows
where if I don't make them fast at once."
He went out, and leading the horses round to the back of the house
proceeded to secure them in a sheltered place. While thus engaged a low
scream, emanating from the room he had just quitted, fell on his ear.
Left alone, Ethel drew the cloak tighter round her, and crouched over
the bright, dancing flames; but in spite of their cheery glow she
shivered. How long would it be before he came back? He had hardly been
gone a minute, and it seemed an age. Then a flash and a loud
thunderpeal made her start, and her face blanched, and she hid it in the
ample cloak, and cowered down in mortal dread. How long would he be?
Supposing the horses had strayed, and he had gone after them, and had
lost his way, and should be unable to find the hut again. Oh, horror of
horrors! if she were to be left alone there all night, alone, in the
silence of that deserted place--a silence only broken by an occasional
and mysterious rustle or creaking--and at the very thought of it her
brain reeled and sickened, and the muffled patter of the rain upon the
thatch sounded like the dull roar of many waters, and--Oh, Heavens! what
was that?
For a growl, as of some wild beast, fell upon her terrified ears. She
dared not raise her head, and again that grisly sound arose--long, low,
and menacing.
Opposite to where she sat was a doorway leading into another compartment
of the hovel. This was nearly concealed when the door by which they had
entered stood open, being behind it; but now that the entrance was shut
the gap yawned, dark and shadowy. And as Ethel glanced towards it, her
gaze fell upon two glaring eyes in the blackness beyond. Was she
dreaming? No, there they were--two scintillating green stars--their
awful gaze fixed upon her with a terrible stare. The blood curdled in
her veins; she tried to scream, but her tongue refused to fulfil its
office; her limbs shook, and had she been standing she would have fallen
to the earth prone as a log. And still that piercing, baleful stare
shone through the blackness--and--God!--was she going mad? Her heart
beat as if it would burst; every second was a lifetime; every pulsation
of her throbbing temples seemed like the blow of a sledge-hammer, and
her glance was fixed upon those terrible orbs with basilisk fascination.
Then the sound of Claverton's voice outside apostrophising the horses,
broke the spell, and she uttered the scream of helpless terror which
caught his attention.
Quickly, yet quietly, the door was opened, and he stood beside her.
"What is it?" he asked, in the calmest of tones.
"Look!" was all she could reply; but there was no necessity for
following the direction of her dilated eyes, for at that moment the
dreaded sound came through the doorway louder than ever.
"Oh!--That all?" he said. "Now, look here, child, don't be in the very
least afraid, there's nothing to be afraid of, and we'll soon put an
extinguisher on that. It's only some half-starved Kafir mongrel that's
got in." His ear detected fear rather than rage in the snarl which to
her overwrought senses had sounded so dread and menacing. He stretched
out his hand towards the gun, which he had placed against the wall on
entering. "Now, sit still, and don't be afraid," he reiterated; but
before he could bring it to bear, there was a loud yell and a rush;
something large and heavy sprang into the room, cannoning against his
legs, and nearly overturning him, then sped out through the half-open
door into the rain and the darkness, while poor Ethel, who had had as
much fright as she could stand, fell backward in a dead faint.
Quickly he held his handkerchief beneath the dripping thatch before the
door, and in a moment it was soaked through and through. Then,
supporting her head, he placed the cold wet bandage upon her temples,
and drawing forth his pocket-flask, which was about a third full of
brandy and water in equal proportions, he poured a little of the potent
mixture between her lips. A deep sigh of returning consciousness, the
long lashes unfolded, and the blue eyes looked wonderingly into his.
Then, with a start, she made as if she would rise, but he restrained
her.
"Don't be in a hurry," he said. "Take it easy for a little while
longer--there's lots of time."
She shivered. "Oh, I've had an awful fright! What was it?" she said,
with a shudder.
"Nothing. Nothing whatever, except that your too-lively imagination ran
riot with you. Anyhow, it's all right now, so what you've got to do is
just to keep perfectly still until I tell you to move. By-and-by I'm
going to read you a lecture."
"But you won't leave me alone again," she entreated.
"No, not as long as you do what I tell you!"
She was silent, for she felt very weak and helpless after her fright.
"Take some more of this," he said.
"No, thanks."
"But you must."
She obeyed him passively. Then revived by the invigorating spirit, she
sat up.
Her companion looked at her.
"Ethel," he said, "you're an awful little coward. You're worse than any
town-bred English girl, getting into such a fright about nothing--
absolutely nothing--upon my word you are. I shouldn't have thought it
of you, you know, I shouldn't, really."
He spoke in a serio-jesting tone of expostulation, not actually meaning
what he said, or that she had had no real cause for alarm. But he did
not want her mind to revert too much to what had happened; wherefore he
treated the occurrence as a mere hallucination. The line he adopted had
the desired effect, for a gleam of her old self shot from the blue eyes
as she answered:
"You had no business to leave me all alone, then. And, do go and see
that there's nothing in that other room."
"All right," and he got up to comply; but she followed him.
"I can't remain here by myself," she pleaded.
"Can't you? Well, but you see, you can't go with me. So we'll solve
the difficulty by fastening up both doors, and we'll make ourselves
comfortable here till that jolly old sun sneaks up again;" and in a
moment he had secured the doors, and was beside her again.
"But--I am so hungry," she laughed.
"H'm, that's unfortunate, because there's nothing to eat unless we fall
to on the stirrup-leathers. Wait a bit, though. By Jove!" He fumbled
in one of the numerous pockets of his shooting-coat, and produced a
packet done up in whitey-brown paper, which being unfolded, disclosed a
large and somewhat demoralised sandwich, considerably the worse for
wear. "Not a very inviting morsel," he remarked, surveying the battered
comestible. "Yet it may do at a pinch to keep the wolf from the door.
Though,"--he added to himself--"that amiable quadruped is likely to give
the door a deuced wide berth considering the mortal funk he was in when
he shot through it just now."
The girl laughed, quite in her old joyous, light-hearted way. "I should
think so," she cried. "We'll go halves."
"We'll do nothing of the sort," said her companion. "I'll give you ten
minutes, and if there's a crumb left of that antique sandwich by then
I'll--well, I'll go out again and see how the horses are getting on."
"But--"
"No `buts.' Really I'll go."
This awful threat was effective, and being ravenously hungry, Ethel
speedily made short work of the sandwich, protesting to the last against
the other's decision. But he was firm.
"Two people under one umbrella, both get wet," he observed,
sententiously. "What will feed one will starve two. I'm going to have
a pipe instead. Lucky that greedy beggar Jack didn't know I had any
more provender yesterday, or he would inevitably have cadged it. I had
forgotten it myself till this moment."
"I wonder what has become of the others," said Ethel.
"Safe at home, long ago. They'll think we went back to Van Rooyen's,"
he replied.
"But we might, you know; the storm seems to be over now."
"Not to be dreamt of," answered he, decisively. "It's pitch dark, and
raining in a way that would set the patriarch Noah spinning yarns about
old times if he were with us. We should be wandering about the _veldt_
all night, instead of being snug by a good fire."
"I suppose so," acquiesced the girl, "and, do you know, I'm getting so
sleepy."
"Glad to hear it," was the reply; and placing one of the saddles near
the fire, Claverton arranged a corner of his ample cloak over it so as
to form a pillow. "Lie down here," he said, "you can imagine yourself
in a railway carriage or anywhere else that's infamously uncomfortable;"
and as she obeyed he wrapped the cloak well round her, and returned to
his former place.