"No, thanks; I must be moving on."
"Won't you, really? Do."
"No, thanks. But I say, Marshall, when are you coming over our way? We
haven't seen you for about ten years. Come on Sunday."
The other filled and lighted his pipe. "Well, the fact is, I've had a
lot to do of late," he replied at length, between sundry vigorous puffs.
"And then, you see, I'm a rough sort of feller and haven't got any
company manners, and now you've got company. Perhaps, after all, I'm
best here."
"You surly old humbug," said Payne, with a laugh, "I never heard such
bosh. You come up on Sunday at latest, or we shall quarrel. Call
yourself a neighbour, indeed! Now you'll come, won't you?"
"I'll try."
"All right, that's settled. Ta-ta;" and mounting his horse Payne rode
off.
Gradually the long smooth slopes became steeper, falling off into abrupt
ravines, affording a glimpse of the Great Kei, which glided along, far
down between its lofty banks--now winding round a smooth-headed knoll,
now straightening as it washed the base of some huge wall of rock--a
distant musical murmur being upborne upon the still air as it rushed
over a stony shallow. From the far plains beyond, many a blue column of
smoke rose into the sunshine, where dotted about lay the clustering
kraals of the savage Gcalekas, whose hordes, even then, were gathering
for the long-expected and somewhat dreaded inroad upon the peace of the
colony. A bird sang in the thick thorn-protected brake adjoining the
path, a white vulture or two soared lazily from one of the huge krantzes
overhanging the river, insects hummed in the sunlight, and it seemed as
if nothing but the savagery of man could avail to break the peaceful
calm of that glorious scene, amid which Payne pursued his way wrapped in
uneasy thought; for in spite of his sceptical tone when talking to
Marshall he felt by no means the assurance that he would have had that
worthy believe.
His horse suddenly pricked up its ears as the sound of deep voices
immediately in front became audible, and in a moment three tall,
savage-looking Kafirs, their athletic bodies smeared from head to foot
with red ochre, advanced down the path at a run, swinging their kerries.
Now the said path was, just there, only wide enough for a single
horseman, being shut in on either side by high thorn-bushes, and Payne
naturally expected the pedestrians to make way for him. They, however,
had no such intention, and his steed began to show signs of terror at
the sudden appearance of the brawny, ochre-smeared barbarians, with
their gleaming necklaces of jackal's teeth rattling as they advanced.
"Out of the way, you vagabonds," shouted Payne, angrily. "Out of the
road; d'you hear?" and he raised his whip menacingly.
"Aow! Out of the way yourself, _umlungu_!" [white man] insolently
replied the foremost Kafir in his great deep tones, at the same time
seizing the bridle and trying to jerk the horse's head round. "We won't
get out of the way for you."
Payne's whip descended, the lash curling with an angry "swish" round the
naked body of the speaker.
"Take that, you hound!" he cried. "And now let go." And he clubbed his
whip to strike with the heavy loaded end.
"Haoo-ow! Hah!" roared the savage, dropping the bridle and stepping
back a pace or two, while the lurid lightnings of wild-beast wrath shot
from his eyes. Then he sprang at Payne like a tiger-cat, aiming a
sledge-hammer blow at him with his heavy stick.
Fortunately for Payne he managed to throw up his arm in time to save his
head, or he would have fallen to the ground, brained by the terrific
force of the blow. Fortunately, too, for him, his adversaries carried
no assegais, or he would there and then have been stabbed through and
through and his body flung over the adjacent cliff into the Kei, for he
need expect no mercy from such foes. The land was almost in a state of
war, and brutal outrages of this kind were only too terribly common. He
made a furious blow at his opponent with the butt of his whip, but
ineffectively, for at the moment of striking he felt himself seized by a
powerful hand and dragged from his horse, which backed into the bushes
terrified and snorting. Then nearly stunned by the fall he lay upon the
ground, and the sky and earth and foliage all went round in one giddy,
sickening whirl, and still he could see the gigantic figure of the
savage, who, with glaring eyes and white gleaming teeth, was advancing
upon him with kerrie upraised to strike, and he lay there, powerless
even to avoid the blow. In a second it would fall, when--woof!
something descended through the air, a large dark object darted between
him and the sky, and his enemy fell heavily to the earth. He heard the
clash of kerries in strike and parry, a fierce imprecation, and the ring
of a pistol-shot; then he knew no more till he awoke to consciousness
with some one bending over him and fanning his brow.
"Don't move," said the stranger. "Take it easy a little longer, and
then you'll feel better."
Payne looked wonderingly at the dark sun-browned face bent over him,
with the calm, resolute, blue-grey eyes and clear-cut features, and it
seemed to him that he had seen the owner of it before.
"Oh, I feel all right now," he said, raising himself upon one elbow and
then sitting up. "A little muddled, you know, that's all."
"I venture to say that our friend here, feels `a little muddled,'"
remarked the other, pushing with his foot the form of a prostrate Kafir.
Payne stood up, rather giddily, and recognised his assailant in the
inert, motionless mass.
"I say, though, but the brute isn't dead?" he said, with just a tinge of
concern, bending over the fallen savage.
"He isn't dead. A stirrup-iron properly handled is a grand weapon; but
Kafir skulls are notoriously thick. The chances are a hundred to one,
though, that yours would have been split at this moment, had that
individual carried out his amiable little programme just then."
"Of course--I was forgetting. You saved my life. Why, what an
ungracious dog you must think me!"
"And I could have dropped the other two so nicely in their tracks,"
continued the stranger, as if he had not heard Payne's remark. "They
both came at me with their kerries; but directly they saw this,"--
producing a revolver--"off they went. I wanted to fell another chap, so
I didn't trot out the barker at first, till they began to think they had
it all their own way, and pressed me so hard that I was obliged to.
Lord, how they streaked it off!"
"But you did let drive, didn't you? At least, I thought I heard a
shot."
"Yes, I did. Couldn't resist the temptation; but just at the moment it
flashed across me how infernally near civilisation we were, and it's a
ticklish moment just now. The authorities would think nothing of
running us in and making scapegoats of us, swearing we had brought on
the war, you know, or something of that sort. So I just blazed over the
fellow's head, to give him a bit of a scare, otherwise I could have
dropped the pair of them--oh, so sweetly! But how did it all happen?"
Payne told him.
"H'm," said the other, reflectively. "We could run this fellow over to
the gaol if that would be any satisfaction to you, and if you cared to
go through the bother. But then, unfortunately, you struck the first
blow, as you couldn't have helped doing--and the result would have been
the same in any case--and the chances are some pettifogging attorney, or
meddling missionary, would take up the scoundrel's case and turn the
tables on you. So that's out of the question."
"Shall we bring him to?" asked Payne.
"A few slashes of your whip would do it if you're anxious on his
account; if not, let him lie."
"Poor devil, he seems to be in bad order," said Payne, inspecting his
late foe, who lay with the crown of his head cut and bleeding, exactly
as he had fallen beneath the blow of the stirrup-iron, and breathing
heavily. "I'll take his kerries as a trophy, anyhow." Moved by a
sudden impulse, he glanced narrowly at the stranger, a man of apparently
about his own age, or not far from it; and it still seemed to him that
the dark, handsome face, and determined eyes, no less than the rather
mournful ring in the quiet voice, were familiar to him.
"Well, then, we'll be moving," continued Payne. "My place isn't far
from here, and of course you are going with me. Don't say no, for I
insist upon it."
There came an amused gleam into the other's eyes, and he stroked his
long, brown moustache once or twice to conceal a smile. "There's no
need to insist," he said, "because it so happens that that was my
original intention. The first thing I meant to ask you, when you came
round, was the way to George Payne's; but it would be rather superfluous
to ask it of George Payne himself, wouldn't it?"
"What! Why, good heavens! Who the deuce are you? We've met before
somewhere, I'll swear!" said Payne, looking at him in a puzzled manner.
The other broke into one of his long, quiet laughs, as if hugely
enjoying the situation, as he steadily returned the puzzled, inquiring
gaze. "Don't you remember that refreshing row close to De Klerk--that
time you were coming from the gold fields? Hang it, it wasn't much more
than two years ago!" Payne burst forth into a mighty expletive--a thing
he very rarely did. "My dear fellow, this is a piece of luck! And I
never recognised you! But you were bearded like the pard then, you
know; and, another thing--my head must have been spinning round, for I
felt an awful whack. Of course. So it is! Why, I ought to have
recognised you by the neat-handed way in which you dropped that nigger,
if by nothing else! That's the second time you saved my hide," and he
seized the hand extended to him, in a mighty grip.
"Well, these niggers were tougher customers than those four swaggering
Dutchmen, when all's said and done. I haven't been in a good honest row
for a long while. It does one good."
Mounting their horses they moved off, taking a farewell glance at the
place where the fallen savage still lay at full length, though he began
to show signs of returning consciousness. And the still sunshine glowed
in all its former calmness, as though no fierce and deadly struggle had
just occurred to mar its peace.