"They'll be roasting that poor devil of a preacher instead of me, I'm
afraid, up yonder."
But Xuvani was not of this opinion. The councillors always liked to
stand well with the missionaries, he said, and this one would probably
be released. Besides, there were plenty of mission-station men among
the Gaikas--Dukwana, for instance, who was a real preacher himself, and
several others--who would be sure to find an opportunity of letting the
missionary go; which piece of information would have set at rest any
misgivings Claverton might have had upon the subject, though, in truth,
he had none, simply not having given it a thought until that moment. As
for Xuvani, that unregenerate old heathen, though he understood and
practised the virtue of gratitude so well, yet it was patent that the
sacrifice of a hecatomb of missionaries would have inspired him with no
compunction whatever.
"Do you remember giving water to a wounded man after the burning of the
Great Place in Gcaleka-land, and watching over him while the Fingo dogs
went by?" suddenly inquired Xuvani.
"Yes."
"That was Tambusa."
Claverton whistled.
"What on earth was he doing up there?"
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"Yes, it was," he said. "Whaow! Lenzimbi. You must be a wizard,
indeed," went on the old man, when he had listened to the recital of
Claverton's miraculous escape over the cliff, and his subsequent
capture. "That storm must have been brought up on purpose for you, for
nothing in the world else could have saved your life when the chief gave
the word for them to burn you. And, even as it is, I could not have
saved you--I and Tambusa--if you had not blinded the eyes of that dog
Mopela. If he had known I was about he would have smelt the game and
rendered it impossible. Now he is half-dead himself."
It was indeed miraculous, thought Claverton. He had been brought
through this with a purpose. The web of Fate was nearly woven.
"Xuvani?" he said. "You have saved my life, and a great deal more this
day. Now, be advised by me. Leave this business, you and Tambusa, and
go away quietly into the colony until it is all over. You are bound to
come to grief if you remain in it. Then, when things are ship-shape
again, you shall see what my gratitude is."
"_We_ have paid our debt," replied the old Kafir. "Lenzimbi was always
open-handed. Some day we will come and ask him for a few cows to give
us milk, when all our cattle have been taken. If we come into the
colony now, Government will hang us for having fought."
"Not a bit of it. At most you would get a few months' imprisonment,
and, perhaps, I could obtain a free pardon for you. Then we will talk
about this day, and you will be none the worse off for it. You know
me--that is enough."
The rain had ceased and the clouds were parting, and now, through the
widening patch of blue firmament, the rising sun began to dart his
warming beams upon the saturated earth, and all the joyous freshness of
early morning was around. A few days earlier, and what exultation would
have thrilled around this man's heart, snatched as he had been from a
horrible death, and restored to a world of light, and joy, and gladness;
but now he had a task on hand which precluded any such thought--the
accomplishment of his fell purpose of vengeance. After that--well, the
future must take care of itself.
"Look!" exclaimed Xuvani, pointing to a column of smoke arising from a
hollow about three miles off. "There are your people. Now go. You are
safe."
"Come with me, Xuvani," urged Claverton, earnestly. "Not a soul shall
harm you, I pledge you my life. I shall be better able to repay you,
then--and--"
His words were cut short by an interruption as sudden as it was
alarming. A volley of six or eight shots in rapid succession was poured
into them, and several yellow faces simultaneously came into view,
peering from behind the bushes to mark the effect. Fortunately the
bullets whizzed harmlessly overhead and around, though perilously near.
"Cease firing, men," thundered Claverton, throwing off his native
disguise and standing erect and commanding. The well-known voice had a
magic effect. With a shout of delight the astonished Hottentots,
disregarding all dangers--past, present, and to come--leaped from their
cover and crowded round their former leader; for it was into the midst
of his old levy that Claverton had walked.
"Allamagtig, Kaptyn!" cried old Spielmann--his erewhile favourite
sergeant. "Why, how did you manage to get away? We thought those
devils of Kafirs must have roasted you," and the old fellow's wrinkled
parchment face was puckered up like that of a monkey, as he grinned from
ear to ear in his delight, and the others were none the less loud in
their expressions of gratulation. Meanwhile, Claverton looked around
for Xuvani, but he looked in vain. The Kafir had disappeared.
"Where's the other nigger?" cried a loud, harsh voice behind them.
"What the devil were you fellows about to let him escape? After him--
directly. Bruintjes--Spielmann! Damn it--don't stand staring at me!
Do as I tell you--d'you hear?"
Claverton turned--and stood face to face with Ralph Truscott.
"At last!" he said, with a cool, sneering smile. "At last. Twice we
have met before. The third time's lucky."
The other started and changed colour visibly.
"Who the hell are you, sir?" he exclaimed, in a loud, arrogant tone.
"Better be a little more civil, I can tell you!"
"Oh, you know me well enough," was the answer. "Well enough to estimate
me at the value of about one hundred pounds. Not very much, is it?"
Truscott turned ashy white.
"Bah?" he cried, insultingly. "I think I do, and I think I know where
the shoe pinches. Now be advised, my good fellow, and cry off that
bargain. It isn't for you, I tell you. I was in the field long before
you were; I'm in it now, and in it I intend to remain--by God!"
There was a quick, panther-like movement, a spring, and a half-smothered
imprecation, and Truscott staggered back half-a-dozen paces, reeling
beneath two straight-out hits from Claverton's clenched fists. With an
awful execration, something between a yell and the roar of a wild
animal, he recovered himself, and, with his livid features working
violently, dashed at his assailant. He was the taller and heavier man
of the two, as well as the stronger, but he had lived hard, whereas the
other was in splendid order--quick, supple, keen of eye, and dangerously
cool, notwithstanding his deadly wrath. Half blinded by his own rage,
like an infuriated bull, Truscott rushed upon his adversary, drawing, as
he did so, his revolver from the holster hung upon his side. But before
he could bring it to bear it was struck violently from his grasp, with a
blow of the heavy Kafir stick, and, quick as lightning, that terrible
"one--two," straight from the shoulder, met him in his onward rush, and
this time stretched him, half stunned, upon the ground.
"Coward, as well as liar, thief, and murderer!" exclaimed Claverton, his
voice shaking with suppressed fury, as he thought of all the ruin
wrought by his foe's unscrupulous malice. "I suppose even you would
like to settle this as soon as possible. You know where to find me.
I'll be ready at any time."
"Shoot him. Do you hear? Shoot him down! Fifty pounds to the man who
shoots him dead!" foamed Truscott, raising himself, half-dazed, upon his
elbow. "Do you hear, men, God damn you, or are you all in a state of
mutiny?"
Claverton laughed coldly.
"I don't imagine any of them will lay themselves out to earn the money,"
he said. "They are not quite such fools as their leader. But I repeat,
Captain Truscott, that you will know where to find me, unless you prefer
to let well alone, that is, and console yourself with thinking over the
thrashing you've just had."
"Wait, my fine fellow," replied the other, between his set teeth. "I'll
riddle that carcase of yours for this morning's business. I used to be
able to shoot pretty straight, I can tell you."
"Yes? Glad to hear it. We'll have some tall practice presently. Till
then--so long!" and, with a mocking nod, Claverton turned and walked
away in the direction of the camp, while the Hottentots, who had stood
aloof, awe-stricken witnesses of this unexpected and stirring incident,
hastened to raise their discomfited chief. Their sympathies, however,
were all with the enemy; for Truscott, since he had had the command of
Claverton's old corps, had rendered himself exceedingly unpopular--as
much so, in fact, as its former leader had been the reverse; and now--
though by reason of their ignorance of the English tongue they failed to
understand what the row had been about--they mightily but secretly
rejoiced over its issue.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Great and terrible was the hubbub which prevailed in the temporary kraal
of the Gaika chief as soon as it became known that the white prisoner
had disappeared. And the circumstances which led to this discovery were
as follows.
Obedient to the instructions of his uncle, Tambusa had not stirred from
the hut which had constituted Claverton's prison-house, so as to allow
the two to get clear off without running the risk of exciting alarm. At
length, towards morning, the young Kafir began to think he might fairly
take steps to ensure his own safety. Accordingly he stole forth from
the hut--not quickly, and of set purpose, but with apparent reluctance
and rubbing his eyes as if he had just woke up--this in case any prying
glance should be watching his movements. All was still, though there
was just a sign of the coming dawn discernible in the east, and with his
blanket over his shoulder and his assegais in his hand, Tambusa walked
swiftly through the group of huts in the direction of the bush, when, as
ill-luck would have it, he was hailed, and by one of the men who had
been mounting guard over the prisoner the night before.
"Where are you going to?" asked this man.
"Oh, I shall come back in a moment."
"I'll just go and look at the prisoner till you do, then," was the
reply. "He oughtn't to be left in the charge of only one man."
"No, don't do that," promptly rejoined Tambusa, whose heart sank within
him. "Xuvani is there, and he'll be very angry with me. He doesn't
know I've gone out."
"Never mind. He won't hurt you," said the other. "I'll tell him I met
you," and he walked straight towards the hut. Could it be that his
suspicions were aroused? Was there something in Tambusa's mien that
betrayed him? Anyhow, the latter's safety now would depend on the use
he could make of the very brief start allowed him by the time his
interlocutor would take to reach the hut--that, and no more.
Opening the door, the man bent down and looked in.
"Xuvani!" he called.
No answer. Perfect stillness. Not even the regular breathing of a
sleeping man broke the silence. For a moment the savage shrunk from
entering, his superstitious soul fearing the spells of this redoubted
white sorcerer. Then his loud cry of alarm roused the sleeping kraal.
Dark forms came hurrying out of their huts, half expecting to find
themselves attacked by the enemy; but quickly grasping the cause of
alarm they gathered round their countryman.
"The white man--the prisoner! Where is he?" was heard on all sides.
Quickly one of the Kafirs made his way through the crowd, a box of
matches in his hand. Striking one, he peered into the gloomy interior
of the hut. It was empty.
"Treachery, treachery!" he shouted. "The prisoner has disappeared!" and
the cry was taken up by the crowd, which glared inquiringly around, as
if in search of some trace by which to follow the fugitive.
"Where is Tambusa?" cried the man who had first raised the alarm. "He
is the traitor--he has released the white man--he was here a moment
ago--where is he now?"
He might well ask. Tambusa, it may be readily supposed, had lost no
time in following the prisoner's example. He, too, had disappeared.
Then again the wild, thrilling cry of alarm rang out through the forest.
It fell upon the ear of the devoted young Kafir, straining every nerve
to make the most of that brief start, and it seemed to peal forth his
doom. There was no lack of spoor to guide them in their pursuit of him,
his fresh footmarks in the muddy soil were only too apparent to all; and
away started two score of fierce warriors upon his track. The fugitive,
husbanding his strength, dashes along at a swift, easy run, intending to
gain the white man's camp. There at any rate he will be safe; but he
knows full well the fate in store for him should he fall into the hands
of his fierce countrymen, for has he not just been guilty of what in
their eyes is an act of treason of the blackest dye? On, on; the young
warrior is lithe and agile, and in splendid training, and it may be that
he will distance his pursuers yet. But those horrid whoops are
resounding from many a hill-top, and with fatal effect, for the
attention of the five Kafirs whom Xuvani and his charge met not long
since, is attracted thereby, and, with the quick suspicion of their
race, they put two and two together. So, as poor Tambusa comes flying
down the narrow bush-path, five dark forms spring up panther-like in
front of him, effectually barring his progress. On either side is the
thick tangled bush, almost impenetrable. He is lost; the pursuers are
advancing rapidly upon his rear, and his road is barred. Disregarding
the warning voices of those in front of him, the hapless youth bounds
off the track and plunges into the tangled thorny brake. He is on a
rock; below and in front of him lies a deep, stony ravine all overhung
with trailers, a tiny stream trickling down its funnel-like depths. Ha!
It is his last and only chance. But at that moment two reports ring
out through the forest. With a groan poor Tambusa sways, and then
topples heavily forward into the bed of the rivulet ten feet beneath;
and his fierce pursuers rushing up, find only a corpse. He has escaped
the most terrible side of their ruthless vengeance, to wit, hours of
frightful torture; but he has lost his life--rather has he given it
devotedly in exchange for that of the man who has twice already saved
it.
So there he lies, this young hero--a naked savage, but a hero for all
that--dead among the ferns and rocks beneath the mass of foliage and
trailing creepers, which the sun's rays can scarcely penetrate, slain by
his own countrymen. He has given his life in satisfaction of the debt
incurred and the promise made long ago--given it in exchange for that of
his benefactor--"a life for a life."