Elvesdon was seated at a table within an open tent, together with his
clerk--a table littered with official books and documents. He rose
quickly at the sound of horse-hoofs and went forth to welcome the party.
"Thornhill--how are you? Miss Carden--you are taking on a fine healthy
sunburn--and as for _Diane chasseresse_--why words fail."
He had taken to so nicknaming Edala since the bushbuck hunt and she
seemed rather to like it. They laughed, and after a little more banter
Thornhill said:
"Had any bother with the people, Elvesdon?"
"Not a grain. They've all paid up right willingly. It's when we get to
Babatyana's place that we may find trouble."
"Where is the dance to be held, Mr Elvesdon?" said Evelyn. "Here?"
"Why not? It's as good a place as any. I'll ask Tongwana."
He called to the old chief, who was seated on the ground among a small
group a little way off. Tongwana came forward, and saluted Thornhill,
and there was a lot of talk and banter.
"I have not seen thee since the day of the `king of serpents' my
father," the latter was saying.
"_Whau_! that was a great day, and a great snake," chuckled the old man.
"So that's the big chief?" commented Evelyn. "He doesn't look
particularly dignified."
"He's very old," explained Elvesdon. "But whatever he looks he's all
right. He and Zavula are the best men in authority we've got." Then
turning again to the old chief, "What has become of Zavula, my father?
Three times have I sent for him, and it is said that he is lying sick."
"I had not heard that, _Nkose_. But I am growing old. The young men
toss the news about from one to the other; but we old ones--_au_! It is
good night."
"It's rather a rum thing, Thornhill, but I'm not quite easy in my mind
about old Zavula. He came to the office to tell me a very queer story
the last time I saw him, and every time I ask after him they say he is
sick."
"H'm!" said Thornhill, drily.
"He's such a straight old chap too. Now I think we can shut up shop--
you ladies would like tea, I know, before the fun begins."
It was the middle of the afternoon, blue and cloudless. The camp was
pitched upon a slight eminence, the ground falling away, grassy and
open, on either side. Crowning another eminence less than a mile away
stood Tongwana's kraal--its numerous huts forming a circle after the
Zulu fashion, though not surrounded by a ring fence, and near it, along
a bushy ridge, stood several lesser kraals. In the clear stillness of
the air the voices of their denizens and the occasional barking of dogs
is distinctly borne hither.
"You'll see something now, Evelyn," said Edala. "A Kafir dance is no
end exciting. I always long to join in."
"How many will take part in it?"
"Oh I daresay Tongwana can turn us out a couple of hundred at a pinch,"
said Elvesdon. "Perhaps more."
Already dark forms converging in groups upon the chief's kraal seemed,
by their numbers, to give colour to the last statement.
"More, I hope," pronounced Edala.
The police escort, who, with Prior, were to convey back the proceeds of
the collecting, had saddled up and were all ready to march, when one
trooper stepped forward, and saluting Elvesdon begged to be allowed to
remain and witness the dancing. He was a fresh-faced intelligent
looking young fellow, probably not long out from home. The magistrate
could see at a glance that he was a `gentleman ranker.' He seemed so
eager and earnest about it that Elvesdon said:
"Very well, Parry. You can stay. Any objection, sergeant?"
"No, sir."
The boy's face flushed with delight. He had read plentifully about this
sort of thing--in fact such reading had had largely to do with bringing
him out to the country at all. Now he was going to see it--to see the
real thing.
Soon arose from Tongwana's kraal a weird, long-drawn cry. By this time
the chief and every native in the immediate neighbourhood of the camp--
except Elvesdon's servants--had disappeared. The cry was echoed, then
taken up by many voices till it tailed off into a kind of strophe-like
chant. Then from the distant kraal a broad dark stream was issuing, its
blackness relieved as it drew nearer, by many a patch of white.
Suddenly the chant changed to a lower key, and its sombre thunder-notes
harmonised to the measured tread of the marching warriors.
These, for their parts, offered a perfect spectacle of wild
picturesqueness. Each and all had discarded any article of European
clothing, and were arrayed in the fantastic, if spare adornments of
native apparel; the _mutya_ of cat-tails and cow-hide, beads and
bangles, jackal teeth necklaces, flowing tufts of cow-hair, and other
gimcrackery of the kind. Then too, the points of bright assegais
gleamed wickedly in the sunshine, and the variegated faces of broad
shields, lent colour to the wild array.
The column advanced, marching four deep. The rapping of assegai hafts
against shield sticks, beat a weird accompaniment to the war-song,
which, now risen to a deafening roar, ceased, with a suddenness that was
almost startling, as the whole array spreading out into crescent
formation, halted, and flinging the right hand aloft, shouted, as one
man:
"Amakosi!" ["Chiefs!"]
"They ought to have given the _Bayete_, to a representative of
Government--confound their cheek!" murmured Elvesdon, who was filling
his pipe. "That's the salute royal, you know, Miss Carden."
"Oh, it doesn't matter," was the answer. "They look grand--grand, but a
little alarming. Still I'm so glad we came."
"Don't know about a couple of hundred," remarked Thornhill. "More like
six or seven."
Now again the song and dance was renewed. So catching was the latter
that the European spectators found themselves beating time with their
feet. The stamping of the excited warriors shook the earth, sending up
long streams of yellow dust into the sunlit air. Young warriors would
dart from the ranks, and leaping nearly their own height from the ground
volley forth a torrent of words as they went through an imaginary
pantomime of their prowess, their eyeballs white and rolling, seeming to
burst from their faces, the flash of their bright blades like zig-zagged
lightning. Then, with an appalling roar, the crescent extended itself
on either side, and charged full speed up to the spectators hemming them
now in a complete circle. Evelyn Carden gave a little cry of alarm and
she felt herself growing pale.
"It's all right. It's part of the show," said Elvesdon reassuringly,
puffing at his pipe.
"Is it? Well, it's rather startling," she answered, reassured however,
by the fact that the rest of the party, including Edala, remained
unmoved.
There certainly was something horribly real about it. Six or seven
hundred frantic savages, worked up to the wildest stage of excitement,
hemming you in in a dense impenetrable circle of dark musky bodies and
waving blades, roaring like wild beasts and vociferating that the said
blades should shine white no longer, but red--red, may easily become a
situation somewhat trying to the nerves, especially to those of the
other sex. Then, suddenly, as if by magic, the uproar ceased. The
warriors saluted again, then crooning a low toned, rather plaintive
sounding chant, dropped back to their original position. Here they were
harangued by an orator, his periods being greeted by an expressive hum.
When he ceased, the whole body gathered up its weapons, and moved
swiftly away over the veldt--this time in silence.
"Curtain on Act One," said Elvesdon. "We'll stroll up now to yonder
ridge. We are going to see a sham fight, or rather a surprise. They
are about to attack and capture somebody's kraal--I couldn't catch his
name--over the other side, and make it as much like the real thing as
possible. I and old Tongwana arranged it all this morning. The last
harangue was with the object of bucking up the fighting men. So let's
get on."
"It's a splendid sight, sir," said the young police trooper diffidently,
as they walked. "I'm no end grateful to you for letting me see it."
Elvesdon turned to him good naturedly.
"Yes, it's an interesting show, isn't it, Parry? By the way, you might
add to your pay by knocking up a description of it for one of the home
magazines--or even two. The native question is likely to come very
prominently before the British public soon."
The young fellow flushed.
"I had thought of doing something of the kind," he said.
"All right. And if you want any information in addition I'll give it
you--of course if it's a kind I can give," added Elvesdon, with a
meaning laugh.
On reaching the ridge they looked down upon another kraal in front of
them. Its inhabitants were loafing about over their usual avocations or
lack of such, in apparent ignorance of the black destruction that was
about to overwhelm them. But of the assailants there was as yet no
sign.
Elvesdon who had been chatting a little further with the young Police
trooper was somewhat behind the party. Then he became aware of the
presence of a native--an old man--who, squatted under a bush, was
apparently hailing him. He stopped. The old man with shaking fingers,
was fumbling in his bag, to produce therefrom--a letter.
Such a letter, dirty, greasy, enclosed in a common looking envelope,
addressed moreover, to himself, in a sprawling, uneducated hand.
"Who gave you this?" he asked.
"That I know not, _Nkose_. One of the people."
Elvesdon was about to open it--but just then there were signs of renewed
activity below. The attacking impi was getting into position. He
thrust the envelope into his pocket. It would keep. It was only some
ill-spelt scrawl written by some half--educated native making excuses
for not coming to pay his taxes. He was often the recipient of such.
Of course it would keep. Then he rejoined the party.
"Come along, Mr Elvesdon," cried Edala, excitedly. "They are going to
begin."
"They won't really kill each other, will they, Mr Elvesdon?" asked
Evelyn, with some real anxiety.
"They seem to get so carried away, you know. What if they should come
to blows in real earnest? No, but that could not be, could it?"
He hastened to reassure her on that point. The whole programme was that
of a wonderfully dramatic and realistic show got up for their
entertainment. If she chose to let her imagination go, why that would
only add to the excitement--to her--he appended, with an easy laugh.
He stole a glance at Edala. She was standing a little apart eagerly
watching the manoeuvres beneath, a slight flush of excitement in her
cheeks, and the expressive eyes wide and interested. He had
deliberately come to the conclusion that it would be a difficult and
dreary thing to go on living without her, and yet how would she look at
it? He knew that she liked him, but he wanted her to do a great deal
more than that. In all probability however, she in the brightness of
her youth looked upon him as quite an old fogey. Well, he must make
some opportunity of putting it to the test. Why not do so this evening,
on the way home? Yes, he would; yet it was with some sinking of the
heart that he realised that the test would probably break down.
"What can you be thinking about? You look quite worried."
Edala had turned to him as he joined her, with wonder in her eyes. Here
was his chance had they been alone together.
"I am, rather," he answered in an undertone. For a moment her glance
rested full upon him, then turned away.
"They are beginning down there," she said.
The impi beneath was on the march, and they could trace its course,
pouring upward through grass and bushes towards the doomed kraal. Then
suddenly its stealthy advance changed into a swift charge, the while its
lines extended, throwing out the terrible outflanking `horns,' and with
a mighty roar it hurled itself upon its objective.
The kraal was in a state of indescribable confusion; men, women and
children pouring forth helter-skelter from the only side left open. In
vain. Here, too, those terrible horns closed up, and there ensued a
scene of discriminate massacre, to the accompaniment of the most
diabolical shouts and hisses. The spectators could scarcely believe it
was not real. Evelyn Carden's face had gone quite white, and even that
of Edala looked disturbed.
"What awful creatures!" said the former. "Mr Elvesdon, are you sure it
isn't real? I can hardly believe it."
"No--no. It's not real. But it's marvellously well counterfeited."
"It's too dreadful. I don't think I care to look at it any more."
"Well, look at this. They are retiring now."
The impi had formed up, and, raising a mighty song of victory was moving
away from the scene of the mock massacre. Down through the valley it
poured, with a movement that was partly a march and partly a dance, and
the deep-toned thunder-notes of the triumph song rose to a pitch of fell
ferocity that was rather terrifying, so realistic had the whole thing
been.
Elvesdon suddenly remembered the letter which had been given him; and
now that the show was over he thought he might as well investigate it.
But the first glance at the scrawl which he unfolded made him start.
This is how it ran:
"Mr Elvesdon, resident Magistrate.
"Sir,
"You are a good man. I not want to see you hurt. I not want to see
Christian ladies hurt. I am Christian too. Get your party away so
soon as you ever can.
"I not give my name--but--do.
"Remember Mr Hope."