Sergeant Meyrick and First Class Trooper Francis, of the Natal Police,
were riding at a foot's pace along the rough and sandy waggon track
which skirts the Lumisana forest, and they were proceeding northward.
Both men were excellent samples of that efficient corps: young,
athletic, hard as nails. Neither was of colonial birth, but had been
some years in the force, and by now thoroughly knew their way about.
To-day they were doing a patrol, for which purpose they had started from
their isolated station the previous afternoon and had camped in the
veldt towards midnight. A thick mist, which had come down during the
small hours, blotting out everything, had delayed their morning start.
Now it had rolled back, revealing great bushy Slopes, and rocks shining
grey and red in the moisture, which moisture the sun was doing his best
to parch up.
The two men looked thoroughly smart and serviceable in their
khaki-coloured uniforms and helmets, each with a regulation revolver
slung round him in a holster, but no rifle. Their mounts were wiry,
hard-bitten nags of medium height, and in good condition.
"I'm still puzzling over that shot we heard," Meyrick was saying. "Why,
it seemed to come from bang in the thick of the bush; but who the deuce
would be letting off guns right there at that time of night. No nigger
would go in there then for a bribe. It's too much _tagati_. They funk
it like the devil."
"_Tagati_! I should think so," laughed Francis. "I still don't believe
it was a shot at all. I've a theory it was a sort of meteorite
exploding. Seemed to come from up in the air too."
"Sound travels the devil's own distance at night. What if it was beyond
the forest belt? There are kraals out that way."
The other was unconvinced.
"Sound does travel, as you say," he rejoined. "But for that very reason
no blooming nigger would lash off a gun in the middle of the night to
give away that there was such a thing in existence among the kraals. An
assegai or knobkerrie would do the trick just as well, and make no noise
about it. No, I stick to my meteorite theory."
"Right-oh! It's going to be damned hot," loosening his uniform jacket.
"Let's push on or we shan't get to old Halse's by dinner-time, and he
does you thundering well when you get to his shebang. Whatever they may
say about old Ben, he's the most hospitable chap you'd strike in a
lifetime."
"Isn't he a retired gun-runner--if he _has_ retired, that is?" said
Francis, who was new to that part of the country. "At least so the yarn
goes."
"The said yarn is very likely true. There are `no witnesses present,'
so I don't mind recording my private belief that it is. But there's
this to be said--that when he did anything in that line it was only when
the niggers were fighting each other, and in that case he rendered
humanity a service by helping to keep their numbers down. I don't
believe he'd trade them a single gas-pipe if they were going for us.
I've a better opinion of old Ben than that."
"Don't know. I haven't been up here so long as you; but I've heard it
said, down country, that gun-running gets into the blood. `Once a
gun-runner, always a gun-runner.' What-oh! Suppose Dinuzulu were to
start any tricks, wouldn't our friend Ben see his way to making his
little bit then?"
"I don't believe he would; and what's more to the point, I don't see how
he could. But I say--hang gun-running. Don't you get smashed upon his
daughter. She's a record of a fine girl."
"So I've heard from you chaps until I'm sick. You all seem smashed on
her."
"By Jove! She can ride and shoot with any of us," went on Meyrick,
rather enthusiastically, which caused his comrade to guffaw.
"I don't freeze on to `male' women," he said.
"You just wait until you see her," was the rejoinder. "Not much `male'
about her."
"What a chap you are on the other sex, Meyrick. What's the good of a
fellow in the force, with no chance of promotion, bothering about all
that. Much better make ourselves jolly as we are."
"Good old cynic, Frank," said the other. "Wait till you see Verna
Halse, and I'll bet you get smashed. Nice name `Verna,' isn't it?"
"Don't know it's anything out of the ordinary. But cynic or not, here
we are, a brace of superfluous and utterly impecunious sons of two
worthy country parsons, bunked out here to fish for ourselves. You'll
be made a Sub-Inspector soon, you've got it in you. I shan't, and I
haven't. So I'm not going to bother about `skirt.'"
They had reached the spot where the tongue of forest points off onto the
road edge and there ends. The ground was more open here.
"Hot as blazes!" commented Francis, swabbing his forehead. "What's
this? _Au! Gahle--gahle_!"
The latter as three native women, squatted in the grass by the roadside,
stood up to give the salute, the suddenness whereof caused the horses to
shy. In the grass beside them lay several bundles such as native women
often carry when passing from place to place, only these were unusually
large.
The two police troopers fired off a humorous expostulation--they had
both qualified in their knowledge of the Zulu for extra linguistic pay--
and passed on their way. The track grew steeper and steeper, and the
sun hotter and yet more hot. They would soon be at Ben Halse's store,
with the prospect of an excellent dinner and a welcome rest before them.
And behind them, in a contrary direction, laughing to themselves,
travelled the three women they had just passed, bending under the burden
of the loads poised upon their heads--the said loads containing each a
goodly quarter of koodoo meat, of the meat of the lordly koodoo bull,
the possession of which would have entailed upon them, and upon all
concerned, if detected, the direst of pains and penalties. Yet there
was nothing suspicious-looking about those bundles, nothing to make any
reasonable being under the sun think it worthwhile investigating their
contents.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I wonder what sort of a man this Mr Denham is, father?" said Verna, as
she stood, in the middle of the morning, watching the cleaning and
preparation for preserving the great head, which was being effected by a
native under the critical supervision of his master.
"Quite all right," was the answer. "He pays down on the nail, or
rather, by return mail; never haggles or votes the prices too long.
It's all I can do to resist the temptation to put them up."
"Well, then, go on resisting it, dear. I'm sure it'll pay in the long
run," said the girl decisively.
"Yes, I've always had an instinct that way myself. Denham gives
thundering good prices as it is, and, I tell you, we've made a pretty
good thing out of him."
"But I wonder what he's like personally," went on Verna. "I wish you
hadn't lost that photo he sent you when I was away."
"Yes, it's a pity, but for the life of me I can't think what the devil
became of it. He was a good-looking chap, though, and I should think by
the look of the portrait, a fine, well-built chap too. Well, we shall
probably never meet. It's certain I shall never go to England again,
and he's not likely to turn up here."
"I suppose not."
"Well, long live our trade together, anyhow. He'd give anything, by the
way, for a good specimen of the _indhlondhlo_ [Note 1], but they've
become so jolly scarce, which is just as well. Anyhow, that's a beast
that isn't affected by these cursed silly game laws. But it's a sort of
joker you don't get a chance of killing except with a charge of
buckshot, and that spoils the skin."
"Well, then, it's better left alone. I've always heard they are the
most fiendish brutes to tackle. It isn't worth throwing away one's life
for the sake of a few pounds more or less."
"Few pounds more or less!" echoed Ben Halse. "Why where would I--where
would _we_--have been if I had always run on that notion? Little girl,
it's for you that I want to screw out every penny I can, no matter how I
do it. For _you_."
"Then knock off doing it, dear, especially in some directions. That
won't bring me any good, to put it on that ground. Now that deal with
Undhlawafa is off, dead off? Isn't it?"
The last rather anxiously.
"Well, I don't know--yes, I suppose it is," somewhat undecidedly.
The girl shook her head.
"Of course it is," she returned. "It's not to be thought of for a
moment. We are not in dire need, remember, though even then such a
thing would be out of the question. Yes, quite off. My instinct has
been right before, remember."
"So it has. No, I shan't touch this affair. They'll have to get
somebody else."
"_Nkose! O' Nongqai_!" [The police.]
Both started. The interruption came from the trader's other boy, who
had slipped into the yard in a state of some consternation.
"Where, Panjani?" said his master.
"Down yonder, _Nkose_," pointing to the lower country. In a moment both
were outside and in front of the dwelling.
Far below, on the plain, which looked humpy from this altitude, two
mounted figures were approaching. There was no need to get out a
field-glass; the native eyesight, as well as their own, was keen enough.
But the two arrivals could not arrive for the best part of an hour.
Ben Halse went calmly back to the yard, and further directed the
preparation of the great head, with its record horns. Then, rubbing a
lot of salt and pepper into it, he covered it with a waggon sail.
Verna, watching this proceeding, was struck with a sudden thought.
"Father, what about the koodoo sirloin I've got on the roast?" she said.
"Keep it there till it's done. They won't know it from beef. Howling
joke, eh?"
"Rather," she laughed. "They'll all unconsciously aid and abet us in
breaking the laws of Cetywayo's country."
The police horses were toiling up the slope, then standing with heaving
flanks in front of the store. Their riders were not sorry to dismount.
"Well, Mr Halse, how goes it?" cried Meyrick, shaking hands. "Miss
Halse--why, you are looking better than ever since those two dances we
had together at Ezulwini."
"Oh, thanks," laughed Verna. "But that's a poor compliment. You ought
not to have allowed the possibility that I could look better than ever."
"Sharp as ever, anyhow," retorted Meyrick. And his comrade broke into a
guffaw.
"This is Francis," he introduced, "commonly known in the force as Frank.
It's shorter, you see, and means the same thing. Now we all know each
other."
"Not got your step yet, sergeant?" said Ben Halse. "Thought you'd have
been Sub-Inspector next time I met you."
"Don't chaff, Mr Halse. It's a sore point with me. The powers that be
are so dashed ungrateful."
"Well, anyway, come inside and have a refresher after your ride. I'll
send my boy to off-saddle for you. Scoff will be ready directly."
"We kept it back on purpose when we saw you toiling up there beyond
Lumisana," said Verna. "If the sirloin is overdone it's due to that."
"Sirloin! By Jove! that's royal!" cried Meyrick. Whereat Verna laughed
mischievously.
Assuredly Ben Halse's _menage_ kept up its reputation for hospitality,
thought these two guardians of law and order, as they sat there doing
full justice to the result of the midnight poaching expedition.
"Why, this beef is A1," pronounced Meyrick, beginning upon a second
helping. "You couldn't get anything like it even in Old England."
"I'm sure you couldn't," assented their host, with a touch of dryness,
while Verna's eyes danced. "The bottle's at your right elbow--help
yourself. What's the latest from down country, by the way?"
"All sorts of yarns. They are brewing _up_ for a row in Natal. There's
a sweep called Babatyana inclined to make trouble. Now, Mr Halse, you
ought to be an authority. If there's a bust-up there do you think it'll
spread up here?"
"Sure to. But, to what extent is another thing."
"How does feeling run in these parts? Sapazani, you know, doesn't carry
a particularly good reputation."
"Depends on how it's handled. By the way, if I were you I wouldn't name
names," for the boy had just come into the room to change the plates,
and the swift look of interest that had flashed across his face as he
caught the name of his chief was not lost on the experienced up-country
man. "This boy here belongs to his tribe, and he'll connect his chief's
name with the police uniform. See?"
Meyrick felt small, and said so.
"Did he hear? What an idiot I am. Well, Mr Halse, you were chaffing
me about the Sub-Inspectorship, but it's obvious I'm not ripe for it
yet."
Ben Halse passed it off with a tactful and consolatory remark, and they
talked about other things. Not until afterwards did it occur to Meyrick
that his host had given him no information whatever on the subject of
the loyalty of Sapazani.
"He's got some cheek, that same party whom we won't name," said Francis.
"He flatly refused to salute his magistrate with the `_Bayete_' when he
went to see him--hailed him as `_Inkose_' instead; said the `_Bayete_'
was the salute for kings."
"He's about right," said Ben Halse. "There's a precious deal too much
of that `_Bayete_' joke going along. Every waggon-builder's apprentice
seems to expect it. What did Downes say? I'd like to have been there."
"He nearly died of rage. Then he asked Sapazani, rather sneeringly,
which king he would give the `_Bayete_' to, and the answer was, `Any
_king_,' which was rather smart. Downes talked of arresting him for
treating his court with insolence, but there were only three of our
chaps in the place, and Sapazani had a following with him big enough to
have captured the whole show, even with kerries, so he chucked that
plan."
"Well, he was wise there," said Ben Halse. "There's no law in existence
here or anywhere else I know of, that compels a native to address his
magistrate as `Your Majesty,' which is what giving him the salute royal
amounts to. And this particular chief--to name no names--is quite
knowing enough to get hold of a lawyer to stick up for him. There's
more than one that would be glad to, and could do it too."
The fact was that the speaker knew all about this incident as well as
did the narrator--and a good deal more connected with it which the
latter didn't, but this he kept to himself.
"Sapazani is a great friend of ours," said Verna; "but I should think
he'd be quite capable of making himself disagreeable if he was rubbed
the wrong way."
Then they talked on, about other things and people, and the afternoon
wore on. Suddenly Meyrick was seen to start as if he had been shot, and
to grope wildly and hurriedly in his pockets.
"I'm most awfully sorry, Mr Halse, for being such a forgetful ass," he
said; "but I forgot to give you this"--producing a letter. "Two of our
chaps came back from Ezulwini and brought it out."
"That's all right. I dare say it isn't a matter of life and death," was
the characteristic answer. But the speaker's face was not wholly
guiltless of a look of astonishment as he saw the envelope; and this was
evoked not so much by the sight, of the handwriting as by the fact that
the missive had never been through the post. While his guests were
saddling up he quickly mastered the contents, and his astonishment did
not decrease.
"How should you like a run down to Ezulwini, Verna?" he said, after the
police had gone.
"To Ezulwini?"
"Yes; perhaps to Durban."
"I'd like it a lot. Makes a change. I'm quite jolly here, but still, a
change bucks one up a bit."
Her father smiled to himself. That letter had given him an idea which
tickled him, for he had a very comical side.
"But what's on?" she said. "Are we clearing out? Has it become time
to?"
"No, no. There's no row on--as yet. That'll come, sooner or later, all
in good time. Only business."
"Oh! What kind?"
Verna was so completely in her father's confidence in every department
of the same that there was no inquisitiveness underlying the query.
There was a joke in the background of this, however, which he was not
going to let her into. It would keep.
"What kind?" he repeated. "Oh, general. I say, though, Meyrick and
Francis are nice chaps, aren't they? but, good Lord! their faces would
have been a study if they could have seen through that heap of waggon
sail in the yard that was staring them in the eye through the window all
the time they were scoffing the other bit of the owner of that head,
which was browsing away in Lumisana this time yesterday. Eh? Beef!
Roast beef of Old England! That was killingly funny. What?"
"Yes, it was," rejoined Verna, who was gazing after the receding figures
of the police, growing smaller and smaller on the plain below. "Still,
the mistake was excusable. There's not much difference between either.
When are we going to Ezulwini, dear?"
"H'm. In a day or two."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. A snake of the _mamba_ species, which grows to a considerable
size, very scarce, and with a proportionately bad reputation.