"I suppose you couldn't tell me where to find a man named Halse, could
you, Mrs Shelford? He lives somewhere in this country."
The pretty and popular hostess of the Nodwengu Hotel at Ezulwini looked
up quickly from her plate. So did several others seated at table.
"Yes," she answered, a little surprised. "Do you know him, then, Mr
Denham?"
"Well, in a sort of a way," was the answer. "That is, I've heard a good
deal about him, and was rather interested to make his acquaintance."
Now the expression "heard a good deal about him" raised a covert smile
on more than one face round the table.
"Ben Halse lives up in the Lumisana district," answered the hostess.
"But it's an out-of-the-way place, and not easily got at."
"All the better. I like out-of-the-way places. They're so jolly
interesting. That's why I pricked out a cross-country course here."
The speaker was a tall man, broad-shouldered and well set up, with a
square, intellectual head; fair, clear-eyed and self-possessed, and
might have been in the late thirties, i.e. in his very prime. He had
arrived at Ezulwini the evening before, on horseback, and his baggage
for the present consisted of what that unreliable animal could carry
strapped across the saddle.
"By the way," said another man at the table, "I heard something about
Ben Halse being due here just about now. Heard anything about it, Mrs
Shelford?"
"No."
"Perhaps he's going to the opposition shop," said the other
mischievously.
"He can if he likes," was the crisp retort. "Only Ben Halse and
ourselves have known each other all our lives, so I don't think there's
much fun in that remark."
"That's all there was in it, anyhow," was the answer. "Now I think of
it the report came through some of the police."
"Now, Mrs Shelford, you mustn't say it," cut in another man, in mock
warning, he, incidentally, holding rank as Inspector in that useful
corps.
"Say what?"
"That they are always `talking through their necks.'"
"Wait till I do," she retorted, with a laugh, the fact being that she
was exceedingly popular with the police, rank and file, and had two
brothers in it. "Well, what about Ben Halse, and where had they seen
him?"
"At his own shop."
"Who were they?"
"I'm not sure. Meyrick, I think, was one."
"Well, if it's true it'll save you a journey, Mr Denham," she said.
"I'll hold on here for a day or two, then, and see. I'm in no violent
hurry."
He was inclined to do this in any case. There was a homelike
friendliness about these people among whom he had dropped only the night
before, which very much appealed to him. Eight or ten of them would
gather at table three times a day, and there was not one among them with
whom he had not some idea in common. Most of them, too, had been in the
country for years, and he had sat quite late into the previous night
listening to some of their experiences--experiences narrated with no
tom-fool idea of "cramming" a stranger, but, if anything, set in rather
too matter-of-fact a frame, at least so it had struck him. And in the
said capacity of stranger each and all had laid themselves out to show
him courtesy.
Breakfast over, the other boarders went off to their respective
avocations, and Denham, lighting a cigar, strolled outside. It was a
perfect morning. The sky was a vivid, unclouded blue, the sun, though
hot, was not oppressive, and there was just sufficient stirring of the
air to make against sultriness. At the back, dropping abruptly from the
compound itself, was the first of a series of densely forested kloofs,
whose tumbled masses of dark foliage seemed to roll like the irregular
waves of a sea, and beyond, just glimpsed through the golden haze, a
range of green, round-topped hills rose on the skyline. Immediately at
hand a non-indigenous profusion of trees and hedges, giving bosky shade
to the snug bungalows and official buildings which constituted the
township.
Denham, strolling leisurely up and down the broad, clean-swept garden
path flanked by its red lines of Jerusalem thorn, was inclined to think
that his lines had fallen in pleasant places. Over and above the beauty
of the surroundings and the exhilaration of the clear and ambient air
his naturalist soul had already begun to find interest in the unfamiliar
birds and insects, which fluttered or crept. Bright butterflies
alighting coquettishly upon the rose-blooms, the clumsy "whirr" of some
ungainly beetle, winging blindly for nowhere in particular, all these
were strange to him, and opened out a vista of boundless interest; but
what he looked forward to was getting farther into the haunts of strange
birds and beasts. He felt light-hearted as a school-boy just escaped
for his holidays, lighter-hearted than he had felt for years.
A strange insect motionless upon a rose-stem attracted his attention.
Deftly he captured it by the back of the neck, and holding it lightly
but firmly proceeded to examine it. The stick-like joints jerked and
struggled slightly, but on the whole the captive seemed to accept the
situation with philosophy. So absorbed was he in the examination of the
"specimen" that the steps of his hostess, tripping down the garden path
behind him, were unheard.
"Beetle-catching, Mr Denham?" she laughed, becoming alive to his
present occupation. "What have you got there?"
"It isn't a beetle. It's a fine specimen of the `praying' amantis.
They are the most hypocritical scoundrels in the insect world. They
stand for hours motionless in an attitude of intense prayer, ready to
grab the first butterfly or anything else that comes in reach."
"Ugh, I don't like crawling things," she laughed. "But I suppose you
collect them, do you?"
"Yes; but I shan't keep this one," replacing it upon its stalk, where it
at once resumed position as if it had never been disturbed. "Why, you
do look workman-like," as he took in the kind of long, artist blouse
which she had got on over her dress. "As to which I couldn't help
admiring your energy--here, there and everywhere--while taking my own
lazy stroll."
She laughed again. "You have to be, if you want to keep a place like
this on the go."
"Well, I must say, as far as I've seen, the result is a success."
"Oh, thanks. Well, if you're not always looking after these boys
they'll shirk. You don't know what Kafirs are, Mr Denham."
"Not yet. I doubtless shall--in time."
"Are you out here for long, then?"
"Well, that depends. In fact, I don't know what it depends on," he
added, with a laugh.
"That's fortunate. It must be jolly to be able to go about as you like.
Wouldn't _I_ like it! But what I came out to tell you was that
Inspector James sent round to say that he'll put you up at the club as
an honorary member if you'll meet him there at twelve. You were talking
about it this morning, weren't you?"
"Yes; that'll be very kind of him. I'll be there. Where is it, by the
bye?"
"Right opposite the Court House. Any one will tell you. It's only a
small affair, of course, but you'll meet every one there, and it's handy
if you're here for a few days to have somewhere to turn into and see the
papers. Well, you must excuse me, I've got lots more to do this
morning." And she left him.
Denham, going forth presently, could hardly realise, as he strolled
along the broad macadamised road fringed by tall eucalyptus-trees and
high hedges, through which were glimpsed snug bungalows embedded in
flowering gardens, that this was in the heart of what he had always
supposed to be a savage country. Yet in even his brief experience he
had had opportunity of knowing that in parts still it could be a very
savage country indeed. A gang of native convicts, in their white prison
dress--undisfigured, however, by the abominable broad arrow--passed him,
in charge of three or four native constables; the latter, stalwart
fellows in their smart uniforms of dark blue and red, each with a pair
of handcuffs in his belt and armed with very business-like assegais.
These saluted him as they passed. Then one or two groups of native
women, mostly with bundles on their heads. These did not salute him.
This was obviously the Court House. He had time to spare, so decided to
investigate it. Several natives, squatted outside, gazed curiously at
him, but they, too, saluted him. The white man's rule seemed pretty
well established here at any rate, he thought; in which connection he
also thought of a strange experience or two of his own in this very
country, which contrasted with this show of law and order.
The rather bare room seemed dim and cool in contrast to the glare
outside. The magistrate looked up, and seeing a stranger, courteously
signalled him where to find a seat. There were only trivial cases that
morning, and except the court officials Denham was the only white man
there. A few natives at the back of the room stood listening to the
proceedings! or not finding these interesting enough crept noiselessly
out. Denham, to kill time, followed the evidence as it was interpreted
by the clerk, and heard the prisoner fined for not paying his dog tax,
and the succeeding one sent to gaol for deferred payment of his hut tax,
and metaphorically rubbed his eyes. Here was the white man's rule with
a vengeance. Witness box and dock, gaol and fine, where a few years
back, comparatively speaking, the spear-and-shield armed impis swept, in
all the bravery of their war array. A touch on the shoulder interrupted
his meditations. Looking up he beheld Inspector James.
"Didn't find you at the club," whispered, the latter. "Shall we go over
now?"
"It's a curious contrast," began Denham, when they got outside, "all
this law and order in a country with the traditions of this one."
"Well, it's an improvement for these devils, anyhow," was the answer.
"Where we fine them a pound or so Cetywayo would have had them knocked
on the head, and I'm not sure his way of doing things wasn't the best."
"You don't like them, then. Now it struck me some of these chaps with
the head-rings on were rather fine-looking fellows."
"Damned scoundrels, if you only knew as much about them as we do!" was
the somewhat sour reply.
"They seem civil enough, anyhow."
"Just here they are, because they've got to be. But they are not
everywhere. In fact, they are getting more cheeky every day. It's just
possible you may have come up here in time to see some `scrapping'."
"Well, I'll take a hand if there's any going. What's up?"
Inspector James had suddenly stopped. A Zulu was approaching them down
the road, a tall man, ringed, and clad in a long overcoat.
"There's one I'd like to have by the heels," he said. "He's up to no
good, I can tell you."
The man saluted as he passed them, and then astonishment was in store
for Denham. To new arrivals the faces of natives are very much alike,
but the face of this one he had good reason to remember. He knew, too,
that the recognition was mutual.
"Who is he, then?" he asked.
"Oh, he's a sweep from Makanya way; but we've got an eye on him."
"I mustn't try and get behind police secrets," laughed Denham. But the
sight of that particular native set him thinking. Among other things he
had reason to think that the Inspector's estimate was very likely a
correct one.
The Ezulwini Club was somewhat primitive, consisting of a corrugated
iron building containing three rooms, the smallest and most important of
which was the bar. Here they found two or three other members to whom
Denham was duly introduced, and the usual libations were poured out. At
this stage the door was darkened, and a tall man entered.
"Hallo! Blest if it isn't Halse. How are you, Halse?"
"How's yourself, Starmer? And you, James?" and there was general
handshaking all round. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he went on, as
Denham's introduction was effected. Then, to the native bar-tender,
"Mabule. Set 'em up again. Here's luck."
"He's staying at our shop, Halse," said James, "so you'll be able
to-stroll back together. I shall have to be a bit late, I'm afraid. So
long."
"Well, it's time we did stroll back, then," said Halse, looking at the
clock. "I just thought I'd drop in and see who was alive or dead.
Ready, Mr Denham?"
"Quite."
"I was a good bit surprised to get your letter saying you were actually
here," began Ben Halse, when they were outside. "I'm rather of a
cautious disposition--suspicious, some folks call it, but it's the
upshot of experience, so I avoided any reference to our ever having
heard of each other before."
"I'm afraid I've given the show away, then, Mr Halse, for only this
morning I was asking them at the hotel where you were to be found."
"Ah, well; it can't be helped. Besides, it doesn't greatly matter."
Denham had been sizing up this new--yet not new--acquaintance, and the
process took no time at all. His impression, at first sight, was
altogether a favourable one. They had been in correspondence together--
had done business together--for quite a long time, and often had he
speculated as to the up-country trader's individual personality. One
thing was certain--the man beside him had always been as
straightforward, in all their dealings, as any one could be.
"I've got a rare record head for you now, Mr Denham," went on Ben
Halse. "A koodoo bull. Just as I'd got it, I got your letter, saying
you were here. I thought I'd drive in, and if you care to come and stay
out at my place a bit I'm sure you'd find a lot to interest you. It's
precious wild and also a bit rough, but if you can put up with that,
you're very welcome. By the way, don't say a word to any one here or
anywhere else about the head. The Lumisana's a royal preserve, and
there's a hundred pound fine for shooting anything there without a
permit."
"By Jove! is there?" answered Denham, his interest kindling. "I'll keep
dark, never fear. I shall be delighted, though, to take up your invite.
Here we are at the Nodwengu."
"_Amakosi_!"
It was the same Zulu Denham had noticed when with Inspector James. Him
Halse now stopped, and began conversing fluently in his own tongue.
"You'll have to pick up the lingo, Mr Denham," he said, as the man went
on. "You'll find it mighty useful."
"And mighty difficult, I expect," laughed the other.
In the verandah of the hotel a girl was standing. Denham looked at her
with furtive interest. He had certainly not seen her there since his
arrival.
"This is my daughter, Mr Denham," said his companion.
"How do you do, Mr Denham?" she said, putting forth a hand. "I seem
more than half to know you already through the post."
Such a straight, frank, welcoming hand-clasp; such a straight, frank
glance of the hazel eyes. Denham acknowledged the introduction with
outward composure, but inwardly he was perturbed. What a splendid girl!
he was thinking. He had no idea that Ben Halse owned a daughter; in
fact, had never given a thought to anything of the kind. And then the
trader's cordial invitation seemed to take on an entirely new aspect.
If his first impressions of the father had been entirely favourable,
precisely the same held good with regard to the daughter.