Now I, Kenrick Holt, who do this tale unfold, am not by nature an
especially intrepid animal, wherefore aught in the course of this
narrative which might savour of "derring do" had better be set down to
impulse, circumstance, or, generically, accident. Further, I have
elsewhere undertaken not to spare my own weaknesses, which for present
purposes may be taken to mean that the hideous assurance just conveyed
to me had left me very badly scared indeed.
In palliation whereof consider the position. In all human certainty the
morning light would see me as ruthlessly and as helplessly butchered as
the miserable sheep which had just furnished these black cut-throats--
and incidentally myself--with an evening meal. A ghastly and horrible
fate, in sooth. It might remain shrouded in mystery, even as the
ruffian had said, but that was a mere supplementary detail which could
be of no subsequent interest to me.
Rescue? That could hardly be. Brian, at any rate, would not desert me.
But he could hardly follow up the spoor in the dark; even if he did not
credit me with sufficient bushcraft to find my way back to them by some
other track, he would never be here in time, and if he was, why, there
were twenty or more to one. No, that would be a broken reed to lean
upon. Besides, it was more than probable that my late companions would
have their own hands full.
The vindictive ruffian who had felt the weight of my foot squatted in
front of me, grinning, and every now and then passing a hand across his
throat by way of reminder. At last he too grew drowsy, and began to
nod. Then he was quickly asleep.
Now I strove to pull myself together, and with an effort rallied my
shaken nerves. What was to be done? Not many hours of the night could
there be left. Could I free myself? My feet were not bound. Could I
not rise and, stepping lightly through the sleeping forms, gain the
outside and run for it? But this idea occurred only to be dismissed.
Unaided and without the use of my hands I could hardly climb down from
the place without meeting with a bad fall in the attempt. If I could
but loosen the bonds!
As to this I had been tied up securely, yet not tightly or painfully,
consequently felt little or no cramping sensation. Now after a few
minutes of careful working I managed to get my right hand free of the
lower coil of the thong. But no further could I get it because of a
loop, and this held the wrist firmly. I strained and tugged till every
muscle and joint seemed cracking, and my brain bursting, but--no
yielding. Then I paused to rest, and think out some other plan.
The fire was now a heap of smouldering red ashes, so that the place was
almost in darkness, which, though favouring my efforts, was all against
me should these meet with success. Then I would want a little light, or
was in danger of stumbling over one of the sleepers. Could I once free
myself and avoid this, my chances were fair, for Kaffirs are heavy
sleepers, and I might gain quite a good start.
But that English-speaking villain seemed possessed with a very demon of
unrest, for just then he got up and went over to the fire, trying to
blow it into a flame while he spread his black crooked claws over it for
warmth. At last he returned to my proximity, and after a good look at
me, he lay down again.
All this had taken some while, and it was a good deal longer before I
could make even the smallest move; and meanwhile time--precious time--
was creeping on. But during it I had been thinking, and thinking hard.
In the right hand pocket of my shooting-coat was a knife--a very
ordinary pocket-knife--which the rascals must have overlooked in their
eagerness to possess themselves of my cartridges. I knew it was there
still, for I could feel it. And my right hand, partially freed, could
all but reach it.
I tugged and tugged. All to no purpose. The _reim_ would not stretch a
quarter of an inch further. Then it occurred to me that if I could not
get my hand to my pocket, I might still get my pocket to my hand. The
ground where I sat was rough and uneven, and by worming myself against a
projection of rock I found I could do something in that direction. It
was tedious work--tedious and difficult. Twice the knife slipped from
my fingers, then at last I grasped it. Grasped it firmly. I was just
proceeding to prize it open, when my abominable sentinel moved--
stretched himself, snorted, and opened his smoke-filmed eyes. I lay
quite still until the brute had subsided again. Then the knife was
open.
It was not very sharp, and I had some difficulty in working through the
tough raw hide, but none, incidentally, in slicing my fingers over the
job; but for this I didn't care. I was now practically free. The
coils, cut through in several places, fell apart. Heavens! how the
blood surged through my whole being as I realised that escape was within
reach. But first of all I had got to make my way over those sleeping
forms, and, worst of all, over, that of my restless sentinel.
Now I was ready to make the attempt. Drawing myself cautiously up I
gently slid loose from the coil, and as I did so, the abominable
ruffian, uttering a muffled exclamation, started up too. But that was
all he did. Luckily I had practised a little in the boxing line, and
now I let him have it, full, fair and square--a hard, smashing,
knock-out blow under the jaw. It was delivered with battering-ram
force, and laid him out, flat, inert and absolutely noiseless.
The hammering of my heart, with the exertion and excitement, seemed loud
enough to awaken the other sleepers as I stepped, actually _over_ some
of them. One indeed moved, and I stood ready to administer the same
curative to him if he showed sign of waking up, but he subsided again,
and most of the others had their blankets over their heads. A moment
more, a tense, trying moment, and I stood outside in the open air; and
as I did so I noticed the first faint indication of dawn in the far
eastern sky.
The declivity was rough and stony, and the faintest clink or dislodgment
of a stone might be enough to rouse those within, wherefore it behoved
me to tread carefully. But even now, though temporarily free, which way
should I turn, for I had but the most rudimentary idea as to my
bearings? However, acting on my best judgment, I struck a downward
course, and then suddenly a horrible effluvium was wafted to my
nostrils.
I was standing upon the brink of a hollow in the heart of the thick
bush. The dawn was gradually lightening, and now, looking down into
this, I could see that it was thickly strewn with innumerable bones--the
bones of oxen and sheep. Two heads, unflayed and decomposed, stared up
from the white mass, the great branching horns looking spectral and
menacing in the uncertain light. Evidently this was the secret nest of
a daring and organised gang of cattle stealers.
While I was debating which way to turn, a sound fell upon my ears which
was as the first thrill of security, for it was the unmistakable whicker
of a horse. That meant Brian, if not all three of my late companions,
returned to search for me. Yet it would not do to make too sure,
wherefore as I took my way downward in the direction of the sound I did
so in silence, and soon had reason to bless my caution, for after a few
minutes of walking there lay before me a small kraal.
It consisted of three huts, whose inmates were probably fast asleep, a
thorn enclosure containing a few goats; but, best of all, tied to the
gate-post, were two horses. And in these I recognised the horse I had
been riding, and one of the stolen ones, by name Punch. To steal down
to the spot was the work of very few minutes. Still no sign of life,
not even a dog, luckily. Quickly I made my way to the horses. They
seemed to recognise me, and whickered again. The goats, too, stampeded
to the other side of the kraal. Would the noise waken those villains?
Quickly I untied the _reim_ which secured my own horse, and twisting a
bight of it into his mouth by way of an impromptu bit, I cut through the
_reim_ that held the other and mounted--of course, barebacked.
Punch at once laid himself out to follow his companion, as I knew he
would. But before I had gone a hundred paces I heard another whinny
behind. Looking back I beheld two more horses tied to a tree, just
beyond the kraal--and even at that distance I recognised Beryl's
favourite steed, Meerkat. They had been hidden by a projecting shoulder
of bush until now.
Athrill with excitement, for the first time since my capture I began to
enjoy the adventure. I would still redeem my pledge, and restore
Meerkat, so lost not a moment in turning back to release the other two.
But at the same time I saw something else. Following down upon the
track of my flight came two or three dark forms, then more and more. My
enemies had discovered my escape, and were hot foot in pursuit. I could
afford to laugh at them now, well mounted as I was, but--how about
Beryl's horse? I should hardly have time to reach it before the savages
would be upon me. It was simply a race as to who should get there
first.
I have known few excitements in life to equal that moment. The stripe
of running, leaping savages converging on my objective, the lithe,
ochre-smeared forms flitting through the dark green of the bush, the
gleam of assegais--and the closeness of the race. The ground was rough,
and riding barebacked as I was, and with only an impromptu bridle,
constituted a pretty severe test to my capabilities of horsemanship.
I was there. I leaped off my steed, cut the _reim_ which held Meerkat,
and twisting it into his mouth in the same way, mounted him--for I was
determined to save him, even if all the others had to be sacrificed.
Then I cut the _reim_ which held the other horse, and with all three
following me, I started back, just as the foremost Kafirs leaped from
the cover barely thirty yards away.
Mounted as I was, the odds were by no means in my favour, for as I have
said the ground was rough and, withal, the bush was thick. And now the
whole crowd surged forward, uttering strident hisses and ear-splitting
roars, intended to render my steed unmanageable and scatter the others--
and indeed how I managed even to stick on, let alone steer through bush
and over stones and shuts, I hardly know to this day. Something hit
me--something hard and heavy--behind the shoulders, but without effect,
the distance being too great. Twenty yards nearer and it would have
knocked me headlong, for it was a hard iron-wood kerrie hurled by no
unpractised hand, and as I pressed on, the three horses galloping on
either side, neighing and capering, but always keeping abreast, the
roars and whistles of the pursuing barbarians making the air hideous, I
felt that I was in for a very lively time indeed. But the worst of it
was that, thanks to the aforesaid roughness of the ground, they could
travel nearly as fast as I could, and more than once I looked over my
shoulder with something like despair as I saw how untiringly and
persistently they kept up the pursuit. At this rate my mount would soon
get blown, nor was I sure I was taking the right direction.
We were racing up a long stony slope, rather more clear of bush than
hitherto. Poor Meerkat was not in hard condition, and I was beginning
to regret not having stuck to my first mount. Then the bang of a gun
away on my left front scattered all reflections to the winds.
"This way, Holt! This way!" sang out a voice, and at the same time bang
went another shot.
As I proceeded to follow out Brian's injunction I looked round, just in
time to see a spurt of dust fly up very near in front of my pursuers,
where the bullet had struck. These had halted, and as just then there
was another bang, and another bullet fell rather nearer than the first,
they evidently concluded it was too warm, and began to drop down into
cover.
Brian was lying comfortably ensconced in a bush, inserting a fresh
cartridge. "I only shot to scare," he said, in his cool way, as I came
up. "They'll stop now."
"Are you all alone?"
"Yes. Came back to look after you."
"And jolly near too late you were, old chap, for if I hadn't managed to
slip my own cable, I'd have been lying at the bottom of an infernal hole
at this moment, with my throat cut from ear to ear. That's what was
sticking out for me at daybreak."
"So? Did you know those chaps were stalking you down when you started
back for the two remaining horses?" he said.
"Rather. I raced them for it. You see, I promised to bring back
Meerkat, and I'd got to do it. But--did you see that part of it?"
"_Ja_. Watched you all the time, but concluded that this was the best
place to effect a diversion in your favour. Well, Holt--you won't mind
my saying so--but you're no fool of an imported Britisher, and that's a
dead cert. I don't expect Trask would have come out of things in that
way."
"Oh, yes he would," I answered with cheerful magnanimity, for I was in
secret hugely pleased with myself--not from any innate vanity, but
because I should return to Gonya's Kloof with enhanced prestige. And
for certain reasons I could do with all the prestige I could capture,
just then.
We had fallen back on where Brian had left his horse. "You can have my
saddle as soon as we can get out of these kloofs," he said. "I expect
you'll get sick of riding barebacked sooner than I shall. At present we
needn't lose any time. The other horses? Oh, they'll follow us all
right. Later on we can lead them."
"This is a nice, peaceful country of yours, Brian," I said, as we held
on our way, for we saw no more of our late enemies. "If this sort of
thing happens in time of profound peace, may I ask what it's like in
time of war?"
He laughed.
"You may have a chance of seeing for yourself. Well, you have had an
adventure, so long"--for I had told him of the sort of night I had
spent. "You shouldn't have gone chevying on after those schepsels all
by yourself. I kept shouting out to you to come back, and you wouldn't.
I thought you'd soon give it up, and we had our own hands pretty full.
I started the other two off with the oxen, and came back to look for
you. Thought I'd find you'd only been spending the night under a bush."