A shot rang out, faint and distant, upon the slumbrous morning air.
"There's that young _schelm_ George at work," remarked Brian, raising
himself on one elbow to listen.
"At play, rather," I laughed.
"That's it. He's a jolly sight too fond of cutting school in favour of
a buck-hunt. The governor spoils him far too much. I wouldn't."
George's education at that time was effected through the agency of a
farm-school about seven miles off, whither he rode over five days per
week; in theory at least, for few indeed were the weeks out of which he
did not contrive to filch one extra day--not to help us in any work, oh
dear no, for he looked upon it as a distinct grievance to be required to
do any such thing--but to amuse himself. To-day he had started for the
Zwaart Kloof alone to try and sneak a bush-buck. But if the young
rascal was at play, Brian and I were tolerably hard at work; had been
rather, for we had spent the morning strengthening and repairing the
bush fence of one of our enclosures; and chopping mimosa boughs and then
beating them into place is a fairly muscular phase of manual labour on a
hot day. Now we were pausing for a rest.
But if it was a hot day it was a lovely one--lovely and cloudless. A
shimmer of heat lay upon the wide valley, and all the life of the veldt
was astir--bird voices calling far and near, the melodious hoot of the
hoepoe from the distance, the quaint, half-whistling, half-rasping
dialogue of a pair of yellow thrushes hard by, or the bold cheery pipe
of sheeny-winged spreuws flashing among the bush sprays. Insect sounds,
too; the bass boom of some big beetle rising above the murmuring hum of
bees, and the screech of innumerable crickets. In sooth, if our work
was hard, it was set amid exquisite surroundings, and, as though no
element of romance should be lacking, I thought to discern from time to
time the flutter of a light dress about the homestead, nearly a mile
distant beneath us, as though reminding myself, at any rate, that after
labour came recreation, which to me spelt Beryl.
No opportunity had I found for renewing the subject so ruthlessly
interrupted yesterday during our ride home, and now I was tormented by
an uncomfortable misgiving as to whether Beryl was not purposely
avoiding any such opportunity.
We got up from the grateful shade under which we had been resting, and,
hatchet in hand, started in on another spell, and for nearly an hour
were chopping and hauling, and banging the great mimosa boughs into
place so that the thorns should interlace with those already laid down.
Then Brian suggested we should go back to dinner, and return and finish
up when it was cooler, but before we could put this plan into execution
the trampling of hoofs was heard drawing rapidly near, at a pace that
was out of the way reckless and unnecessary.
"That's George," said Brian, "but if he's shot anything he hasn't loaded
it up. Hey! Hullo! What luck, George?"
The latter would have passed without seeing us. Now as he reined in and
approached us we saw that the boy's face was as white as death, and his
eyes staring with the most awful look of horror and fear.
"Man, what's wrong?" said Brian sharply, his own bronzed countenance
turning a kind of whitey-brown. "Not shot yourself, have you?"
"No, not myself--not myself," the boy managed to jerk out. And then he
broke into a wild fit of sobbing.
Brian's face grew still whiter.
"Is it somebody else, then? But you went out alone."
"Yes--I--I--I w-went out alone."
"George, pull yourself together, man. Whatever's happened; we're losing
time. Don't be an ass now. Tell us all about it."
This he managed to do; and a woeful and dismaying tale it was that he
spasmodically unfolded. Reft of its incoherencies--natural under the
circumstances--this was the sum of it.
He had reached the Zwaart Kloof, and having left his horse was
stealthily advancing to peer over the brink of a small krantz, beneath
which a bush-buck was sometimes lying. This time, instead of a
bush-buck there were a lot of Kafir boys larking about the kloof. He
told them to clear out, but, seeing he couldn't get at them immediately,
they were cheeky and laughed at him. So he pointed his gun at them,
calling out that he'd shoot the whole lot if they didn't clear--
intending, of course, only to frighten them--and then--how it happened
he could not for the life of him tell--but the gun went off, the heavy
charge of treble A simply raking the group. Two were killed outright,
for they never moved, and two more lay wounded and screaming. The rest
ran away, and he himself, reckoning that the best plan was to get help
as soon as possible, had started for home as fast as his horse could
carry him.
Such was the miserable story which the wretched boy managed to unfold,
and meanwhile we were walking rapidly towards the house.
"Oh, I never meant to do anything but scare them, Brian--I swear before
God I didn't!" sobbed the poor little chap, in an agony of remorse.
"Of course you didn't, George. We all know that. Here, give me the
gun."
"Take it--take it. I never want to touch a gun again in my life. Oh,
what is to be done? What will the dad say?"
Septimus Matterson did not "say" much, but the expression of his face
was as that of a man undergoing acute physical pain. Meanwhile Brian
had been thinking out a plan, which was to proceed at once to the spot
with two of the farm Kafirs, and see what could be done for the wounded
boys. Beryl volunteered to accompany him, but this he vetoed with his
wonted decisiveness.
"On no account, Beryl. You stay here--you'll be far more useful that
way. Now turn me out some bandages, and a flask of brandy."
This was done in a moment, and he was ready to start.
"No, no, Kenrick," he said, as I announced my intention of accompanying
him. "You must stay here too. Don't move from the house either. Do
you hear? It's hard to say what may happen, and you'll be wanted.
There's no telling what trouble this affair may stir up. You
understand?"
Then I did understand. The ominous significance of his tone sufficed
for that. But all attempts to convince him that his place lay here too,
were futile.
"Those who ran away will have obtained help from their own people by
now," I urged. But in vain.
The while Beryl was striving to reassure her young brother, and she had
all her work cut out for her, for the poor boy's remorse was dreadful to
witness, and to do him justice no thought of potential pains and
penalties hanging over his own head entered into this, which was
actuated by sheer horror of having taken life--several lives, for all we
could at present tell.
"It was pure accident, George, we all know that," she said. "And you
must do all you can in reparation. You will remember that, dear, won't
you, whatever happens."
"Oh, they can hang me if they like. The sooner the better."
"They won't do that, at any rate. It was an accident." And then Beryl
went on to soothe and comfort the poor boy, and the sweet magnetism of
her voice and words bore good effect.
This and more I overheard while discussing the situation with their
father.
"This is a most awful and deplorable thing to have happened, Kenrick,"
the latter was saying. "As soon as Brian comes back, and we know the
extent of the damage, I shall have to send into Fort Lamport and notify
the Resident Magistrate. The boy may even be sent for trial for
manslaughter."
"But the thing was a sheer accident. Surely they won't hold a kid like
that criminally responsible."
"There's no knowing what Shattuck'll do or won't do--he's such an
officious fool."
"Yes, he's all that," I agreed, having an acid recollection of the
demeanour of the official in question over such a trivial matter as
signing a firearm permit.
"He has a `down' on us farmers too, and will always favour a Kafir under
the Masters and Servants Act if he gets a chance. It's just the same in
stock stealing cases. They ought to have put him into some Western
Province magistracy. A man like that has no business on the frontier."
"I blame myself mostly," went on the speaker. "I ought never to have
allowed a young feather-head like George to go out alone with a gun.
The only thing is, I have always believed in boys learning to shoot as
soon as possible in a country like this. Even girls ought to. Beryl
can."
"Rather," I said. "Haven't I seen evidence of that?"
Septimus Matterson was looking worn and ill, and very anxious. He had
been ailing for some days past, and this deplorable eventuality had not
exactly gone towards setting him up. I remembered Beryl's remark about
her father's life not being a "good" one, from an insurance point of
view, and felt more than anxious on his behalf.
"You are not looking at all well yourself," I said. "Now, don't let
this affair get on your mind too much. It'll all blow over, depend upon
it."
"Oh, I'm all right, Kenrick. Don't you worry about me. I suppose Beryl
has been filling you up with some of her coddling notions. She wants to
coddle me, the dear girl--always telling me to take care of myself; and
so on. I pretend to take it all in, of course. Hallo! Wait a
minute--" he broke off.
He went outside, returning directly with a field-glass.
"Quite a lot of them," he said, handing it to me after a look down the
kloof. "We shall have trouble over this, Kenrick, apart from any
cussedness Shattuck may spring on us. I wish Brian was back again."
So did I, as I stood with the glass to my eyes. For a number of Kafirs
were coming up the kloof, some mounted but most on foot--the latter
coming along at a swinging trot to keep pace with the horsemen. And
that there might be no doubt as to their hostile intent, I could see
that all carried a couple of business-like kerries apiece, and not a few
of them assegais as well.
"Hadn't we better arm ourselves and barricade the house?" I suggested.
"No, no. We mustn't seem afraid of them. Still, there's no harm in
dropping a revolver into our right hand pockets, in case of accidents.
We'll talk to them here."
We went inside and quickly loaded a revolver apiece. At a word from her
father Beryl got down her own pistol, loaded it, and tranquilly pocketed
it. Poor little Iris was looking very scared, but was quite quiet.
"Keep these children entirely out of sight, Beryl," enjoined her father,
"and it'll be no harm if you don't show yourself during the _indaba_.
There may be a lot of bluster and talking big; but it won't come to
anything worse, so don't be scared, any of you."
"I wish Brian were here, father," said Beryl anxiously.
"So do I, but he isn't. And if ever you've known of a situation in
which Brian has proved unable to take care of himself, I haven't. He'll
be all right."
The dogs, which had been walking up and down outside, growling, now
broke into such a clamour as to drown all speech, and charged furiously
down upon the advancing Kafirs as the foremost came in sight round the
bend of the cattle kraal, and would hardly be called off, even by their
master's most imperative tones, aided by two or three kerries shied at
them by the newcomers, an act in itself significant of the ugly and
dangerous mood which was upon our unwelcome visitors.
"Seems as if we'd got the whole of Kuliso's location," said Septimus
Matterson, as we took in the crowd which was advancing upon us. The
kloof indeed seemed black with Kafirs. Those who had horses dismounted
as they came in sight of the house, and the whole body of them came
straight on with a fellness of purpose that augured the worst.
It was a tense moment. Our unpleasantness with the people at the kraal
on our way in pursuit of the stolen oxen was nothing to this for a
situation. There must have been hundreds and hundreds of Kafirs here;
hulking, ochre-smeared barbarians, some of gigantic stature, all with an
expression of menace and determination and ferocity upon their savage
faces. Others, too, were coming on in the distance to swell their
numbers. My hand was closed round the butt of the revolver in my
pocket. I looked at Septimus Matterson. He had not moved, and was
still standing, calm and undismayed, confronting the furious and
threatening rout.