No, it was not to last. Something seemed to break the spell--and that
with the same magical suddenness wherewith it had come about. A roar of
rage arose, terrible in its menace, thundering upon the stillness of the
night. Many had run swiftly back to the huts, and now I could see them,
and others, swarming forward, and in the moonlight the glint of
assagais. They had returned to arm themselves.
It was a fearful moment. Every nerve within me thrilled, tingled, as
revolver gripped, I half-turned my horse, to check, if possible, the
onrushing mass. In a moment we should be cut to pieces. We were but
two--two against hundreds. Nothing could save us. But Beryl, whose
eyes were never removed for so much as a second from her august captive,
whose weapon never deflected from straightly covering his form, cried
out--
"The first spear thrown means the death of Kuliso!"
Her tones, clear and incisive, rose above the wild, bass hubbub of
furious voices. A dead silence succeeded, even as before, and the
forward rush became a foot's pace. For they knew that she would keep
her word.
Never shall I forget that scene, and assuredly it was one to stand forth
in a man's memory for the remainder of his life: the tall form of the
savage chieftain stalking sullenly before that pitiless weapon; the
resolute, ruthless figure of that beautiful yet terrific avenger of
blood, sitting erect as she paced her horse forward with firm,
controlling hand, and I, half turned in my saddle, with pistol pointed
at the following-on crowd of exasperated barbarians.
This seemed effective, and they paused somewhat. Whether it was that
they feared for Kuliso or themselves, or both, they forbore to rush us,
and thus, with the crowd still following, but at a respectful distance,
we gained the high "neck," beyond which lay our own valley.
And now, behind us, a weird, low, long-drawn cry arose. It seemed to
float along the midnight veldt, caught up, echoed forth, from point to
point. Was it a rallying cry? If so the whole location would be
aroused and upon us, and--what then? Yet at that moment my mind held
but two thoughts--admiration for the intrepidity which had prompted and
carried out this undertaking; the other the sense of a compelling force
which was stronger than myself--that force, Beryl.
"Oh, keep straight on, Kuliso," said the latter. "Do not stop, do not
turn your head, or my bullet is certain to crash through the back of it.
You know I never miss."
The chief muttered savagely to himself, but he dared not disobey. Then
he said--
"Has not our walk lasted long enough, _Umlungase_? Because, if so, I
would prefer to return home."
"There are two who will never return home, Kuliso. Soon there will be
three," came the answer.
"_Hau_! This is very dark talking--too dark. I know not what is
meant."
"You are a liar, Kuliso," replied Beryl calmly. "A great chief of the
House of Ndhlambe is a great liar. Ha! Do not stop. Again I warn
you--do not stop."
I thought that moment was Kuliso's last. That terrible merciless look,
which had temporarily frozen down, gleamed forth anew on Beryl's face.
I caught my breath. But again the instinct of self-preservation was
stronger than his natural exasperation, and he stepped forward with
renewed alacrity.
"We shall never get him in to Fort Lamport, or anything like as far," I
said, as the road thither lay but a short space in front of us. "He'll
be rescued, or give us the slip long before."
"I don't intend to take him to Fort Lamport, or anything like as far,"
she answered shortly.
"But--where then?" I asked, thoroughly mystified.
"I am going to take him to look upon those he has murdered. Then I am
going to shoot him dead--there, at the place where he has murdered
them."