They were about to start, when the Kaffir suddenly gave vent to an
exclamation, at the same time inclining his head in a listening
attitude.
"What is it?" asked Webster.
"Hush!" muttered Hume.
The Kaffir slipped away into the bush on the left, and Hume, with a word
to Webster, ran off to the right.
A moment later Webster heard the gallop of a horse, and rushed forward
with his rifle cocked, expecting he knew not what. Rapidly the
hoof-beats struck sharper through the air, there was a crash of
branches, a cry from the Kaffir, and a white horse cleared a bush and
drew up. His rider lurched forward, and would have fallen had not
Webster leapt forward in time. It was a slight boyish form he took in
his arms, but as he was stooping with his burden to the ground he saw
the face.
"Laura--Miss Anstrade!" he cried, trembling as he laid her head on his
knee.
"Have you stopped the horse?" cried Hume, as he darted up.
Webster held up a hand warningly, and Hume went down on his knees, and
the two of them, with white faces, gazed at the insensible figure.
Her short riding-habit was torn to shreds, her hands were scratched and
bleeding, and across her white forehead there was an angry red weal.
Her hat was gone, and the heavy plaits of her black hair had broken
loose from their bindings.
Presently, as they leant over her, half-paralysed by conflicting
emotions of joy, fear, and surprise, she opened her eyes, struggled to
her feet, and sprang to the side of the horse.
"Laura!" they cried.
"Ah, heavens, it is you. I thought--" She looked round wildly, then
fainted dead away.
"Look at her hands, how they have been torn," and Hume gently pressed
his lips to the fingers he held.
"Some water!" cried Webster.
"Yes, you run for the water;" and Hume passed his arm under the graceful
head.
Webster looked fiercely across at his friend. "I can support her; you
go for the water."
"Klaas," cried Hume, "water, quick!"
Klaas, who had been standing near, hurried up with a tin of water, which
both young men attempted to take, the result being that the contents
were spilled.
"It appears you wish to quarrel," said Hume.
"No, sir; but it is my right to support her."
"You are the first to break the contract which you yourself suggested,"
said Hume bitterly; then quickly rising, he went to the waggon, to
return with a drop of brandy. A little water was scattered on the white
brow, and when presently the dark eyes opened again, the cup was held to
her lips.
She rose up slowly, and looked long at them.
"Ah," she said, "you must not leave me again."
"Take my arm to the waggon," said Hume tenderly.
"Let me carry you," whispered Webster as gently.
She looked at her wounded hands and smiled, but when she saw the forlorn
condition of her dress her feminine instincts rose in alarm. "Gracious
heavens," she murmured, "what a fright!" and vanished into the shelter
of the waggon tent without support from either.
The two friends regarded each other with cold looks, then fell apart
without a word.
"Baas," said Klaas in Kaffir, "here come more horses."
Hume picked up his double express and ran forward into the bush, while
Webster, with gloomy and lowering brow, mounted guard at the waggon.
"Halt!" rang out Hume's voice.
"Verdomde," came a startled reply, "what say you?"
"Drop that gun, drop it." There was the dull sound of the gun falling.
"Now, come on slowly."
Horse and rider advanced into the open space, and Piet Coetzee sat in
the saddle, casting uneasy glances about him.
"Dismount," said Hume sternly.
Slowly the young giant swung himself to the ground, and stood sullenly
regarding his enemies under his straight brows.
"Take the horse, Klaas, find the baas's gun, and keep watch beyond the
bush."
The Kaffir obeyed with a grin.
"Now, Piet Coetzee," said Hume, with a hard look in his keen blue eyes,
and a tightening of his lips, "if you have anything to say why you
should not be tied to the waggon-wheel and flogged, say it."
Coetzee flushed to his eyes, then folded his arms. "I am not a black
man, that you should speak of flogging."
"It is a question of crime, and not of colour."
"Beware what you do or say," said Piet threateningly; "if you flog a
Boer you will be a dead man before the sun has risen again."
"Come--have you anything to say?"
"What have I done?"
Hume picked up a rheim, made a running noose, and stepped up to the
young Boer.
"I will kill you first!" hissed Piet, doubling his great fist.
"Be quiet," said Webster; "or I will shoot."
"Oh, yes; you are two to one, and I am unarmed. Cowards!"
"And you were two to one when you took away the young lady," said Hume,
and he slipped the noose over the broad shoulders and tightened it.
"My God! you will not flog me?"
"I will."
"But it is a dog's punishment. It will disgrace me for ever. Shoot
me."
Hume pulled the end of the rheim through the spokes, and pulled on it,
then made a hitch. The young Boer placed his foot against the rim,
exerted his strength, and snapped the strong hide.
"Now," he shouted furiously, "I will make you shoot," and with a bound
he seized the pole of the scherm and whirled it round his head.
"What is this?" said a fresh voice, and Miss Anstrade, looking her old
self, except for the angry red mark above her forehead, and the wounds
on her white hands, stepped forward.
"This is one of the men who carried you away," said Hume, "and I
threatened to flog him unless he could explain."
"It is not so," said Piet furiously; "you threatened me first and asked
me nothing."
"Put your guns down," said Miss Anstrade.
The two friends obeyed.
She walked quietly up to Piet, and took the pole from his hand.
"You are angry," she said quietly.
"They threatened to flog me--me--a Boer in my own country. Verdomde,
when my people hear of it they will whip every uitlander in the place."
"Perhaps they will ask your forgiveness; and what has brought you here?"
"I followed you," he said.
"Yes, true, you followed me, and why?"
"Because--because--" He dropped his eyes.
"Because I rode away?"
"Yes, on my horse."
"It was your horse you wanted, then?"
"Yes--no--it was you, and my horse which had run away with you."
She laughed. "I see, it was the horse that ran away with me; it was the
horse that caused my hands to be torn, it was the horse that came in the
night when my friends were away, and carried me off by force." The
smile was on her lips still, but there was such a look of scorn from her
eyes that he trembled.
"I do not understand," he said humbly.
"You know that I was taken from my friends at night, and you must
understand, surely, that that was the act of robbers."
"But he said you wished to escape."
"Who?"
"That Portuguese Gobo. He told me you were of his country, and that
these men were carrying you off into the desert, so that they could
benefit from your death without being detected."
"Is this the truth?"
"I am a Boer," replied the young Dutchman with some dignity, "and I do
not work harm to women. If the Portuguese has made a fool of me I will
wring his neck."
"He is a bad man. These are my friends who have helped me in great
danger, and you caused them great suffering in taking me away. You have
acted like a child; but it is because I see you have been misled I
forgive you."
She held out her hand, which he took in his, while a flush of manly
shame spread over his face.
"Now, my brothers," she said, with a brilliant smile, "all shake hands."
Webster held out his hand frankly, but Hume refused.
"What," she said, "you will not forgive him?"
"No, madam. If he has been the tool of a man more cunning than himself,
he has been a willing tool. That mark across your forehead--how did it
come there?"
"From the lash of a rebounding branch, as I galloped through the bush."
"I am very sorry," said Piet.
"Then go," shouted Hume, "and thank this lady that you have not got what
you deserved."
"I will remember you," growled Piet, as he moved off, "and maybe the
sjambok you promised me will fall on your own shoulders."
Hume, with his rifle in his hand, followed the young Boer, and saw him
mount and ride away, leading the other horse. On reaching a ridge Piet
turned and shook his fist, then suddenly dropping his reins he took a
deliberate aim at Hume. A full half-minute he kept the deadly weapon at
his shoulder, then, with a laugh, let it drop to the saddle, and
disappeared. Hume, who had stood the ordeal with a bitter smile on his
mouth, turned back to the camp and met Webster.
"Your friend has gone," he said.
"Yes," said Webster, whose face was deadly pale; "I saw his gun drop,
and thought he had meant to shoot you."
"I was wishing he would fire."
"Frank!" exclaimed Webster.
They looked at each other straight in the eyes, clasped hands, and then
walked back together.
Miss Anstrade went to meet them with a smile on her lips and a question
in her eyes.
"My poor friends," she murmured softly, "you have suffered a lot. I see
it by your faces."
"And you?" they said.
"I was confident you would find me if I could not escape."
"We were just starting off," said Webster, "after Frank had found the
waggon and learnt from Klaas that you had been taken off in a cart."
"Yes; they managed that very well. They told me there was a young woman
lying ill at a farmhouse near, and asked me if I would not go, and they
explained that, anticipating my consent, they had brought the waggon to
a spot which would be convenient to you and to them. I saw no reason
why I should not do a kindness, and after writing a note for you, which
they promised to deliver, I was driven off to a cottage some eight or
nine miles away. On alighting, I saw for the first time that one of the
two men was a Portuguese, and from his mocking air of courtesy my
suspicions were aroused. Of course there was no woman in the house, and
on being shown into a room I locked the door. They left me there all
the morning, but in the afternoon they begged me to come out. The
Dutchman then went away, and through a small window I saw him mount a
horse and ride away with a number of dogs. The Portuguese then began to
threaten, and next to batter at the door. Then he promised me in his
generosity much wealth if I would tell him where you were going, and
whether it was to find a hidden treasure."
"The little yellow brute!" growled Webster.
"How terrified you must have been!"
"On the contrary, I was quite cool, and when the door showed signs of
giving way I opened it and asked him to enter. He did, with a sudden
change to humility, and as he stepped in with his hat in his hand, I--
well--I am afraid I knocked him down with a heavy stick."
"Bravo!" said Webster, laughing, while Hume flashed a swift look at her
and saw how rigid were the muscles about her mouth.
"I would have escaped then, but on reaching the door I saw there were
some black men seated about a fire. Returning to the room, I bound the
man up with some ropes that were in the room, and waited. At night the
Dutchman returned and knocked at the door. I said it was all right,
whereupon--whereupon he laughed. After a time he slept, but the black
men sat round the fire till the grey of dawn. Then I stole out, saddled
one of the horses, and was silently moving off when one of the dogs
barked; the natives shouted, and I was seized with a mortal terror and
fled, and my guardian saint led me to you. That is all."
The two friends looked at her for some moments in silence, and they
recalled the figure of a girl standing on the bridge in the driving
spume, unmoved by the shrieking of shells overhead.
They then told her how they had passed the time, and when they had
finished, the waggon was inspanned and the journey resumed. As the oxen
had well rested, they made this time a long "skoff," trekking till
sundown, when the waggon was drawn up under a wild fig-tree, whose vast
branches afforded plenty of shade. Klaas hunted about for some leaves,
which he brought to Miss Anstrade to place on her hands. A fire was
built, the violin was brought out, and the men sat dreamily as the music
floated on the soft air.
The next morning Miss Anstrade stepped from the waggon, holding in her
hand a small sporting Martini.
"I wish to learn how to shoot," she said gravely.
"Good!" said Hume. "It will be as well."
He showed her the action, and made her snap it from the shoulder. Then
she inserted a cartridge.
"Press the butt tightly to the shoulder, bring the left elbow well down,
and press with your thumb as you pull the trigger."
She fired, and then practised at a mark.