HANS STEALS THE KEYS
A few hours later some of the White Kendah arrived at the house and
very politely delivered to us Ragnall’s and poor Savage’s guns and
pistols, which they said they had found lying in the grass on the
mountain-side, and with them the bull’s-eye lantern that Ragnall had
thrown away in his flight; all of which articles I accepted without
comment. That evening also Harût called and, after salutations, asked
where Bena was as he did not see him. Then my indignation broke out:
“Oh! white-bearded father of liars,” I said, “you know well that he is
in the belly of the serpent which lives in the cave of the mountain.”
“What, Lord!” exclaimed Harût addressing Ragnall in his peculiar
English, “have you been for walk up to hole in hill? Suppose Bena want
see big snake. He always very fond of snake, you know, and they very
fond of him. You ‘member how they come out of his pocket in your house
in England? Well, he know all about snake now.”
“You villain!” exclaimed Ragnall, “you murderer! I have a mind to kill
you where you are.”
“Why you choke me, Lord, because snake choke your man? Poor snake, he
only want dinner. If you go where lion live, lion kill you. If you go
where snake live, snake kill you. I tell you not to. You take no
notice. Now I tell you all—go if you wish, no one stop you. Perhaps you
kill snake, who knows? Only you no take gun there, please. That not
allowed. When you tired of this town, go see snake. Only, ‘member that
not right way to House of Child. There another way which you never
find.”
“Look here,” said Ragnall, “what is the use of all this foolery? You
know very well why we are in your devilish country. It is because I
believe you have stolen my wife to make her the priestess of your evil
religion whatever it may be, and I want her back.”
“All this great mistake,” replied Harût blandly. “We no steal beautiful
lady you marry because we find she not right priestess. Also Macumazana
here not to look for lady but to kill elephant Jana and get pay in
ivory like good business man. You, Lord, come with him as friend though
we no ask you, that all. Then you try find temple of our god and snake
which watch door kill your servant. Why we not kill _you_, eh?”
“Because you are afraid to,” answered Ragnall boldly. “Kill me if you
can and take the consequences. I am ready.”
Harût studied him not without admiration.
“You very brave man,” he said, “and we no wish kill you and p’raps
after all everything come right in end. Only Child know about that.
Also you help us fight Black Kendah by and by. So, Lord, you quite safe
unless you big fool and go call on snake in cave. He very hungry snake
and soon want more dinner. You hear, Light-in-Darkness,
Lord-of-the-Fire,” he added suddenly turning on Hans who was squatted
near by twiddling his hat with a face that for absolute impassiveness
resembled a deal board. “You hear, he very hungry snake, and you make
nice tea for him.”
Hans rolled his little yellow eyes without even turning his head until
they rested on the stately countenance of Harût, and answered in Bantu:
“I hear, Liar-with-the-White-Beard, but what have I to do with this
matter? Jana is my enemy who would have killed Macumazana, my master,
not your dirty snake. What is the good of this snake of yours? If it
were any good, why does it not kill Jana whom you hate? And if it is no
good, why do you not take a stick and knock it on the head? If you are
afraid I will do so for you if you pay me. That for your snake,” and
very energetically he spat upon the floor.
“All right,” said Harût, still speaking in English, “you go kill snake.
Go when you like, no one say no. Then we give you new name. Then we
call you Lord-of-the-Snake.”
As Hans, who now was engaged in lighting his corn-cob pipe, did not
deign to answer these remarks, Harût turned to me and said:
“Lord Macumazana, your leg still bad, eh? Well, I bring you some
ointment what make it quite well; it holy ointment come from the Child.
We want you get well quick.”
Then suddenly he broke into Bantu. “My Lord, war draws near. The Black
Kendah are gathering all their strength to attack us and we must have
your aid. I go down to the River Tava to see to certain matters, as to
the reaping of the outlying crops and other things. Within a week I
will be back; then we must talk again, for by that time, if you will
use the ointment that I have given you, you will be as well as ever you
were in your life. Rub it on your leg, and mix a piece as large as a
mealie grain in water and swallow it at night. It is not poison, see,”
and taking the cover off a little earthenware pot which he produced he
scooped from it with his finger some of the contents, which looked like
lard, put it on his tongue and swallowed it.
Then he rose and departed with his usual bows.
Here I may state that I used Harût’s prescription with the most
excellent results. That night I took a dose in water, very nasty it
was, and rubbed my leg with the stuff, to find that next morning all
pain had left me and that, except for some local weakness, I was
practically quite well. I kept the rest of the salve for years, and it
proved a perfect specific in cases of sciatica and rheumatism. Now,
alas! it is all used and no recipe is available from which it can be
made up again.
The next few days passed uneventfully. As soon as I could walk I began
to go about the town, which was nothing but a scattered village much
resembling those to be seen on the eastern coasts of Africa. Nearly all
the men seemed to be away, making preparations for the harvest, I
suppose, and as the women shut themselves up in their houses after the
Oriental fashion, though the few that I saw about were unveiled and
rather good-looking, I did not gather any intelligence worth noting.
To tell the truth I cannot remember being in a more uninteresting place
than this little town with its extremely uncommunicative population
which, it seemed to me, lived under a shadow of fear that prevented all
gaiety. Even the children, of whom there were not many, crept about in
a depressed fashion and talked in a low voice. I never saw any of them
playing games or heard them shouting and laughing, as young people do
in most parts of the world. For the rest we were very well looked
after. Plenty of food was provided for us and every thought taken for
our comfort. Thus a strong and quiet pony was brought for me to ride
because of my lameness. I had only to go out of the house and call and
it arrived from somewhere, all ready saddled and bridled, in charge of
a lad who appeared to be dumb. At any rate when I spoke to him he would
not answer.
Mounted on this pony I took one or two rides along the southern slopes
of the mountain on the old pretext of shooting for the pot. Hans
accompanied me on these occasions, but was, I noted, very silent and
thoughtful, as though he were hunting something up and down his
tortuous intelligence. Once we got quite near to the mouth of the cave
or tunnel where poor Savage had met his horrid end. As we stood
studying it a white-robed man whose head was shaved, which made me
think he must be a priest, came up and asked me mockingly why we did
not go through the tunnel and see what lay beyond, adding, almost in
the words of Harût himself, that none would attempt to interfere with
us as the road was open to any who could travel it. By way of answer I
only smiled and put him a few questions about a very beautiful breed of
goats with long silky hair, some of which he seemed to be engaged in
herding. He replied that these goats were sacred, being the food of
“one who dwelt in the Mountain who only ate when the moon changed.”
When I inquired who this person was he said with his unpleasant smile
that I had better go through the tunnel and see for myself, an
invitation which I did not accept.
That evening Harût appeared unexpectedly, looking very grave and
troubled. He was in a great hurry and only stayed long enough to
congratulate me upon the excellent effects of his ointment, since “no
man could fight Jana on one leg.”
I asked him when the fight with Jana was to come off. He replied:
“Lord, I go up to the Mountain to attend the Feast of the First-fruits,
which is held at sunrise on the day of the new moon. After the offering
the Oracle will speak and we shall learn when there will be war with
Jana, and perchance other things.”
“May we not attend this feast, Harût, who are weary of doing nothing
here?”
“Certainly,” he answered with his grave bow. “That is, if you come
unarmed; for to appear before the Child with arms is death. You know
the road; it runs through yonder cave and the forest beyond the cave.
Take it when you will, Lord.”
“Then if we can pass the cave we shall be welcome at the feast?”
“You will be very welcome. None shall hurt you there, going or
returning. I swear it by the Child. Oh! Macumazana,” he added, smiling
a little, “why do you talk folly, who know well that one lives in
yonder cave whom none may look upon and love, as Bena learned not long
ago? You are thinking that perhaps you might kill this Dweller in the
cave with your weapons. Put away that dream, seeing that henceforth
those who watch you have orders to see that none of you leave this
house carrying so much as a knife. Indeed, unless you promise me that
this shall be so you will not be suffered to set foot outside its
garden until I return again. Now do you promise?”
I thought a while and, drawing the two others aside out of hearing,
asked them their opinion.
Ragnall was at first unwilling to give any such promise, but Hans said:
“Baas, it is better to go free and unhurt without guns and knives than
to become a prisoner once, as you were among the Black Kendah. Often
there is but a short step between the prison and the grave.”
Both Ragnall and I acknowledged the force of this argument and in the
end we gave the promise, speaking one by one.
“It is enough,” said Harût; “moreover, know, Lord, that among us White
Kendah he who breaks an oath is put across the River Tava unarmed to
make report thereof to Jana, Father of Lies. Now farewell. If we do not
meet at the Feast of the First-fruits on the day of the new moon,
whither once more I invite you, we can talk together here after I have
heard the voice of the Oracle.”
Then he mounted a camel which awaited him outside the gate and departed
with an escort of twelve men, also riding camels.
“There is some other road up that mountain, Quatermain,” said Ragnall.
“A camel could sooner pass through the eye of a needle than through
that dreadful cave, even if it were empty.”
“Probably,” I answered, “but as we don’t know where it is and I dare
say it lies miles from here, we need not trouble our heads on the
matter. The cave is _our_ only road, which means that there is _no_
road.”
That evening at supper we discovered that Hans was missing; also that
he had got possession of my keys and broken into a box containing
liquor, for there it stood open in the cooking-hut with the keys in the
lock.
“He has gone on the drink,” I said to Ragnall, “and upon my soul I
don’t wonder at it; for sixpence I would follow his example.”
Then we went to bed. Next morning we breakfasted rather late, since
when one has nothing to do there is no object in getting up early. As I
was preparing to go to the cook-house to boil some eggs, to our
astonishment Hans appeared with a kettle of coffee.
“Hans,” I said, “you are a thief.”
“Yes, Baas,” answered Hans.
“You have been at the gin box and taking that poison.”
“Yes, Baas, I have been taking poison. Also I took a walk and all is
right now. The Baas must not be angry, for it is very dull doing
nothing here. Will the Baases eat porridge as well as eggs?”
As it was no use scolding him I said that we would. Moreover, there was
something about his manner which made me suspicious, for really he did
not look like a person who has just been very drunk.
After we had finished breakfast he came and squatted down before me.
Having lit his pipe he asked suddenly:
“Would the Baases like to walk through that cave to-night? If so, there
will be no trouble.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, suspecting that he was still drunk.
“I mean, Baas, that the Dweller-in-the-cave is fast asleep.”
“How do you know that, Hans?”
“Because I am the nurse who put him to sleep, Baas, though he kicked
and cried a great deal. He is asleep; he will wake no more. Baas, I
have killed the Father of Serpents.”
“Hans,” I said, “now I am sure that you are still drunk, although you
do not show it outside.”
“Hans,” added Ragnall, to whom I had translated as much of this as he
did not understand, “it is too early in the day to tell good stories.
How could you possibly have killed that serpent without a gun—for you
took none with you—or with it either for that matter?”
“Will the Baases come and take a walk through the cave?” asked Hans
with a snigger.
“Not till I am quite sure that you are sober,” I replied; then,
remembering certain other events in this worthy’s career, added; “Hans,
if you do not tell us the story at once I will beat you.”
“There isn’t much story, Baas,” replied Hans between long sucks at his
pipe, which had nearly gone out, “because the thing was so easy. The
Baas is very clever and so is the Lord Baas, why then can they never
see the stones that lie under their noses? It is because their eyes are
always fixed upon the mountains between this world and the next. But
the poor Hottentot, who looks at the ground to be sure that he does not
stumble, ah! he sees the stones. Now, Baas, did you not hear that man
in a night shirt with his head shaved say that those goats were food
for One who dwelt in the mountain?”
“I did. What of it, Hans?”
“Who would be the One who dwelt in the mountain except the Father of
Snakes in the cave, Baas? Ah, now for the first time you see the stone
that lay at your feet all the while. And, Baas, did not the bald man
add that this One in the mountain was only fed at new and full moon,
and is not to-morrow the day of new moon, and therefore would he not be
very hungry on the day before new moon, that is, last night?”
“No doubt, Hans; but how can you kill a snake by feeding it?”
“Oh! Baas, you may eat things that make you ill, and so can a snake.
Now you will guess the rest, so I had better go to wash the dishes.”
“Whether I guess or do not guess,” I replied sagely, the latter being
the right hypothesis, “the dishes can wait, Hans, since the Lord there
has not guessed; so continue.”
“Very well, Baas. In one of those boxes are some pounds of stuff which,
when mixed with water, is used for preserving skins and skulls.”
“You mean the arsenic crystals,” I said with a flash of inspiration.
“I don’t know what you call them, Baas. At first I thought they were
hard sugar and stole some once, when the real sugar was left behind, to
put into the coffee—without telling the Baas, because it was my fault
that the sugar was left behind.”
“Great Heavens!” I ejaculated, “then why aren’t we all dead?”
“Because at the last moment, Baas, I thought I would make sure, so I
put some of the hard sugar into hot milk and, when it had melted, I
gave it to that yellow dog which once bit me in the leg, the one that
came from Beza-Town, Baas, that I told you had run away. He was a very
greedy dog, Baas, and drank up the milk at once. Then he gave a howl,
twisted about, foamed at the mouth and died and I buried him at once.
After that I threw some more of the large sugar mixed with mealies to
the fowls that we brought with us for cooking. Two cocks and a hen
swallowed them by mistake for the corn. Presently they fell on their
backs, kicked a little and died. Some of the Mazitu, who were great
thieves, stole those dead fowls, Baas. After this, Baas, I thought it
best not to use that sugar in the coffee, and later on Bena told me
that it was deadly poison. Well, Baas, it came into my mind that if I
could make that great snake swallow enough of this poison, he, too,
might die.
“So I stole your keys, as I often do, Baas, when I want anything,
because you leave them lying about everywhere, and to deceive you first
opened one of the boxes that are full of square-face and brandy and
left it open, for I wished you to think that I had just gone to get
drunk like anybody else. Then I opened another box and got out two
one-pound tins of the sugar which kills dogs and fowls. Half a pound of
it I melted in boiling water with some real sugar to make the stuff
sweet, and put it into a bottle. The rest I tied with string in twelve
little packets in the soft paper which is in one of the boxes, and put
them in my pocket. Then I went up the hill, Baas, to the place where I
saw those goats are kraaled at night behind a reed fence. As I had
hoped, no one was watching them because there are no tigers so near
this town, and man does not steal the goats that are sacred. I went
into the kraal and found a fat young ewe which had a kid. I dragged it
out and, taking it behind some stones, I made its leg fast with a bit
of cord and poured this stuff out of the bottle all over its skin,
rubbing it in well. Then I tied the twelve packets of hard poison-sugar
everywhere about its body, making them very fast deep in the long hair
so that they could not tumble or rub off.
“After this I untied the goat, led it near to the mouth of the cave and
held it there for a time while it kept on bleating for its kid. Next I
took it almost up to the cave, wondering how I should drive it in, for
I did not wish to enter there myself, Baas. As it happened I need not
have troubled about that. When the goat was within five yards of the
cave, it stopped bleating, stood still and shivered. Then it began to
go forward with little jumps, as though it did not want to go, yet must
do so. Also, Baas, I felt as though _I_ wished to go with it. So I lay
down and put my heels against a rock, leaving go of the goat.
“For now, Baas, I did not care where that goat went so long as I could
keep out of the hole where dwelt the Father of Serpents that had eaten
Bena. But it was all right, Baas; the goat knew what it had to do and
did it, jumping straight into the cave. As it entered it turned its
head and looked at me. I could see its eyes in the starlight, and,
Baas, they were dreadful. I think it knew what was coming and did not
like it at all. And yet it had to walk on because it could not help it.
Just like a man going to the devil, Baas!
“Holding on to the stone I peered after it, for I had heard something
stirring in the cave making a soft noise like a white lady’s dress upon
the floor. There in the blackness I saw two little sparks of fire,
which were the eyes of the serpent, Baas. Then I heard a sound of
hissing like four big kettles boiling all at once, and a little bleat
from the goat. After this there was a noise as of men wrestling,
followed by another noise as of bones breaking, and lastly, yet another
sucking noise as of a pump that won’t draw up the water. Then
everything grew nice and quiet and I went some way off, sat down a
little to one side of the cave, and waited to see if anything happened.
“It must have been nearly an hour later that something did begin to
happen, Baas. It was as though sacks filled with chaff were being
beaten against stone walls there in the cave. Ah! thought I to myself,
your stomach is beginning to ache, Eater-up-of-Bena, and, as that goat
had little horns on its head—to which I tied two of the bags of the
poison, Baas—and, like all snakes, no doubt you have spikes in your
throat pointing downwards, you won’t be able to get it up again. Then—I
expect this was after the poison-sugar had begun to melt nicely in the
serpent’s stomach, Baas—there was a noise as though a whole company of
girls were dancing a war-dance in the cave to a music of hisses.
“And then—oh! then, Baas, of a sudden that Father of Serpents came out.
I tell you, Baas, that when I saw him in the bright starlight my hair
stood up upon my head, for never has there been such another snake in
the whole world. Those that live in trees and eat bucks in Zululand, of
whose skins men make waistcoats and slippers, are but babies compared
to this one. He came out, yard after yard of him. He wriggled about, he
stood upon his tail with his head where the top of a tree might be, he
made himself into a ring, he bit at stones and at his own stomach,
while I hid behind my rock praying to your reverend father that he
might not see me. Then at last he rushed away down the hill, faster
than any horse could gallop.
“Now I hoped that he had gone for good and thought of going myself.
Still I feared to do so lest I should meet him somewhere, so I made up
my mind to wait till daylight. It was as well, Baas, for about half an
hour later he came back again. Only now he could not jump, he could
only crawl. Never in my life did I see a snake look so sick, Baas. Into
the cave he went and lay there hissing. By degrees the hissing grew
very faint, till at length they died away altogether. I waited another
half-hour, Baas, and then I grew so curious that I thought that I would
go to look in the cave.
“I lit the little lantern I had with me and, holding it in one hand and
my stick in the other, I crept into the hole. Before I had crawled ten
paces I saw something white stretched along the ground. It was the
belly of the great snake, Baas, which lay upon its back quite dead.
“I know that it was dead, for I lit three wax matches, setting them to
burn upon its tail and it never stirred, as any live snake will do when
it feels fire. Then I came home, Baas, feeling very proud because I had
outwitted that great-grandfather of all snakes who killed Bena my
friend, and had made the way clear for us to walk through the cave.
“That is all the story, Baas. Now I must go to wash those dishes,” and
without waiting for any comment off he went, leaving us marvelling at
his wit, resource and courage.
“What next?” I asked presently.
“Nothing till to-night,” answered Ragnall with determination, “when I
am going to look at the snake which the noble Hans has killed and
whatever lies beyond the cave, as you will remember Harût invited us to
do unmolested, if we could.”
“Do you think Harût will keep his word, Ragnall?”
“On the whole, yes, and if he doesn’t I don’t care. Anything is better
than sitting here in this suspense.”
“I agree as to Harût, because we are too valuable to be killed just
now, if for no other reason; also as to the suspense, which is
unendurable. Therefore I will walk with you to look at that snake,
Ragnall, and so no doubt will Hans. The exercise will do my leg good.”
“Do you think it wise?” he asked doubtfully; “in your case, I mean.”
“I think it most unwise that we should separate any more. We had better
stand or fall altogether; further, we do not seem to have any luck
apart.”