"Does he know?"
"I don't suppose he _knows_, but if he guesses he'd sooner hang himself
than let on a word."
"Do you know, Mr Greenoak has a reputation for clearing up mysteries.
There was that haunted farm on the Sneeuw River in our neighbourhood.
No one could stay there; all sorts of weird things happened. The new
owner--who bought it for a song, on the strength of its dark
reputation--got Mr Greenoak to investigate the affair, and he cleared
it up to the satisfaction of all concerned; and the new people never had
any more bother or disturbance. They've lived there ever since. But
Mr Greenoak never let go a word as to what the mystery was or how he
had put an end to it; no, not even to the owner himself."
"Well, I shan't ask him," said Dick Selmes, very interested, "for it's a
dead cert that if he never told anybody else he won't tell me."
"There are other stories about him, too. Once he was instrumental in
saving two Kafirs from being hanged--only just in the nick of time--for
the murder of a Dutchman's wife, by finding out that it had been done by
the Dutchman himself."
"Was the Dutchman hanged?"
"He would have been, only he got away to the Transvaal in time. He was
safe there, of course."
"Well, I hope if Greenoak gets on to any more enterprises of the kind
he'll cut me into them with him--that's all," said Dick. "Hallo!
Here's Kleinbooi."
"Baas," said the Fingo, saluting, "I got very good bit news. There's a
big tiger fast in the trap, up there, in Slaang Kloof. I go tell _Ou'
Baas_. He come quick shoot it."
"Oh, good--and good again!" cried Dick. "We'll go up there sharp."
"Oh, never mind me. Only, I don't feel inclined to _run_," said Hazel,
mischievously; for her companion in his excitement had started off with
quick eager strides.
"So sorry," answered Dick, contritely, at once falling back.
"Never mind," said the girl, "go on ahead and tell them. Things in
traps break loose sometimes if left too long. So the sooner we get
there the better."
"We? Are you going with us, then?" eagerly.
"Certainly. So tell them to saddle up a horse for me too. Now go on,
and don't lose any time, or the tiger may break loose before we get
there and get clean away."
Presumably everybody knows that there is no such thing as a tiger on the
whole African continent--north, south, east, or west. What everybody,
however, may not know is that in the southern section of the same,
"tiger" is the colloquial word used to designate leopard, and that
invariably; hence, of course, the trapped beast in this case represented
not "Stripes" but "Spots."
"Well, well," said old Hesketh, when he was told, "that's good news
certainly. How was he caught, Kleinbooi?"
"By one fore leg, Baas. He seems fast, but it might be as well to go
and shoot him, now at once."
"_Ja_, that's so. Tell Dirk to saddle up three horses--it don't matter
which--what's that? Four?" turning to his niece, who had just joined
them. "Four, did you say, girlie?"
"Certainly," said Hazel. "I'm going too. I don't why I should be left
out of the fun."
The old man chuckled.
"All right," he said. Then ironically, "How long'll you take getting
ready? Half an hour?"
"Half a minute," she answered, withdrawing to change into a habit skirt,
and reappearing in not more than double the time named. Then they
started. "Get back, you _schelms_, get back!" vociferated old Hesketh,
whipping back the dogs, who, scenting sport, had sprung up, whining and
yowling with delight. "We don't want you to-day. They'd spoil the
skin, you know, if they started to worry it," he added in explanation to
Dick. "Besides, some of 'em are bound to get badly chawed. A trapped
tiger's no joke to anything that gets within reach of the brute. Clear
them out, Kleinbooi."
This the Fingo did with the aid of sticks and stones, and much forcible
expostulation, and the disappointed pack slunk back, to console itself
by getting up a civil war on its own account.
"Don't fire at anything on the way, Dick," enjoined Greenoak, as they
started. "No matter what gets up, let it go. Our catch might quite
possibly pull himself loose if he got a sudden _schrek_."
Dick nodded, and went on with his conversation with Hazel, by whose side
it is hardly necessary to explain he was riding. Old Hesketh was
shambling along on a correspondingly veteran steed, but he had no
firearm. It didn't require three men to shoot one trapped tiger, he had
declared, and he wasn't going to be bothered carrying unnecessary
articles. Greenoak on this occasion had his .500 Express, and Dick
Selmes his combination rifle and smooth-bore.
"I only wish the beast was loose," said the latter to his companion.
"There'd be rare fun in hunting him then."
"You may still have your wish, Dick," said Greenoak over his shoulder.
"I hope not," said Hazel, quickly. "And yet--I oughtn't to mind with
two such dead shots beside me. Yes--I think it would be rather
exciting."
Secretly the girl was not quite at ease. They were in Slaang Kloof now.
Riding beneath the cool shade of the trees, the dim sunlight falling in
network patches where it struggled through the "monkey-ropes" trailing
from bough to ground, there was a sense of dim mystery seeming to grow
out of the place. So strongly did it affect her, that although not in
the least given to hysteria, Hazel Brandon realised that were she alone
here now, she would be conscious of a deadly fear. As it was, what if
the trapped beast had broken loose, and in its mad rage were to pounce
upon them suddenly? No, the thought was not a reassuring one.