"Fare thee well, Kulondeka. Who can alter or foresee his fate? For
thyself, ride with care this night, and with wide-open eyes. Yet, who
am I to offer counsel to one such as thee."
The dark shadows of the adjacent bush, soon gained, swallowed up the
rider. But he knew it in the dark as in the daylight; knew it as well
as--even better than--the savages whose home it was, and who were even
then lying, spread out in a line covering some distance, lurking, eager,
every faculty of sight and hearing, and even scent, at the fullest
tension as they awaited their sure and certain prey. Would they seize
it? Such seemed indeed probable, for now, to make assurance doubly
sure, not only lay the waiting enemy in front, but behind, stealthily
flitting on, keeping the horseman ever in sight, moved a single form--
that of an evil, thick-set, scrabbly bearded savage--the same whom we
saw dogging his way in the darkness when he first set forth upon his
perilous mission: the bulk, indeed, of whose peril had yet to be
encountered.
Gaining the high ground, which should shut the valley from view,
Greenoak looked back. The location lay beneath, quiet under the stars.
A twinkle of light from some open hut door or the spark of an outside
fire showed in the distance, but there was no sound of dancing or
revelry. The night air blew fresh and sweet as he plunged down into a
deep bushy valley.
Listening intently, he gave forth the cry of a night bird, then again.
It was answered. Dismounting, he led his horse a few paces--then
halted, soothing the animal, as a figure rose out of the gloom with
rather startling suddenness. But its apparition seemed to convey no
alarm to Harley Greenoak, for between him and it there now followed a
short, low-toned, but very emphatic and earnest conference.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"_Whau_!" ejaculated Mafutana, in a smothered whisper.
"Do you hear anything, brother?"
Sikonile, raising his head, seemed to be trying to pierce the darkness.
His broad nostrils snuffed the night air, like those of a buck.
"He comes," was the answer.
Rapidly the word was passed along the line of crouching savages. And
now the soft footfall of an unshod horse was plainly audible, advancing
straight towards them. Hands gripped assegai hafts with fierce and
bloodthirsty thrill, yet no weapon was to be used. The white man was to
be taken alive, and, as their plans had been laid, he would easily be so
taken. A mandate was issued by Mafutana to some of the young men, and
these moved quickly away down the hill, widening out so that they should
give the advancing horseman time to get within the toils, yet not too
near, lest the horse should wind them and show alarm.
Along the dark ridge the crouching savages lay, tense with excitement;
every head raised, listening, like that of some evil snake. Then a
quick gasp escaped them. Just below there was the thud of a heavy fall,
and the plunging of frantic hoofs, the jingle of a bit, and the rattle
of stones. Like lightning they were up and sweeping down upon the spot.
But no sound was uttered. This had to be brought through in silence.
Already as they arrived, their forerunners had raised the fallen horse,
which stood trembling and snorting in terror, and had flung themselves
upon and pinioned its rider. Others grinned as they untied the long
reims which, extended from bush stump to bush stump across the path, had
composed the trap which had effected their capture so easily and
bloodlessly.
Sikonile came forward with a grin of hate upon his countenance that was
simply demoniacal. He would have such a sweet revenge now. But as he
pushed through the throng to look at the prisoner a murmur of wonder
which had arisen had increased to a hubbub. This was not Kulondeka at
all.
It was one of themselves--a native. In the starlight they could see his
face. Yet--the horse was that of Kulondeka.
"Who are you?" asked Sikonile, an assegai raised threateningly.
"Pato, son of Teliso, of the Abatembu, under the chief, Umfanta," was
the unhesitating answer.
"And Kulondeka's horse? How didst thou come by it?" asked Mafutana.
"Who is Kulondeka?" said the prisoner, wonderingly.
"Answer questions, do not ask them," interposed Sikonile, furiously,
giving the prisoner a couple of vicious digs in the thigh with his
assegai.
"I found this horse down there," said the latter sullenly, "and it was
standing alone, so I took it. If it is a chief's horse--_au_! here it
is. I thought it was a white man's."
"Where were you going?" queried Mafutana.
But before any answer could be made, an interruption occurred. One of
the bystanders, who had been bending down closely scrutinising the
prisoner's face in the starlight, shot upward with a quick ejaculation.
"_Whau_!" he cried, bringing his hand to his mouth. "See, brothers.
Here is Pato, son of Teliso, of the Abatembu, under the chief, Umfanta.
Should it not rather be Mantisa, son of no Fengu dog in particular, a
spy of the _Amapolise_, under Bokelo? Do I not know him! _Hau_! He it
was who got me a long time in prison, for stealing a sheep which I never
stole. Ha! Welcome to thee, Mantisa. For thee we have a warm bed,
ah-ah--a bed of fire!"
The unfortunate detective, seeing himself unmasked, realised that the
only hope of escape for him was a swift death instead of a long and
lingering one by fiery torment. So, instead of answering, he only spat
contemptuously. A score of assegais were raised. But Sikonile flung
himself in the way.
"See you these?" he said. "Where is Kulondeka?"
"That I know not," came the sullen reply.
"Ha! The fire! The fire will make him speak!" cried several. "To the
fire then! To the Place of the Bones!"
And in a moment the wretched Fingo's arms were tightly bound behind him
with raw-hide, and he himself was hustled along, propelled by kicks and
blows and assegai prods, towards the place of his ghastly death.
But not until they had got some little way did it become known to the
whole party that the horse had disappeared. It had been left standing,
just as it had arisen from the ground, with the bridle still on its
neck. In the prevailing excitement no one had made it his business to
hold it. Now it was gone.