Peters was fossicking away at his shaft sinking, rather as if nothing
had happened, yet all the while he was thinking out the situation from
every side.
For a good deal had happened, and that since the averted tragedy of the
race meeting. True to his word Lamont had made another visit to
Zwabeka's kraal, and had persisted in making it alone. This Peters
would not hear of, and after considerable altercation they had gone
together. But for all they elicited--anything definite, that is--they
might just as well have stayed at home; yet there was a something in the
demeanour of the savages that seemed to make up for this. They were
altogether too cordial, too effusive--in short, over-acted their part.
From this, also true to his word, Lamont had duly sent in to Orwell the
deductions he had drawn.
It had been a risky venture, knowing what they did. They had avoided
spending a night there, and all the while, not seeming to be, were
keenly on the alert, outwardly chaffing at ease with their doubtful
entertainers. Qubani was away; where, nobody knew. _Au_! an _isanusi_
was not an ordinary mortal, they said. His goings and comings were
perforce mysterious at times. However, they had returned in safety and
had experienced no overt manifestation of hostility.
On these things was Peters pondering as he kept his boys tolerably hard
at their job. The new development of affairs was particularly vexatious
to him, in that he had of late detected signs that this time he was not
toiling in vain. Any day, any moment, might disclose a rich field, and
then what fun it would be to go to Lamont and say--"What have I always
told you? We've `struck ile' at last, and now you can get away home--
and clear off all the encumbrances on your family place, and then--where
the devil do _I_ come in?" Yes, he had often rehearsed the revelation,
and doing so had come to the conclusion that even luck had its seamy
side.
What on earth would he do when Lamont had gone for good? Lamont would
probably marry and take up his position, and then he, Peters, with all
the wealth he was going to take out of this hole in front of him--why,
he was far happier as things were.
You see, he was rather an out-of-the-way character was Peters.
Now a murmur among his boys attracted his attention, and Lamont himself
appeared on the scene.
"Here, what the devil d'you think, Peters?" he said glumly, as he slid
from the saddle. "Here's this fellow Ancram turned up again."
"Ancram? Good Lord! Has he come to stay?"
"Rather. He borrowed a horse from Fullerton, and he's got luggage
enough on his saddle to weigh down two railway porters. Said he had
such a good time before that he must come and see us again. I couldn't
turn him away, and so there he is, damn him."
Peters roared.
"Don't you get your shirt out over it, old chap," he said. "We'll work
him out with a real scare this time--and that mighty sharp."
Here again how little did the speaker know how much earnest there was
underlying this promise. The shimmer of heat rose from the pleasant
roll of undulating country. The tranquil life of the veldt lay
outspread around, peaceful, sunny, smiling; but--beneath?
"That's all jolly fine," rejoined Lamont disgustedly. "But he's grown
too knowing since he's been at Gandela. I believe he smokes that we
were `kidding' him before."
"Well, we'll do it more to the purpose this time, and no mistake. Oh,
don't you bother about it, Lamont. We'll get the biggest grin out of
him we ever got yet. He shall earn his keep that way, by the Lord
Harry!"
"It'll have to be a big one then; I detest the chap. Well, I must be
getting on. Two more rinderpest cases. What do you think of that?"
"Nothing. Wait till I get a little deeper here; and if all the cattle
in Matabeleland were to snuff out, it wouldn't matter."
"Well, that's what they're going to do. This is a God-forsaken country,
after all. So long."
About an hour after Lamont had gone, two young Matabele came into the
camp, and saluted pleasantly.
"Why, who are these, Inyovu?" asked Peters, seeing that in outward
appearance they were the very image of his boy.
"They are my brothers, _Nkose_."
"Your brothers? And what do they want?"
"They would like to work at the mine, _Nkose_."
"But I don't want them. I have boys enough."
"But such are only Makalaka, _Nkose_. These are much better. _Au_!"
With the last exclamation the speaker turned sharply. As he did so,
Peters instinctively turned his head to look in the same direction,
and--received a whack on the back of it that made him stagger. A shout
was raised--
"Throw him in! Throw him in!" The mouth of the shaft gaped behind him.
The three young savages closed with him, and Inyovu called to the other
two to pinion him while he got in another blow with the pick-handle.
They were young, and athletic. Peters was not young, but was athletic
too, and the struggle became a furious one. He could not draw his
revolver, because, foreseeing the attempt, one of them had kept a hand
upon it. Inyovu the while was dancing round the combatants, holding a
pick-handle all ready to strike when he saw a chance of not felling one
of his brothers instead. Then Peters saw his chance, and--kicked.
Right in the pit of the stomach it caught the man who was giving him
most trouble. With a gasp of anguish this fellow staggered back, then
doubling up, toppled down the shaft behind him. Quick as lightning, and
taking advantage of the momentary panic, Peters shot forth his left
fist, and caught Inyovu under the jaw. It was a regular knock-out blow,
and Inyovu dropped. The other, however, still hung on, and, looking up,
the reason for this became clear.
Heading for the spot at a run came quite a number of natives, and
shields and assegais glancing through the sparse bush told upon what
sort of errand were these. It was manifest that the rising had begun.
Do what he would Peters could not throw off his wiry antagonist, who
hung on to him like a terrier, utterly impervious to kicks or blows, the
object being to prevent him from effecting his escape until the others
should come up, and then--good-night! The Makalaka boys had already
taken to their heels and were fleeing wildly.
Then fortune favoured him. His adversary slipped on a loose stone, and
in trying to save himself loosed the hand which had been gripping the
revolver holster. It was a slip there was no retrieving, and in a
twinkling a bullet crashed through his ribs, sending him spinning round
and round, to flatten out, face downward, to the earth.
A wild shout went up from the advancing savages. At them Peters sent
one look and pointed his pistol. No, they were not near enough for a
shot to prove effective, but quite near enough for him to start
running--and that at nearly his best pace--homeward, for he had no
horse.
As he turned to run, the pursuing Matabele set up a series of the most
appalling yells; which, however, so far from appalling the object of
their pursuit, caused him to laugh grimly to himself as he thought how
these idiots were wasting wind in making a wholly unnecessary noise.
Peters was as hard as nails, and absolutely sound in wind and limb--yet
he started handicapped by reason of the strain upon both effected by his
recent struggle. And he had about two miles to cover before reaching
the homestead. Even then, was safety there? Lamont might not have
returned, in all probability would not have--and then these might waylay
and murder him at their leisure; whereas the two of them might have made
a good show of defence. Of Ancram's presence he took no account
whatever.
All this passed through his brain as he ran--yet ran with judgment. He
had not put forth his best pace as yet. A glance over his shoulder from
time to time told him that his enemies, though they kept the distance
equal, were not gaining on him, and that being so, he would reserve a
spurt for emergencies. Thus the chase sped on, and the pursuing savages
strung out upon the track of the one white man like a pack of hounds in
full cry.
Ancram the while was sitting in the shade of the rough verandah, reading
a novel, and, alternately, thinking. He had returned there with a
purpose, and that was to force Lamont to do something for him; wherefore
the ill-concealed ungraciousness of his welcome had no effect upon him
whatever. He could make it unpleasant for Lamont--very unpleasant; he
had already noticed a growing coolness towards the latter since he had
insinuated here and there the tale--his version--of the affair at
Courtland Mere. And Clare Vidal? Watching her furtively but keenly he
had recognised that she entertained a high opinion of Lamont, but not of
himself. Well, that might be altered, with a little judicious innuendo,
as to the first, at any rate, if not as to the last. She certainly was
a splendid looking girl, and ought to have her eyes opened. Lovely eyes
they were, too, by Jove!
Looking up now, he saw Lamont strolling across from the stable.
"I say, old chap, do you go to bed with that magazine rifle?" he said
banteringly, in allusion to the weapon the other always carried during
the last few days.
"You may yet come to see the sound judgment even of that," he answered
grimly.
And such are the coincidences, the ironies of life, that even as he
spoke a couple of shots snapped forth from among the thorns along the
top of the river bank, together with an astonishing whoop.
"Hi-ha! Lamont! Look out! Look out! The devils are coming!"
"That's Peters," he said.
"Why, what the deuce--" began Ancram, looking blank, as a horrible
suspicion of the truth began to dawn upon him.
Both men stood staring in the direction of the sounds. Then one of them
instinctively and characteristically slipped under cover of the house.
But that one was not Lamont. Now Peters appeared, sprinting in fine
form across the open. Behind him, a flourish of shields above the
thorn-bushes, and some threescore savages sprang forth at a run,
determined to fall on the place before its surprised inmate or inmates
should have time to realise what had happened. But they reckoned
without one of the said inmates.
The magazine rifle spoke, and a bedizened warrior flung his shield in
the air and plunged forward upon his face. Another followed suit--then
another. A magazine rifle, accurately handled, is a terror, and so the
assailants realised as a third went to ground, and then a fourth, and
all in a moment's space. With a loud cry of startled warning they
halted, then dropped down into the cover of the bushes and stones, yet
not before the marksman, detecting a momentary bunching of the crowd,
had let go another shot, this time with more deadly effect still.
"What's the bag, Lamont?" cried Peters, with a laugh, though still
panting with his run.
"Five, for cert. I think two or three more are damaged as well. Fired
into the brown that last time."
"Well done--well done. Now I'm going to take a hand;" and diving into
the house he quickly opened the armoury chest, of which he had a
duplicate key, and produced a weapon exactly similar to Lamont's.
"Hallo, Ancram, you back again?" he cried in hurried greeting to that
worthy. "Now you're going to see that fight you were spoiling for,"
going to the window which commanded the point of attack. "Oh, blazes!
The devils ain't going to give us a show after all."
For the enemy seemed to have vanished into empty air. Yet both knew
that they were lying there meditating on the situation. Lamont's prompt
and accurate shooting had been of incalculable moral effect; and that
one man, standing out in the open, should be able to do such execution,
all with the same gun and not even pausing to reload, was not less so.
Would that gun go on shooting for ever? was what they were asking
themselves.
"Dig us out a drink, Lamont, while I keep an eye on our black brother,"
said Peters. "My tongue's hanging out after that run, I can tell you."
"That holds good of all hands, I guess," was the answer; and Ancram,
after a considerable stiff dose, began to grow valiant and hold the
fighting qualities of the concealed foe exceeding cheap.
"Don't crow yet, Ancram," said Peters grimly. "These are only the
advance guard of a much bigger lot. You'll get all you want of them
before to-night."
"No! Why d'you think that?" and even the abundant infusion of Dutch
courage was not quite abundant enough to stifle the anxiety underlying
the query.
"Because--Ah! There you are! I thought so."
A whiz of something, together with a double report. A bullet thudded
hard upon the outside wall, knocking up a cloud of chips and dust. Then
a regular fusillade rattled from the nearest thorn-bushes, and the
vicious hum of missiles in uncomfortable proximity. At the same time
tossing shields and glinting assegais stirred along the mimosa fringe,
as a swarm of savages broke into view, hurrying to the support of those
who had first attacked.