Ancram felt his face going cold and white. He was not by temperament
especially brave, and had never seen a shot fired, or a blow struck in
anger, with lethal weapon that is, in his life, and now the whiz and
impact of these humming missiles, any one of which might knock him into
the next world in less than a second, struck terror into his soul. So
too did the sight of those long bright blades in the grip of these
threatening savages, brawny of frame and ferocious of aspect, in their
wild and fantastic war-gear of cow-tails and monkey skins and variegated
hide. Not to put too fine a point upon it, he was badly scared, and,
what was worse, looked all that.
"Here--hi! Hold up!" cried Lamont, as ducking spasmodically to avoid a
bullet that had whizzed nearly a yard over his head Ancram cannoned
violently against him. "Confound it, you've upset all my `peg,' which
is a waste of good liquor. Never mind, there's plenty more,
fortunately. You'd better have another yourself, Ancram."
"Er--ah--I think I had."
But the hand that held his glass trembled so violently that he spilled
nearly half of what he had just mixed for himself. At the same time
Peters burst into a roar of laughter, but not at this.
"There's a nigger," he explained, "who keeps bobbing his head round a
stone, but he's in too much of a funk to keep it there; and the
expression on his face as he bobs it back again is enough to kill a
cat."
Ancram stared, and gave a sickly grin. He couldn't have raised a
spontaneous laugh then--no not to save his life. Yet these other two
were keenly enjoying the joke.
"They won't show in a hurry," said Lamont. "These magazine guns of ours
have put the fear of the Lord into them."
"Will they go away then, and leave us?" said Ancram eagerly.
"Not much. They'll lie low till it's dark. Then they'll have things
all their own way."
Ancram went pale again.
"But--but--D'you mean to say," he stammered, "that we shall be--at their
mercy?"
"Just that," answered Lamont, who was busy lighting his pipe. "I say,
Ancram, it's different here now to that day at Courtland Mere. Slightly
warmer, eh?"
He took a fiendish pleasure in the situation, as the incidents of that
memorable day came before him once more. Then, and since, this man had
held him up as a coward, this man standing here now with the blanched
face and staring eyes. Yet if ever any man was in a blue funk, that man
was Ancram--here at this moment.
"Oh, come now, Lamont," objected the latter, with a forced laugh.
"You're humbugging, you know. You wouldn't be so jolly cool and
contented if it was really as you say."
"As to being cool, you've got to be in these fixes. As for contented--I
tell you I'm most infernally discontented. D'you think it's any fun to
have my place burnt down, and all sorts of things in it for which I
still have a use? Well, it isn't."
"But ourselves--our lives?" urged Ancram wonderingly.
"We're not going to lose those if we can help it. We're going to skip."
"But how? When?"
"Soon as it gets dark enough. Buck up, man. You're in luck's way.
Why, you've got here just in the nick of time to see some of the fun you
were hankering after that first night you arrived."
"In luck's way! Fun!" At that moment Ancram would have given a great
deal more than he had ever possessed to find himself back safe and sound
within even the doubtful security afforded by Gandela.
"You remember," went on Lamont cruelly, "that night you arrived? It
would be a jolly good job if we did have a war. It would be no end fun,
and you'd enjoy it. Well, there's a whole heap of enjoyment sticking
out for you on those terms--if we get through to-night, that is."
"What are our chances, then?"
"About one in three. Stand back. You're getting into line with that
window again."
Ancram stepped aside with wondrous alacrity.
"Er--I say, can't you lend me a gun of some sort?" he said.
"A gun? Done any rifle shooting?"
"Not much--in fact very little."
"Then a bird gun is the thing for you. With buckshot cartridges it's a
terror--especially at close quarters. By Jove, Ancram! that last shoot
we had at Courtland, you little thought that next time you and I were
fellow guns it wouldn't be as against the harmless homely rocketer, but
the whole real live Matabele?"
"No, rather not," answered Ancram, a little more confidently, for the
cool, devil-may-care fearlessness of the other two was beginning to
infect him. "And--er, Lamont, I think I'll have another peg, if I may."
The hot afternoon drowsed on, and the assailants, or besiegers rather,
after the first few volleys made no further sign. It was clear that
Lamont had accurately sized up their programme. Once, Peters had
thought to descry the head of a savage peering round a bush, and had
promptly sent a bullet where he judged the body should be, but there was
nothing to tell with what success or not. Clearly they were playing a
waiting game, for they made no attempt to occupy the cattle kraal, and
rake the house from there. Those awful magazine rifles had established
within them a wholesome fear.
But they had no idea of abandoning their plan, for all that. That house
would be worth plundering. Its owner was known as one of the well-to-do
settlers, and there would be stores of all kinds, and ammunition and
firearms--good ones too. For the rest, they had already lost several
warriors and thirsted for revenge.
During the hours of daylight the occupants were not idle. The position
being menaced from one side only, they need only give cursory vigilance
to the other, where the ground was too open for any wily savage to
venture to risk his skin. So, while one watched, the other was busy
putting up in portable packets a sufficiency of provisions to last for
some days at a pinch, likewise as much ammunition as could be carried.
"Now we'll have a feed," said Lamont. "That'll last us the night
through, and spare our supplies for the road. They're bound to burn
this shack down in any case. Aren't they, Peters?"
"Cert."
"All right then. Now for the trap."
And Ancram looked on with mystified eyes, while Lamont was arranging
what seemed like a dummy parcel on a beam over the centre of the room,
and connecting it by a string to a cross string, fastened about half a
yard above the ground. This anybody exploring the room was bound to
trip over, and then--down came the dummy parcel, hard and violently upon
the table. Having tested it several times, he untied it from the string
and chucked it into a corner.
"That'll be all right. There'll be some vacant places in kingdom come
filled up before sunrise," he said. And to Ancram's inquiries as to
what sort of booby trap they were concocting, the answers of both men
were dark.
The sun dipped to the far horizon, throwing out his long sweeping rays
of gold across the silent land. But there was no sign of the returning
herd of cattle, of which Ujojo was in charge. It was significant, too,
that no sign of a native servant was visible among the huts since the
time that Peters had been chased in. Ujojo had, of course, run off the
cattle as his share of the spoil. The few calves in the kraal were
bellowing impatiently for their defaulting mothers, and some fowls were
clucking and scratching about. In a few minutes it would be quite dark.
"Ready, Ancram?" said Peters.
"Ye-es. But--who's going to fetch the horses?"
"Nobody," said Lamont briskly. "We travel per Shanks his mare."
"But--what'll Fullerton say? I borrowed a horse from him."
"Then he'll lose it. Why, if anyone tried to get out the horses he'd
make such a devil of a row over it that our scheme would be blown upon
right there. And they wouldn't funk rushing us in the dark, when we
couldn't see to shoot straight. Now then--got your gun and cartridges?
That's right. Out of that window, and stick hard to Peters. For your
life walk quietly and don't let a sound be heard. I'm going to set the
trap."
But Peters protested this was his job--protesting, however, to deaf
ears.
"Well then, for God's sake, Lamont, be careful," he whispered earnestly.
For all they had primed him liberally with `Dutch courage' Ancram's
heart sank into his boots, as he found himself in the fresh, cool night
air, and realised that anything over a hundred savages lurked within
hardly more than three times that number of yards of him, thirsting for
his blood. No need to enjoin caution upon him. He stepped as though
walking on hot bricks. Suddenly he gave a violent start, and some
special extension of the mercy of Providence alone restrained him from
blazing off his gun. For he felt, rather than heard, stealthy footsteps
behind him. Then the merest whisper breathed through the darkness.
"It's all right. I've done it. Now let's get on."
And Ancram's knees tottered under him in the revulsion of feeling. No
murderous savage was this, stealing up to transfix him in the darkness.
It was only that they had been joined by Lamont.
"_Whau_! it is near the time," whispered Jabula, a fighting induna of
the old Insukamini regiment. "It will never be darker than this, and
these fools will be asleep by now. They believe we have gone away."
"Not yet, not yet," cautioned another man of equal rank. "When they
have drunk a little more they will be less watchful I know these whites
and their ways."
After some more whispered discussions it was agreed that they should
wait a little longer; and they lay there, in the darkness, impatiently
fingering their blades, and thinking hungrily over all the good things
they would find within that house when they had cut its occupants to
pieces.
Savages rarely embark on night attacks, any more than they are keen to
venture against unknown odds. These knew the odds they were facing: two
cool and resolute men--of Ancram's presence they were unaware--armed
with rifles which seemed to require no reloading, and who rarely missed
their aim. If such were to be overpowered, without terrific loss of
life to themselves, it must be during the hours of darkness. That was
the only chance, and even it was a desperate one. But for nearly two
hundred of them to retire before two men, however resolute, however
well-armed--no, that was not to be thought of.
The time had come, and now each supple, crawling shape moved noiselessly
through the darkness. Those who had white among their war adornments
had removed such, and were indistinguishable from the blackness that
enveloped them. On the edge of the cover they halted, listening
intently, but that dark silent house, now quite close, gave forth no
sound, showed no glimmer of a light. They moved forward once more,
those creeping snakes, a portion of them spreading out over the open
ground, their tactics being to surround the place completely, lest its
occupants should endeavour to escape in the darkness.
The circle closed in, and now they were right under the walls. Still no
sound! What did it mean? Simply that the man who had counselled
further delay had spoken the right word. The occupants were probably
fast asleep.
Softly, noiselessly, Jabula put forth his hand and grasped the handle of
the door; softly, noiselessly, he turned it. To his amazement the door
readily opened. It was not even fast.
He whispered a moment to those behind him, and he and several others
entered the room. Then, as prearranged, a blaze sprang up as one of
them had struck a match and lighted an impromptu torch of grass and
sticks intertwisted, and rubbed over with grease. More amazement!
There, in an arm-chair, with back towards them, lounged the figure of a
man. The broad-brimmed hat was pulled rather forward over the eyes, as
though its wearer were fast asleep.
"U' Lamonti!" murmured Jabula; adding, by way of injunction, "He is
sleepy with drink. Do not kill him. We will take him alive."
For a moment the induna and those inside the door stood contemplating
the sleeping figure, the fitful glare of the impromptu torch lighting
their savage faces and blood-covetous eyes. They felt no further
misgiving. The other white man would be asleep too--also drunk. What
surpassing fools these Amakiwa were.
"Wake, Lamonti," said Jabula, advancing to the arm-chair and its
occupant. "Lo, we have come to visit thee."
And those were the last words he ever spoke, for he had tripped and
stumbled over a line of taut string stretched across the room, and at
the moment he did so there was a concussion that might well have shaken
the world, together with a most awful and appalling roar; which,
however, those within or around did not even hear, inasmuch as they,
together with Lamont's homestead, had been literally blown from the face
of the earth.
When the sun rose the following morning, it rose upon a strange scene.
The site of Lamont's homestead was now represented by a huge pit
surrounded by a jumble of stones and fragments of wood and of iron--
human remains, also fragmentary, in ghastly profusion, mixed with
half-charred shields and fused and twisted metal. And outside the
radius of this indescribable ruin, an odd savage here and there was
picking himself up, and blinking dazedly as he asked a comrade what had
happened, and was surprised that though he could see the latter's lips
moving he could not hear one word of what was said. Indeed it would be
long before those who had escaped with life would recover from the shock
of that awful concussion, even if they ever did.