The vedettes had signalled. Away over the veldt to the westward a
pillar of dust was visible; and it was moving, drawing nearer. A group,
outside the stockade, was watching it intently.
"What d'you make of it, Grunberger?" said Fullerton impatiently.
"I think dot was someone coming," answered the storekeeper, who was
looking through a pair of field-glasses. This instructive utterance
evolved a laugh.
"That's what we all think, old chap," said Jim Steele. "What we want to
_know_ is who it's likely to be. White or black, or blue or green, or
what?"
"Dot was one white man and one Matabele," said the storekeeper, still
intently scanning the approaching dust. "_Ach_! und they ride like de
devil."
"Here, let's have a look in, Grunberger," cried Fullerton. "I may know
who it is."
The other resigned the glasses, and after a long look, during which the
two mounted figures drew rapidly nearer, Fullerton exclaimed--
"By Jove, I do! It's Driffield--Driffield and a boy."
The excitement became intense. Nobody would push his horses at that
pace on a hot day unless he were a born fool--which Driffield was not.
Clearly there must be somebody behind him, from whom he had a strong
interest in getting away.
"How about telling the captain?" suggested someone.
"Not yet," cut in Peters, who had just joined the group. "Lamont's
sound asleep, and he needs it too, for to my knowledge he hasn't shut
his eyes for four nights. Time enough when we hear what's in the wind."
And that was not to be long. Driffield rolled from his horse panting
with excitement and hard riding, and his tale was very soon told, and
his experience was closely akin to that of Peters. He had been set upon
in his camp that morning by three of his boys, but at the same time he
had discovered a number of natives making for his camp at no great
distance. He killed two assailants with his shot-gun, and the third
took to his heels. Meanwhile, with great presence of mind, the other
boy, who had remained faithful, had quickly saddled up the ponies, and
the two had got away, but only just in time, for the crowd was beginning
to fire at them. But on the road they were forced to make a sudden
_detour_ to avoid a big impi, which was heading straight in this
direction.
"That's news!" said Peters. "They're likely coming for this place,
expecting only to find Grunberger, all childlike and confiding. Ah!"
Again the vedette was signalling, and all eyes turned instinctively in
the same direction as before. There, sure enough, where the first dust
column had been sighted, arose another; no narrow thread this time but a
very volume.
"That's them, right enough," said Driffield, while refreshing. "Let my
boy have some skoff, will you, Grunberger. He's jolly well earned it."
If the news brought by the Native Commissioner was a source of vivid
excitement to all present, no less was theirs to him. He had calculated
on warning Grunberger, and if needful giving him a hand in moving his
family to Gandela, which he would have had time to do while the Matabele
were looting his possessions; instead of which he found the place quite
strongly garrisoned, and indeed, considering its defensive facilities,
it might be held against very considerable odds. And thus to hold it
was the resolve of all there.
"By Jove, but you fellows were in luck," he said regretfully. "I wish I
had been there. And Miss Vidal--why, she's splendid."
"I can tell you she saved the whole outfit, by preventing the niggers
getting at the mules before we came up," went on his informant. "I had
it from Fullerton she shot three with her own hand."
"Three mules?"
"No--niggers--don't be a silly ass, Driffield. Only don't make any
allusion to it when you see her. She wants to forget it."
"Of course. Any nice girl would. And she--by Jove, she's splendid!"
"You're not alone in that opinion," said the other so significantly as
to draw the obvious query--
"Why?"
"Well," lowering his voice, "Lamont seems to be making powerful running
in that quarter. In fact he pretty well gave the show away in his wild
eagerness to start after them the moment he heard Fullerton's crowd was
on the road at all."
Whereby it is manifest that Lamont's secret was not quite such a secret
as he--and the sharer of it--imagined.
He, the while, together with others, was watching the approaching
dust-cloud, and a council of war was held. Most were in favour of
allowing the raiders to approach quite close, and then surprise them
with a raking volley. This followed up quickly by another and another
could not fail to demoralise them utterly. Meanwhile the pickets came
riding rapidly in.
"Large force of Matabele coming up the road, sir," reported the first.
"Right. Every man to his post," ordered Lamont. His expression of
countenance grew anxious, as soon the impi swung into view, marching in
close formation, and divided into three companies--the largest and
central of which kept the road, hence the dust-cloud. For he estimated
that it could not be less than a thousand strong, and how was his small
force going to hold its own against a determined rush on the part of
such overwhelming odds?
The impi, as it drew near, presented an imposing spectacle. The
warriors were in their national fighting gear. Quite half of them had
been herders or mine boys for the settlers and prospectors--some
perchance store-hands in the townships, but all had discarded the
tattered shirt and trousers, or ragged hat, and their bronze bodies were
bedecked with feather and bead adornments, and cow-tails, and monkey
skins, and jackal-teeth necklaces--all of which, from a spectacular
point of view, constituted an immense improvement. Then, too, the
forest of great tufted shields, white or black, red or variegated, the
quivering rattle of assegai hafts, making weird accompaniment to the
gong-like roar of the deep voices as they marched, singing--assuredly
the sight was a martial and inspiring one; but of those who beheld it
their leader was not the only one to think that he might have
appreciated it more fully if this enclosure contained not less than a
hundred good white men instead of a bare three dozen.
The latter were watching through the chinks in the stockade--these in
many places formed natural loopholes, where they did not they were made
to. How long would it be before the word was given to fire? was the one
thought in possession of each tense, strained mind. Then, suddenly, the
advancing host came to a halt.
Clearly the Matabele were not quite satisfied as to the place being so
innocent-looking and deserted as they had expected. For one thing,
there were no horses or cattle grazing about anywhere within sight,
these, of course, having been brought within at the earliest alarm.
This looked suspicious.
They were obviously holding a consultation, but had lowered their voices
so as not to be heard by whoever might be inside. Then about a score of
them, leaving the others, came a little nearer.
"Ho, Gumbega," called out one, hailing the storekeeper by the nearest
approach to his name that the native tongue could roll itself round.
"Are you from home that your gate is all barred up and made extra
strong?"
"No, I am here," replied Grunberger, in obedience to a whisper from
Lamont. "But that was done by the captain's orders."
"The captain! What captain?"
"The captain of about a hundred men who arrived here yesterday. Look at
all the rifles."
There was no mistake as to this. Rifle barrels protruded through the
chinks so that the whole of that side of the stockade seemed to glisten
with them. The savages were obviously nonplussed. A strongly defended
place containing a hundred well-armed whites--or even half that number--
constituted a nut which, large as their own force was, they did not care
to crack--at any rate not just then. So without a word those who had
come forward returned to the main body, and the whole impi resumed its
way, taking care to let them see, however, that it had no intention of
drawing any nearer to the place.
"Come out and look, Lucy," said Clare, who had been dividing her
attention between watching what was going on and trying to reassure her
terrified sister. "It's a splendid sight, and we don't get an
opportunity of seeing a big Matabele regiment on the march every day,
and in full war-paint too."
"A splendid sight! Ugh, the horrible wretches! I never want to set
eyes on them again."
And the speaker shuddered, and stopped her ears as though to shut out
the receding thunder of the marching song.
"But, Mrs Fullerton, there's nothing to be frightened of," urged the
storekeeper's wife. "They're going right away."
An idea struck Clare. Going outside, the first person she ran against
was Lamont.
"Piers," she said in a low tone, "where are they going?"
"I suspect they are making straight for Gandela."
"Will they--take it?"
"No reason why they should, if only Orwell and Isard have condescended
to act on my repeated warning, and put the place into a state of
defence."
"And if not--?"