She realised it at length--realised that this was no visitant from the
spirit-world conjured up in answer to her impassioned prayer, but her
lover himself, alive and unharmed. She had thrown herself upon his
breast, and clung to him with all her strength, sobbing passionately--
clung to him as if even then afraid that he might vanish as suddenly as
he had appeared.
"My love, my love," he murmured in that low magnetic tone which she knew
so well, and which thrilled her to the heart's core. "Calm those poor
nerves, my darling, and rest on the sweetness of our meeting. We met--
our hearts met first on this very spot. Now they meet once more, never
again to part."
Still her feeling was too strong for words; she could only cling to him
in silence, while he covered her face and soft hair with kisses. A
moment ago she was mourning him as dead, was burying her heart in his
unknown and far-away grave, and lo, as by magic, he stood before her,
and she was safe in his embrace. A moment ago life was one long vista
of blank, agonising grief; now the joys of heaven itself might pale
before the unutterable bliss of this meeting.
Unlawful or not as their love might be, there was something solemn,
almost sacred, in its intense reality. The myriad eyes of heaven looked
down from the dark vault above, and the sullen redness of the war-fires
flashing from the distant heights shed a dull, threatening glow upon
those two, standing there locked in each other's embrace. Then once
more the wild, weird war-cry of the savage hosts swelled forth upon the
night. It was an awesome and fearful background to this picture of
renewed life and bliss.
Such a reunion can best be left to the imagination, for it will bear no
detailment.
"Why did you draw my very heart out of me like this, Eustace, my life?"
she said at last, raising her head. "When they told me you were dead I
knew it would not be long before I joined you. I could not have endured
this living death much longer."
There were those who pronounced Eanswyth Carhayes to be the most
beautiful woman they had ever beheld--who had started with amazement at
such an apparition on an out-of-the-way Kaffrarian farm. A grand
creature, they declared, but a trifle too cold. They would have
marvelled that they had ever passed such a verdict could they but have
seen her now, her splendid eyes burning into those of her lover in the
starlight as she went on:
"You are longing to ask what I am doing here in this place all alone and
at such a time. This. I came here as to a sanctuary: a sacred spot
which enshrined all the dearest memories of you. Here in silence and in
solitude I could conjure up visions of you--could see you walking beside
me as on that last day we spent together. Here I could kneel and kiss
the floor, the very earth which your feet had trod; and--O Eustace, my
very life, it was a riven and a shattered heart I offered up daily--
hourly--at the shrine of your dear memory."
Her tones thrilled upon his ear. Never had life held such a delirious,
intoxicating moment. To the cool, philosophical, strong-nerved man it
seemed as if his very senses were slipping away from him under the
thrilling love-tones of this stately, beautiful creature nestling within
his arms. Again their lips met--met as they had met that first time--
met as if they were never again to part.
"Inkose!"
The sudden sonorous interruption caused Eanswyth to start as if she had
been shot, and well it might. Her lover, however, had passed through
too many strange and stirring experiences of late to be otherwise than
slightly and momentarily disconcerted.
A dark figure stood at the lowest step of the _stoep_, one hand raised
in the air, after the dignified and graceful manner of native
salutation.
"Greeting, Josane," he replied.
"Now do mine eyes behold a goodly sight," went on the old Kafir with
animation, speaking in the pleasing figurative hyperbole of his race.
"My father and friend is safe home once more. We have mourned him as
dead and he is alive again. He has returned to gladden our hearts and
delight our eyes. It is good--it is good."
"How did you know I had returned, Josane?"
Had there been light enough they would have detected the most whimsical
smile come over the old Kafir's face as he replied:
"Am I not the _Inkosikazi's_ watch-dog? What sort of a watch-dog is it
that permits a footstep to approach from outside without his knowledge?"
"You are, indeed, a man, Josane--a man among men, and trust to those who
trust you," replied Eustace, in that tone of thorough friendship and
regard which had enabled him to win so effectually the confidence of the
natives.
The old cattle-herd's face beamed with gratification, which, however,
was quickly dashed with anxiety.
"Look yonder," he said. "There is trouble in the Gaika location
to-night. Take the _Inkosikazi_ and leave--this very night. I know
what I say." Then, marking the other's hesitation, "I know what I say,"
he repeated impressively. "Am I not the _Inkosikazi's_ watch-dog? Am I
not her eyes and ears? Even now there is one approaching from Nteya's
kraal."
He had struck a listening attitude. Eustace, his recent experiences
fresh in his mind, felt depressed and anxious, gazing expectantly into
the darkness, his hand upon the butt of his revolver.
"Halt! Who comes there?" he cried in the Xosa tongue.
"A friend, Ixeshane!" came the prompt reply, as a dark form stepped into
view.
Now that life was worth living again, Eanswyth felt all her old
apprehensions return; but she had every confidence in her lover's
judgment and the fidelity of her trusted old retainer.
"_Hau_, Ixeshane! You are here; it is good," said the new arrival in
the most matter-of-fact way, as though he were not wondering to
distraction how it was that the man who had been reported slain in the
Bomvana country by the hostile Gcalekas, should be standing there alive
and well before him. "I am here to warn the _Inkosikazi_. She must
leave, and at once. The fire-tongues of the Amaxosa are speaking to
each other; the war-cry of the Ama Ngqika is cleaving the night."
"We have seen and heard that before, Ncanduku," answered Eustace,
recognising the new arrival at once. "Yet your people would not harm
us. Are we not friends?"
The Kafir shook his head.
"Who can be called friends in war-time?" he said. "There are strangers
in our midst--strangers from another land. Who can answer for them? I
am Ncanduku, the brother of Nteya. The chief will not have his friends
harmed at the hands of strangers. But they must go. Look yonder, and
lose no time. Get your horses and take the _Inkosikazi_, and leave at
once, for the Ama Ngqika have responded to the call of their brethren
and the Paramount Chief, and have risen to arms. _The land is dead_."
There was no need to follow the direction of the Kafir's indication. A
dull, red glare, some distance off, shone forth upon the night; then
another and another. Signal fires? No. These shone from no prominent
height, but from the plain itself. Then Eustace took in the situation
in a moment. The savages were beginning to fire the deserted homesteads
of the settlers.
"Inspan the buggy quickly, Josane," he said. "And, Ncanduku, come
inside for a moment. I will find _basela_ [Best rendered by the
familiar term `backshish'] for you and Nteya." But the voice which had
conveyed such timely warning responded not. The messenger had
disappeared.
The whole condition of affairs was patent to Eustace's mind. Nteya,
though a chief whose status was not far inferior to that of Sandili
himself, was not all-powerful. Those of his tribesmen who came from a
distance, and were not of his own clan, would be slow to give implicit
obedience to his "word," their instincts for slaughter and pillage once
fairly let loose, and so he had sent to warn Eanswyth. Besides, it was
probable that there were Gcalekas among them. Ncanduku's words,
"strangers from another land," seemed to point that way. He put it to
Josane while harnessing the horses. The old man emitted a dry laugh.
"There are about six hundred of the Gcaleka fighting men in Nteya's
location to-night," he replied. "Every farmhouse in the land will be
burned before the morning. _Whau_, Ixeshane! Is there any time to lose
now?"
Eustace realised that assuredly there was not. But inspanning a pair of
horses was, to his experienced hand, the work of a very few minutes
indeed.
"Who is their chief?" he asked, tugging at the last strap. "Sigcau?"
"No. Ukiva."
An involuntary exclamation of concern escaped Eustace. For the chief
named had evinced a marked hostility towards himself during his recent
captivity; indeed, this man's influence had more than once almost turned
the scale in favour of his death. No wonder he felt anxious.
Eanswyth had gone into the house to put a few things together, having,
with an effort, overcome her reluctance to let him out of her sight
during the few minutes required for inspanning. Now she reappeared. "I
am ready, Eustace," she said.
He helped her to her seat and was beside her in a moment.
"Let go, Josane!" he cried. And the Kafir, standing away from the
horses' heads, uttered a sonorous farewell.
"What will become of him, dear?" said Eanswyth, as they started off at a
brisk pace.
"He is going to stay here and try and save the house. I'm afraid he
won't be able to, though. They are bound to burn it along with the
others. And now take the reins a moment, dearest. I left my horse
hitched up somewhere here, because I wanted to come upon you unawares.
I'll just take off the saddle and tie it on behind."
"But what about the horse? Why not take him with us?"
"Josane will look after him. I won't take him along now, because--well,
it's just on the cards we might have to make a push for it, and a led
horse is a nuisance. Ah--there he is," as a low whinnying was heard on
their left front and duly responded to by the pair in harness.
In less than two minutes he had the saddle secured at the back of the
buggy and was beside her again. It is to be feared Eustace drove very
badly that night. Had the inquiry been made, candour would have
compelled him to admit that he had never driven so badly in his life.
Eanswyth, for her part, was quite overcome with the thrilling,
intoxicating happiness of the hour. But what an hour! They were
fleeing through the night--fleeing for their lives--their way lighted by
the terrible signal beacons of the savage foe--by the glare of flaming
homesteads fired by his ravaging and vengeful hand. But then, he who
was dead is alive again, and is beside her--they two fleeing together
through the night.
"Darling," she whispered at last, nestling up closer to him. "Why did
they try to kill me by telling me you were dead?"
"They had every reason to suppose so. Now, what do you think stood
between me and certain death?"
"What?"
"Your love--not once, but twice. The silver box. See. Here it is,
where it has ever been--over my heart. Twice it turned the point of the
assegai."
"Eustace!"
"It is as I say. Your love preserved me for yourself."
"Oh, my darling, surely then it cannot be so wicked--so unlawful!" she
exclaimed with a quiver in her voice.
"I never believed it could," he replied.
Up till then, poor Tom's name had not been mentioned. Both seemed to
avoid allusion to it. Now, however, that Eustace had to narrate his
adventures and escape, it could not well be avoided. But in describing
the strange impromptu duel between the Gcaleka warrior and his
unfortunate cousin, he purposely omitted any reference to the latter's
probable hideous fate, leaving Eanswyth to suppose he had been slain
then and there. It was impossible that she should have been otherwise
than deeply moved.
"He died fighting bravely, at any rate," she said at last.
"Yes. Want of courage was never one of poor Tom's failings. All the
time we were out he was keener on a fight than all the rest of the
command put together."
There was silence after this. Then at last:
"How did you escape, Eustace, my darling? You have not told me."
"Through paying ransom to that same Hlangani and paying pretty stiffly
too. Four hundred and fifty head of good cattle was the figure. Such a
haggle as it was, too. It would have been impolitic to agree too
quickly. Then, I had to square this witch-doctress, and I daresay old
Kreli himself will come in for some of the pickings. From motives of
policy we had to carry out the escape as if it was a genuine escape and
not a put-up job--but they managed it all right--took me across the
river on some pretext or other and then gave me the opportunity of
leg-bail. As soon as the war is over Hlangani will come down on me for
the cattle."
"How did you know I was back at Anta's Kloof, dearest? Did the Hostes
tell you?" said Eanswyth at last.
"No. I met that one-eyed fellow Tomkins just outside Komgha. I only
waited while he called up two or three more to back his statement and
then started off here as hard as ever I could send my nag over the
ground."
The journey was about half accomplished. The buggy bowled merrily
along--and its occupants--alone together in the warm balmy southern
night--began to wish the settlement was even further off. They were
ascending a long rise.
"Hallo, what's up?" exclaimed Eustace suddenly, whipping up his horses,
which he had been allowing to walk up the hill.
The brow of the hill was of some altitude and commanded a considerable
view of the surrounding country. But the whole of the latter was lit up
by a dull and lurid glow. At intervals apart burned what looked like
several huge and distant bonfires.
"They mean business this time," said Eustace, reining in a moment to
breathe his horses on the brow of the rise. "Look. There goes Hoste's
place. That's Bradfield's over there--and beyond that must be
Oesthuisen's. Look at them all blazing merrily; and--by jingo--there
goes Draaibosch!"
Far and wide for many a mile the country was aglow with blazing
homesteads. Evidently it was the result of preconcerted action on the
part of the savages. The wild yelling chorus of the barbarous
incendiaries, executing their fierce war-dances around their work of
destruction, was borne distinctly upon the night.
"The sooner we get into Komgha the better now," he went on, sending the
buggy spinning down the long declivity which lay in front. At the
bottom of this the road was intersected by a dry water course, fringed
with bush; otherwise the _veldt_ was for the most part open, dotted with
straggling clumps of mimosa.
Down went the buggy into the dry sandy drift. Suddenly the horses shied
violently, then stopped short with a jerk which nearly upset the
vehicle. A dark firm, springing panther-like, apparently from the
ground, had seized the reins.
Instinctively Eustace recognised that this was no time for parleying.
Quick as thought he drew his revolver and fired. The assailant relaxed
his hold, staggered, spun round, then fell heavily to the earth. The
horses, thus released, tore wildly onward, mad with terror.
A roar and a red, sheeting flash split the darkness behind. The
missiles hummed overhead, one of them tearing a hole in the wide brim of
Eanswyth's hat. This aroused all the demon in the blood of her
companion. Standing up in his seat, regardless of prudence, he pointed
his revolver at the black onrushing mass discernible in the starlight,
and fired three shots in rapid succession. A horrible, shrill, piercing
scream, showed that they had told with widespread and deadly effect.
"Ha! _Bulala abelungu_!" [Death to the whites] howled the exasperated
barbarians. And dropping flat on the ground they poured another volley
into the retiring vehicle.
But the latter had gained some distance now. The horses, panic-stricken
and well-nigh unmanageable, were tearing up the hill on the other side
of the drift, and it was all their driver could do in the darkness to
keep them in the track. The buggy swayed fearfully, and twice catching
a wheel in an ant-heap was within an ace of turning over.
Suddenly one of the horses stumbled heavily, then fell. All his
driver's efforts to raise him were useless. The poor beast had been
struck by a bullet, and lay, feebly struggling, the blood pouring from a
jagged wound in his flank.
The black bolt of despair shot through Eustace's heart. There was a
feeble chance of escape for Eanswyth, but a very feeble one. Of himself
he did not think. Quickly he set to work to cut loose the other horse.
But the traditional sagacity of that quadruped, as is almost invariably
the case, failed in an emergency. He plunged and kicked in such wise as
to hinder seriously, if not defeat, every effort to disengage him from
the harness. Eustace, his listening powers at their utmost tension,
caught the light pit-pat of the pursuers' footsteps racing up the hill
in the darkness. They would be upon him before--
Ha! The horse was loose.
"Quick, Eanswyth. Mount! It is your only chance!" he said, shortening
the reins into a bridle and holding them for her.
"I will not."
"Quick, quick! Every moment lost is a life!"
"I will not. We will die together. I will not live without you," and
the heroic flash in the grand eyes was visible in the starlight.
The stealthy footsteps were now plainly audible. They could not have
been two hundred yards distant. Suddenly the horse, catching a renewed
access of panic, plucked the reins from Eustace's hand, and careered
wildly away into the _veldt_. The last chance of escape was cut off.
They must die together now. Facing round, crouching low behind the
broken-down vehicle, they listened for the approach of the pursuers.
All the bitterness of the moment was upon those two--upon him
especially--crouching there in the dark and lonely _veldt_. Their
reunion was only to be a reunion in death.
The last dread act was drawing on. The stealthy steps of the
approaching foe were now more distinctly audible. With a deadly and
vengeful fire at his heart, Eustace prepared to sell their lives as
dearly as ever life was sold.
"We need not fear, my sweet one," whispered the heroine at his side.
"We are dying together."
Nearer--nearer, came those cat-like footfalls. Then they ceased. The
pulses of the two anxious listeners beat with an intense and surging
throb of expectation in the dead silence.
But instead of those stealthy feet, swift to shed blood, there was borne
upon the night the sound of horses' hoofs. Then a crash of fire-arms,
and a ringing cheer. No savage war-cry that, but a genuine British
shout.
"That you, Milne?" cried a familiar voice. "All right: keep cool, old
man. We shan't hit you by mistake. How many are there?"
"I don't know. Better not tackle them in the dark, Hoste. Who is with
you?"
"Some Police. But where are the niggers?"
Where indeed? Savages have no stomach for facing unknown odds. Their
late assailants had prudently made themselves scarce.
"We seem to be only just in time, anyway?" said Hoste, with a long
whistle of consternation as he realised the critical position of
affairs. "Is Mrs Carhayes all right?" he added anxiously.
"Quite, thanks, Mr Hoste," replied Eanswyth. "But you are, as you say,
only just in time."
Two of the Police horses were inspanned to the buggy, the men mounting
behind comrades, and the party set forth. It would not do to linger.
The enemy might return in force at any moment.
Their escape had indeed been a narrow one. It was only late in the
afternoon that Hoste had, by chance, learned from a trustworthy source
that the Gaikas meant to rise that night. Horror-stricken, he had
rushed off to the officer in command of the Mounted Police to beg for
some troopers as a protective escort in order to bring Eanswyth away
from her lonely and perilous situation. An experienced sergeant and
twenty-five men had been immediately ordered out--arriving in the very
nick of time, as we have seen.
"Well, we are all burnt out now, anyway," said Hoste as they journeyed
along as rapidly as possible. "Look at my old place, what a flare-up
it's making. And the hotel at Draaibosch! It's making a bigger blaze
than all."
"That's McDonald's `Cape Smoke,'" [An inferior quality of Cape brandy is
thus popularly termed] laughed the police sergeant.
It was a weird and awesome sight. The whole country was literally in a
blaze--the murk of the reddened smoke of burning homesteads obliterating
the stars. And ever and anon the fierce, tumultuous thunder of a
distant war-dance was borne upon the air, with the vengeful shouts of
excited savages, beginning their orgy of torch and assegai.