"You ought to consider yourself uncommonly fortunate, Milne," said
Hoste, as the two men drew near Anta's Kloof. "You are the only one of
the lot of us not burnt out."
"That's a good deal thanks to Josane," replied Eustace, as the house
came into sight. "He thought he could manage to save it. I didn't.
But he was right."
"Ha-ha! I believe the old scamp has been enjoying himself all this time
with the rebels. I dare say he has been helping to do the faggot
trick."
"Quite likely."
Hoste eyed his companion with a curious glance. The latter had been
rather laconic during their ride; otherwise he seemed to show no very
great interest one way or another in the object of it. Yet there was
reason for believing that if Xalasa's tale should prove true it would
make every difference to the whole of Eustace Milne's future life.
The sun was just setting as they reached Anta's Kloof. The Kafir had
stipulated that they should meet him at night. He did not want to incur
potential pains and penalties at the hands of his compatriots as an
"informer" if he could possibly help it. The house, as Hoste had said,
was the only one in the whole neighbourhood which had escaped the torch,
but that was all that could be said, for it was completely gutted.
Everything portable had been carried off, if likely to prove of any use
to the marauders, what was not likely so to prove being smashed or
otherwise destroyed. Windows were broken and doors hung loose on their
hinges; in fact, the place was a perfect wreck. Still it was something
that the fabric would not need rebuilding.
Hardly had they off-saddled their horses, and, knee-haltering them
close, turned them out to graze around the house, than the night fell.
"Xalasa should be here by now," remarked Hoste, rather anxiously.
"Unless he has thought better of it. I always expected we should learn
something more about poor Tom when the war was over. Kafirs will talk.
Not that I ever expected to hear that he was alive, poor chap--if he is,
that's to say. But what had been the actual method of his death: that
was bound to leak out sooner or later."
Eustace made no reply. The remark irritated him, if only that his
companion had made it, in one form or another, at least half a dozen
times already. Then the sound of a light footstep was heard, and a
tall, dark figure stood before them in the gloom, with a muttered
salutation.
"Greeting, Xalasa!" said Eustace, handing the new arrival a large piece
of Boer tobacco. "We will smoke while we talk. The taste of the
fragrant plant is to conversation even as the oil unto the axles of a
heavily laden waggon."
The Kafir promptly filled his pipe. The two white men did likewise.
"Have you been in the war, Xalasa?" went on Eustace, when the pipes were
in full blast. "You need not be afraid of saying anything to us. We
are not Government people."
"_Au_!" said the Gaika, with a quizzical grin upon his massive
countenance. "I am a `loyal,' Ixeshane."
"The chiefs of the Ama Ngqika, Sandili and the rest of them, have acted
like children," replied Eustace, with apparent irrelevance. "They have
allowed themselves to be dragged into war at the `word' of Kreli, and
against the advice of their real friends, and where are they now? In
prison, with a lot of thieves and common criminals, threatened with the
death of a dog!"
The Kafir uttered an emphatic murmur of assent. Hoste, who was
excusably wondering what the deuce the recent bad behaviour, and
eventual fate of Sandili and Co., had to do with that of Tom Carhayes,
could hardly restrain his impatience. But Eustace knew what he was
about. The Briton may, as he delights to boast, prefer plain and
straightforward talking in matters of importance--or he may not. The
savage, of whatever race or clime, unequivocally does not. He dearly
loves what we should call beating around the bush. However important
the subject under discussion, it must be led up to. To dash straight at
the point is not his way. So after some further talk on the prospects
and politics of the Gaika nation, and of the Amaxosa race in general--
past, present, and to come--Eustace went on:
"You were not always a `loyal,' Xalasa?"
"_Whau_!" cried the man, bringing his hand to his mouth, in expressive
native fashion. "When the fire trumpet first sounded in the midnight
sky, I answered its call. While the chiefs of the Ama Ngqika yet sat
still, many of their children went forth to war at the `word' of the
Paramount Chief. Many of us crossed into the Gcaleka country and fought
at the side of our brethren. Many of us did not return. _Hau_!"
"Then you became a `loyal'?"
"_Ihuvumente_ [The Government] was very strong. We could not stand
against it. Ha! _Amasoja_--_Amapolisi_--_bonke_. [Soldiers--police--
all] I thought of all the men who had crossed the Kei with me. I
thought of the few who had returned. Then I thought, `Art thou a fool,
Xalasa? Is thy father's son an ox that he should give himself to be
slain to make strength for Sarili's fighting men?' _Hau_! I came home
again and resolved to `sit still.'"
"But your eyes and ears were open among the Ama-Gcaleka. They saw--they
heard of my brother, Umlilwane?"
"Thy brother, Umlilwane, was alive at the time the white _Amagcagca_
[Rabble] knocked me down and kicked me. He is alive still."
"How do you know he is alive still?" said Eustace, mastering his voice
with an effort, for his pulses were beating like a hammer as he hung
upon the other's reply. It came--cool, impassive, confident:
"The people talk."
"Where is he, Xalasa?"
"Listen, Ixeshane," said the Kafir, glancing around and sinking his
voice to an awed whisper. "Where is he! _Au! Kwa 'Zinyoka_."
"_Kwa 'Zinyoka_! `The Home of the Serpents!'" Well he remembered the
jeering, but ominous, words of the hideous witch-doctress at the time
his unfortunate cousin was being dragged away insensible under the
directions of his implacable foe, Hlangani. "_He will wake. But he
will never be seen again_." And now this man's testimony seemed to bear
out her words.
"What is this `Home of the Serpents,' Xalasa?" he said.
"_Au_!" returned the Kafir, after a thoughtful pause, and speaking in a
low and apprehensive tone as a timid person in a haunted room might talk
of ghosts. "It is a fearsome place. None who go there ever return--
none--no, not one," he added, shaking his head. "But they say your
magic is great, Ixeshane. It may be that you will find your brother
alive. The war is nearly over now, but the war leaves every man poor.
I have lost all I possessed. When you find your brother you will
perhaps think Xalasa is a poor man, and I have too many cattle in my
kraal. I will send four or five cows to the man who told me my brother
was alive."
In his heart of hearts Eustace thought how willingly he would send him a
hundred for precisely the opposite intelligence.
"Where is `The Home of the Serpents'?" he said.
"Where? Who knows? None save Ngcenika, who talks with the spirits.
None save Hlangani, who rejoices in his revenge as he sees his enemy
there, even the man who struck him, and drew the blood of the Great
Chief's herald. Who knows? Not I. Those who go there never return,"
he added impressively, conveying the idea that in his particular
instance "ignorance is bliss."
Eustace's first instinct was one of relief. If no one knew where the
place was, clearly no one could tell. Then it struck him that this
rather tended to complicate matters than to simplify them. There had
been quite enough insinuated as to himself, and though guiltless as to
his cousin's fate, yet once it got wind that the unfortunate man was
probably alive somewhere, it would devolve upon himself to leave no
stone unturned until that probability should become a certainty. Public
opinion would demand that much, and he knew the world far too well to
make the blunder of treating public opinion, in a matter of this kind,
as a negligeable quantity.
"But if you don't know where the place is, Xalasa, how am I to find it?"
he said at length. "I would give much to the man who would guide me to
it. Think! Is there no man you know of who could do so?"
But the Kafir shook his head. "There is none!" he said. "None save
Ngcenika. _Whau_, Ixeshane! Is not thy magic as powerful as hers?
Will it not aid thee to find it? Now I must go. Where the `Home of the
Serpents' is, thy brother is there. That is all I can tell thee."
He spoke hurriedly now and in an altered tone--even as a man who has
said too much and is not free from misgiving as to the consequences. He
seemed anxious to depart, and seeing that nothing more was to be got out
of him for the present, the two made no objection.
Hardly had he departed than Josane appeared. He had noted the arrival
of Xalasa, though Xalasa was under the impression that he was many miles
distant. He had waited until the _amakosi_ [Literally "chiefs." In
this connection "masters"] had finished their _indaba_ [Talk] and here
he was. He was filled with delight at the sight of Ixeshane and his
eyes felt good. His "father" and his "friend" had been away for many
moons, but now he was back again and the night was lighter than the day.
His "father" could see, too, how he had kept his trust, the old man
went on. Where were the houses of all the other white _amakosi_! Heaps
of ashes. The house of his "father" alone was standing--it alone the
torch had passed by. As for the destruction which had taken place
within it, that could not be prevented. The people "saw red." It had
taxed the utmost effort of himself and Ncanduku to preserve the house.
Reft of hyperbole, his narrative was plain enough. A marauding band had
made a descent upon the place on the very night they had quitted it,
and, although with difficulty dissuaded from burning it down, the
savages had wrecked the furniture and looted the stores, as we have
shown. This, however, was comparatively a small evil.
Hoste, wearied with all this talk, which moreover he understood but
imperfectly, had waxed restive and strolled away. No sooner was he out
of earshot than Josane, sinking his voice, remarked suddenly:
"Xalasa is a fool!"
Eustace merely assented. He saw that something was coming, and prepared
to listen attentively.
"Do you want to find Umlilwane?" went on the old Kafir with ever so
slight an expression on the "want."
"Of course I do," was the unhesitating reply. But for the space of half
a minute the white man and the savage gazed fixedly into each other's
faces in the starlight.
"_Au_! If I had known that!" muttered Josane in a disappointed tone.
"If I had known that, I could have told you all that Xalasa has--_could
have told you many moons ago_."
"You knew it, then?"
"Yes."
"And is it true--that--that he is alive now?"
"Yes."
"But, Josane, how is it you kept your knowledge to yourself? He might
have been rescued all this time. Now it may be too late."
"_Whau_, Ixeshane! Did _you_ want him rescued?" said the old fellow
shrewdly. "Did the _Inkosikazi_ want him rescued?"
This was putting matters with uncomfortable plainness. Eustace reddened
in the darkness.
"Whatever we `wanted,' or did not want, is nothing," he answered. "This
is a matter of life and death. He must be rescued."
"As you will," was the reply in a tone which implied that in the
speaker's opinion the white man was a lunatic. And from his point of
view such was really the case. The old savage was, in fact, following
out a thoroughly virtuous line of conduct according to his lights. All
this while, in order to benefit the man he liked, he had coolly and
deliberately been sacrificing the man he--well, did not like.
"Where is `The Home of the Serpents,' Josane? Do you know?"
"Yes. I know?"
Eustace started.
"Can you guide me to it?" he said, speaking quickly.
"I can. But it is a frightful place. The bravest white man would take
to his heels and run like a hunted buck before he had gone far inside.
You have extraordinary nerve, Ixeshane--but--You will see."
This sounded promising. But the old man's tone was quiet and confident.
He was not given to vapouring.
"How do you know where to find this place, Josane?" said Eustace, half
incredulously in spite of himself. "Xalasa told us it was unknown to
everybody--everybody but the witch-doctress?"
"Xalasa was right. I know where it is, because I have seen it. _I was
condemned to it_."
"By Ngcenika?"
"By Ngcenika. But my revenge is coming--my sure revenge is coming,"
muttered the old Gcaleka, crooning the words in a kind of ferocious
refrain--like that of a war-song.
As this juncture they were rejoined by Hoste.
"Well, Milne," he said. "Had enough _indaba_? Because, if so, we may
as well trek home again. Seems to me we've had a lot of trouble for
nothing and been made mortal fools of down to the ground by that
_schelm_, Xalasa's, cock-and-bull yarns."
"You're wrong this time," replied Eustace. "Just listen here a while
and you'll see that we're thoroughly on the right scent."
At the end of half an hour the Kafir and the two white men arose. Their
plans were laid. The following evening--at sundown--was the time fixed
on as that for starting upon their perilous and somewhat dimly
mysterious mission.
"You are sure three of us will be enough, Josane?" said Hoste.
"Quite enough. There are still bands of the Gcaleka fighting men in the
forest country. If we go in a strong party they will discover us and we
shall have to fight--_Au_! `A fight is as the air we breathe,' you will
say, _Amakosi_," parenthesised the old Kafir, whimsically--"But it will
not help us to find `The Home of the Serpents.' Still, there would be
no harm in having one more in the party."
"Who can we get?" mused Hoste. "There's George Payne; but he's away
down in the Colony--Grahamstown, I believe. It would take him days to
get here and even then he might cry off. I have it; Shelton's the man,
and I think he'll go, too. Depend upon it, Milne, Shelton's the very
man. He's on his farm now--living in a Kafir hut, seeing after the
rebuilding of his old house. We'll look him up this very night; we can
get there in a couple of hours."
This was agreed to, and having arranged where Josane was to meet them
the following evening, the two men saddled up and rode off into the
darkness.