To convey anything like an adequate idea of what followed is well-nigh
impossible. The stunning, deafening roar of the volley in that narrow
space was as though the very earth had exploded from its foundations.
Through it came the shivering crash of glass, as Hlangani's lantern fell
into the pit, but whether its owner followed it or not could not be
determined through the overpowering din. Still holding the lantern, the
hideous witch-doctress was seen through the sulphurous smoke, standing
there as one turned to stone--then like lightning, a dark, lithe body
sprang through the spectators and with a growl like that of a wild beast
leaped upon the bewildered Ngcenika. There was the gleam of an assegai
in the air--then darkness and the shatter of glass. The lantern fell
from the sorceress' hand.
"Turn on the light, Milne; quick!" cried the other two.
"I'm trying to, but the infernal thing won't work. The slide's jammed--
Oh!"
For he was swept off his feet. Two heavy bodies rolled over him--
striving, cursing, struggling, stabbing--then half stumbled, half rolled
away into the gloom beyond.
The others bethought them of their candles, which, up till now, had been
kept unused. Quickly two of them were produced and lighted.
The din of the scuffle seemed to be receding further and further; nor in
the faint and flickering impression cast upon the cavernous gloom by the
light of the candles could anything be seen of the combatants. But that
the scuffle was a hard and fierce one was evident from the sounds.
Just then Eustace succeeded in opening the lantern slide, and now they
were able to advance boldly in the strong disk of light. The latter
revealed the object of their search.
Rolling over and over each other were two dark bodies, one now
uppermost, now the other. Both seemed equally matched; even if in point
of sheer physical strength the advantage did not lie slightly with the
witch-doctress, for Josane, though wiry and active, was a good deal
older than he looked. Each firmly gripped the other's right wrist, for
the purpose of preventing the use of the broad-bladed, murderous assegai
with which the right hand of each was armed. Victory would lie with
whoever could hold out the longest.
As soon as the light fell upon the two struggling bodies, the
witch-doctress threw all her energies into afresh and violent effort.
She seemed to divine that the new arrivals would refrain from shooting
at her for fear of injuring Josane. So she redoubled her struggles and
kicked and bit and tore like one possessed.
"Keep her in that position a moment, Josane," sung out Hoste. "I'll put
a hunk of lead through the devil's carcase. There--so!"
But it was not to be. With a supreme effort she wrenched her wrist free
from her opponent's grasp, and turning with the rapidity of a cat,
leaped out of sight in the darkness. But a moment later she stumbled
over a boulder and sprawled headlong. Before she could rise her pursuer
was upon her and had stabbed her twice through the body with his
assegai.
"Ha! Spawn of a Fingo dog!" cried Josane, his voice assuming a fierce,
throaty growl in the delirious satiety of his vengeance. "I am Josane--
whom thou wouldst have thrown to the serpents, as thou didst this white
man--ha! whom thou wouldst have given alive to feed the black ants, as
thou didst Vudana, my kinsman. Ha! I am Josane, who was eaten up at
thy accursed bidding. Ha! But I lived for revenge and it has come.
Ha! How does this feel?--and this?--and this?"
With each ejaculation "ha!" he had plunged his assegai into the writhing
body of the prostrate witch-doctress. To the white men his aspect was
that of a fiend--standing there in the cavernous gloom, his eyes rolling
in frenzy--literally digging with his spear into the body of his
vanquished enemy, out of which the red blood was squirting in a dozen
great jets. Not until the corpse had entirely ceased to move did he
cease his furious stabs.
"The hell-hag is dead!" he cried, as he at length turned to leave. "The
hell-hag is dead," he repeated, turning the words into a fierce chant of
exultation. "The hell-hag bleeds, and my revenge is sweet. Ha!
Revenge is brighter than the sun in the heavens, for it is red, blood
red. Ha! Mine enemy is dead!"
By this time they had returned to the brink of the pit. But there was
no sign of Hlangani. Something like dismay was on every face. The
fragments of his shattered lantern lay strewn about at the bottom of the
hole, but of the savage himself there was no sign. It was marvellous.
All three men were first-rate shots. It was impossible that any one of
them could have missed him at that distance, let alone all three. How
could he have got away with three bullets in his body?
Cautiously they hunted everywhere with increasing anxiety, but nothing
occurred to reward their search. The latter led them almost back to the
great rock-chamber where the serpents swarmed. Still no sign of
Hlangani.
This was serious in the extreme. They would have their hands full
enough with the wretched maniac, even if they succeeded in bringing him
away at all; and the idea that the fierce Gcaleka, desperately wounded
perhaps, might be lying in wait, in some awkward place, ready to fall
upon them with all the reckless, despairing ferocity of a cornered
leopard, was anything but encouraging. Or, what if he had escaped
altogether, and were to bring back a swarm of his countrymen to cut off
their retreat.
"I tell you what it is," said Hoste. "The sooner we get this poor chap
out, and clear out ourselves, the better."
This was true enough; but how to act upon it was another thing.
Several candles were lighted and stuck about on the rocks, making the
black, gloomy cavern a trifle less sepulchral. Then they advanced to
the pit's brink. The lunatic, crouched on the ground gnawing a bone,
stared stupidly at them.
"Don't you know me, Tom?" said Eustace, speaking quietly. "We are come
to get you away from here, old chap. You know me? Come now!"
But the poor wretch gave no sign of intelligence, as he went on munching
his revolting food. Several times they tried him, each in different
ways, but always without success. It was pitiable.
"We shall have to get him out by force," said Shelton. "But how the
deuce we are going to do it beats me."
"We might lasso him with a _reim_, and haul him up that way," suggested
Hoste.
"I had thought of that," said Eustace. "First of all, though, I'm going
to have another try at the _suaviter in modo_. He may recognise me--
nearer."
"Nearer? What? How? You are never going down there!" cried Shelton.
"That's just what I am going to do. Where's that long _reim_, Josane?"
This was the long, stout rawhide rope they had brought with them in case
it might be wanted for climbing purposes. Quickly Eustace had made a
running noose in it.
"I hope you're in good hard form, Milne," said Shelton gravely. "The
poor chap may try and tear you to pieces. I wouldn't risk it, if I were
you."
"And the snakes?" put in Hoste. "What about the snakes?"
"I shall have to chance them," returned Eustace, having a shrewd
suspicion that the reptiles had been rendered harmless by the extraction
of their fangs, and were, in fact, kept there by the witch-doctress in
order to lend additional horror to this _inferno_, whither she consigned
her victims. Even then the act of descending into that noisome pit,
with the almost certainty of a hand-to-hand struggle with a raging
lunatic of enormous strength, was an ordeal calculated to daunt the
stoutest of hearts. Certain it is that neither of the other two would
have cared to undertake it. More than ever, then, did they endeavour to
dissuade him.
"This is my idea," he said. "I must try and get him round against this
side of the hole. Then, while I hold his attention, Josane must drop
his blanket over his head. Then I'll fling the noose round him, and you
must all man the _reim_, and haul him up like a sack. Only it must be
done sharp. Directly I sing out `_Trek_,' you must haul away for dear
life."
"But how about yourself, old chap?"
"Never mind about me. I can wait down there until you're ready for me.
But when you have got him up here you must tie him up as tight as a log,
and sharp, too. Now, Josane, is your blanket ready?"
The old Kafir, who had been knotting a small stone into each corner so
that the thing should fall quickly, answered in the affirmative. In a
second the _reim_ was dropped over the side, and Eustace, sliding down,
stood at the bottom of the pit.
The indescribably fearful effluvium fairly choked him. He felt dizzy
and faint. The lunatic, still crouching at the other side, made no
aggressive movement, merely staring with lack-lustre eyes at the new
arrival. Keeping his eye upon him, Eustace took advantage of this
welcome truce to feel for his flask and counteract his fast overpowering
nausea with a timely pull.
"Tom," he said, in a most persuasive tone, approaching the wretched
being. "Tom--you know me, don't you?"
Then an awful change came into the maniac's countenance. His eyes
glared through the tangle of his matted hair; the great bushy beard
began to bristle and quiver with rage. He rose to his feet and, opening
his mouth, emitted that same horrible howl. Those above held their
breath.
Well for Eustace was it that he never quailed. Standing there in the
middle of the pit--at the mercy of this furious lunatic--he moved not a
muscle. But his eyes held those of the demoniac with a piercing and
steady gaze.
The crisis was past. Whimpering like a child, the wretched creature
sank to the ground, again covering his face with his hands.
This was good enough as a first triumph, but the maniac had to be coaxed
round to the other side of the hole. Eustace dared not remove his
glance, even for the fraction of a second. His foot struck against
something, which yielded suddenly and started away hissing. His pulses
stood still with horror, yet he knew better than to remove his eyes from
his unhappy kinsman.
"Come, Tom," he said coaxingly, advancing a couple of steps. "Get up,
man, and go and sit over there."
With an affrighted cry, the other edged away round the wall of his
prison, bringing himself much nearer the point where it was intended he
should be brought. He cowered, with face averted, moaning like an
animal in pain. Not to overdo the thing, Eustace waited a moment, then
advanced a step or two nearer. It had the desired effect. The madman
shuffled away as before. He must be in the right place now. Still
Eustace dared not look up.
"He's all right now, if you're ready," whispered a voice from above.
"Ready!" was the quick reply.
Something dropped. The madman's head and shoulders disappeared under
the voluminous folds of old Josane's red blanket. Quick as lightning
Eustace had sprung to his side and whipped the running noose round him.
"_Trek_!" he cried, with an energy sufficient to start a dozen spans of
oxen.
The body of Tom Carhayes swung into the air. Kicking, struggling,
howling, he disappeared over the brink above. Eustace, alone at the
bottom of the pit, could hear the sounds of a furious scuffle--sounds,
too, which seemed to be receding as though into distance. What did it
all mean? They seemed a long time securing the maniac.
Then, as he looked around this horrible dungeon, at the crawling shapes
of the serpents gliding hither and thither, hissing with rage over their
late disturbance, as he breathed the unspeakably noisome atmosphere, he
realised his own utter helplessness. What if anything untoward should
occur to prevent his comrades from rescuing him? Life was full of
surprises. They might be attacked by a party of Kafirs, brought back
there by the missing Hlangani, for instance. What if he had merely
exchanged places with his unfortunate kinsman and were to be left there
in the darkness and horror? How long would he be able to keep his
reason? Hardly longer than the other, he feared. And the perspiration
streamed from every pore, as he began to realise what the miserable
maniac had undergone.
A silence had succeeded to the tumult above. What did it mean? Every
second seemed an hour. Then, with a start of unspeakable relief, he
heard Hoste's voice above.
"Ready to come up, old chap?"
"Very much so. Why have you taken so long?" he asked anxiously.
"We had to tie up poor Tom twice, you know; first with the big _reim_,
then with others. Then we had to undo the big _reim_ again. Here it
is," chucking it over.
Eustace slipped the noose under his armpits, and, having given the word
to haul away, a very few moments saw him among them all again. The mad
man was securely bound and even gagged, only his feet being loosened
sufficiently to enable him to take short steps.
So they started on their return track, longing with a greater longing
than words can tell, to breathe the open air, to behold the light of day
again.
To their astonishment the poor lunatic became quite tractable. As long
as Eustace talked to him, he was quiet enough and walked among the rest
as directed. One more repellent ordeal had to be gone through--the
serpents' den, to wit. This they had now almost reached.
Suddenly a warning cry went up from Josane, who recoiled a step.
"_Au! Kangela_!" ["Look there!"]
A face was peering at them from over a rock slab a few feet overhead. A
black face, with glazing eyes and half-parted lips, and such a scowl of
hate upon the distorted features, in the darkness, as was perfectly
devilish. Quickly every weapon was aimed at the head and as quickly
lowered. For they realised that it was the head of a dead man.
"Why, it's Hlangani! Let's see where we pinked him," said Shelton,
climbing up to the ledge, followed by Hoste. "By Jove! he's plugged
himself where we plugged him," he went on. "That accounts for his
leaving no blood spoor."
He had. There were two great holes in the dead man's ribs, where the
bullets had entered. Both wounds were mortal. But, with the desperate
endurance of his race, the stricken warrior had rent off fragments of
his blanket and _had deliberately plugged the gaping orifices_. Then,
crawling away, the fierce savage had sought out a position where he
might lurk in ambush, and had found it, too. Here he lay, a broad
assegai still grasped in his hand, waiting to strike one fell and fatal
blow at his slayers ere death should come upon him. But death had
overtaken him too quickly; and luckily, indeed, for the objects of his
enmity that it had.
"Why, how's this?" cried Shelton in amazement. "I could have sworn I
hit him, and yet there are only two bullet holes!"
"So could I," said Hoste emphatically. "Sure there are only two?"
"Dead certain," replied the other, after a second investigation.
"I think I can solve the mystery," cut in Eustace quietly. "You both
hit, all right. The fact is, I never fired."
"Never fired!" they echoed. "And why the deuce not?"
"Well, you see, this very Hlangani saved my life. I might have been put
down there with poor Tom, but for him. Whatever he had done I couldn't
bring myself to `draw' on a fellow who had done that much for me."
There was something in that, yet Eustace thought he detected a curious
look pass between his two friends. But it mattered nothing.
Leaving the body of the dead Gcaleka, the two climbed down from the
ledge again. Further surprise was in store for them. Josane had
disappeared.
"He'll be back directly," said Eustace. "He said he had forgotten
something."
Whether it was that the sight of the dead warrior's body had inspired in
him one of those unreasoning and unaccountable outbreaks of savagery to
which all barbarian natures are more or less suddenly liable, or whether
he had misgivings on his own account as to the completeness of his
vengeance, is uncertain. But rapidly muttering: "_Au_! Ixeshane! I
have not drunk enough blood. Wait here until I return," he had seized
his assegai and disappeared in the direction of the pit again. Those
under his guidance had no alternative but to await his return, with what
patience they might.
Meanwhile Josane was speeding along the gloomy tunnel, eagerly,
fiercely, like a retriever on the track of a wounded partridge. His
head was bent forward and his hand still grasped the broad assegai,
clotted with the blood of the witch-doctress. Humming a low, ferocious
song of vengeance, he gained the brink of the now empty pit. Seizing
one of the lighted candles, which still burned--no one having thought it
worth while to put them out--he turned his steps into the lateral
gallery. A fiendish chuckle escaped him. He stopped short, threw the
light in front of him, then held it over his head and looked again.
Again he chuckled.
"_Au_!" he cried, "there is more revenge, more blood. I thirst for more
blood. Ha! The witch is not dead yet. Where art thou, Ngcenika, spawn
of a she-Fingo dog? Where art thou, that my broad _umkonto_ may drink
again of thy foul blood? Lo!"
The last ejaculation escaped him in a quick gasp. Just outside the
circle of light he beheld a shadowy object, which seemed to move. It
was the form of the wretched witch-doctress. He gathered himself
together like a tiger on the spring.
"Ho! Ngcenika," he cried, in a tone of exultation mingled with
suppressed fury. "Thou art not dead yet--toad--carrion bird!"
He was standing over the inanimate form, his assegai uplifted in his
right hand, in his left the dim and sputtering candle. He made a feint
to plunge it into her body, then as rapidly withdrew it.
"Ha! I have a better plan. Thou shalt take Umlilwane's place."
He stuck his candle on a projecting slab of rock, then bending down he
laid hold of the witch-doctress by the feet and began to drag her along
the ground. She was massive in her proportions, and he did not make
rapid headway; the more so that the wretched creature began to struggle,
though feebly, for she had lost an enormous quantity of blood, and
indeed but for the endurance of her race, which dies as hard as it
lives, life would have been extinct in her long ago. It was a horrible
scene. The almost nude body of the hag was one mass of blood, which,
coagulated over a dozen ghastly wounds, now began to well forth afresh;
the muscular, half-bent form of the grim old warrior, glistening with
perspiration, as with the blaze of unsatiated revenge burning in his
eyes he dragged her along that grisly cavern floor. Tugging, hauling,
perspiring, growling, he at length reached the brow of the pit with his
ghastly freight. Then pausing a moment, with a devilish grin on his
face, to contemplate the object of his deadly rancour, he pushed the
body over. A dull thud and a smothered groan told that it had reached
the bottom.
"_Hau_! hell cat--toad's spawn!" he cried. "How do you feel down there?
Where is the great witch-doctress of the Gcaleka nation now? Where is
Sarili's great councillor of the Spirit-world now? With those whom her
wizard arts destroyed. Men, brave fighting men all, were they--what are
they now? Bones, skulls, among which the serpents crawl in and out,"
and as if to emphasise his words, a hissing went forth from the reptiles
disturbed by this new invasion of their prison house. "Ha, ha, ha!" he
laughed. "Wise witch-doctress, thou canst `smell out' their spirits
once more in the darkness before thou diest. Thou art a great magician,
but the magic of the white men--the magic of Ixeshane--is greater than
thine, and it has delivered thee into my hand.
"Hlangani, the valiant--the fighting chief of the Ama Gcaleka--the
herald of Sarili--is dead. _Hau_!" Then raising his voice to a high
taunting pitch, he cried, "where is Maqwela, the warrior who struck the
Amanglezi in three wars? His skull is beside thee--talk to it. Where
is Mpunhla, erstwhile my friend? He, too, was condemned to `The Home of
the Serpents' by thee. He, too, is beside thee. Where is Vudana, my
kinsman? The black ants have picked his bones. This, too, was thy
work, and I, Josane, would be even as they, but that I have been
reserved to deal out vengeance to their slayer! And now when Sarili--
when the _amapakati_ of the house of Gcaleka call for their wise
witch-doctress, they will call long and loud but will get no answer, for
`The Home of the Serpents' yields not up its secrets. Fare thee well,
Ngcenika; rest peacefully. My vengeance is complete. _Hlala-gahle_!"
The weird flickering light of the dying candles danced on the figure of
the savage standing there on the brink of that horrible hell-pit, gibing
at his once terrible but now vanquished foe. Verily there was an
appropriateness, a real poetic justice in the fate which had overwhelmed
this female fiend. Many a man had she doomed to this awful, this
unspeakably horrible fate, through the dictates of revenge, of intrigue,
or of sheer devilish, gratuitous savagery. They had languished and
died--some in raving mania--here in black darkness and amid horrors
unspeakable. Now the same fate had overtaken herself.
Josane paused. The groans of his victim were becoming fainter and
fainter.
"_Hau_! It is music to my ears," he muttered. Then, turning, he
deliberately blew out all the lights save the one that he carried, and
once more humming his fierce improvised song of vengeance, he sped away
through the gloom to rejoin his white companions, leaving this horrible
pit of Tophet to the grisly occupancy of its hissing, crawling serpents
and its new but fast dying human denizen.