All in a second Wyvern's hopes were dashed to the ground. From a state
of elation he was cast once more into blank despair. Not so easily had
his enemies abandoned the pursuit. They had tracked him through the
night with the persistency of sleuth-hounds, and now had, literally, run
him to earth at last.
That the owner of the head had seen him was beyond all doubt for the
head itself had been instantaneously withdrawn, with a smothered
exclamation. And he himself was unarmed. In a frenzy of desperation he
gazed around. No. The cave contained nothing, not even a loose stone.
It is in such moments of desperation that readiness of resource will
come to a man or it will not Wyvern at that moment felt something move
beneath his foot. Looking down he saw that his said foot was resting on
an upturned blade of stone, which, if he had noticed at all he would
have taken for a mere projection of the solid rock. Now an idea
occurred to him. Bending down, he quickly loosened it. The piece came
away in his hand. It was about two feet long, and shaped like a thick
and clumsy sword blade. In a trice he had found himself armed with a
most formidable weapon.
Gripping this he stood listening intently, his breath coming quick in
the tensity of his excitement. The first of his enemies to enter he
would infallibly brain, then the next, and so on, while his strength
lasted. They should not again take him alive. Still, not a sound
without.
What were they planning? Could it be that they had some devilish scheme
of forcing him out by fire or smoke, knowing that he had no firearms?
He had read of such a situation, and his heart sank as he realised how
easily it could be carried out in his case. Ha!
The silence was broken at last. Without he could just catch the sound
of a deep-toned, murmuring whisper in the Zulu tongue.
"Go away and leave me in peace," he called out, in the best Zulu he
could muster. "The first to enter shall surely have his head cleft in
twain, and then the next. I am not unarmed."
"_Whou_!"
It would be hard to convey the tone of wonder contained in that brief
exclamation, and then at the tone of another voice the hunted and
desperate man could hardly trust his own sense of hearing.
"Wyvern, old chap, come on out. It's only me and Hlabulana."
The next moment he and Joe Fleetwood were gripping hands. Hlabulana the
while began to uncork his snuff-horn.
"This is awfully funny," went on Fleetwood. "We had suspicions that it
was Bully Rawson in there, and were concocting some scheme for getting
him out--you know the brute's quite capable of shooting the pair of us
on sight. But how did you get away?"
"Mtezani cut me loose in the scrimmage, but they chevied me a good way I
can tell you." Then he narrated what had subsequently happened. "Got
any scoff, Joe?" he concluded. "I'm starving."
"Only some pounded mealies, which Hlabulana managed to raise from Heaven
knows where. Here--fall on."
While Wyvern was satisfying his cravings with this plain fare, Fleetwood
narrated his own escape, which had been effected by Hlabulana under
exactly similar circumstances, except that it had not been discovered,
and therefore he had not been pursued.
"He told me that Mtezani was taking care of you," he concluded, "so I
came away easy in mind, feeling sure we should come together again when,
things were quiet, and we have."
"By Jove we have! And to think of you having taken me for Bully Rawson.
I don't feel flattered, Joe."
The other broke into a laugh.
"Tell you what, old man. We both look all fired ruffians enough just
now to be taken even for him. At least, I feel it, and can truthfully
assure you you look it. And now what are we going to do next? I've got
a bull-dog six-shooter here that the idiots forgot to bag when they
trussed us up."
"I haven't even got that," laughed Wyvern. "I was going to brain the
pair of you with a most murderous stone club which I tore up out of the
ground. It's sharp as a sword on one side."
Something in the words seemed to strike Fleetwood.
"Sharp as a sword?" he echoed.
"Why yes. What's there in particular about that?"
"Why only that it'll do to dig with."
"To dig with? Are we in a position to do our fossicking now?"
"Rather. Now we're here--bang on the very spot we should be record
idiots if we didn't do something towards discovering what we've come
for."
"I'm with you there," rejoined Wyvern. "But here we are, with one
six-shooter between us, no rifles or even a shot-gun. How are we going
to get scoff?"
"Oh, Hlabulana will take care of that. He has some remarkably efficient
assegais."
"Well upon my word, the adventure was wild enough before but it has
about reached the March hare stage now," pronounced Wyvern with a laugh.
"However our luck, if varied, has turned right last time, and we'll try
it again."
It was indeed as he had said, a mad adventure. Here were these two, in
the heart of a wild and dangerous region, inadequately armed even, and
trusting to chance for the bare means of subsistence; and yet instead of
making their way back to civilisation as soon as possible--especially
after their recent perilous experience and hairbreadth escape--they
elected to remain and prosecute their search, yet it is of such that
your real adventurer is made.
"We'll have to keep a bright look-out for Bully Rawson," said Fleetwood,
as they entered the cave. "I know he got clear, and if he has any
suspicions that we did, it won't be long before we see or hear from
him."
"There's no doubt about the place, I suppose?" said Wyvern, for him,
rather excitedly. "Look. Here's where I found the opal."
"Not a shadow of doubt Hlabulana has been going over all the situation
with me while you were snoozing inside--Lord! and I not knowing it."
Then, somehow, a silence fell between the two men as they stood looking
at each other in the semi-gloom. Were they really going to unearth the
rich secret which this savage mountain range had held buried within its
lone and desolate heart for so many years, the secret which should make
the rest of their lives a time of ease and possession, which should
bring to one, at any rate, that which would make life almost too good to
live?
"Come on. Let's get to work," said Fleetwood. "Where's this weapon of
yours? We can't have very far to dig, because from what Hlabulana says
they can't have had time to bury the stuff very deep."
"Here it is. Look. There's the hole I pulled it up from--Hallo!"
Wyvern had gone down on his knees, and was experimentally fitting the
stone into its former position. With the above exclamation he placed it
aside and began hurriedly clawing at the earth where it had lain, with
his bare fingers.
"Here's a box," he said quickly, shovelling out handfuls of earth; "An
unmistakable box."
Fleetwood bent over.
"Sure?" he asked, as excited as Wyvern himself.
"Dead cert. Here, lend a hand. We'll soon have it out."
And they did have it out. A few minutes more of eager digging, and the
whole top of a metal bound wooden chest was visible. But it required a
good deal more exertion before it was clear of earth all round. Then
they hauled it up, and although not more than a foot square by half that
depth, it required some hauling, for it might have been made of solid
lead.
"That's the bar gold," pronounced Fleetwood as, heated and panting, they
sat down for a rest. "No `stones' would weigh anything like that. Well
the stones can't be far off. Let's get to work again."
They resumed their digging, systematically, with knives now, first
around the excavation first made, then beneath it. Here, in a few
minutes, Wyvern hauled out something--something round and moist. It was
a small leather bag.
"Let's investigate," he said, and there was a tremble in his voice.
The leather was half rotten with age and damp, and the fastenings gave
way when touched. Fleetwood put down his hat, and punching in the
crown, poured the contents of the bag into the cavity thus formed. Then
the two men looked up and sat staring at each other.
For in the said cavity was a heap of gems, which glittered and sparkled
as the light from without struck upon them--rubies and emeralds and
opals, many of considerable size, and obviously, even to these two
unversed in such matters, of great value. This alone would have been
worth all they had gone through for.
Replacing the stones in the bag they continued their excavation now with
a tremble of the hands. And small wonder that it should be so. They
had just found that which was enough to set them up comfortably for the
rest of their lives, and there was even more to find. Any kind of
search more fraught with every element of excitement it would be hard to
conceive.
And, in fact, less than half-an-hour's search had placed them in
possession of three more bags similar to the first, but two of which
contained stones far more valuable, than even the first; one nothing but
diamonds, and fine ones at that. These, after investigation, were
placed aside, and operations resumed.
But further excavation all round and under, brought nothing to light.
"That'll be the lot, I'm thinking," said Fleetwood. "It about
corresponds with what Hlabulana said they'd got."
"Joe," said Wyvern gravely. "Do me the favour to pinch my leg, and
pinch it hard, just to show that I'm not dreaming, you know. The whole
thing seems too good. Seems as if one would wake up in a minute."
"It does, doesn't it," answered the other, equally serious. And again
they lapsed into silence, each full of his own thoughts.
"Now for what's to be done," went on Fleetwood. "I don't like these
diamonds. There I'm in my element, for, as you know, I was a digger in
the early Dutoitspan days--not that they ain't devilish good ones. But
they're awkward things to hawk around anywhere in South Africa--the
I.D.B. law, you know. Suppose by any chance it got round that one had a
bag of diamonds like that in one's possession, they'd have one watched
day and night to find out how one got hold of it. Then it'd be bound to
give away the rest of the show. We don't want that."
"Not much. Look here, Joe. I've an idea which may be a good one or may
not. We can't possibly carry away that box. Let's bury it again and
call for it some time later when things are quiet again. As for the
diamonds, we'll plant them in some other place just to make sure that
Hlabulana doesn't show them to someone else, and pick them up at the
same time as the bar gold. How does it pan out?"
"First rate. Only, old chap, I don't think it'll be much a case of _us_
calling for them. I'm pretty sure I shall have to undertake it for
both, for with a recollection of the portrait in your room in Ulundi
Square you'll be in no hurry to repeat this expedition."
They set to work to bury the box again. It mattered little enough if
here were marks of fresh digging, for who in the world would ever dream
of treasure lying buried in this particular cave--one among many--
without some due? Hardly had they done so than the entrance darkened,
and Hlabulana stood within. In the excitement of their discovery they
had forgotten his very existence. Quickly Fleetwood explained to him
what they had found, showing him the bags.
"That is right, U' Joe," said the Zulu, turning them over in his hands.
"There were but four. _Whau_! I like not this dark hole. It savours
of _tagati_."
"But you will like all the cattle and new wives your share of this will
bring you, son of Musi," said Fleetwood with a laugh. "If it is
_tagati_ it is pretty good _tagati_ for us three, this time anyhow.
Well, the sun will soon be down, and I think we had better take a short
rest and travel by moonlight. It will be safer."
This was agreed to, and as the red moon raised her great disc above the
lone mountain range, flooding forest and valley and rock with her
chastened brilliance, two ragged, unkempt white men stepped forth on
their return journey, and upon them was wealth surpassing their highest
expectations.
"Hang it all, I can't believe it yet," said Wyvern, for the twentieth
time, with the twentieth grip on the bags of gems disposed about his
clothing.
"I can hardly believe it myself," rejoined Fleetwood, going through
precisely the same performance.
But Hlabulana, the Zulu, said nothing. He only took snuff as calmly as
if nothing had happened.