_Problem ends here_.
"Ask him," said Frankfort, "why he followed stealthily."
"Because I was alone, and thought the Hottentots would kill me," said
Zoonah.
"He lies," added May.
"Where are you going?"
"To my people--I left my heart in the bush,"--meaning his wife.
"Why did you leave Vanbloem?"
"He sent me away."
"Why did you try to steal arms from the master's wagon?"
"I do not understand you."
Zoonah's stolid air convinced Frankfort, too, that it was of no use to
question him. It was evident that May was right--he was a spy on his
way to his own chief's kraal, and, as the bushman observed, it was
useless to waste words upon a liar.
"He's born liar--he'll die liar; he's born blackguard, and he'll die
blackguard."
And, with this last truly English vituperative, May left the thicket,
and went to prepare his master's breakfast.
He had tied up the dogs and kept watch himself all night, lying in the
long grass between Frankfort's tent and Ormsby's wagon, and had seen
Zoonah, just as the moon was waning, winding himself along in snake
fashion, till he reached the young officer's sleeping-place, in which he
was wont to spend part of the day, reading and smoking, with "pistol,
sword, and carbine," slung above him.
Doubtless, Zoonah had long had his attention fixed on these particular
objects, and allowing the cavalcade to pass the open plains, had come up
with it as soon as it was fairly bivouacked in the embowered nook
selected by May. Here he awaited his opportunity to plunder.
But Kafirs have a dread of what they cannot see--a house, a tent, or a
wagon, may always, they believe, contain some mysterious agency of evil,
and hence, on Ormsby's instinctively clutching the pistol the Kafir
dropped it in terror, which was increased by a movement of May's. The
wily bushman, though, had no mind to throw the Kafir off his guard; the
roar of the river proved that it was impassable; in the rear were the
inhospitable plains of sand, the Kafir must ere this have exhausted such
provision as he could have carried from Vanbloem's, and would therefore
not go far; and, in a word, May resolved not to alarm the little camp
until obliged to do so.
The result was, that Zoonah traced his way to the thicket where the
bushman had left a decoy, in the shape of scattered bread and meat, and
an apparently empty bottle.
"I watched that bush yesterday evening," said May, when explaining his
devices to Frankfort; "for though I laughed at Master Ormsby, it's
always right to be `primed and loaded.' Well, I watched that bush
closely, because, whenever the birds lighted on it, they flew away and
would not stop a minute. Some came there to roost in their nests--but
no, off they went, came back again, and then away--`Ah!' says May, `some
one _spenning_ (lurking, hiding) there, I know;' so I was glad to see
Master Ormsby tie Marmion to his wagon, while we were hunting the
porcupine, and I told old Piet to lie between that and the tent, where I
made a good fire. This schelm little thought we went off so far; but I
gave Fitje the long pistol ready loaded, and told her to fire it, if she
was frightened--but she was not," added May quietly, "and lay down as
soon as she heard the dogs coming home with us. I tied them up as soon
as I had fed them, and so now, if the sir pleases, I'll reim the
prisoner."
"Reim the prisoner?" said Ormsby; "what does he mean?"
"Tie him to the wagon wheel, master," answered May, "and keep him there,
till we can get rid of him handsomely."
Probably, May's ideas about getting handsomely rid of Zoonah were rather
vague; at any rate, he had no idea of trusting him in the smallest
degree, and he was greatly astonished when Frankfort observed, "Nay,
nay, we won't bind him; he looks half-starved.
"Poor wretch; we may make him earn his living by being useful--it is no
business of ours if he chooses to leave Vanbloem, we cannot send him
back--he is but a savage, and we must be kind to him."
"Right, master," replied May, after grave consideration; "but he's a
thief, as well as a liar, so take care."
So saying, they left Zoonah in the leafy covert.
May put no trust in Zoonah, and such was Fitje's dread of him, that she
would not lie down to rest, unless her husband laid his gun beside him.
The sportsmen decided on crossing the river as soon as it was fordable;
and Zoonah, rejoicing in contributions of tobacco, cigars, and
provisions, was happy, after Kafir fashion, lying on the soft turf, and
contemplating, with a longing eye, the cattle he professed to guard, but
hoped to steal from the men who had saved his life, and now fed him, and
treated him with kindness.
Although May heartily despised Zoonah, he was always in good humour with
him; for there is nothing in nature more cheery and good-humoured,
though hot-tempered and keenly alive to injury, than a bushman, caught
young, and tamed and educated by real Christian people.
Three or four evenings after the incident described, as Frankfort and
Ormsby sat by the river, after the last meal of the day, anxiously
comparing the depth of water with a certain mark they had drawn on a
jutting rock, their attention was diverted by an earnest "talk" going on
between May and Zoonah.
The latter was deriding May's idea of _Umtiko_ (God). Zoonah, finding
disguise was useless, now conversed in excellent English. May's
suppositions were right. He had been educated at Shiloh; but the care
bestowed on a Kafir seldom answers the humane purpose intended. Savage
he is, and savage he will he, unless, indeed, the age of miracles is not
past and gone.
"You say that Umtiko is good," said Zoonah; "how do you _know_ it?"
May pointed out the benefits we derive from God.
"How do you know they come from him? Did you ever see him?"
"He is invisible."
"If he is so good and so glorious, why does he not show himself? The
teachers are always telling us about God; but first, a Kafir never
believes what he does not see, and next, the teachers say that all men
are liars; how, then, can they expect _us_ to believe _them_?"
"But the teachers do not tell you this without proof."
"Where _is_ the proof?"
"In the beautiful world, where all things are given for our good, and
where the wicked are unhappy."
"Who do you call wicked?"
"Those who commit sin," replied May.
"Sin!" said Zoonah, after examining the ground,--"sin means pleasing
one's self."
Before May could answer, Zoonah went on: "You cannot believe in the
existence of what you cannot see."
"You do not see the wind," interposed May. Zoonah went on in his own
language, May translating sentence by sentence.
"You cannot take the word of one man, whom you have never seen _nor
heard_," answered the cunning Kafir, "against the wishes of all men.
The invisible God you talk of says, `Obey me, and do nothing that
pleases yourself.' The visible man says, `Enjoy earth, and all that
belongs to it, and be happy.' On one side is a _chance_ of another
world if we punish ourselves in this; on the other is pleasure, ease,
and our own will, under laws made for man by man. You English have a
woman chief; even she never sees the God you speak of. You know not
even whether he is black or white."
At this point, Ormsby, who had drawn near, burst into a thoughtless and
irreverent laugh, and Zoonah, at this, satisfied that he had the best of
the argument, rose, and wrapping his kaross around him, ascended the
bank, and followed the cattle to the outspan.
The east was faintly streaked with a crimson line next day, when May
came to rouse the sleeping Ormsby, and call him to an early breakfast,
which he had prepared, that the sportsmen might cross the river, which
at last was fordable for men and horses, although the depth of mud in
its bed rendered it impassable for wagons. It was possible to carry
over such provisions as would last them till they reached the Orange
River, where final arrangements would be made for treking at once into
the depths of the long-desired hunting-grounds.
The idea of change pleased Ormsby, and he readily assisted in the
necessary preparations. With his usual want of foresight and
discretion, he had begun to make a pet of Zoonah; and, forgetting how
dependent he and Frankfort were on the integrity and sagacity of May,
amused himself with the idea that the latter was jealous; but the
kind-hearted bushman was utterly unconscious of this, and worked away
with his usual aptitude and good humour, keeping, too, a close eye on
Zoonah's movements when the cattle came in at sunset.
And now, to Frankfort's surprise, May permitted the Kafir to assist him
in making up sundry packages for the trek over the river, soon to be
carried on their own heads as they swam the stream; for May was ever
humane, and strove to lighten the weights on the pack-horses.
Two leather bags were soon filled. Zoonah's dark eyes glistened at the
goodly store scattered about the ground,--canisters of powder, a pocket
looking-glass, bundles of cigars, and manifold articles delightful to a
Kafir's sight; he gladly helped in the task of tying up the bags, and
after adjusting one on May's head, and lifting one to his own, he
proceeded with the Bushman to the edge of the stream. The rest of the
cavalcade were to cross the river whenever they could do so with safety;
and Frankfort, ascertaining that all was ready, took his horse well in
hand, and plunged into the clear and rapid current, Ormsby following.
By Frankfort's desire, May was to attend as guide and groom, and on
second thoughts, he consented to let Zoonah follow, deeming it unwise to
leave him with the cattle.
Both sportsmen's horses breasted the torrent gallantly. Ormsby,
despising May's injunctions, had nearly floundered in a sea-cow's hole;
but the opposite bank was safely reached, and both gentlemen,
dismounting to rest their panting steeds, sat down to watch the transit
of May, Zoonah, and the dogs.
The bushman and Kafir, side by side, were already midway between the
banks, and, in thorough good-fellowship, exhibited their skill and
daring in buffeting the element through which the horses had passed with
less ease.
Frankfort watched the race--for such it seemed--with some anxiety, for
it called forth equal strength and courage on the part of both the
swimmers. Ormsby laughed heartily at the "dodges" each took to
circumvent the other, when suddenly, as if caught by the current, Zoonah
was whirled round and round, sunk, rose again, keeping his burden safe
supported by one hand, and in another moment struck boldly out with the
right arm and vanished, to the horror of Frankfort, who gave him up for
lost, and the dismay of Ormsby, who had seen Zoonah pack many articles
of which he stood in need.
May swam gravely on, paying little heed, beyond a grin, at Zoonah's
disappearance; and even Frankfort reproached him severely for
triumphing, as he believed, in his own sagacity, at Ormsby's expense.
"I told the sir," said the bushman, when he recovered breath on landing,
"that Zoonah was thief as well as liar, but Master Ormsby only laughed."
"You should not have intrusted him with a package of such value to us
just now," said Frankfort.
"I obey Master Ormsby," answered May, beginning to shiver.
"Go and get some dry clothing on you," said Frankfort; and May rose to
do as he was bid, first laying the package, untouched by wet, at
Ormsby's feet.
The latter kicked it from him with an oath.
"It is all right, sir," said the bushman, patiently lifting it up again;
"all your powder and other things quite safe. I let Zoonah pack 'em up,
but changed the bags, while Fitje gave him his sopie; he's got a lot of
rubbish packed up in the other. I thought it best to let him go. I
knew he would, as soon as he thought he had got something worth taking.
Ah! the schelm, he'll swim for the next hour. I should like to see him
open his prize;" and Frankfort and Ormsby laughed as heartily as May
himself.
On, still on. Each succeeding day drew our travellers far from the
settlements of the English colonists, and Ormsby, by degrees, began to
try and reconcile himself to an expedition from which there was no fair
means of retreating.
Soon the broad and refreshing waters of the glorious Orange River, lying
in lake-like beauty between its richly-wooded borders--the graceful
shelter of the fine trees that grew luxuriantly near its banks--the
murmuring sound of distant falls--the delicious lounge on the smooth
turf, selected as the halting-place for at least a week, that horses and
cattle, as well as men, might repose, were all enchanting to our
sportsmen, to whom the scene was as new as agreeable.
The Orange River forded, our sportsmen at length looked down upon the
"happy hunting-grounds." But it was not now as in the time when Mr
Trail rescued May from the dwellings in the rocks.
As the white man's footprints had advanced, the game had retreated to
the deeper solitudes of the wilderness. Herds of gnoos and bucks
occasionally swept across the plains, and May pointed out a drift where
lions sometimes came down to drink; but there were no companies of these
kings of the desert--no sentinel giraffes--no midnight echoes from the
trumpet-signal of wandering elephants.
It was a grand panorama, and as, while May off-saddled, our sportsmen
cast themselves on the grass of a natural platform overhanging the
scene, a fine buck started out of a bush, and passed them by with head
erect, eyeballs strained, and limbs quivering with terror and dismay.
The rifles of both sportsmen were brought to the shoulder at one
instant, and in another, the beautiful animal was stretched upon the
turf, dying the plants, which enamelled it, in blood.
The horses secured, away went May--greedy fellow--to kindle a fire;
Frankfort and Ormsby took out their _couteaux de chasse_, and the
former, ere he drew his blade across the neck of the creature, paused
with some compunction at having killed his game with so little credit to
himself as a sportsman, two rifle-balls having lodged in the head of the
buck when only a few feet from his destroyers.
He paused, I say, and, casting his eyes upon the valley, drew Ormsby's
attention to various species of smaller game, which, roused from their
coverts by the crack of the rifles, were speeding in hot haste across
the plain; gnoos, zebras, and bucks of manifold kind, all at once gave
life to the green valley far below the travellers' reach; and Frankfort
had scarcely had time to point them out, when a noble lion, with
eyeballs of flame and mane erect, sprung at a single bound from his
covert in the cliff above, and, in silent majesty, placed his huge paw
upon the neck of the slaughtered deer, his gleaming orbs fixed in steady
gaze on the astonished countenance of Frankfort.
He uttered no sound--the lashing of his tail against his sides was the
only proof this magnificent lord of the manor gave of his displeasure at
the intrusion of poachers on his territory. His frown was terrific, and
said plainly, "This is my property by royal right, and here I stand to
defend it."
How long this scene lasted was never computed by the sportsmen--
Frankfort always admitted that they left the lion master of the field,
and declared that Ormsby was as ready as he to dive into a bush and
climb a path they would not have attempted "under ordinary
circumstances."
Not long after this adventure their plans and prospects assumed a
totally different aspect to what they had anticipated; a simple incident
proved the straw that turned the balance, and caused them to turn their
backs upon an expedition to which one, at least, had looked forward with
the prospect of a year's sport and travel.
At dawn, one roseate morning, a yell from the dogs awoke May in time to
discover a poor little porcupine scuffling back to his hole. Up jumped
Ormsby, who would not wait for May's attack with a short assegai, which
he had at hand; lifting his foot, he laid the quarry sprawling on the
ground, but not before the animal had driven one of his natural weapons
into the thoughtless young man's foot; darting the quill, sharp as a
needle, with all his force, the creature left it two inches deep in the
instep, and would have returned to the attack, but that May, with a
stirrup-leather, laid the enemy dead.
Ormsby sat down upon a block of granite, in great agony, and the
bushman, after a deliberate survey of the jeopardised limb, remarking,
with a gravity that startled even Frankfort, that "the sir must lose
either his leg or his boot," opened his clasp-knife, and skilfully and
deliberately cut the boot open, then applying his fine but useful teeth
to the quill, he tugged at it bravely, and drew it out with a jerk. A
clear jet of blood bubbled up from the wound, and Ormsby fainted with
the pain.
The inflammation which followed was so great as to preclude the
possibility of riding far, and as, fortunately, the wagons were only
five miles in the rear, Frankfort deemed it wisest to return to them at
once, as he well knew Piet would not move in haste.
Everything was as they had left it two days previously, although the
obstinate old wagoner had been told to follow as soon as the sore-footed
oxen had recovered, and they were now fit for their work. There sat
Fitje, stitching at her patchwork petticoat; there lay the herd-boys
beside the green-bordered vley; and there sat old Piet, in the glow of
sunlight, smoking his pipe.