A Frontier Mystery Part 13

Now I have already put on record that the last thing on earth I desired was Falkner's company on the expedition I was planning--and the same still held good--and yet--and yet--he was Aida Sewin's relative and she seemed to take a great interest in him. Perhaps it was with an idea of pleasing her--or I wonder if it was a certain anxiety as to leaving this young man at her side while I was away myself, goodness knows, but the fact remains that before we reached my place he had extracted from me what was more than half a promise that I would entertain the idea.

And this I knew, even then, was tantamount to an entire promise.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A FAREWELL VISIT.

"Nyamaki has not returned?" queried Tyingoza, who, seated, in his accustomed place under the window of the store, had been taking snuff and chatting about things in general.

"Not that I have heard of," I answered. "I was at his place but a day or two back. Will he return, Tyingoza?"

"And the young one--he who sits in Nyamaki's place--does he think he will return?"

What was the object of this answer turned into another question? What was in Tyingoza's mind? However I replied:

"He is inclined to think not. He thinks his relation has wandered away somewhere--perhaps into the river, and will never be heard of again."

"Ah! Into the river! Well, that might be, Iqalaqala. Into the river!

The ways of you white people are strange, _impela_!"

Tyingoza, you see, was enigmatical, but then he often was, especially if he thought I was trying to get behind his mind--as he put it. Clearly he was not going to commit himself to any definite opinion regarding the disappearing Hensley.

"Ukozi is in these parts," I went on.

"Ukozi? Ha! I have not seen him. Did he visit you here?"

"Not here," I answered, with intent to be as enigmatical as himself.

"Ukozi is a very lion among _iza.n.u.si_. Why do not the white people get him to find Nyamaki?"

"And the practice of an _isa.n.u.si_ is not allowed by the white people.

How then can they make use of such?" I said.

The chief shrugged his shoulders slightly, and there was a humorous twinkle in his eyes.

"It is as you say, Iqalaqala. Yet their _Amapolise_ cannot find him.

You white people know a great deal, but you do not know everything."

"Now, Tyingoza, I would ask: What people does?"

Then he laughed and so did I, and this was all I got out of my attempt at "pumping" Tyingoza. Yet, not quite all. That suggestion of his as to employing the witch doctor was destined to stick. Afterwards it was destined to come back to me with very great force indeed.

Now I began to shut up the store, early in the day as it was, for I meant to go over to the Sewins. It would be almost my last visit: for the preparations for my trip were nearly complete and in two or three days I proposed to start. Moreover I had received a note from the old Major, couched in a reproachful vein on behalf of his family, to the effect that I was becoming quite a stranger of late, and so forth; all of which went to show that my plan of not giving them more of my company than I thought they could do with--had answered.

"So you are going _kwa Zulu_ directly?" said Tyingoza, as he took his leave. "And not alone. That is a pity."

He had never referred to Falkner's practical joke. Now, of course, I thought he was referring to it.

"Well, the boy is only a boy," I answered. "I will keep him in order once over there, that I promise."

Again his eyes twinkled, as he bade me farewell with all his usual cordiality.

Not much of this remark did I think, as I took my way down the now well worn bush path, but I own that the idea of employing Ukozi to throw light on the disappearance of Hensley, gave me something to think of-- for as I have said before, I had reason to respect the powers claimed-- and undoubtedly possessed--by many of his craft. I would put it to Kendrew. It was his affair not mine, and if anyone moved in the matter it should be he.

There was an ominous stillness about the Sewins' homestead as I approached, and I own to a feeling of considerable disappointment as the thought crossed my mind that the family was away, but rea.s.surance succeeded in the shape of a large white dog, which came rushing furiously down the path, barking in right threatening fashion--only to change into little whines of delight and greeting as it recognised me.

This was a factor in the Sewin household which I have hitherto omitted to introduce. He was one of the Campagna breed of sheep herding dogs, and was Aida's especial property, she having discovered him as a puppy during a tour in Italy. He was a remarkably handsome beast, pure white, and was of the size and strength of a wolf, to which he bore a strong family likeness. He had honoured me with his friendship from the very first--a mark of favour which he was by no means wont to bestow upon everybody, as his mistress was careful to point out.

"Well, Arlo, old chap. Where are they all?" I said, as the dog trotted before my horse, turning to look back with an occasional friendly whine.

As I drew rein in front of the stoep Falkner came forth, looking very handsome and athletic in his snowy linen suit, for it was hot.

"Hallo Glanton, glad to see you," he said, quite cordially, but in rather a subdued tone for him. "Come round and off-saddle. They'll be out in a minute, they're having prayers, you know. I slipped out when I heard your horse."

It was Sunday, and the Major, I remembered, made a point of reading the church service on that day: in the middle of which I had arrived.

"Tell you what, old chap," he went on. "I'm rather glad of the excuse.

Beastly bore that sort of thing, don't you know, but the old people wouldn't like it if I were to cut."

"Only the old people?" I said.

"No, the whole bilin' of 'em. Life wouldn't be worth living for the rest of the day if I didn't cut in. So I do--just to please them all.

See? Well, we'll go and smoke a pipe till they come out."

Falkner had pulled out quite a genial stop to play upon for my benefit-- but then, I had agreed to take him with me on the trip. On the subject of which he now waxed eloquent. Would we certainly be on the road by Wednesday, and was there anything he could do, and so forth? I was able to rea.s.sure him abundantly on these points, and his exuberant delight was like that of a schoolboy on the eve of the holidays, causing me to think to myself rather sadly, that were I in his shoes, with a home like this, and the society of sweet, refined English ladies for my daily portion, I would not be in the least eager to exchange it for the roughness and ups and downs of a trading trip and the kraals of savages.

But then after all, there was a considerable difference in our years, and my experience was a good deal behind me, whereas his was not.

Soon the family came out, and I was received with all the accustomed cordiality, and rather more. Why had I not been near them for so long, especially as I was about to go away for quite a considerable time, and so forth? I began to feel self-reproachful, as I thought of my motive, but it was not easy to find an excuse, the usual "rather busy," and when I tried I could see Aida Sewin's clear eyes reading my face, and there was the faintest glimmer of a smile about her lips that seemed to say plainly: "I don't believe a word of it."

"So you're going to take this fellow with you after all, Glanton," said the Major as we sat down to lunch. "Well, you'll have a handful, by Jove you will! I hope you'll keep him in order, that's all."

"Oh he'll be all right, Major," I said. "And the experience won't do him any harm either."

"Don't you go trying any more experiments at the expense of the chiefs'

head-rings up there, Falkner," said Edith, the younger girl.

"Oh shut up," growled Falkner. "That joke's a precious stale one. I seem to be getting 'jam and judicious advice' all round, by Jove!"

"Well, and you want it--at any rate the advice--only you never take it,"

was the retort.

"n.o.body ever does, Miss Edith," I said, coming to his rescue. "Advice is one of those commodities people estimate at its own cost--nothing to wit; and set the same value upon it."

"Now you're cynical, Mr Glanton," she answered, "and I don't like cynical people."

"That's a calamity, but believe me, I'm not naturally so. Why I rather set up for being a philanthropist," I said.

"You certainly are one, as we have every reason to know," interposed her sister.