A Veldt Vendetta Part 17

CONCERNING A TRAGEDY.

A shot rang out, faint and distant, upon the slumbrous morning air.

"There's that young _schelm_ George at work," remarked Brian, raising himself on one elbow to listen.

"At play, rather," I laughed.

"That's it. He's a jolly sight too fond of cutting school in favour of a buck-hunt. The governor spoils him far too much. I wouldn't."

George's education at that time was effected through the agency of a farm-school about seven miles off, whither he rode over five days per week; in theory at least, for few indeed were the weeks out of which he did not contrive to filch one extra day--not to help us in any work, oh dear no, for he looked upon it as a distinct grievance to be required to do any such thing--but to amuse himself. To-day he had started for the Zwaart Kloof alone to try and sneak a bush-buck. But if the young rascal was at play, Brian and I were tolerably hard at work; had been rather, for we had spent the morning strengthening and repairing the bush fence of one of our enclosures; and chopping mimosa boughs and then beating them into place is a fairly muscular phase of manual labour on a hot day. Now we were pausing for a rest.

But if it was a hot day it was a lovely one--lovely and cloudless. A shimmer of heat lay upon the wide valley, and all the life of the veldt was astir--bird voices calling far and near, the melodious hoot of the hoepoe from the distance, the quaint, half-whistling, half-rasping dialogue of a pair of yellow thrushes hard by, or the bold cheery pipe of sheeny-winged spreuws flashing among the bush sprays. Insect sounds, too; the ba.s.s boom of some big beetle rising above the murmuring hum of bees, and the screech of innumerable crickets. In sooth, if our work was hard, it was set amid exquisite surroundings, and, as though no element of romance should be lacking, I thought to discern from time to time the flutter of a light dress about the homestead, nearly a mile distant beneath us, as though reminding myself, at any rate, that after labour came recreation, which to me spelt Beryl.

No opportunity had I found for renewing the subject so ruthlessly interrupted yesterday during our ride home, and now I was tormented by an uncomfortable misgiving as to whether Beryl was not purposely avoiding any such opportunity.

We got up from the grateful shade under which we had been resting, and, hatchet in hand, started in on another spell, and for nearly an hour were chopping and hauling, and banging the great mimosa boughs into place so that the thorns should interlace with those already laid down.

Then Brian suggested we should go back to dinner, and return and finish up when it was cooler, but before we could put this plan into execution the trampling of hoofs was heard drawing rapidly near, at a pace that was out of the way reckless and unnecessary.

"That's George," said Brian, "but if he's shot anything he hasn't loaded it up. Hey! Hullo! What luck, George?"

The latter would have pa.s.sed without seeing us. Now as he reined in and approached us we saw that the boy's face was as white as death, and his eyes staring with the most awful look of horror and fear.

"Man, what's wrong?" said Brian sharply, his own bronzed countenance turning a kind of whitey-brown. "Not shot yourself, have you?"

"No, not myself--not myself," the boy managed to jerk out. And then he broke into a wild fit of sobbing.

Brian's face grew still whiter.

"Is it somebody else, then? But you went out alone."

"Yes--I--I--I w-went out alone."

"George, pull yourself together, man. Whatever's happened; we're losing time. Don't be an a.s.s now. Tell us all about it."

This he managed to do; and a woeful and dismaying tale it was that he spasmodically unfolded. Reft of its incoherencies--natural under the circ.u.mstances--this was the sum of it.

He had reached the Zwaart Kloof, and having left his horse was stealthily advancing to peer over the brink of a small krantz, beneath which a bush-buck was sometimes lying. This time, instead of a bush-buck there were a lot of Kafir boys larking about the kloof. He told them to clear out, but, seeing he couldn't get at them immediately, they were cheeky and laughed at him. So he pointed his gun at them, calling out that he'd shoot the whole lot if they didn't clear-- intending, of course, only to frighten them--and then--how it happened he could not for the life of him tell--but the gun went off, the heavy charge of treble A simply raking the group. Two were killed outright, for they never moved, and two more lay wounded and screaming. The rest ran away, and he himself, reckoning that the best plan was to get help as soon as possible, had started for home as fast as his horse could carry him.

Such was the miserable story which the wretched boy managed to unfold, and meanwhile we were walking rapidly towards the house.

"Oh, I never meant to do anything but scare them, Brian--I swear before G.o.d I didn't!" sobbed the poor little chap, in an agony of remorse.

"Of course you didn't, George. We all know that. Here, give me the gun."

"Take it--take it. I never want to touch a gun again in my life. Oh, what is to be done? What will the dad say?"

Septimus Matterson did not "say" much, but the expression of his face was as that of a man undergoing acute physical pain. Meanwhile Brian had been thinking out a plan, which was to proceed at once to the spot with two of the farm Kafirs, and see what could be done for the wounded boys. Beryl volunteered to accompany him, but this he vetoed with his wonted decisiveness.

"On no account, Beryl. You stay here--you'll be far more useful that way. Now turn me out some bandages, and a flask of brandy."

This was done in a moment, and he was ready to start.

"No, no, Kenrick," he said, as I announced my intention of accompanying him. "You must stay here too. Don't move from the house either. Do you hear? It's hard to say what may happen, and you'll be wanted.

There's no telling what trouble this affair may stir up. You understand?"

Then I did understand. The ominous significance of his tone sufficed for that. But all attempts to convince him that his place lay here too, were futile.

"Those who ran away will have obtained help from their own people by now," I urged. But in vain.

The while Beryl was striving to rea.s.sure her young brother, and she had all her work cut out for her, for the poor boy's remorse was dreadful to witness, and to do him justice no thought of potential pains and penalties hanging over his own head entered into this, which was actuated by sheer horror of having taken life--several lives, for all we could at present tell.

"It was pure accident, George, we all know that," she said. "And you must do all you can in reparation. You will remember that, dear, won't you, whatever happens."

"Oh, they can hang me if they like. The sooner the better."

"They won't do that, at any rate. It was an accident." And then Beryl went on to soothe and comfort the poor boy, and the sweet magnetism of her voice and words bore good effect.

This and more I overheard while discussing the situation with their father.

"This is a most awful and deplorable thing to have happened, Kenrick,"

the latter was saying. "As soon as Brian comes back, and we know the extent of the damage, I shall have to send into Fort Lamport and notify the Resident Magistrate. The boy may even be sent for trial for manslaughter."

"But the thing was a sheer accident. Surely they won't hold a kid like that criminally responsible."

"There's no knowing what Shattuck'll do or won't do--he's such an officious fool."

"Yes, he's all that," I agreed, having an acid recollection of the demeanour of the official in question over such a trivial matter as signing a firearm permit.

"He has a 'down' on us farmers too, and will always favour a Kafir under the Masters and Servants Act if he gets a chance. It's just the same in stock stealing cases. They ought to have put him into some Western Province magistracy. A man like that has no business on the frontier."

"I blame myself mostly," went on the speaker. "I ought never to have allowed a young feather-head like George to go out alone with a gun.

The only thing is, I have always believed in boys learning to shoot as soon as possible in a country like this. Even girls ought to. Beryl can."

"Rather," I said. "Haven't I seen evidence of that?"

Septimus Matterson was looking worn and ill, and very anxious. He had been ailing for some days past, and this deplorable eventuality had not exactly gone towards setting him up. I remembered Beryl's remark about her father's life not being a "good" one, from an insurance point of view, and felt more than anxious on his behalf.

"You are not looking at all well yourself," I said. "Now, don't let this affair get on your mind too much. It'll all blow over, depend upon it."

"Oh, I'm all right, Kenrick. Don't you worry about me. I suppose Beryl has been filling you up with some of her coddling notions. She wants to coddle me, the dear girl--always telling me to take care of myself; and so on. I pretend to take it all in, of course. Hallo! Wait a minute--" he broke off.

He went outside, returning directly with a field-gla.s.s.

"Quite a lot of them," he said, handing it to me after a look down the kloof. "We shall have trouble over this, Kenrick, apart from any cussedness Shattuck may spring on us. I wish Brian was back again."

So did I, as I stood with the gla.s.s to my eyes. For a number of Kafirs were coming up the kloof, some mounted but most on foot--the latter coming along at a swinging trot to keep pace with the hors.e.m.e.n. And that there might be no doubt as to their hostile intent, I could see that all carried a couple of business-like kerries apiece, and not a few of them a.s.segais as well.

"Hadn't we better arm ourselves and barricade the house?" I suggested.