By Veldt and Kopje Part 14

"Wait a bit, sir, don't speak so loud. Let me tell you from the beginning, and then you'll understand. About half an hour before you came, on the day that Isaac died, I was sitting smoking at him, and all at once he seemed to get much better.

"'Scarren,' says he in quite a strong voice, 'I'll never hear the c.o.c.k crow no more; I'll die before lock-up time.'

"'Why, Isaac,' says I, 'you look as if you was quite your own self again. I believe you'll be singin' out the game again the day after to-morrow.'

"While we was talking we could hear the noise of the new cloth being nailed down. Isaac knew well enough what was going on and it made him angry.

"'No,' says he, quite raspy, 'I'll sing out no more games. Twenty years I've brushed her down, and they won't let me die before rippin' of her up.'

"Then he lay a long time silent, and I could see he was thinking hard about something. All at once he grips my hand--

"'Scarren,' says he, 'do you believe in ghosts?'

"First of all I was going to say no; then I thought that if I said so it might annoy him after he was dead, and he might come and show me I was mistaken.

"'Yes, Isaac,' says I; 'I've not seen any myself, but still I believes in them.'

"'All right,' says he; 'I'm going to give you my last dying will and testament by word of mouth, which you've got to carry out or be haunted by me whenever the Devil leaves the gate ajar for as much as five minutes.'

"'Well, Isaac,' says I, 'what is it that you want me to do?'

"'On the first night,' says he, 'when they plays on the new cloth and with them new cushions, which I know will be twice too strong for a table of her age, I want you to give them a fright and make them think that I've come back.'

"'Yes, Isaac,' says I, 'I'm quite willing to oblige, but how do you want me to do it?'

"'That I leave to you,' says he; 'there's lots of ways. You can let the rack fall down, or set the b.a.l.l.s rolling about, or put gun-caps atop of the lamps. Only, mind this--you've got to make them jump, and think it's me that's done it; if you don't, I'll make you do the jumping.'

"Well, after Isaac was underground I set to thinking how I was to carry out his last will and testament, and I got fairly puzzled. There was lots of ways of making them jump, but I would be dead sure to be found out, and then, not only would I lose my billet, but I'd always think that Isaac was not satisfied, and might come to tell me so, for Isaac was always a man of his word. Then I went to rummage in an old box of his, which he'd said I might have as a keepsake. I came across in it some fine bra.s.s wire, like what he'd used for mending cues that got their b.u.t.ts split. All at once an idea came, and I'm quite sure that Isaac put it into my head. So that evening, before I lit the lamps, I tied the one end of the wire, which was that fine you couldn't hardly see it, to the triangle which lay, full of b.a.l.l.s, on the cupboard. The other end I pa.s.sed along the wall and out through the window where the sash gapes; there I just whipped it round a nail. Then I lit the lamps and sat waiting for the room to fill up. When I thought there were enough in, I sneaked out, pretending that I was going to get my supper.

After a bit I just gave the wire a tug, and then bolted round the corner."

Scarren's excitement had waxed during the narrative. From force of habit he had taken the straightened-out fish-hook from his pocket, and with it he had punctuated his sentences. I remained silent and lost in thought--marvelling at the fort.i.tude of old Isaac and wishing I knew how to attain to a philosophy such as enabled its possessor to enjoy a prospective and post-mortem practical joke upon his death-bed.

"It was a regular three-star, double-barrelled eighteen-carat scare,"

said Scarren, after a pause--"and I know for as good a fact that old Isaac enjoyed it well."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, on the same night I had such a curious dream. I saw Isaac, as plain as ever you like, sitting under a tree full of red and yeller apples. He was wrapped in the cloth we put in his coffin, and was laughing fit to split hisself."

I gave an involuntary start, for my dream of the same night flashed across my mind. After making the most solemn promises not to reveal the tale--except under certain improbable eventualities which, strangely enough, have since become actual--I bade farewell to old Scarren and walked away thinking, for the first time, that there might, after all, be something true in Chimer's creed.

CHAPTER NINE.

CHICKEN WINGS.

"A chiel's amang ye takin' notes, And, faith, he'll prent it."--Burns.

_One_.

It was by a mere coincidence that Raymond Benson and John Allister, who were both bound for Rossdale, met in the train running from Cape Town to the eastern frontier of the Cape Colony. Rossdale is a large mission inst.i.tution situate in one of what are known as the Native Territories.

It is liberally endowed by the United Presbyterian Church of Scotland, and has for its object the evangelisation and education of Bantu natives.

Benson, a Cape Colonist by birth, had obtained through the Cape Education Department the appointment of second teacher at the Inst.i.tution; Allister had just arrived from Scotland, and had been selected by the Central Mission Board as book-keeper and general accountant. As he had acquired a fair amount of medical knowledge--he had, as a matter of fact, only been prevented by financial misfortune from finishing his courses at the University of Edinburgh and qualifying as a physician--he was also expected to practise the healing art among the residents at the Mission.

Benson possessed a good const.i.tution and a keen sense of humour. He was a clean-built man of middle height and dark complexion, with features of a slightly Jewish cast. His object in going to Rossdale was the acquirement of the Bantu language spoken in the vicinity. Moreover, he had no intention of staying more than a short time should the life there prove uncongenial.

Allister was a big, raw-boned Scotsman with a strong, clean-shaven face.

His usual expression was extremely morbid, but now and then a very sweet smile would light up his rugged features. His speech had always a strong Scotch tw.a.n.g, and he occasionally--especially when excited--broke into the very broadest Doric.

Benson and Allister became very good friends during the course of the journey. From the railway terminus they travelled for a couple of days and nights in the post-cart, which delivered them at a village some twenty miles from their destination. At this village a trap from Rossdale, driven by a Kaffir who was quite ignorant of any but his mother-tongue, met them.

Allister, like Benson, had no missionary zeal. In fact he was absolutely without religious convictions of any kind, a circ.u.mstance which he had carefully concealed from the Mission Board. A weakness of the chest had rendered it highly advisable that he should leave Scotland for a year or two and seek some warmer clime. But his intention was to return to Scotland as soon as he should have saved enough money to admit of a continuance of his studies.

A fine autumn evening was drawing to its golden close when the rickety cart bearing the two strangers descended the hillside at the foot of which Rossdale lay. The vehicle, far too light for its springs, had shaken the inmates cruelly; nevertheless they had been able to extract a good deal of enjoyment from the incidents of the journey. Their course lay through an undulating, gra.s.sy country thickly dotted over with little villages composed of beehive-shaped huts, among which numbers of naked children were playing. Every now and then they pa.s.sed groups of men and women. The former had lost much of their picturesqueness owing to being dressed mainly in shoddy European clothing, but each carried at least one long, strong stick, and stalked along with a look of dignified disdain. The women were all draped in ochre-coloured blankets, fastened under the arm-pits and reaching to below the knee. But they held themselves erect and walked with a gait d.u.c.h.esses might have envied.

The Inst.i.tution was an important one and employed a large staff. The Industrial Arts were important items in the curriculum. It lay more or less in the centre of a hollow about a mile in circ.u.mference. The buildings were ma.s.sive and extensive. Around them lay a large plantation of blue-gum and oak trees, with here and there patches of orchard. On every side the landscape showed gently-swelling hills of inconspicuous height, thickly dotted with groups of huts. Herds of cattle browsed contentedly on the rich gra.s.s. The gracious autumn gloaming shed a soft radiance over the settlement. It looked like a spot consecrated to civilisation and peace--an oasis in the desert of savagery. Benson drew a deep breath of satisfaction; something seemed to whisper to him that life here might include compensations other than humorous ones. He communicated this thought to his companion, who, however, cynically replied to the effect that appearances were apt to be deceitful.

The vehicle drew up in front of the large central building, one wing of which was used as a dormitory for the boys, the other as quarters by most of the European staff. A neat-looking native servant-maid received the strangers and conducted them to their rooms upstairs. Soon afterwards, the ringing of a very discordant bell sounded through the premises. Benson and Allister then descended to the refectory, where, they had been informed, tea would be served.

Large tables were ranged across the room, and at these the native boys, each with a plate and a large tin mug before him, were seated. A small table in one of the corners was reserved for the Europeans; at this Mr Duncan Mactavish, the boarding-master, Miss Mellish, the matron, and Miss Angus, the a.s.sistant matron, were seated. Benson and Allister, upon introducing themselves, were greeted with a reserve which, on the part of any but Scotch people, would hardly have been civil.

Mr Mactavish was a tall, dark, dour-looking man of about forty-five.

Miss Mellish was stout, light-haired, pallid, and severe-looking. Miss Angus was a little, dark, withered-visaged woman; she had a nervous habit of winking her eyes continually when spoken to or when speaking.

When Miss Mellish made a remark, as she seldom did, her mouth closed immediately afterwards with a kind of snap. Mr Mactavish being a bachelor, these ladies attended to the domestic arrangements of this branch of the Inst.i.tution, under his supervision. They considered him a very great man indeed; he considered them women of discrimination.

A hymn was sung, a prayer was said (extempore) and a very lengthy blessing invoked upon the food; then all sat down to supper. The two strangers seemed to be looked upon with a certain amount of suspicion.

Mr Mactavish applied himself with systematic diligence to the food and did not utter a word until his robust appet.i.te had been a.s.suaged.

Benson and Allister were too hungry to mind the lack of conversation.

"I'm thinkin' it's a fine drive ye'll have had," said Mr Mactavish, after having subjected Allister to long and intent scrutiny.

"Middling" was the laconic response.

"Ye'll be new to yer wark, mebbe," resumed Mactavish, addressing Benson.

"Not quite," he replied; "I have spent the last three years teaching in Cape Town."

"Ah, but that's anither thing; ye'll have lots to learn o' oor methods here."

"I believe I came rather to teach than to learn," replied Benson, gently.

Three indignant pairs of eyes focussed themselves upon the speaker, who, however, looked blandly unconscious of giving offence. Mr Mactavish turned once more to Allister--"Ye'll have some skill as a physeecian, I'm told."

"It depends upon what's wrang wi' ye," replied Allister, with imperturbability. "I can pull teeth fine, and I've learnt to shoe a horse."

This seemed to strike Mr Mactavish with momentary helplessness.

However, after a pause, he returned to the attack--