Dead Man's Land Part 42

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

BUILDING THE ZAREBA.

"Compa.s.ses are fine things," said Mark. "See, here we are with that little needle ready to spin one way or the other till it stands still without being shaken, and here it shows us exactly how we have been travelling along first to the south, then due west, and now here we are steadily going on to the north-west."

"That's all very well at sea," said Dean, "but here we are on land.

Suppose that compa.s.s isn't correct?"

"There's a sceptic!" cried Mark. "Why, doesn't the sun rising and setting prove it to be all right? The needle always is correct unless it's near iron."

"Or there is some natural cause to produce a variation," said the doctor, who was listening to the boys' remarks upon the pocket compa.s.s which he always carried. "We needn't doubt it here."

"Then according to what you are showing, sir, in the fourteen days'

since those pigmies left us--"

"No, we left them," said Dean.

"That's not correct," said Mark. "We stood still and saw them go into the forest, so they must have left us."

"But we left our camp directly afterwards," said Dean, "and we have been travelling along by the edge of the forest ever since."

"There, don't argue, boys," said the doctor. "It's quite evident that we have pa.s.sed right round the forest and left it behind us, and I make it out that if instead of following the edge so as to be in the open where the bullocks could trek we could have walked straight through between the trees, we should have have been here long enough ago. Why, we are now about opposite to the pigmy settlement."

"What!" cried Mark. "Oh, I say, let's stop and go in amongst the trees, and shout or cooey till we make them hear, and they will come and join us."

"That's a likely idea," said Dean derisively. "What a fellow he is, isn't he, doctor? He's been grumbling ever since he lost his pet pig."

"Well, I don't care. I did like the little chap."

"Yes, just because you were nursing him and getting him better. Why, Mark, you are just like a great girl with a pet lamb."

"Oh, am I?" said Mark sourly.

"Yes, that you are. She's so fond of it because it's so white and skips after her, and she ties blue ribbons round its neck and is as pleased as Punch to have it running after her, and crying ma-a-a-a-a!"

"You just wait till the doctor's gone off with father, and I'll punch your head," whispered Mark, as the doctor walked towards the waggon which they were following.

"I don't care; so you are," said Dean; "and by-and-by the pretty little lamb grows up into a great, big, ugly, stupid-looking sheep good for nothing."

"Yes, it is--mutton."

"And that's how it would be," continued Dean, "with your pet savage. It would grow old and ugly, and a perfect nuisance, and be not so good as a sheep, because you could eat that, and even you wouldn't care to turn into an anthropop--what's his name?"

"There, that's just like you, Dean; you are always trying to use big ugly words that you can't recollect the whole of. Anthropop what's his name! Why can't you say cannibal? Here, I will help you," cried the boy mockingly. "Say anthropo-phagistically inclined."

"Oh, I say, don't, Mark!" said Dean, laughing. "I am sure that's given you a twist at the corners of your jaws."

Quite involuntarily Mark clapped his index fingers just beneath his ears as if his cousin's words were true and he had felt a twinge, with the result that Dean burst out laughing.

"There, go on. I don't care about your grinning. All this travelling out here makes a fellow feel so jolly and happy. One goes to roost tired out, and is fast asleep directly, so that one wakes rested in the morning, with the air making one ready to dance and sing."

"Makes you hungry," said Dean banteringly. "But why don't you dance and sing? I should like to see you. Only tell me when you are going to begin and I will call our fellows up to look at you. I say, what a pity it is that we could not get the herd of little pigs to form a ring. I believe it would make the solemn-looking little chaps grin for once in their lives."

"Oh, go on," cried Mark. "I'll pocket all this and give it you back in some shape or another one of these days. It pleases you and it doesn't hurt me; but all the same if we do come back this way I mean to stop when we get to our old camp, and then give the pigmies a call."

"No, don't," said Dean, "because if you do you will want me to go and take care of you, and no more forest, if you please."

Oddly enough that very evening when the compa.s.s said they were travelling due west, that is to say, right across the plain that now opened before them in the direction that Mak had pointed out as being the way to the big stones, and when the great forest lay looking as if sinking into a golden cloud far behind, something occurred.

They had seen that they were now pa.s.sing into the open country, for twice over a drove of antelopes had taken fright where they were grazing and dashed away, but the second time by means of careful stalking and taking advantage of the screen offered by scattered clumps of trees, the doctor and Sir James had both made a good addition to their larder.

This change in the country, though it fully proved that they could secure an ample supply of provisions, and though their black guide when questioned had pointed to one of the kopjes or clumps of granite which sprinkled the plain as being where they would find water--brought with it a suggestion of danger.

"Yes, gentlemen," said Buck; "we shall have to be careful now, what my messmate Dan calls look out for squalls."

"Roaring squalls?" said Mark, laughing. "Yes, Mr Mark, sir, roaring squallers, who as soon as they scent us out will be full of the idee that we have come here on purpose to bring them a change of wittles."

"Oh, you mean that they are rather tired of venison and want to have beef."

"That's right, Mr Mark, sir; and we can't pay them out, because though they can eat my bullocks we can't eat them."

"No, Buck, but we can pepper their hides and salt their skins."

"Pepper 'em, sir? We want to give them something stronger than that-- some of the hard bullets you have got in the waggon. I have been having it over with black Mak, and he's quite at home here and is on the look out for a place where we can build up what they calls a zareba of bushes and rock with a good fire inside. We mustn't have another night like that last."

Just then Peter Dance and Bob Bacon came into sight, laden with a pretty good f.a.ggot of dry wood that they had hacked off, and which they secured to the tail of the second waggon ready for starting the cooking fire when they made camp.

The men were intent upon their work; and each had a light billhook stuck behind him in his belt, and while Dance was readjusting his f.a.ggot his chopping tool nearly slipped out of where it was slightly stuck, while in trying to save it from falling, the keeper, who had quite forgotten his bruises, glanced for a moment in their direction.

"I say, young gentlemen," said the big driver, speaking from behind his hand, "warn't it rum? It was just as if Peter felt that we were talking about him."

"What, about his letting the fire out?" said Mark. "Oh, we must forget that. I don't believe he would ever do it again."

"I hope not, sir," said Buck, and he swung himself along to overtake the waggon, giving his big whip a crack or two and his span of bullocks a few verbal admonitions to trek.

"That will be a horrible bother," said Dean, as the boys, rifle over shoulder, strode off a little to the right of the straight course so as to take their chance of anything that might spring up from one of the clumps of dwarf trees which were being avoided by the waggon drivers.

For these carefully kept away from anything that might impede their progress, which was towards the first rocky eminence of any size they had seen, save on more distant hunting excursions, since they had left the forest behind.

"What, building up a kraal, or zareba, as he called it?" said Mark.

"Yes. You see, we shall be tired enough without having that to do. But it must be done."

But just at sundown the spot at which Mak had been aiming was reached.

It was one of the regular kopjes of the African plains, but fairly verdant, being well furnished with dwarf trees and loose, rugged patches of rock that offered themselves for protection, while a gurgling source of water gushed out at the foot of the largest ma.s.s of granite, foamed away amongst the stones for about a hundred yards, forming several clear pools, and lost itself in a muddy, trampled little swamp which showed plenty of signs of being visited by the herds of antelope which roamed the veldt.

One of the first things done was the making of a hurried survey of the kopje, Mak at once bending to his task of leading the travellers, rifle in hand, to the examination of every spot that suggested the possibility of its being used as a lair by any dangerous cat-like beast. But no lion sprang out, and there was nothing suggestive of danger till Mak led the searchers to where the stream spread out for a while before it sank down into the sand.

Here there were plenty of traces of antelope of various kinds, their footprints showing out distinctly and indicating the ease with which a watcher could get a shot. But the next minute the thoughts of all were occupied by their guide stopping short and pointing out the plainly marked spoor of a lion.