Forging the Blades Part 27

"Only tried it once before in my life. Then it came to me as a sudden idea. I thought I'd experimentalise again in this instance. I happen to be able to whistle rather above the average, so I was always careful to keep the note clear. I had a sort of feeling that the least break would destroy the spell at once. By the way, think there's another anywhere about?--they say snakes go in couples."

"No, no, no!" she answered, instinctively slipping a restraining hand beneath his arm. "Be content with this one. Besides, we have got to get it home."

"So we have, by Jove!" with a glance up at the sun. "Now let me think of the best way to work. The horses won't stick it near them, I'm afraid. But this is worth having, and no mistake. They grow larger than this, though, don't they, Verna?"

"Yes," she answered, with a touch of anxiety. "But they are very rare and very dangerous. A snake isn't like a lion or anything of that sort.

He's about ten times as quick, and offers no mark for a bullet, and if you use shot you spoil the skin. No; be content with this one."

"Why, you sworn big-game huntress, you talk with weighty wisdom. Now I am still debating the difficult problem of how to get this specimen home."

"_Nkose! Nkosazana_!"

Both started. In their preoccupation they had been totally unaware of the presence of any third person. They looked up to become aware of the presence of such, in the person of a tall Zulu, and he Mandevu. The appearance of the latter caused Denham some vague uneasiness. It seemed as though this man were d.o.g.g.i.ng him. The next words were not calculated to allay the feeling.

"That was a great snake," he said, "and well killed. _Whau_! when last I saw a snake bewitched like that it was not so well killed, it was cut nearly in half. _Nkose_ must be _isa.n.u.si_ to have the power of keeping a snake--two snakes--still in such wise."

Verna translated this for Denham's benefit, and translated it well, word for word. Inwardly it puzzled her a little, for it seemed to convey some hidden meaning. But to her companion the words were disquieting, to say the least of it, and more than ever confirmed the idea that the Zulu was following him from place to place with a purpose.

"Tell him, Verna," he said, "that I want this taken home. If he has any boys he can fetch them along, and they shall be well paid, nor will I forget himself."

This was put. Mandevu thought he could find the boys--there was a kraal a little way off. He would see. This Verna knew to be absolutely untrue, but Denham was delighted. He presented Mandevu with a half-sovereign, intimating that there was more where that came from when the service required should be accomplished. That worthy strode off into the forest on the spot.

Verna was rather silent as they sat and waited. That curious instinctive consciousness of being watched or followed was upon her.

She did not believe that Mandevu had come upon them by mere chance or that he was alone. She remembered their meeting with him near Sapazani's kraal, and also that Denham had run against him twice at Ezulwini. Now if they, or either of them, were being watched, to what end? And here she owned herself puzzled.

Presently Mandevu reappeared with two boys. Meanwhile Denham had been doctoring his prize with some subtle chemical substance by way of preservative. He did not notice that none of them looked in the direction of the skeleton, plainly visible from there. He was too intent upon his new find. But Verna did. However, as she had said, she knew the people, so forbore to remark upon it. Yet a muttered exclamation on the part of one of the two did not escape her.

"_Whau_! The snake of Sebela! It, too, is dead."

And hearing it, a good deal of the mystery of the skeleton was solved.

For she had known Sebela--alive. The forest had its secrets. Its shades witnessed scenes intensely human--dark as well as golden.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

SERGEANT d.i.c.kINSON'S FIND.

Meanwhile some curious and somewhat startling circ.u.mstances were developing. Sergeant d.i.c.kinson, N.P., stationed at Makanya, was--as we heard Harry Stride say in substance--an astute officer. So astute was he as to render him unpopular with a section of the natives, and notably with those who were disaffected. Twice, indeed, had his life been attempted by these, but with firm faith in the proverb, "Threatened men live long," such attempts had not seriously affected him. They were "all in the day's work," and only served to create a little excitement in an otherwise rather monotonous round.

Harry Stride's find of the saddle below the Bobi drift had come to him as a G.o.dsend. Could he work up a case out of it? He thought about it a good deal, and round and round; but this was after he had started with one of the four troopers under his command on a patrol immediately, and the two were threading the several hours of difficult and rugged forest path in the direction of the find.

He had no difficulty in locating the exact spot. Stride's description had been lucid and accurate--the drift itself, of course, was well-known to him.

"The thing to do, Symes," he said, "is to examine both banks right the way down. If the saddle was here there may be other things further on.

We'll take this side first."

Carefully d.i.c.kinson quartered the river bank, the trooper leading both horses. It was rough going, but both were young and hard. Suddenly the trooper exclaimed--

"Look there, d.i.c.kinson!"

He was pointing to the other side. Something like a strip of clothing was fluttering from a bush hardly above water level. When the river was higher it would have been beneath it.

Now a strip of clothing in that position, amid the wildest part of the very wild Makanya forest, was a thing to attract attention. The natives frequently wore clothes, it was true; still, under the circ.u.mstances Sergeant d.i.c.kinson thought it worthy of note. And just as he had so decided, something else caught his attention.

"Symes," he said quickly, "I'm going to swim across. I fancy there's something worth finding on the other side."

"Swim across?" said Symes, with an expletive. "I wouldn't. The river's full of blooming crocs."

"I know. But we'll give 'em a holy scare first."

"Why not ride round by the blanked drift and come down the bank?" said Trooper Symes. "This is a plaguy rotten deep hole."

"Because of that krantz. It comes right down to the water, and to dodge it means the devil's own delay getting here. And if what I see is what I think, why, every minute is important."

He had thrown off his tunic--he knew better than to throw off all his clothes to swim a crocodile-infested river, for with this obnoxious saurian, as with the wily shark, experience goes to show that a clothed man is safer than an unclothed one; possibly there is something alarming in the artificiality of his clothes--or is it the bad fit of his tailor?

Now he drew his revolver and so did the trooper. Both fired several shots into the water at various points.

"But what in blazes d'you think you do see?" said Symes.

"I'll tell you when I get to the other side," and Sergeant d.i.c.kinson took the water with a mighty splash.

It was not very wide there, though smooth and deep. A few long, strong strokes and the swimmer was on the other side, holding his revolver holster high above water in one hand, for he of all people did not care to be unarmed in that locality.

Eagerly, excitedly, he climbed up the bank. An exclamation of satisfaction mingled with utter disgust escaped him.

"Symes," he called out. "You've got to go back to camp as hard as you can push your horse; hitch mine up to the bush yonder, but firmly. Get my kodak--see it's not been used since I filled it yesterday--and then get back here as hard as ever you can."

"Kodak! I'm blanked! You might let on what you've found," grumbled Symes.

"It's a head, man, a white man's head. I can't bring it across the river, it's in such a disgusting condition that the d.a.m.n thing'd tumble to pieces. Ugh! Must take its likeness to establish ident.i.ty. So put your best leg forward."

Trooper Symes at once laid himself out to sustain the traditional reputation of his rank. He swore.

"Don't blab the affair in camp," called out his superior, as he started.

The latter, left alone, began eagerly, with his investigations.

Anything more revolting than the aspect of his find can hardly be imagined. Yet considering that it must have been in the water several days, and several more since it had been stranded through the subsidence of the river, it was surprising in what a recognisable state the swollen features were. Yet, the horror and repulsion of this revolting sight was merged in d.i.c.kinson's professional exultation as he examined it long and attentively. It had not been severed by any sharp instrument, but presented the appearance of having been _torn_ off. This pointed to the agency of crocodiles. Yet why had they left it? Here was a mystery to be unearthed, a clue to go upon. Here was the _corpus delicti_. The bullet hole in the broken saddle which Stride had brought him was another link in the chain. Were there no others?

First there was the strip of clothing which he had seen from the other side. It he examined. It was of khaki-like material, something akin to that employed for the uniform of the Force, and yet different. Ah, what was this? Trailing in the river was the fragment of a coat, hitched to a thorn. In his eagerness to get at it he nearly fell into the water.

There was a pocket. Eagerly the sergeant's hand investigated this, only to come in contact with what seemed a ma.s.s of pulp. He drew it forth.

It slipped through his fingers and fell into the river--once it had been papers, but the immersion had reduced it to pulp, yet not quite all of it so escaped. One fragment remained, and it seemed to have been part of an extra strong envelope. This he examined eagerly. It bore a blurred and faded scrawl, most of which had entirely disappeared. By dint of the most patient and careful scrutiny d.i.c.kinson succeeded in making out--

H. Gold Box Jo

The rest had gone with the other fragment of the envelope--had run off to pulp.