In the Whirl of the Rising Part 11

Lying there in the darkness it seemed to the listener that the loudness of his own heart-beats must betray him, for no sooner was he in position than the very first words he caught were such as to thrill him through with excitement and eagerness.

"It is not yet the time for killing," a voice was saying.

"Not the time?" hummed several others.

"Not the time. He has said it. Before the next moon is dead, were the words of Umlimo. And it is not yet born."

"But that was for the eating up of all Amakiwa," objected another voice.

"These who are in our midst are only two. No one will miss them. Who saw them come into our midst? None but our own people."

"_Eh! he_!" a.s.sented the others.

"U' Lamonti. He has fire-weapons, and we need such," went on the last speaker. "These will be ours."

The listener lay, cursing himself for a very complete idiot. For the mention of firearms brought back to him that at the present moment he was totally unarmed. He had unslung his revolver when he lay down to sleep, and on coming out of the hut had left it there. Did any of them discover his presence now he was defenceless!

Now it was urged that the plan of stealing upon and murdering their two guests in their sleep was a bad one, and impolitic in that it would cause inquiries to be made, and so put the other Amakiwa on their guard.

Then another voice said--

"You cannot kill the white _isa.n.u.si_. His _muti_ is too powerful."

"Ha!"

"Too powerful," went on the speaker. "_Hau_! he is a real _isa.n.u.si_ this one. He has a magic house, wherein he brings down fire from the sky--_lapa gu' Buluwayo_. I know, for I have seen. _Impela_!"

The murmur of wonder or incredulity evoked by this statement having subsided, the other continued--

"I am not lying. I saw it. The Amakiwa in that house bent to the very ground, and sang great songs in praise of that wonder--fearing it.

There were captains among them too, ha! Now I would ask if the fighting Amakiwa feared this _isa.n.u.si_ and his _muti_--they fearing nothing--how then shall we have power against him? It may not be."

Notwithstanding his peril a ripple of mirth ran through the listener, as he grasped what the speaker was feeling around--and which meant that that unlearned savage had by some means or other obtained a glimpse into the church at Buluwayo what time his travelling companion was exercising his sacerdotal functions, and was now recording his impressions of that experience.

"But Qubani--he too is an _isa.n.u.si_" said another voice. "He can match his power against that of this white one. Is it not so, Qubani, thou wise one?"

And from the tone, the listener gathered that the man addressed was held in great respect. It inspired in him no surprise, only rekindled interest, for he had heard of this Qubani as an _isa.n.u.si_ of some renown.

"Meddle not with the white _isa.n.u.si_" was the laconic but decided answer. It was received with a hum of respectful a.s.sent, followed by a moment of silence.

"And the other, U' Lamonti. Shall we not kill him, my father?"

Again the listener's nerves thrilled as he crept a little more forward to catch the answer. It came.

"He may not be hurt--not now. He is under the protection of the white _isa.n.u.si_."

This dictum was accepted without question, and, very considerably relieved in his mind, Lamont was preparing to creep away, when a new discussion arose, and the first few words of it were of so momentous and startling a nature, that he decided to remain and hear more--and that at any risk. And such risk became graver and graver with every moment.

CHAPTER NINE.

WHAT LAMONT HEARD.

In telling Ancram that the Matabele were likely to give trouble in the event of a further extensive destruction of their cattle, Lamont had been indulging in prophecy that was a good deal _in nubibus_. He had thought such trouble might very likely occur, but not just yet. Now, as he lay there in the darkness, a partic.i.p.ator, unknown to them, in the most secret counsels of the plotting savages, he was simply aghast at the magnitude and imminence of the peril which the whole white population of the country either laughed at or ignored.

"Not yet the time for killing," went on the voice of the one who had first proposed the listener's own death. "_Hau_! But something else was said by Umlimo--ah-ah--something else! When Amakiwa are killed then it will rain. So said he. Our cattle are all dead, and our crops are dying. But--it has not yet rained. When Amakiwa are killed the rain will be great. Ah! ah! The rain will be great!"

As though burned in letters of fire within his mind there flashed back upon Lamont the recollection of these words. The sullen, uncordial reception, the reiteration of these words by those who witnessed their arrival--the meaning of all was clear now. This infernal Umlimo, whose quackeries and influence already had caused some stir in the land, had promised them copious rain on condition that the whites were slain.

"But so far there is none," went on the speaker. "The storm of this night, which should have revived our thirsting cornlands, has pa.s.sed over us dry. Yet it was such a storm as should have brought with it a flood. _Whou_! And these two Amakiwa are in our hands. But enough of them. _Ha_! U' Gandela. The talk is about _it_."

"_Eh! he_!" a.s.sented the listeners. "The talk is about it."

"When the sun rises to-morrow," went on the speaker, "it will rise on a great company of fools. All the Amakiwa, for a long journey around, will be hurrying into Gandela, where they are going to race horses, and play games, and drink strong waters. The day after, the sun will rise upon all this, but--it will set on no more Amakiwa--not at Gandela."

"No more Amakiwa! 'M--'m!" hummed the audience.

"Yet the other plan might be better," urged one of these. "To strike them all by twos and threes, all over our country. Thus would they be the quicker dead but with less trouble to us. How is that, Zwabeka?"

"Ours is the better way, Zazwe. You would first strike the tail of the snake, I and others the head. This is the best."

"Zwabeka? Zazwe?" More than ever now did the listener p.r.i.c.k up his ears. So it was Zwabeka himself--Zwabeka who was supposed to be sick-- Zwabeka whose guest he was--Zwabeka the most influential chief in the Matyantatu district--who had been advocating the murder of himself and his travelling companion, and now was planning a treacherous and wholesale ma.s.sacre of all the whites, when they should be gathered together wholly unsuspecting, and probably almost wholly unarmed, at the race meeting and gymkhana which was to be held at Gandela on the day after to-morrow! And Zazwe--an equally important chief located in the adjoining district of Sik.u.mbutana! and from this he began to suspect what was in point of fact correct--that this meeting embraced some half-dozen or more of the most influential chiefs of Matabeleland. Here was a pretty sort of conspiracy he had all unconsciously been the means of getting behind.

Crouching low he listened with all his might and main. His brain seemed bursting. The very hammering of his pulses seemed to impair his sense of hearing. Oh, but it must not--it should not! Then a dog began barking on the farther side of the kraal. Oh, that infernal cur! The lives of hundreds of his unsuspecting countrymen--and women--depended on what he might hear next, and were they to be sacrificed to the yapping of an infernal mongrel cur! But still the brute yelped on.

And now as regarded his own safety this man thought nothing, he whom we have heard referred to as a 'funkstick,' as p.r.o.ne to show the white feather, and so forth. Whether the imputations were true or not, lying there now, listening for the continuation of the bloodthirsty and murderous plot, Lamont felt absolutely no shred of a sense of fear-- instead, one of savage irritation. That yapping cur which interfered with his sense of hearing--could he but have strangled it with his bare hands! He was no longer Piers Lamont, an individual. He was an instrument, a delicate and subtle, though potent machine, and he felt as though the destined smoothness of his working had been interfered with and thrown out of order.

"Here then is the plan," went on the one he had identified as Zwabeka, after a little general discussion which the barking of the dog and his own excitement had prevented him from adequately grasping. "When these Amakiwa are gathered at Gandela, on the next day but one, Qubani, who is known to some of them, will be in their midst. The place where they race their horses is outside the town, and it is overhung by a bush-covered mountain-side. Good! On that mountain-side, in the bushes, a strong _impi_ will muster--and watch. When the sign is given--_Ou_! in no time will there be any Amakiwa left alive. Tell it again, my father."

"This is it, Amakosi," took up the voice, which the listener recognised as that of the famous witch-doctor who had spoken before, "Zwabeka has said I am known to some of the Amakiwa. To-morrow I shall be known to another of them, this Lamonti, whom I will talk to before he goes his way. Now see how more useful he is to us alive than dead--for the present. I will go in and talk with them pleasantly and look at their horse races. But it is afterwards, when they all collect to receive rewards for those who have won in races--then it is that our time will have come. They will all be collected together, having no thought but for who is to receive rewards. And they will all be looking one way, and shouting, and--all throwing up their hats. _Whau_! All throwing up their hats!"

A hum of expectant eagerness ran through the listeners. Could the-- never so justified--eavesdropper have seen through that wall of gra.s.s and rough plaster he would have seen a tense, a bloodthirsty look on each set, thrust-forward face, hanging on what was to follow.

"Ha! All throwing up their hats. And I, Qubani, will be throwing up mine."

"'M--'m!" hummed the listeners.

"Yet, how shall we see that, when so many hats are being thrown up?"

asked Zwabeka's voice.

"This way. I have a red cap, given me by one of them when last I was at Buluwayo. It will I throw up. The Amakiwa do not wear red caps."

"But--if the time is not ripe?" struck in a voice which the listener thought not to have heard yet. "If, by chance, the Amakiwa are suspicious and are all armed--what then?"

"_Au_! That is not likely. But I will wear two caps--a white one under the red. If the time is ripe, the red one goes into the air--then those who are elsewhere will receive news by swift signal that all the Amakiwa in their part of the country be at once and immediately slain. If I see that the time is not yet, then I throw the white signal in the air. So must we sit still and deliberate further. It is the red signal or the white."

"The red signal or the white!" echoed his hearers. "Ah! ah! The red signal or the white!"

"That is understood," said Qubani. "The red signal or the white."