John Ames, Native Commissioner Part 20

No sooner thought out than acted upon. With beating heart she stood within the room. It was as it had been left--crockery in a semi-washed state; utensils lying about; and--her pulses gave a throb of joy--there on a table stood a pie-dish, containing about half of a cold pie.

Beside it, too, were three boiled mealie-cobs. The latter she placed in the empty half of the dish, and, laden with this most opportune spoil, she went outside, and having gently closed the door, took her way down the river-path again.

But ere she was half way again the sound of voices was borne to her ears. Standing still for a moment she listened intently. They were native voices, and--they were drawing nearer. Swiftly she fled down the river-path, and having regained her place of refuge, lay within it like a hunted animal, all inclination for food now gone.

No further sound arose to disturb her, and presently a drowsiness came upon her, and she fell fast asleep, slumbering peacefully and dreamlessly. Hour after hour went by, and the sun mounted high in the heavens. When at length she did awaken, lo! the day was half gone. But she felt greatly refreshed, and attacked the viands she had so opportunely discovered with good appet.i.te.

And now Nidia made her first and great mistake. She should have remained where she was until the following day, starting with the very first glimmer of dawn upon her long and weary pilgrimage. This would have given her the advantage of several cool hours in which to travel.

Instead, she decided to start at once.

She went over to one of the water-holes, of which there were several, and took a long deep drink. Then she made her way down the dry bed of the river. It was easier walking, for there was no bush or long gra.s.s to impede her way, and had the further advantage of screening her from observation. Two or three times, after peeping cautiously forth, she had stolen across a neck of ground so as to shorten the way where the river-bed made a long bend; but the coa.r.s.e sawlike gra.s.s had cut her scantily protected ankles, and her skirt was ripped in several places by numerous thorns, and by the time she had travelled for three hours, she became sadly alive to the certainty that she had effected very little progress indeed.

Worse still. She was beginning to feel utterly exhausted. Even a fair amount of bicycle training, and that in an equable climate, was inadequate training for a twenty mile across-country walk through the burning enervating heat of sub-tropical Matabeleland, and, moreover, she was tormented by a raging thirst; for no water had she found since first starting, and now she had walked for three hours.

The river-bed here made a bend. Despairingly poor Nidia sent a glance at the sun, to discover that the amount of daylight left to her was diminishing to an alarming degree. Then she climbed up the bank to ascertain whether a short cut might not effect a considerable saving of time.

She discovered it would. The country was dangerously open, though, and there were cultivated lands she would have to pa.s.s. Summoning up all her strength and courage, she stole rapidly along, keeping within the shelter of a line of thorn-bushes. These came abruptly to an end, and away, about a quarter of a mile off, stood three or four huts.

Quickly she drew back. Too late. She had been seen. Two natives were crossing the patch of cultivated land--a big man and a small one--and both were armed with guns. She turned instinctively to flee, but in loud and threatening tones they called on her to stop. At the same time a rush of gaunt curs, from the neighbourhood of the huts, howling and yelping, decided the situation. Poor Nidia, panting with exhaustion and fear, turned again, and, trying to summon all her courage, stood awaiting the approach of the two barbarians, who were advancing towards her with rapid strides.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

MEPHISTO--IN BLACK.

The aspect of the two natives into whose power she had fallen was not such as to inspire Nidia with any great degree of rea.s.surance. They formed an evil-looking pair; the tall one, heavy, sullen, scowling; the short one, lithe, lean, very black, with hawk-like features and sunken cruel eyes. One circ.u.mstance, however, she did not fail to note, and it inspired her with a momentary gleam of hope. The big man was clad in the uniform of the Native Police, very much soiled and worn, and hardly looking identical with the smart get-up she had noticed in members of the same corps at Bulawayo, yet the uniform for all that. If he was a policeman she was safe. He would be bound to protect her, and guide her to some place of safety. To this end she addressed him.

"You are a policeman, are you not?"

"Where you go?" was the gruff reply.

"To Sik.u.mbutana. You must show me the way, and I will give you something you will like--money."

"Sik.u.mbutana? Kwa Jonemi?" repeated the man.

"Jonemi?"--wonderingly. "John Ames! Yes; that is the name," she exclaimed, eagerly recognising it. "How much you give me?"

"A pound. Twenty shillings."

"Give me now"--stretching out his hand.

Could she trust him? She would willingly have given twenty--fifty-- pounds to find herself in a place of safety, but the gruff offhand manner, so different to the smooth deferential way in which natives were wont to treat their white conquerors, inspired her with distrust and alarm. But she was in their power absolutely.

She took out her purse--a dainty, silver-rimmed, snake-skin affair-- which contained some loose silver and a couple of sovereigns, and opened it. The big native s.n.a.t.c.hed it roughly from her hand.

She started back, flushing with anger, less at the robbery than at the ruffianly manner of its perpetration, but her anger was dashed with a chill, sinking feeling of terror. She was so entirely within the power of these two savages. Then she remembered how John Ames had laid down, in the course of one of their numerous conversations, that in dealing with natives it never did to let them think you were afraid of them.

"Why did you do that?" she said, looking him straight in the face, her eyes showing more contempt than anger. "You--a policeman? I would have given you all that money if you had asked me, and more, too, when you had taken me where I wanted to go."

Her utterance was purposely slow, clear and deliberate. The big native had sufficient knowledge of English to enable him to understand at any rate the gist of her rebuke. But he only scowled, and made no reply.

Then the small man began to address her volubly in Sindabele, but to each of his remarks or questions Nidia could only shake her head. She understood not one word of them. Having satisfied himself to that extent, he left off talking to her, and, turning to the other, began a long and earnest discussion, of which it was just as well that Nidia could not understand a word.

"See, Nanzicele," the short man was saying. "This woman has walked right into our hands. The whites are all killed. Now, kill her."

But the other shook his head with a dissentient grunt.

"One blow of that heavy stick in thy belt, and that head will fly to pieces like a pumpkin rolling down a hill. Or why not cut that white throat and see the red blood flow? _Au_! The red blood, flowing over a white skin--a skin as white as milk--and the red of the blood--ah--ah!

It will be acceptable to Umlimo, that blood. See, Nanzicele, thou hast a knife that is sharp. The red blood will flow as it did from the throat of the wife of thy captain in the hut but two nights ago."

Again the tall barbarian grunted dissent.

"I like not this killing of women, Umtwana 'Mlimo," he answered. "This woman has never harmed me. I will not kill her."

"What about Nompiza?" said the small demon, with his head on one side.

"_Au_! thou didst laugh when she splashed into the water-hole in the moonlight."

"She did harm me, in that she scorned and mocked me. Yet, I liked not that deed either, Shiminya."

"Yonder dogs, shall we call them and set them on to devour this white witch?" went on the sorcerer. "They are hungry, and she is defenceless.

We shall laugh at her face of terror when they attack her on all sides, and then, when they rend her limb from limb--they shall eat white meat for once. _Au_! It will be a sacrifice pleasing to Umlimo."

"I never heard of a sacrifice pleasing to Umlimo, or any other Great Great One, that was offered through a dog's maw, Shiminya," cried the other, with a great jeer; for too much a.s.sociation had somewhat sapped Nanzicele's respect for the redoubted magician. The latter, conscious of having made a slip, went on.

"Nompiza scorned thee when thou wouldst take her to wife, Nanzicele.

Thou art large and strong, but thou hast no cattle, son of Fondosi, therefore thou hast no wives. Here is one who comes straight to thee.

She is white, it is true, yet take her."

Of all these atrocious suggestions Nidia, standing there, was of course blissfully ignorant. The sun was declining, and she was inwardly growing somewhat impatient. Would they never have finished their _indaba_? Was it, perhaps, her look of absolute unconsciousness, her very helplessness, that appealed to some spark of manliness within the heart of that rough savage, as he replied?

"No, no. I want not such. They are _tagati_, these white women. The Amakiwa are the wisest people in the world, yet they treat such women as these as though they were G.o.ds. I have seen it--yes, I, myself. Look, too, at this woman. She is not afraid. There is a power behind her, and I will not offer her violence."

Then the abominable wizard deemed it time to throw his trump card.

"Where is she going? To Sik.u.mbutana," he said, lapsing into a professional oracularism. "To whom is she going? To Jonemi. Nanzicele was a chief in the _Amapolise_, but he is not now. Why not? Ask Jonemi. This woman knows Jonemi--belongs to him, it may be; perhaps his sister--perhaps his wife. Jonemi was in our power, but he escaped from us. This woman is in our power; shall we let her go?"

This recapitulation of his wrongs and appeal to his vengeful feelings was not entirely without effect upon Nanzicele. He hated John Ames, whom he regarded, and rightly, as the main instrument of his own degradation. He had only spared him, in the ma.s.sacre of Inglefield's hut, for a worse fate, intending to convey him to Shiminya's _muti_ kraal, and put him to death in the most atrocious form that the fiendish brain of the wizard could devise. Then they had all become drunk, and John Ames had escaped, and for all the trace he had left behind him might just as well have disappeared into empty air. And now, here, ready to his hand, was a scheme of vengeance upon the man he hated.

Turning his head, he looked intently at Nidia. But the aspect of her, standing there calm and fearless--fearless because entirely ignorant of what had happened at Sik.u.mbutana, and still regarding this man, rough as he had shown himself, as her protector by reason of his Police uniform-- appealed to the superst.i.tious nature of the savage. He felt that it was even as he had said. There was a power behind her.

"I will not harm her, Shiminya," he growled. "_Au_! I am sick of all this killing of women. It will bring ill chance upon us. They ought to have been shown a broad road out of the country."

"To show a broader road to more whites to come into it by? Thy words are not words of sense, Nanzicele. Have it as thou wilt, however," said the crafty wizard, who knew when to humour the savage and stubborn temperament of his confederate. "We will take care of her this night-- ah--ah! in the only safe and secure place"--with a sinister chuckle.

"Be it so. I will not have her harmed, Shiminya," declared the other.

"It may be we shall yet obtain large reward for delivering her back to her own people in safety."

"Will the reward be of lead or of raw-hide?" said the sorcerer, pleasantly. "And who will give it when there are no more whites in the land?"

"No more whites in the land? That will be never," returned Nanzicele, with a great laugh. "That is a good tale for the people, Umtwana 'Mlimo. But for thee and for me--_au_! we know. When Makiwa sets his foot in any land, that foot is never taken up. It never has been, and never will be."