John Ames, Native Commissioner Part 26

"Oh, darling! why did I ever allow you to leave me, my own, my true chivalrous love?" she murmured to herself amid a rain of tears, confiding to herself the secret of her heart in the agony of her distress and terror. And still the dark hours wore on, one upon another, and he--the companion, protector--lover--did not return.

The night she had spent hiding in the river-bank after the slaughter of the Hollingworths could hardly be surpa.s.sed for horror and apprehension, Nidia had thought at the time. Now she recognised that it had been as nothing to this one. Then she had hardly known the secret of her heart--now she had discovered it. But--too late.

Yet, was it too late? Harm might not have befallen him, after all. He might have missed his way in the darkness. In the very earliest dawn he would return, and then the joy of it! This hope acted like a sedative to poor Nidia's overwrought brain. The night air was soft and balmy.

At last she slept.

It was grey dawn when she awoke, but her awakening was startling, for it was brought about by a loud harsh shout--almost in her ear. Nidia sprang to her feet, trembling with terror. Several great dark shapes fled to the rocks just overhanging her resting-place, and, gaining them, faced round again, uttering their harsh, angry shout. Baboons? Could they be? Nidia had seen here and there a dejected looking baboon or two chained to a post; but such had nothing in common with these great fierce brutes up there, barely twenty yards distant, which skipped hither and thither, champing their great tusks and barking savagely.

One old male of enormous size, outlined against the sky, on the apex of a cone, looked as large as a lion. Others came swarming down the rocks; evil-looking horrors, repulsive as so many gigantic spiders.

Wild-eyed with fear, Nidia s.n.a.t.c.hed up a blanket, and ran towards them, waving it, and shouting. They retreated helter-skelter, but only to skip forward again, mowing and gibbering. Three of the foremost, indeed, great males, would hardly move at all. They squatted almost within springing distance, gnashing their tusks, hideously threatening.

Then, as by magic, the whole gnome-like troop wildly fled; but the cause of this change of front was hard and material. "Whizz--Bang--Whack!"

came a succession of stones, forcibly hurled, splintering off a rock like a bullet, thudding hard upon simian ribs. Yelling and jabbering, the whole crew skipped and shoggled up the rocks, and Nidia, with a very wan and scared smile upon her pallid face, turned to welcome her companion and protector--turned, to behold--not John Ames at all, but a burly savage--a tall Matabele warrior, barbarously picturesque in the weird panoply of his martial adornments.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

TRAPPED.

His mind aglow with the recollection of that farewell, his one thought how soon he should be able to return, John Ames strode forth upon his quest, and as he did so it is probable that the whole world could not have produced another human being filled with such a rapturous exaltation as this refugee from a fiendish ma.s.sacre, hiding for his life in the grim fastnesses of the Matopo Hills.

That last look he had discerned in Nidia's eyes, that last pressure of her hands, could mean but one thing, and that the one thing to obtain which he would have laid down his life again and again. She was beginning to care for him. Other little spontaneous acts of cordiality during their enforced exile, had more than once stirred within him this wild hope, yet he had not encouraged himself to entertain it. Such he had of course deemed to be the outcome of their position. Now, however, the scales seemed to fall from his eyes, and he could read into them a very different meaning.

These last few days! Why, they seemed a lifetime. And when they should be over--what then? Was not his resolution a quixotic one; now, indeed, an impossible one? He almost made up his mind to abandon it, and on his return to ascertain once and for all how matters stood. As against that, what if he were mistaken, or partially so? There was such a thing as being too precipitate. Would it not be better to wait until he had brought Nidia safely and triumphantly through the multifold perils which still overhung their way?

How casual had been their meeting in the first instance, how marvellous and providential in the second. If anything seemed to point a significant augury, this did. But what of the more practical side?

What would Nidia's own people have to say in the matter? From things let drop he had gleaned incidentally that they were people of very considerable wealth, whereas he himself had little beyond the by no means princely salary wherewith the Chartered Company saw fit to remunerate his valuable services. Well, he would not think of that just then. Time enough to do so when they were safely back in prosaic civilisation once more. Let him revel in his happiness while it was his.

And it was happiness. Here he was--enjoying advantages such as rarely fall to the lot of the ardent lover. The daily intercourse, for all present purposes, each representing all the world to the other, beyond the reach of officious or intrusive outsider; she dependent upon him for everything--protection, companionship, even the very means of subsistence--what a labour of love was all this.

A slight rattle, as of stones, above his head, brought his mind back to the object of his quest; and lo! there stood the aforesaid means of subsistence personified, in the shape of a klip-springer, which from its boulder pedestal was regarding him with round-eyed amazement and distrust. Dare he use his rifle? There was no other way of securing the little buck. It was out of throwing-range, and in any case would be nimble enough to dodge a kerrie. He thought he would risk it. Game was alarmingly scarce.

But the question was decided for him. The animal suddenly sprang from the boulder, and in a couple of bounds had disappeared among the rocks.

What--who--had scared it? The answer came--and a startling one it was.

A score of Matabele warriors rose from among the long gra.s.s, and, uttering their fierce vibrating war-shout, flung themselves upon him.

So intent had he been upon his thoughts, and on watching the klip-springer, that, crawling like snakes in the gra.s.s, they had been able to surround him unperceived. So sudden was the onslaught, that not a moment was given him for defence. His rifle was knocked from his grasp by a blow with a kerrie which he thought had shattered his wrist.

a.s.segais flashed in front of his eyes, battle-axes were flourished in his face, his ears were deafened with the hubbub of voices. Then arose a great shout.

"_Au_! U'Jonemi!"

They had recognised him. Did that account for the fact that he was still alive? He had expected instant death, and even in that brief flash of time had crossed his mind a vision of Nidia left alone, of her agony of fear, of her utter helplessness. Oh, fool that he was, to have been lulled into this false security!

As though satisfied with having disarmed him, they had so far refrained from offering him further violence. No, he dared not hope. Others came swarming up, crowding around to look at him, many of them recognising him with jeers.

"_Au_! Jonemi! Thou art a long way from home!" they would cry. "Where are thy people--the other Amakiwa--and thy horses?"

"No people have I, nor horses, _amadoda_. I am alone. Have I not always wished well and acted well towards you? Return me, therefore, my rifle, and let me go my way in peace."

It was putting a bold face on things; but, in his miserable extremity, as he thought of Nidia it seemed to John Ames that he was capable of any expedient, however insane. The proposal was greeted with shouts of derisive laughter by some. Others scowled.

"Wished well and acted well towards us?" echoed one of these. "_Au_!

And our cattle--whose hand was it that destroyed them daily?"

This was applying the match with a vengeance.

"Yea--whose?" they shouted. "That of Jonemi."

Their mood was rapidly growing more ugly, their demeanour threatening.

Those who had been inclined to good humour before, now looked black.

Several, darting out from the rest, began to go through the performance of "gwaza," throwing themselves into every conceivable contortion of attack or defence, then, rushing at their prisoner, would make a lightning-like stab at him, just arresting the a.s.segai blade within a foot of his body, or the same sort of performance would be gone through with a battle-axe. It was horribly trying to the nerves, dangerous, too, and John Ames was very sick of it.

"Keep the gun, then, if you will," he said. "But now I must go on my way again. _Hlalani-gahle 'madoda_." And he made as if he would depart. But they barred his way.

"Now, nay, Jonemi. Now, nay," they cried, "Madula, our father, would fain see _his_ father again, and he is at hand. Come now with us, Jonemi, for it will be good for him to look upon thy face again."

The words were spoken jeeringly, and he knew it. But he pretended not to. Boldness alone would serve his course. Yet his heart was like water within him at the thought of Nidia, how she would be waiting his coming, hour after hour--but no--he must not think of it, if he wanted to keep his mind. Madula, too, owed him a bitter grudge as the actual instrument for carrying out the cattle destroying edict, and was sure to order him to be put to death. Such an opportunity of revenge was not likely to be foregone by a savage, who, moreover, was already responsible for more than one wholesale and treacherous murder.

"Yes," he answered, "Madula was my friend. I would fain see him again-- also Samvu."

"_Hau_! Samvu? There is no Samvu," said one, with a constrained air.

"The whites have shot him."

"In battle?" said John Ames, quickly.

"Not so. They found him and another man sitting still at home. They declared that he had helped kill 'Ingerfiel,' and they shot them both."

"I am sorry," John Ames said. "Samvu was also my friend. I will never believe he did this."

A hum, which might have been expressive of anything, rose from the listeners. But this news had filled John Ames with the gravest forebodings. If the chief's brother had been slain in battle, it would have been bad enough; but the fact that he had been shot down in cold blood out of sheer revenge by a band of whites, with or without the figment of a trial, would probably exasperate Madula and his clan to a most perilous extent, and seemed to aggravate the situation as regarded himself, well-nigh to the point of hopelessness.

They had been travelling all this while, and John Ames noticed they were taking very much the direction by which he had come. If only it would grow dark he might manage to give them the slip. But it was some way before sundown yet.

Turning into a lateral valley, numerous smokes were rising up above the rocks and trees. Fires? Yes, and men came crowding around the newcomers. Why, the place was swarming with rebels; and again bitterly did John Ames curse his fancied and foolish security.

He glanced at the eager, chattering faces which crowded up to stare at him, and recognised several. Might not there be among these some who would befriend him, even as Pukele had done before? He looked for Pukele, but looked in vain.

He strode up to Madula's camp to all outward appearance as unconcernedly as when he used to visit the chief's kraal before the outbreak. His line was to seem to ignore the fact of there being an outbreak, or at any rate that these here present had anything to do with it.

He found Madula seated against a rock smoking a pipe, and tricked out in war-gear. With him sat Zazwe, and another induna named Mayisela. And then, as if his position were not already critical enough, a new idea came to John Ames. These men had been seen by him under arms, in overt rebellion. Was it likely they would suffer him to depart, in order hereafter to bear testimony against them? Indeed, their method of returning his greeting augured the worst Madula was gruff even to rudeness, Mayisela sneeringly polite, while Zazwe condescended not to reply at all. Of this behaviour, however, he took no notice, and sitting down opposite them, began to talk. Why were they all under arms in this way? He was glad to have found Madula. He had wanted to find Madula to induce him to return to his former location. The police officer and his wife had been murdered, but that had been done by policemen. It was impossible that Madula could have countenanced that.

Why then had he fled? Why not return?

A scornful murmur from the three chiefs greeted these remarks. Madula with great deliberation knocked his pipe empty on a stone, and stretched out his hand for tobacco, which John Ames promptly gave him. Then he replied that they had not "fled." He knew nothing of Inglefield, and did not care. If his _Amapolise_ were tired of him they were quite right to get rid of him. They had not fled. The time had come for them to take their own land again. There were no whites left by this time, except a few who were shut up in Bulawayo, and even for these a road was left open out of the country. If they failed to take it they would soon be starved out.

This was news. Bulawayo, at any rate, had not been surprised. It was probably strongly laagered. But they would give no detail. All the whites in the country had been killed, save only these few, they declared. Yet he did not believe this statement in its entirety.

John Ames, as he sat there, talking, to all outward appearance as though no rebellion had taken place, knew that his life hung upon a hair.

There was a shifty sullenness about the manner of the indunas that was not lost upon him. And groups of their followers would continually saunter up to observe him, some swaggering and talking loud, though in deference to the chiefs, not coming very near, others quiet, but all scowling and hostile. Nothing escaped him. He read the general demeanour of the savages like an open book. Short of a miracle he was destined not to leave this place alive.