The Fire Trumpet Part 43

"The scorpion was on my shoulder, and Mr Claverton s.n.a.t.c.hed it off with his bare hand," answered Lilian, quickly, in her clear tones.

"Awkwardly enough, too, as the result shows," rejoined Claverton. "By the way, has Hicks slain anything? We heard him cannonading away down the kloof like the Siege of Paris." He said this with the object of changing the topic, and the statement was not strictly historical in every particular.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Mr Brathwaite. "Hicks banging away, as usual. He never will move without his gun. One thing, though, if he isn't dangerous to beast, he isn't to man either. He's always careful enough."

"I've sent for the horses," said Jim, who had just come up. "Hallo, Claverton! What's the row with your hand?"

Then the story was raked up afresh, and all eyes were turned upon its hero, which he hated, and looked around seeking a means of escape, when, to his intense relief, a diversion occurred, in the shape of Hicks and Allen dragging between them a huge bushbuck ram, which the former had shot.

"Hicks to the fore. Hooray!" cried Armitage. "How much salt did you lodge on its tail, old man?"

"Go to Bath, Jack. You're not the only fellow in the world who ever shot anything," retorted Hicks, who was hot and testy. Then there was a general laugh, and at length the jollity was cut short by the inexorable hand of Time. The vehicles were in-spanned, for they must needs depart.

Those who were to ride were busy saddling up, and at length farewells having been exchanged, all started on their respective ways, some riding, some driving. Armitage declared that the last thing he saw of old Garrett was that worthy balancing himself in his trap trying to draw a cork, while his hopeful held the reins; but no one knew whether to believe the statement or not. One thing, however, presumption was all in favour of its veracity, so they gave the old toper the benefit of the doubt--in the wrong direction.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

"SUNSHINE OUTSIDE--ICE AT THE CORE."

"After all, this is a glorious sort of life!" exclaimed Hicks, striking his hatchet into a thorn-stump and standing upright, in all the elation of his health and strength, to gaze at the sun--now rather more than an hour high--and then at the surrounding _veldt_, all dewy and sparkling.

"It is," a.s.sented his companion, making a final chop at a thorn-bush which he had cut down. "Here, Tambusa, lay hold of that 'tack' and bang it up against the others. There. The devil himself would yell if chucked against that hedge now."

For they were repairing sundry breaches in the fence of the wet-weather kraal.

Tambusa obeyed; but in the act of doing so stumbled, and, trying to save himself, sat right on the most th.o.r.n.y end of the branch he was manipulating.

"I never did see such a n.i.g.g.e.r for blundering," laughed Claverton, as Tambusa, picking himself up, endeavoured to extract the sharp mimosa spikes which had stuck in his naked carcase. "Hang it, man; you had the whole district for as far round as you can see to sit down in, and yet you pick out such a seat as that."

The Kafir grinned dolefully, not much relishing this keen jest; but he liked its propounder, and so he grinned.

"Yes. It's a glorious life," continued Hicks, bent on philosophising, apparently. "One never feels off one's chump. Suits a fellow down to the ground."

"It does," acquiesced the other. "By the way, I hear the Brathwaite girls are going away next week."

"Eh!--what? No. Who told you that?" cried Hicks, turning sharply.

"Oh! didn't you know? My informant was Ethel herself. I thought you knew."

Hicks looked "off his chump" enough now, to use his own expression, and his companion's satirical soul discovered something irresistibly comic in this sudden transition from elation to crestfallenness, which would have amused him vastly, but that the laugh was not entirely on his own side. So he only repeated: "I made sure you knew."

"No, I didn't. But, I say, though, that's a blue look out. I don't know how we shall get on without them, it'll be slow as slow can be,"

and then, remembering that his companion might have good reasons for not agreeing with this latter statement, Hicks stopped short, and began blundering out something about "it making all the difference, you know, having a lot of people in the house--or only a few."

"Let's knock off," suggested Claverton. "We're about done here.

Tambusa, lug along those 'tacks,' we'll bang them up somewhere and go."

It was a couple of days after the fishing picnic, and just each a morning. There had been plenty of work of one kind or another to occupy the whole of the time since then; but to-day they would only ride round the place, and give an eye to the stock, picking up, perchance, a stray shot or two on the way.

"Arthur," said Mr Brathwaite, meeting the two young men on the _stoep_.

"Driscoll's just sent over to say he can take you down to see that place of his to-day. I advise you to ride over there and go with him.

It's a good place, and going for a mere song. I'd think twice, if I were you, before letting it slip."

"You're right; I'll go over and see it. But could you come too, and give me the benefit of your experience?"

"I can't to-day, I'm afraid. It's a long way, and I don't feel up to it. Still, you have a good eye to the capabilities of a place, I should say. Anyhow, go and look at it."

On second thoughts, Claverton was rather glad. He would be more the master of his own movements if alone, and would be able to return as soon as possible, whereas, at the ordinary regulation speed, the undertaking would carry him through the whole day.

"Have you far to go?" asked Lilian, as after breakfast he sat buckling on his spurs in the pa.s.sage.

"Yes; it's a good way. I may not be back till nearly dark," he answered, ruefully, taking down his riding-crop from the peg. "But to-day I'm going to imagine myself riding another fellow's horse with my own spurs. I may as well be off, there's that little chatterbox, Gertie, bearing down upon us. Good-bye."

He mounted and rode off in a very discontented frame of mind. What did he care if any one made him a present of the whole continent of Africa, if he were not to win _her_? The days were so precious and so few now, and here he was throwing away a whole one for the sake of a wretched "bargain." He wouldn't go--he would let the thing slide--he would turn back. And his face, as he rode, wore an aspect of troubled preoccupation.

Turning from the door, Lilian encountered Gertie Wray in the pa.s.sage.

"Oh, there you are, Lilian," exclaimed that volatile young lady. "I was just coming to look for you. Do come and teach me that lovely song you promised to, last night. We shall have it all to ourselves. Ethel and Laura are fixed for the morning with Mrs Brathwaite, making dresses or something."

"Very well, dear," a.s.sented Lilian, always ready to oblige others. She was not feeling inclined just then to sit hammering out accompaniments for a not very apt learner to murder a song to; but self came second with her. So she did her best to instil the desired accompaniment into the other's understanding; but in about half an hour her pupil got tired of it.

"I think I shall sit indoors and read," said Gertie. "It's too hot to go out."

"Is it? I like the heat," said Lilian. "I think I shall go for one of what you call my 'somnambulisms.'"

"And a very good name for them," laughed the other. "To see you walking along, so still and stately, any one would think you were walking in your sleep, but that your eyes are open. Well, go for your 'somnambulism,' my peerless Lilian, only don't get too much in the sun or you'll get freckles," and the speaker nestled down comfortably in a chair in a cool corner to while away the morning over a novel.

"You silly child," replied Lilian, laughing as she bent down to kiss her. "You'll be asleep yourself, really and in good effect, in about half an hour at that rate. Good-bye."

She went out, and paused for a moment on the _stoep_ with head gracefully poised and the beautiful figure erect as she stood gazing, with eyes opened wide, upon the glories of the sun-steeped landscape.

Then she picked up a volume which lay on a chair under the verandah.

"I'll sit and read a little on that comfortable old seat under the large pear-tree when I'm tired," she thought, and, with the book in her hand, she pa.s.sed on, down between the orange-trees, and out through the gate in the wooden fence, where the great scarlet-cactus blossoms twined in all their prismatic gorgeousness. Now and then she would stop and bend down to pick a wild flower or to examine some queer insect, and the warm glow of the summer morning seemed to favour her scheme of solitude and meditation. It was hot, but she loved the warmth, there was nothing of enervation in it to her; on the contrary, her thoughts and intellect never had clearer or freer play than on a day like this.

Dreamily and in meditative mood, Lilian wandered on; along the wall of the mealie-land, where the tall stalks spread their broad, drooping leaves, and many a white tufted ear, just bursting through its vernal husk, gave promise of an abundant crop; past the dam, where she lingered a moment to mark the clear shadows in its burning waters now cleft into ripples as, one by one, the mud-turtles, who had been basking on the bank, shuffled their slimy, flat shapes in with an ungainly slide; then by the ostrich camp, whose fierce occupant lazily ambled towards the wall, and then stopped half-way as if changing his mind. Dreamily still she leaned, looking over the wall, her taper fingers gathering together little fragments of stone, which, hardly knowing what she did, she threw into the enclosure, as if enticing the bird to approach. Then turning to pursue her way, behold, a high quince hedge barred it.

"How tiresome!" she said to herself. "I shall have to go such a long way round."

But she had not. A friendly gap opened a few yards further down, and, pa.s.sing through it, she found herself in a wild, seldom visited part of the garden. Here tangled gra.s.s flourished in delightful confusion; and tall fig-trees, branching overhead, cast the sunlight in a network upon the shadowy ground, while among the topmost boughs a few spreuws lazily piped to each other as they revelled in the purple fruit. Then an open bit and sunshine, and the boughs of a large peach-tree swept nearly to the earth, as though to lay its load at her feet. She plucked off one of the peaches, and pressed its blushing, velvety skin against her own soft cheek.

"It seems almost a pity to eat such lovely fruit," she murmured. "They look so smooth and delicate."

Still turning over the peach in her hands, she swept aside the long drooping boughs of a great espalier. A rustic seat was fixed to the trunk, forming a shady nook--though sun-pierced here and there in a qualified degree--and on this she sat down. The surrounding branches falling around, shut in the spot as if it were a tent.

"It is delicious here, after that glare. I wonder who made this seat,"

mused Lilian, throwing off her hat and preparing to discuss her peach and otherwise enjoy to the full the glories of the golden noontide.

Mechanically she opened the book she had caught up as she came out; but without attempting to read. The call of birds echoed through the leafy arches; bees droned in subdued murmur; now and again a tree-cricket broke the quietude with a shrill screech; the air, though not close or sultry, was rich and warm and languorous, and presently Lilian's thoughts began to get confused; her eyes closed; then the book slid from her lap. The influences of the prevailing calm had conquered--she slept.