The Fire Trumpet Part 57

"By-the-bye," said Payne, "there was a strange n.i.g.g.e.r here this evening, a deuced fine-looking fellow, but an infernal scoundrel, I suspect. He asked if he might sleep at the huts, and I let him."

"Why did you?"

"Well, you see, it would have done no good to turn him away. If he's up to mischief he'd carry it out anyhow; and if he isn't, well, there's no harm done."

"H'm. Marshall seems in a bit of a funk. He told me a couple of yarns to-day about fellows whose servants had warned them to clear. I should think that trick's played out, though."

"Dunno. You'll still find people to believe in it. The n.i.g.g.e.rs, of course, make it pay. Jack, in his capacity of old and faithful servant, warns his Baas. His Baas believes him. Henceforth Jack has a high old time of it, and, provided he is careful in the yarns he invents, may go on to the end of the chapter. For my part, I don't believe in any n.i.g.g.e.r's fidelity. You can't trust one of them."

"Except my chap, Sam," said Claverton.

"Ah, that's different. He's away from his own country, you see; and then you and he have chummed it for ever so long in places where he has learnt to depend on you."

It was a still, clear night, the sky seemed crowded with stars, and the air was warm and balmy for the time of year. Scarce a sound was audible, save that now and again the faintest possible echo of a savage song was borne from some kraal many miles across country. Otherwise there was a stillness that might be felt, and the voices of the two men, subdued as they were, sounded almost loud.

"Hallo! What the deuce is that?" said Payne, suddenly. For there arose a terrific clamour from the dogs at the back of the house. There was a preliminary "woof" as those vigilant guardians first scented intrusion; then the whole pack dashed off violently, and showing a very decided fixity of purpose, towards an angle of the high quince hedge which bounded the garden--baying savagely.

Both men rose to their feet.

"They've got something there, I'll swear," said Claverton in a low tone.

"Wonder what."

"Very likely a prowling n.i.g.g.e.r," answered Payne. "We'll just get out our shooting-irons and go and see."

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SIX.

THE FIRE TRUMPET.

With weapons c.o.c.ked and ready, and keeping a sharp look-out ahead, our two friends stole quietly and warily along the shadow of the quince hedge. Meanwhile the canine clamour increased tenfold; such a yelling, and growling, and full-voiced baying as never before was heard.

"Why, they've treed something--look there!" whispered Claverton, as they arrived upon the scene of the disturbance. And sure enough in the branches of a small apricot-tree, which grew a little higher than the quince hedge, they could make out the dark figure of a man, clinging there as for dear life, while the dogs were leaping, and snapping, and rolling over upon one another and into the ditch in their frantic efforts to reach him. And, but for this timely refuge, he would have been torn in pieces by the great fierce brutes.

"Come down, whoever you are," said Payne, speaking in the Kafir language, "or I'll fire. If you attempt to run away the dogs will soon catch you. Come down."

They could hear a muttered exclamation or two, and then the unknown replied:

"Keep in the dogs, 'Nkos. I came here to visit you, to tell you some news."

"All right. Come down. Here, Neptune, Corker, Slow--keep still, you brutes. _Voertsek, Huis! to_!" [be off; home] cried Payne; and the excited hounds reluctantly drew off with many a savage growl.

Then something dropped from the tree, there was a rustle in the quince hedge, and a man stood before them in the darkness. Payne had just time to restrain the dogs, who would have flung themselves upon this sudden apparition there and then.

"Now, then, who are you and what do you want?" he asked.

"'Nkos, you remember me? But I can't talk here, it's cold and I've been frightened, and I am old and weak."

"Why, it's Mhlanga," cried Payne, in astonishment. "But what the devil d'you want with me at this time of night?"

"Hadn't we better take him to the house and give him a tot of grog?"

said Claverton. "He looks rather shaky."

"Of course. Come with us, Mhlanga," and they returned to the house, where a liberal ration of undiluted spirit having sent a generous glow through the Kafir's frame, that unexpected visitor squatted down on the _stoep_ with his blanket huddled round him, and fired off an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n or two.

He was an old man, with a white head and a lean, gaunt frame, and in spite of the potation shivered slightly from time to time as he sat there, for he had had a very narrow escape from the jaws of the dogs.

Then he began, speaking in a low, rapid tone:

"When the gra.s.s-fire sweeps along the mountain side, who would stand in its way because he had built a hut there? When yonder river rushes down in a flood after the thunderstorms, who would stand in the drift and try to beat it back with his hands? Why are you still here?"

"Why not, Mhlanga? You must speak plainer." The old Kafir made a gesture of impatience. "Are you waiting till this moon is dead?" he went on. "If so _you_ will never see it die. Go. Go while there is time. What can two men do to stay the roaring flame through the long, dry gra.s.s? Nothing. Will they stand in the middle and be consumed?

The gra.s.s is thoroughly dry and the torch is put in, the flame will spread and devour all in its way. Even now it is kindled. Are you tired of life?" concluded the old man in a more eager tone than he had hitherto employed.

"The gist of the parable is obvious," remarked Payne to his companion, who nodded a.s.sent. "By the way, this old bird was with me several years and left suddenly some time ago, because he wanted a change. Now, you see, he's doing the very confidence trick we were just talking about.

Have some more grog, Mhlanga."

The old man held out his tin mug with alacrity for Payne to replenish.

Then he tossed off the contents, heaved a sigh or two and was about to speak, when suddenly he stopped short and appeared to be listening intently.

"Come," he said, rising. "Come with me, _Amakosi_!"

"Oh, that's another pair of shoes," said Payne, suspiciously. "But, Mhlanga; why should you come here to tell me this--eh?"

"I was with you for several years, 'Nkosi, and when the snake bit me you put in the medicine stuff that healed it. I do not wish harm to befall you."

"Oho! grat.i.tude's the order of the day, is it?" Then to the Kafir: "Steer ahead, Mhlanga."

They followed the old man as he led the way to the brow of a slight eminence a few hundred yards from the homestead. Above, the stars twinkled in their silent watch, twinkled on ever the same. The midnight sky, moonless, and arching overhead like a heavy pall of blue-black velvet besprinkled with gold-dust, was oppressive in its darksome serenity, and there was something in the mystery and suddenness of the whole situation which even to the tried nerves of the two white men was intolerably awesome and thrilling. Far away in the distance, beyond the mouth of the defile or gap, a few fires glowed like sparks.

"Listen," said the Kafir, pointing with his sticks in the direction of this. "When the _amajoni_ [soldiers] are mustered _kwa Rini_ [at King Williamstown], the trumpet is blown in the morning sunshine, and all the town hears it, for its voice is of bra.s.s. Ha! When the chiefs of the Amaxosa gather their fighting men the trumpet is sounded too, but it is sounded in the blackness of midnight; and all the country hears it, for its voice is of fire. Look," he went on. "Even now the chiefs are talking to each other. The Fire Trumpet is calling the tribes to war."

As he spoke a red tongue of flame leapt forth from the darkness against the distant horizon, where it flashed and burned for a few minutes.

Then from another high point a second beacon-fire gleamed, followed by a third; and as the watchers gazed in half-incredulous wonder, not unmixed with awe, a strange, weird, resounding cry rose upon the midnight air, gathering volume as it rolled, as if kindled by those threatening beacons which glowed in the midnight firmament from the Kei to the far Amatola. Again and again pealed forth that dismal sound, and then all was still as the fiery signal shot up redly from half-a-dozen lofty elevations, and then sank as suddenly as it had blazed forth, until nearly invisible. And that unearthly and ominous cry might well strike a chill to the hearts of the listeners, for it was the war-cry of the formidable Gaika clans.

"Who was the man who asked leave to sleep in the huts, to-night?" asked the old Kafir, meaningly. "If he is here to-morrow, if your three herds are here to-morrow, if they answer when you call them, then I have been telling you lies. Listen, 'Nkosi," he concluded, impressively. "You are a good man. You saved my life once, and I have come far to talk to you to-night. Take your wife and your children, and your sheep, and cattle, and go--go away into the town where they will be safe, and that to-morrow, _for the call of the Fire Trumpet has rung in the heavens, and the land is dead_."

Payne was more impressed than he would care to own, and made up his mind to act upon the other's words, if not to-morrow, yet at no distant date.

"Well, Mhlanga," he began, "if it's as you say, and--Why, by George, what's become of the fellow?" he broke off, in astonishment.

For the Kafir had disappeared. He had vanished as he had come-- silently, mysteriously. They called to him once or twice, but without result. His mission was accomplished and he was gone.

They turned towards the house. Suddenly, from the summit of one of the highest of the Kei hills, there blazed forth another fire, reddening the sky overhead, and they could make out distinctly the darting, leaping flames, shooting upward like demon tongues. And this startling answer from the opposite direction brought home to these two more vividly than ever a sense of their position, hemmed in between the plotting tribes now flashing their gruesome midnight messages of fire the one to the other, conveying in a moment to thousands of eager barbarians the dread signal, of which the destructive element was a terribly fitting exponent.

"I say," suddenly exclaimed Payne; "let's go and see if that n.i.g.g.e.r that came this afternoon is still in the huts."

They went to the huts. A snore from inside told that these were still inhabited, and a sleepy growl or two as in obedience to their master's summons the slumbering Kafirs aroused themselves. By the light of a match, which Payne held in his hand, several rec.u.mbent forms huddled in their blankets became visible.