The Fire Trumpet Part 93

There was a quick, panther-like movement, a spring, and a half-smothered imprecation, and Truscott staggered back half-a-dozen paces, reeling beneath two straight-out hits from Claverton's clenched fists. With an awful execration, something between a yell and the roar of a wild animal, he recovered himself, and, with his livid features working violently, dashed at his a.s.sailant. He was the taller and heavier man of the two, as well as the stronger, but he had lived hard, whereas the other was in splendid order--quick, supple, keen of eye, and dangerously cool, notwithstanding his deadly wrath. Half blinded by his own rage, like an infuriated bull, Truscott rushed upon his adversary, drawing, as he did so, his revolver from the holster hung upon his side. But before he could bring it to bear it was struck violently from his grasp, with a blow of the heavy Kafir stick, and, quick as lightning, that terrible "one--two," straight from the shoulder, met him in his onward rush, and this time stretched him, half stunned, upon the ground.

"Coward, as well as liar, thief, and murderer!" exclaimed Claverton, his voice shaking with suppressed fury, as he thought of all the ruin wrought by his foe's unscrupulous malice. "I suppose even you would like to settle this as soon as possible. You know where to find me.

I'll be ready at any time."

"Shoot him. Do you hear? Shoot him down! Fifty pounds to the man who shoots him dead!" foamed Truscott, raising himself, half-dazed, upon his elbow. "Do you hear, men, G.o.d d.a.m.n you, or are you all in a state of mutiny?"

Claverton laughed coldly.

"I don't imagine any of them will lay themselves out to earn the money,"

he said. "They are not quite such fools as their leader. But I repeat, Captain Truscott, that you will know where to find me, unless you prefer to let well alone, that is, and console yourself with thinking over the thrashing you've just had."

"Wait, my fine fellow," replied the other, between his set teeth. "I'll riddle that carcase of yours for this morning's business. I used to be able to shoot pretty straight, I can tell you."

"Yes? Glad to hear it. We'll have some tall practice presently. Till then--so long!" and, with a mocking nod, Claverton turned and walked away in the direction of the camp, while the Hottentots, who had stood aloof, awe-stricken witnesses of this unexpected and stirring incident, hastened to raise their discomfited chief. Their sympathies, however, were all with the enemy; for Truscott, since he had had the command of Claverton's old corps, had rendered himself exceedingly unpopular--as much so, in fact, as its former leader had been the reverse; and now-- though by reason of their ignorance of the English tongue they failed to understand what the row had been about--they mightily but secretly rejoiced over its issue.

Great and terrible was the hubbub which prevailed in the temporary kraal of the Gaika chief as soon as it became known that the white prisoner had disappeared. And the circ.u.mstances which led to this discovery were as follows.

Obedient to the instructions of his uncle, Tambusa had not stirred from the hut which had const.i.tuted Claverton's prison-house, so as to allow the two to get clear off without running the risk of exciting alarm. At length, towards morning, the young Kafir began to think he might fairly take steps to ensure his own safety. Accordingly he stole forth from the hut--not quickly, and of set purpose, but with apparent reluctance and rubbing his eyes as if he had just woke up--this in case any prying glance should be watching his movements. All was still, though there was just a sign of the coming dawn discernible in the east, and with his blanket over his shoulder and his a.s.segais in his hand, Tambusa walked swiftly through the group of huts in the direction of the bush, when, as ill-luck would have it, he was hailed, and by one of the men who had been mounting guard over the prisoner the night before.

"Where are you going to?" asked this man.

"Oh, I shall come back in a moment."

"I'll just go and look at the prisoner till you do, then," was the reply. "He oughtn't to be left in the charge of only one man."

"No, don't do that," promptly rejoined Tambusa, whose heart sank within him. "Xuvani is there, and he'll be very angry with me. He doesn't know I've gone out."

"Never mind. He won't hurt you," said the other. "I'll tell him I met you," and he walked straight towards the hut. Could it be that his suspicions were aroused? Was there something in Tambusa's mien that betrayed him? Anyhow, the latter's safety now would depend on the use he could make of the very brief start allowed him by the time his interlocutor would take to reach the hut--that, and no more.

Opening the door, the man bent down and looked in.

"Xuvani!" he called.

No answer. Perfect stillness. Not even the regular breathing of a sleeping man broke the silence. For a moment the savage shrunk from entering, his superst.i.tious soul fearing the spells of this redoubted white sorcerer. Then his loud cry of alarm roused the sleeping kraal.

Dark forms came hurrying out of their huts, half expecting to find themselves attacked by the enemy; but quickly grasping the cause of alarm they gathered round their countryman.

"The white man--the prisoner! Where is he?" was heard on all sides.

Quickly one of the Kafirs made his way through the crowd, a box of matches in his hand. Striking one, he peered into the gloomy interior of the hut. It was empty.

"Treachery, treachery!" he shouted. "The prisoner has disappeared!" and the cry was taken up by the crowd, which glared inquiringly around, as if in search of some trace by which to follow the fugitive.

"Where is Tambusa?" cried the man who had first raised the alarm. "He is the traitor--he has released the white man--he was here a moment ago--where is he now?"

He might well ask. Tambusa, it may be readily supposed, had lost no time in following the prisoner's example. He, too, had disappeared.

Then again the wild, thrilling cry of alarm rang out through the forest.

It fell upon the ear of the devoted young Kafir, straining every nerve to make the most of that brief start, and it seemed to peal forth his doom. There was no lack of spoor to guide them in their pursuit of him, his fresh footmarks in the muddy soil were only too apparent to all; and away started two score of fierce warriors upon his track. The fugitive, husbanding his strength, dashes along at a swift, easy run, intending to gain the white man's camp. There at any rate he will be safe; but he knows full well the fate in store for him should he fall into the hands of his fierce countrymen, for has he not just been guilty of what in their eyes is an act of treason of the blackest dye? On, on; the young warrior is lithe and agile, and in splendid training, and it may be that he will distance his pursuers yet. But those horrid whoops are resounding from many a hill-top, and with fatal effect, for the attention of the five Kafirs whom Xuvani and his charge met not long since, is attracted thereby, and, with the quick suspicion of their race, they put two and two together. So, as poor Tambusa comes flying down the narrow bush-path, five dark forms spring up panther-like in front of him, effectually barring his progress. On either side is the thick tangled bush, almost impenetrable. He is lost; the pursuers are advancing rapidly upon his rear, and his road is barred. Disregarding the warning voices of those in front of him, the hapless youth bounds off the track and plunges into the tangled th.o.r.n.y brake. He is on a rock; below and in front of him lies a deep, stony ravine all overhung with trailers, a tiny stream trickling down its funnel-like depths. Ha!

It is his last and only chance. But at that moment two reports ring out through the forest. With a groan poor Tambusa sways, and then topples heavily forward into the bed of the rivulet ten feet beneath; and his fierce pursuers rushing up, find only a corpse. He has escaped the most terrible side of their ruthless vengeance, to wit, hours of frightful torture; but he has lost his life--rather has he given it devotedly in exchange for that of the man who has twice already saved it.

So there he lies, this young hero--a naked savage, but a hero for all that--dead among the ferns and rocks beneath the ma.s.s of foliage and trailing creepers, which the sun's rays can scarcely penetrate, slain by his own countrymen. He has given his life in satisfaction of the debt incurred and the promise made long ago--given it in exchange for that of his benefactor--"a life for a life."

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

VAE VICTIS!

Great was the astonishment in camp when the man who had been given up as hopelessly missing, and whom everybody by this time had come to think of as dead, turned up safe and sound. Jaded and worn out, however, he sought his tent at once, excusing himself from receiving the hearty congratulations of his friends until after the sleep of which he stood so sorely in need.

Waking at last he opened his eyes, with a start, upon the genial countenance of the Irish doctor.

"Hallo, McShane!"

"An' what the divil have ye been up to now, Claverton?" began that worthy, without any further ceremony. "Here ye've managed to get off bein' made mincemeat of by the niggurs, and, not content with that, ye must get to punching a fellow's head, and now he wants to have a shot at ye, av course."

"Does he?" said Claverton, drily.

"He does."

"H'm! Well, sit down and have a pipe, McShane, and we'll talk it quietly over."

"Ah! that sounds better," said the good-natured Irishman, in a tone of relief, for he was hoping that the affair might admit of a settlement.

"See here, now--what's it all about? Truscott wants to parade you, and sent me to arrange matters, and that's about the size of it. Now who acts for you?"

"No one."

"No one? Well, then, I suppose you'll shake hands together, and say you're both made fools of yourselves," said McShane, brightening up.

"You're quite wrong, McShane. I'm going to give your friend the fullest satisfaction--when, where, and as soon as he pleases," and the look in the speaker's eyes caused the Irishman's hopes to fall to the ground.

"When I said no one acted for me, I meant it. I'm going to act for myself, or better still, you can act for both."

"Och! an' it's balderdash ye're talkin'," rejoined the other, angrily.

"How the divil can I be second to both? Bedad, an' who ever heard of such a thing! I'D have nothing to say to it, I tell ye."

"Well, then, you see, McShane, it'll amount to this--that we shall go out without any seconds at all; which will probably mean that the first of us who catches sight of the other will blaze away; for I don't trust our friend any more than I do Sandili himself. _I'm_ quite ready, however; but I don't intend to run any other fellow's head into this business. Who is there, for instance? Brathwaite--family man; Hicks, ditto; and so on. Poor Jack might have done, but he's pa.s.sed on his cheque. No; as you have agreed to act for the other fellow, well and good; I'm quite satisfied. But, I tell you, there's no one I can rely upon." And lighting his pipe he pa.s.sed the match to his companion, with a hand as steady as a rock.

For a long time McShane was firm. He would have nothing to do with so preposterous an arrangement--it wasn't fair to him--and so on. But, eventually, seeing that they were determined to fight, and would probably do more mischief if left to themselves, he reluctantly agreed to act. They were a couple of fools, he thought; and would wing each other, perhaps; but on any graver contingency the light-hearted Irishman never reckoned.

"That's all right, McShane," said Claverton. "I shall leave everything to you, as far as your man is concerned, and if there's any advantage to be had it shall be yours."

Then they arranged that the affair should come off that same night towards ten o'clock, in a lonely glen at a safe distance from the camp, and known to both of them. But, to avoid suspicion, they agreed to leave the camp at different times, and to ride in different directions.

"I tell you what it is, Claverton, this fellow's a d.a.m.ned good shot,"

said McShane, as he got up to leave.

"Is he? All the better--for him. But how d'you know?"