The Luck of Gerard Ridgeley Part 11

"You wouldn't be over particular as to the sort of billet you might get, eh?" he said, puffing out a great cloud of smoke in a vacant and abstracted manner.

"Not I, indeed, if only I might get it," answered Gerard, wearily.

"Why, I was going to see about putting my new saddle on the sale, when we met each other. I've had to part with things already to raise the wind."

"That hard up, are you? Well, if you ain't particular to a hair, I've been turning over a scheme. What would you say to going an up-country trip with me?"

"What?" almost shouted Gerard, half starting from his seat. "An up-country trip with you? You can't mean it!"

"Keep your hair on, Ridgeley," rejoined Dawes, with a half-indulged smile, for although the best-hearted and the most equably dispositioned fellow in the world, he was of the "dry" order of being, and seldom laughed outright. "Don't get excited; that's never sound policy. But just turn the idea over in your mind a bit, and then you can let me know. I'm loading up two waggons now for a trading trip away beyond the Zulu country. Well, it occurs to me that you took so kindly to driving a waggon, and all to do with it on our way up here, that you might be useful to me. You'd pick up all there is to be learnt in that line the first day. What do you say to the idea?"

But just then Gerard was nearly incapable of reply. A lump seemed to rise in his throat. All the futile efforts of the past few weeks rose before his mind; his loneliness, the certainty of approaching dest.i.tution. And now this man with his offhand friendliness, who was thus holding him out a helping hand, seemed as an angel sent from heaven. He managed to stutter out at last that it seemed almost too good to be true.

"All right," said the other, kindly; "then that's settled. I can't give you any pay, but I'll give you the run of your teeth, and a small commission on the takings of the trip after the trip's over. The said trip, by the way, may last a year, or maybe more."

"I don't care if it lasts ten," said Gerard, eagerly.

"It isn't any good for you to hang on here with the notion of getting anything out of Anstey," pursued Dawes, with rare tact affecting to believe that that was Gerard's object in remaining there, and so to lessen the latter's sense of obligation to himself. "He's the most slippery fish that ever kept out of gaol. I'm afraid you'd never see a farthing of your coin back again, even if you were armed with as many papers to prove the transaction as a Supreme Court lawyer. He'll have been sold up by now, lock, stock, and barrel. Well, now we'll go round and attend to biz, and see to our loads, for we'll have to start to-morrow night. I'd have trekked to-night, but that two of my oxen are not quite the thing, and I had to send out to one of the locations for two more."

And having paid the score, Dawes led the way out, nodding here and there to an acquaintance at the crowded tables as he went, while Gerard, walking on air, could hardly believe in his good luck. He had entered that room despondent and almost a beggar; he left it with a friend, and in possession of the most congenial and delightful form of occupation he could have desired in his wildest dreams.

CHAPTER NINE.

UP.

The time intervening having been spent in getting together the loads, and otherwise seeing that everything was in order for the road--wheels greased, waggons overhauled, all necessary supplies for the trip got safely on board--by the following evening they were ready to start.

The said loads consisted of every conceivable kind of object of barter then in favour among the up-country natives--blankets and Salampore cloth, knives and hatchets, tobacco and snuff, beads and umbrellas of wondrous colours, bra.s.s wire for bangles, bra.s.s b.u.t.tons and striped handkerchiefs, looking-gla.s.ses and musical instruments, and a score of other "notions." For their own use and that of their native servants they carried sacks of mealie-flour, coffee and sugar, a tin of biscuits or so, and two or three sides of bacon sewn up in canvas, with a few tins of preserved fruit, and ditto vegetables.

Each waggon was drawn by a full span of sixteen oxen, which were engineered by a leader and driver to the span, both natives. The waggons and their fittings were similar to that which brought Gerard up from the coast, one of them, indeed, being the same vehicle. The load took up nearly the whole available s.p.a.ce, just leaving room for a small tilt, which contained a mattress for sleeping on, also lockers, and canvas pockets hung round the sides. Altogether it is wonderful what a lot can be stowed away on board these ships of the _veldt_.

One of the waggons had been loaded up in the morning and sent on to the outspan; the other was ready by sundown. As they went lumbering down the street, the oxen fresh and rested, stepping out briskly to the shout of the driver and the occasional crack of his long whip, Gerard, seated beside Dawes on the box, felt quite elated as he heard the driver's reply to pa.s.sing natives inquiring their destination:--"Kwa Zulu," and could enter fully into the spirit of the said reply, given loftily and as it were with a touch of pity for the unfortunates condemned to stagnate at home.

"I was in luck this morning, Ridgeley," said Dawes, as they superintended the inspanning of the other waggon. "I picked up a capital Basuto pony, dirt cheap. He'll do for you to ride. There he is, by the side of mine."

Two steeds were being driven up, knee-haltered. One was a bay, the other a strongly-built mouse-coloured pony of about fourteen hands.

Gerard was delighted:

"They tell me he's a good shooting horse," went on Dawes, "so that's another advantage. I always like to have a horse along. One can turn off the track, and get a shot at a buck without having to f.a.g one's soul out to catch up the waggons again; and then, too, one sometimes wants to go into places where one can't take the waggons, and for that, of course, a horse is nearly indispensable. Are you fond of shooting?"

Gerard answered eagerly that he had hardly ever been lucky enough to get any. It was, however, the thing of all others he was keenest to attempt. But he had not even got a gun, though he had a revolver.

"Well, we'll soon make a shot of you," said Dawes. "There's a Martini rifle in the waggon, and a double gun, one barrel rifled, the other smooth. We'll find plenty to empty them at when we get up into the Zulu country, never fear."

Then, the waggons being inspanned, and the two horses made fast behind, they started. And as they toiled slowly up the long hill which led away to the border, and presently the lights and blue gum-trees which marked the site of Maritzbnrg lying in its great basin-like hollow disappeared behind the rise, Gerard felt that this was the most glorious moment of his life. The most dazzling vista seemed to open out before him-- adventures and strange experiences to crowd upon each other's heels.

Was he not bound for that wild, mysterious, enchanted land, of which he had heard many a strange tale from those who had called from time to time at Anstey's? "Up-country," they would say, with a careless jerk of the finger, "up-country!" And already he seemed to hear the booming roar of the prowling lion round the midnight fire, to see the savage phalanx of the Zulu regiment on the march, bound upon some fell errand of death and destruction. All the hard and dull routine of the last few months, the utter desolation of his uncongenial life, even the terrible and sickening realisation that he was next door to dest.i.tute, all were forgotten now; all such memories swallowed up in the antic.i.p.ation of what was before him. As they trekked along in the moonlight, seated side by side on the box of the foremost waggon, Dawes proceeded to initiate Gerard further into some of the mysteries of native trade.

"As I was telling you," he said, "there's a regular fashion among natives, just the same as among white folks. For instance, take Salampore cloth; there are the two kinds--the thin dark blue and gauzy, and the lighter-coloured and coa.r.s.er kind with the orange stripes. Now, the Zulus are keen as mustard on the first, and simply won't look at the last, whereas with the natives of Natal, whether of Zulu or Basuto blood, it's exactly the other way about. Again, take beads. We've got all sorts--black, white, blue, pink, red. Now, which would you suppose the Zulus are keenest on?"

Gerard replied that of course they would go for the brightest coloured ones--say, the red or blue.

"Not a bit of it. The ones they like best of all are the black, after them the white. There's a fashion about these things, as I tell you.

Now, you'd think one of them pocket-knives, with a blade like a sabre, and a saw and a corkscrew, and the Lord knows what amount of gimcrackery all in one handle, would fetch them more than any mortal thing. Well, it wouldn't. They'd hardly say thank you for one such knife that might have cost you a guinea, whereas, for them roughly knocked together butcher knives, that cost me tenpence apiece wholesale, they'll give almost anything. They like to make a sheath for the thing, to hang around them."

"What sort of people are they in the way of trade?" asked Gerard.

"Hard as nails. Haggle the eyes out of your head. But you've got to be firm over a deal, for they're up to all manner of tricks. If the barter is live stock, they'll try all they know to jockey you with some worthless and inferior beasts, and so on. Dishonesty? No, they don't think it dishonest. It is simply their principle of trade--devil take the hindmost. So far are they from dishonest, that I have more than once in the Zulu country left my waggon standing for an hour at a time with absolutely n.o.body in charge, and have come back to find it surrounded with people waiting for me, and yet not a thing touched or displaced. How would that pan out for an experiment in England, for instance?"

"But poorly, I'm afraid," laughed Gerard.

"Just so. No, the Zulu is the hardest nail going at a deal. But once the deal is over and it's no longer a question of trade, he's the most honest man in the world. You'll soon get into their ways and know exactly how to deal with them, and meanwhile try all you know to pick up as much of the language as you can. Sintoba, the driver of the other waggon, is a smart clever chap, and talks English fairly well. You can't do better than learn all you can from him."

Thus, with many a useful hint and anecdote ill.u.s.trative of native character or the life of the _veldt_, would Dawes beguile the time as they trekked along, all of which Gerard drank in eagerly. His anxiety to make himself of use knew no bounds. He was up before the first glimmer of dawn, and would have the "boys" astir and the fire started for the early pannikin of black coffee, sometimes even before Dawes was awake, to the latter's astonishment and secret satisfaction. In a day or two he could take his share at inspanning as readily as the rest, was as deft at handling the whip as the professional driver, Sintoba himself, and knew all the oxen by name. And at night, as they sat around the red embers, he was never tired of listening to Dawes's narratives of experience and adventure, whether his own or those of others. He was, in fact, as happy as the day was long, and felt almost fraternal when he thought of Anstey, remembering that but for that worthy's rascality he would not be here now.

Several days had gone by. They had pa.s.sed through Grey Town, and the magnificent bush country beyond, with its towering heights and great cliffs rearing up their smooth red faces from tossing seas of verdure.

They had met or pa.s.sed other waggons from time to time--for it was the main road to the Transvaal--and now they were descending into the Tugela valley.

"Hot, eh, Ridgeley?" said Dawes, with a dry smile, mopping his forehead with a red pocket-handkerchief.

"Yes, it's warm," a.s.sented Gerard, who in reality was nearly light-headed with the terrible heat, but would not own it. There was not a breath of air. The sun-rays, focused down into the great bush-clad valley, seemed to beat with the force of a burning-gla.s.s, and the heights on either side shut out whatever breeze might have tempered the torrid fierceness. A shimmer rose from the ground as from the outside of the boiler of a steam-engine, and the screech of the crickets kept up one unending and deafening vibration.

"Do we outspan on this side or cross first?" said Gerard, as the cool murmur of water became audible.

"We'll outspan on the other. The river's low enough to cross without any trouble; but the drift isn't always a good one. The principle of the road is always outspan on the other side of a drift--that is, the opposite side from the one you arrive at. These rivers, you see, come down with surprising swiftness, and then, of course, if you delay, you may be stuck for a week or more. The exception, however, to this rule is, if there's more water in the river than you quite like but yet not enough to stop you. Then it is sometimes a good plan to outspan for a little while to rest your oxen, because they'll need all their strength for pulling through."

The current, though smooth and swift flowing, proved stronger than it looked. In splashed the first waggon, amid the shouting and whip-cracking. The leader could hardly keep his feet, and what with the force of the current and the plunges of the fore oxen, he was having a pretty bad time of it. But they emerged panting and dripping on the other side. Gerard, however, who was on the second waggon, came near meeting with a disaster that might have cost him his life.

The great vehicle was three parts through. The driver, wading and splashing beside the span, was urging and encouraging it by the regulation series of shrill and long-drawn yells. Gerard, who was standing on the box, cracking the long whip, and also lending his voice to swell the chorus, was suddenly seen to overbalance, sway, and topple over into the water, disappearing immediately.

John Dawes, watching progress from the opposite bank, turned white as death. Gerard had fallen _in front of the wheels_!

"Oh, good G.o.d! He's done for!" he gasped.

Meanwhile the driver, who had not seen the accident, was yelling his loudest, with the result that the span was tugging its hardest. The waggon was already emerging from the water, rolling up the steep slope from the drift.

"He's done for," muttered Dawes, ashy pale. "He'll have been ground to pulp under the water."

But no sooner had the words escaped him, than, lo, Gerard himself, dripping from head to foot! He jumped down from behind the waggon with a celerity that showed he had come to no sort of harm.

"What--what did you do that for?" stammered Dawes. "How did you do it?"

"I just grazed one wheel in falling. Luckily I fell between both, and remembering all you had said about falling off the disselboom, I hung on like grim death to the bottom of the waggon--held my breath under water, knowing we would be out in a minute. Then I worked my way along till I was clear of the wheels and got out. But I'm pretty well blown after it. I couldn't have held on a minute longer," he gasped, still out of breath with the almost superhuman exertion he had just gone through.

"By Jove, youngster, but you'll do!" said the other. "You've got pluck and presence of mind, and that's all you want to carry you through any mortal thing." And he turned away, to give orders about outspanning, glad of the opportunity to recover his self-possession, for even he had undergone a rude shock over the frightfully narrow escape his young companion had just experienced.

The next morning, when they turned out, Dawes said--