The Luck of Gerard Ridgeley Part 14

The man, after a shade of hesitation, answered that Sirayo's kraal happened to be their destination. He would carry the "word" of the white trader.

"Tell him then I have lost a horse. If the chief has it found and returned to me, I will send him a bottle of _tywala_ [Note 1], a new green blanket, and this much _gwai_ [tobacco], measuring a length of about a yard. I will further send him a long sheath-knife."

"We hear your words, _Umlungu_. They shall be spoken into the ears of the chief. Now we must resume our road, _Hlala-ni-gahle_!"

With which sonorous farewell the Zulus turned and strode away across the _veldt_ at the same quick and hurried pace as before.

"Just as I told you, Ridgeley," said Dawes, lighting his pipe with characteristic calmness. "We shall have to pay some sort of blackmail.

Lucky if we get Mouse back at all."

They remained outspanned all day on the same spot. About an hour before sundown two Zulus were seen approaching. They made their appearance suddenly and at no great distance, emerging from the line of scrub which bordered upon the water _spruit_.

"_Hau_!" exclaimed Sintoba. "It is Nk.u.mbi-ka-zulu."

The chief's son, with his companion, drew near, and greeted those around the waggon in an easy, offhand fashion, as though he were quite willing to forgive and forget any little unpleasantness of the day before. His father, he said, had received Jandosi's message, and had sent him at once and in all haste to talk about it. He thought the horse might be found, but what Jandosi offered was not quite enough. There were few people at his father's kraal. Sirayo could not get them to turn out for so little as the promised reward would amount to when divided among the searchers. Now Sirayo's "word" was this. If Jandosi would offer, say six bottles of _tywala_--the white _tywala_ that is drunk out of square bottles--to be distributed among the people, together with the _gwai_ and the other things, and a gun and some cartridges for the chief himself, something might be done; in fact, the horse was pretty sure to be found. But the gun was what the chief desired most; and in fact the gun he must have, hinted Nk.u.mbi-ka-zulu, with a grin of hardly concealed triumph.

The barefaced impudence, the open rascality of the demand, would have made the blood boil in the veins of any less even-tempered man than John Dawes. The latter, however, took it quite coolly. But all the while he was thinking out some plan whereby he might recover possession of the horse, and at the same time turn the tables on the rascally old chief and his scamp of a son. To this end, and with a view to gaining time, he engaged the latter in a protracted haggle, and mixed some gin and water for his refreshment. To his surprise, however, Nk.u.mbi-ka-zulu refused the proffered _tywala_--saying he did not like it. The other Zulu, however, less particular, drained the pannikin to the very last drop, and asked for more.

Would not some knives do instead of the gun? asked Dawes; or a coloured umbrella, anything in fact? The gun was almost a necessary of life, and he could not part with it. He could get another horse from the Boers on the Transvaal border, but not another gun. But Nk.u.mbi-ka-zulu was firm.

His father must have a gun, he said. There was nothing else that would be acceptable.

Now while this haggle was in progress one of the spans of oxen, which had been out grazing in charge of the leader of Gerard's waggon, was being driven leisurely in. Wondering why half the oxen should thus be left behind, Gerard drew off from the talkers, whom he understood but imperfectly, and turned to meet the "boy" in order to learn the reason.

But the latter, without seeming to notice his presence, waited until he was quite near, and going behind the animals, so as to be momentarily screened from the group at the waggons, said in a low tone--

"_I hashe--La-pa_." ["The horse--over there."]

The words--the quick side glance towards the line of bush--were sufficient. Gerard's pulses tingled with excitement, but he refrained from any further questioning. With an effort preserving his self-possession, he strolled leisurely back to the waggon. He took in the situation, and his coolness and prompt.i.tude at once suggested a plan.

The remainder of the oxen were in almost the contrary direction to that indicated by the native as being the hiding-place of the stolen horse.

Shading his eyes to look at them, he said to Dawes--speaking slowly, and with rather a tired drawl--

"I think I'll ride out and bring in the oxen. When I'm halfway there, I shall turn and bring in something else. Don't let these two chaps stir from here till I come back. Hold them here at any price."

Even the quick observant senses of the two Zulus were baffled by the slow carelessness of the tone. They half started as they saw him fling the saddle on the remaining horse, and ride off; but, noting the direction he took, their suspicions were quite lulled. They dropped back into their easy, good-humoured, half-impudent tone and att.i.tude.

"Well, Jandosi, what do you say?" said the chief's son. "The sun is nearly down and I must return to my father. Is he to have the gun?"

"I suppose there is no help for it," replied Dawes. "After all, I can get another gun. But that horse--he is a good horse. Wait, I will see which of the two guns I will give." And he climbed into the waggon-tent.

"That is the one, Jandosi. The double-barrel. That is the one!" cried Nk.u.mbi-ka-Zulu, half starting to his feet as Dawes reappeared. But he dropped again into his squatting position, with marvellous celerity and a dismayed e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

This change was brought about by one quick, stern, peremptory word--that and the perception that both barrels were covering him full and point-blank. And behind those barrels shone a pair of steel grey eyes, which the chief's son knew to go with the coolest brain and steadiest hand on the whole Zulu border.

"Stir a finger, Nk.u.mbi, and you are a dead man!" continued Dawes. "The first of you who moves is dead that moment!"

"_Whau_!" cried both Zulus, their eyes starting from their heads. But they made no attempt to move, for they knew this white man to be absolutely a man of his word. For a few minutes this singular group remained thus immovable. The cool, resolute white man, and the two savages staring in petrified consternation into the month of the deadly weapon that threatened them. Then, not even the certainty of a swift death could avail to repress the sudden start and half-stifled cry of rage and mortification which escaped them. For Gerard, having covered about half the distance towards the outlying span of oxen had now suddenly turned and was riding back at full gallop towards the line of bush.

"Don't move--don't move!" repeated Dawes, and the ominous flash in his eyes was sufficient. Immovable as statues, the two Zulus squatted.

Then a sound of distant neighing was heard, and in a few minutes Gerard was seen to emerge from the bushes, leading a second horse. It was the missing Mouse.

Still Dawes did not alter his position, nor did he suffer his prisoners to. He heard his young companion arrive and tie up the horses. He heard him climb into the waggon; then, when he saw him at his side armed with the other gun, he spoke.

"Since when have the Zulu people become thieves, and the son of a chief a common _ishinga_! [rascal] I have always boasted that in the Zulu country my property was safer than even among my own people, but I can do so no more, since my horse was stolen by the son of a chief, and his father connived at the theft." The tone, the words, bitter and scathing, seemed to sting them like a lash.

"You have found your horse, not we, Jandosi, that is all," retorted Nk.u.mbi-ka-zulu with a scowl of sullen hate. "How did we know he was there any more than you did yourself? You have found your horse--be content."

"I promised your father certain things, Nk.u.mbi, if he found the horse.

He has _sent it back_ and I will keep my word. But he deserves to receive nothing at all; nor will I ever again trade in his district."

Then he lowered his piece and instructed Gerard to fetch out the articles agreed upon. In silence the Zulus received them. Rage and shame was depicted on their countenances, and their efforts to laugh off the situation were a dead failure. Among the Bantu race nothing is more disconcerting than to be caught lying, and these two scions of it felt extremely foolish accordingly.

"_Whau_! Jandosi," mocked Nk.u.mbi-ka-zulu. "We are only two, armed with spears and kerries. You have fire-weapons, and four Amakafula. Yet we fear you not. Come forth from your waggons, you alone. Leave the fire-weapons behind and bring sticks, I will meet you hand to hand--man to man--and we will fight it out. I who am only a boy."

But of this valiant offer John Dawes, who was giving orders to inspan, took no immediate notice. At length he said--

"You will get quite as much fighting as you can well take care of, Nk.u.mbi-ka-zulu, if you go on a little longer on your present tack. And, mark me, anybody who tries to interfere with me will get more than enough. Farewell to you. _Trek_!"

This last to the drivers. The whips cracked, the drivers yelled, and the waggons rolled ponderously forward. The two Zulus were left standing there a picture of mortification and disgust.

"You've got to be firm with these chaps, Ridgeley, once you do have a difference with them," said Dawes, in his ordinarily self-possessed and careless tone. "Well, it's lucky we've got Mouse back again so cheap.

That was really an uncommonly smart idea of yours, and a well-carried out one."

They trekked on the best part of the night, Gerard and Dawes thoroughly armed. Each rode on horseback, keeping a careful watch lest the treachery of the now exasperated chief should prompt some aggression under cover of night; but none took place. In the morning they beheld two large bodies of Zulus in the distance, marching to the north-westward, and could distinguish the glint of spears, and the echo of their marching song. But on whatever errand these _impis_ were bound, they evinced no desire to molest the trekkers, or even to investigate nearer; in fact, their object seemed to be rather to avoid these latter.

"There's trouble brewing," said Dawes, with a grave shake of the head as he watched the _impis_ disappearing over a distant ridge. "Those chaps are bound for the disputed territory, and if they fall foul of the Boers it'll start the war going in fine style. I don't like the look of things at all. The sooner we get into Swaziland the better. The Zulu country's just a trifle too disturbed."

Note 1. This word, which properly applies to native beer, is used for any intoxicating liquor. In this instance it would mean spirits.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A NEW TERROR.

Several months later than the events last recorded, a large _trek_ might have been seen, wending its way southward along the rugged bush _veldt_ lying beneath the Lebombo mountains, just outside the Zulu boundary.

It is evening, and the l.u.s.trous glow of the setting sun reddens the great precipices of the craggy range, tingeing with vivid gold the green roll of the bush. The lowing of cattle and the bleating of sheep and goats are harmoniously mingled on the still and balmy air; and over and above this comes the rumble of the waggons and the occasional crack of a whip. A little duiker-buck springs from his form, to stand a moment, his soft eye dilating, the black tips of his tiny, horns p.r.i.c.ked up as he listens, then darts away noiselessly into the scrub. Bright-plumaged birds flash screaming from the path as the unwonted tumult draws near, for not often are they alarmed in this wise, here in their bosky solitudes.

First come a number of cattle, the vari-coloured hides dappling the prevailing green and brown of the _veldt_; a mixed lot too, for among the small but compact Zulu breed, towering in elephantine proportions above them, is here and there the buffalo-like frame of a Boer trek-ox with its strongly p.r.o.nounced hump and great branching horns. Cows with their calves, too, are there, and an occasional thrust and clash of horns and angry low betoken the collision of two or more quarrelsome beasts, whom the herd's kerries, however, avail to pacify even if his voice suffices not. These travel leisurely, feeding as they go, and are in excellent condition. Some little way behind comes a flock of sheep and goats, also feeding as they go, and propelled by as travel-stained and dusty-looking a native as the one who herds the cattle aforesaid.

The rear is brought up by two waggons, one behind the other, each drawn by a full span of sixteen oxen. The native driver of each, walking alongside, wields his whip languidly and lazily, and the leader is so tired that he can hardly put one foot before the other, for the day has been a sweltering hot one. Even the two horses fastened behind the last waggon have no elasticity in their step, as with drooping head they plod mechanically on, and the dust hangs in a cloud above the line of march.

Seated in front of the foremost waggon, smoking their pipes, are two white men, also travel-stained and dusty. In one of them we have no difficulty in recognising the weather-tanned lineaments and impa.s.sive expression of John Dawes. The other countenance--well, we might have some difficulty in recognising the owner, might excusably hesitate before p.r.o.nouncing it to be that of our friend, Gerard Ridgeley. Yet he it is.

For those few months of healthy open-air life have done wonders for Gerard--have wrought a greater change in him than the same number of years spent under ordinary conditions would have done. They have, in fact, made a man of him. His frame has broadened and his muscles are set. There is a firm, self-reliant look in his face, now bronzed to the hue of that of John Dawes himself, and he has grown a beard. In short, any one who saw him now would p.r.o.nounce him to have become a remarkably fine-looking fellow.

By no means all fun has Gerard found that up-country trading trip. Of toil--hard, prosaic, wearying--plenty has come his way. There have been times, for instance, when every muscle has been strained and aching with the labour of digging out the waggons, stuck fast over axle-deep in a mud hole--digging them out only to see them plunge in again deeper than ever; or again in offloading everything, and carrying the whole cargo piecemeal up some short but rugged acclivity impossible to avoid, and up which the great vehicles could only be drawn empty. Half fainting beneath the burning glare of a well-nigh tropical sun--toiling amid the sheeting downpour of days of rain, and that too often on a ration of mealies or hard biscuit, and a little brack or muddy water--he has never yet dreamed of shirking, never complained.