In the Whirl of the Rising Part 24

"Look out for snakes, Ancram," said Lamont, who was bringing up the rear. "They often lie out in a path like this at night."

Ancram started, instinctively stopping, with the result that the other cannoned into him. His nerves all unstrung he came near emitting a shout.

"Good Lord! Oh, it's you, Lamont!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, the perspiration pouring from him. "I say, though, how the deuce am I to look out for snakes, or any d.a.m.ned thing else, when I can't see an inch beyond the end of my nose? Eh?"

"Of course. I thought I'd warn you, that's all."

It amused Lamont to play upon his fears. This fellow had thrust himself upon him all unbidden, and had requited his hospitality first of all by trying to blackmail him, and then by disseminating slanders about him; slanders relating to his cowardice. And the fellow himself was an arrant coward. a.s.suredly he deserved punishment, and now he was getting it. The process of administering it was rather a congenial amus.e.m.e.nt.

Suddenly there broke forth upon the night a loud booming roar. The very air seemed to vibrate with it.

"Good G.o.d! What's that?" gasped Ancram. A smothered chuckle on the part of his companions was the first answer.

"The rats are in the trap," said Lamont. "_Were_, rather, because now they're nowhere; no, nor the trap either."

"Rats? Trap? I don't quite follow, Lamont," said Ancram helplessly, "Don't you remember wondering what sort of b.o.o.by trap I was setting?

Well I was rehearsing then with a dummy. After you two had cleared, I rigged up the real thing, and it consisted of I shouldn't like to say how many pounds of dynamite. It seems to have answered finely. Only, Ancram, I shan't be able to entertain you again under my more or less inhospitable roof for a good long time to come, because my poor old shack has just been blown off the face of the earth, and with it.

Heaven knows how many Matabele."

"D'you mean to say you've blown up your own house, Lamont?"

"Not me--but the confiding savage who'd called to cut our three throats while we were asleep--as he thought. We knew he would, and--he did."

"By Jove, what a sell for them! Why, you're a genius, Lamont!"

p.r.o.nounced Ancram admiringly.

"Anyhow," said Peters, "it's been the saving of our lives so far, for otherwise, directly they found we weren't in the place, they'd have started out to look for us. Now they won't, because there'll be few enough left to do it, and those'll be more'n sick of us by this time."

"It'll be the saving of the lives of a good many white men, when the news spreads, as it soon will," appended Lamont. "It'll make 'em think twice before they meddle with houses in future--too much _tagati_ about the job--and so our fellows will get a show."

He was thinking, too, of the stories he had filled up old Qubani with, on the Gandela race-course, as to how the ground immediately around the towns.h.i.+p was extensively mined; and now this last manoeuvre of his would go to confirm it. The savage has a holy horror of unseen danger. He might, indirectly, have been the means of again saving Gandela, at a very perilous and critical time. Then he fell to wondering whether Clare Vidal was already away and safe at Buluwayo.

Day broke upon an expanse of wild, hilly country, moderately bushed.

Huge baboons barked at them from their fastnesses among the piles of craggy boulders which heaved up here and there against a drear and lowering sky, and which seemed a perfect rookery of predatory birds-- falcons and buzzards and kites--soaring and circling aloft. And now a halt was called.

"About time too," groaned Ancram. "I don't believe I could have gone a step farther."

The other two made no comment upon this, but both were thinking the same thought. A chain is no stronger than its weakest link, and that link in this chain spelt Ancram. He was dead tired already, he declared, and his boots were wearing holes in his feet into the bargain. And the situation was serious enough in itself. They had no doubt but that the whole native population was up in arms, and here they were, only three, and afoot at that, in the heart of the hostile ground. True they were well-armed, and two of them, at any rate, resolute and full of resource; but even that wouldn't count for much with an entire population against them.

"Well, see how you feel after a feed, Ancram," said Lamont. "We can rest here a bit too. In fact, it's none too safe travelling in the daytime at all."

They were out of the forest belt now, and the spot marked out for their halt was on the side of a great granite kopje, with long tambuti gra.s.s and acacia growing right up around its base. Hence they could see, and not be seen. Lamont and Peters took turn about to watch, while the other two slept. A friendly squabble took place between them as to who should take first watch, and, as usual in such a case, Peters had to 'obey orders.'

It was a wretched day. The dreary cloudiness had turned to drizzle.

Under ordinary circ.u.mstances the prospect of rain would have been heart rejoicing. Now, with his homestead blown to bits, and no prospect of returning to his farm, possibly for months, or doing any good with it when he got there, the watcher was wis.h.i.+ng the longed-for rain somewhere else. In spite of the night's exertions he felt no desire for sleep, and as he sat there, while the other two snored, gazing forth on the drear wildness of the scene before him, why was it that his thoughts should revert so persistently to Clare Vidal? Yet they did. He recalled that scene on the race-course, and somehow he could remember every word she had said, and how she had said it. Then that last visit he had made at Fullerton's, and entirely at her request--what a strange, witching enchantment had hung around her all the time! She had made much of him, but in such an insidious and tactful way--what did it all mean? He had always been a bit of a misogynist, and had looked upon women and their fascinations with a kind of contemptuous aloofness, only broken through when he knew and became engaged to Violet Courtland. And now at last he could dwell upon that day at Courtland Mere without a stirring of the mind, unless it were a stirring of relief. But--why?

The day wore on, and it was not until late in the afternoon that the sleepers awoke.

"What's this?" said Peters sharply, sitting upright. "Lamont--what the devil's this? Here it's nearly time to start again, and you never turned me out to take my watch. How about your own snooze, eh?"

"Don't want one. You do. So that's all right."

"You needn't kick up such an infernal row, Peters," snapped Ancram, irritable with fatigue and discomfort, as he rolled over on the other side and snored afresh.

"Oh, let the wretched devil snooze," said Lamont. "I don't want to. I couldn't close a peeper if I were paid to."

That night they travelled on again, using extra caution, for they had got into populated country where there were kraals about. One of these they came right upon in the darkness, and the deep-toned voices of its inhabitants came quite clearly to them. Then the furious barking of dogs, who had heard or scented them, made a lively moment; however, thanks to the merciful darkness, they were able to withdraw.

At daybreak the following morning they were even more perilously situated, for the land was flat and spa.r.s.ely bushed, and it was only by keeping the cover of an overhung and nearly dry river-bed that they could find any concealment at all. Moreover, a smoke here and there at no great distance located a kraal.

"We seem to have got into a beastly dangerous corner," grumbled Ancram.

"When are we going to get to Gandela."

"We'd have got there to-day, only we've come out of our way to warn Tewson. We'll strike his place directly."

Then Ancram broke forth. So they had come out of their way, and run their heads into this perilous hobble when by now they might have been safe and sound at Gandela--and all for this! What had they got to do with warning other people! Hadn't they enough to do to save their own lives! Who was this Tewson, when all was said and done? Some beastly cad, he supposed.

"He's a white man," answered Lamont, "and he's got womenkind and children at his place."

But Peters was boiling over.

"You infernal, selfish, cowardly swine," he began. "Let me tell you that we help each other in this country. And if it wasn't that we were in the hobble we are, I'd have pleasure in punching that silly, selfish, rattletrap noddle of yours till your own mother wouldn't know it from a rotten pumpkin."

Let it not be supposed this was all Peters said, but then his remarks were not for publication--_in toto_, whereas the record of the same--_in parte_--is.

The fierce tone and threatening att.i.tude cowed Ancram, and he shrunk back, staring apprehensively.

"Ease off, Peters. Ease off," muttered Lamont. "He doesn't know what he's talking about. He's half off his chump with tire and scare."

This was no more than the truth. Ancram was almost used up. Totally unaccustomed to roughing it or swift emergency, physically in the poorest possible training, his experiences of the last two days--the sight of bloodshed, the forced marches afoot over rough ground, perils real or imaginary d.o.g.g.i.ng every step, had about done for him, and had brought out all the worst that was in him. Peters growled like a savage dog baffled of a bone, and relapsed into sullen silence.

At no great distance now they made out a homestead, right above the high river bank. Still and peaceful it looked in the early morning, too still it seemed to two out of the three, who with a quickening of the pulses wondered if they were too late. No sign of life was there about the place. No smoke rose from the chimney, and the native huts behind the house had a deserted look. Well, the family might have received warning, and escaped.

But, as they reached the house, any such hope quickly died. A horrible object met their gaze--the body of a man, a white man, stripped and frightfully hacked and gashed. Right in front of the door it lay, the position telling its own tale. The unfortunate man had been attacked by his treacherous murderers, as all unsuspecting he had stepped forth, probably to confer with them.

"That's Tewson," p.r.o.nounced Peters shortly.

A groan drew their attention to Ancram, who was staring at the horrible sight with a kind of fell fascination. His gaze was livid, and his hands were working convulsively. There was a glare almost of mania in his eyes.

"Buck up, Ancram," said Lamont, not unkindly. "You must pull yourself together, you know. This is the first, but I'm afraid not the last sight of the kind we shall see before we are through with this tangle.

Here, have some of this," producing his flask.

Peters and Lamont were looking at each other, and again the same thought was in both their minds. Here lay the poor remains of Tewson himself, but his household consisted of his wife, her sister, and three or four children. What lay behind that door?

It had to be done. As the door was opened, both men instinctively started back, then, rallying, they entered. In less than a minute they returned to the open air, almost reeling, and from the faces of these two strong, resourceful, resolute men every vestige of colour had faded.

They had looked upon bloodshed and death before, as we know, had grown inured to horrible sights; but that of white women and children, literally cut into pieces, had been reserved for them until now.

"No, you'd better not see it, Ancram," warned Lamont, putting forth a restraining hand. "There's no necessity for you to. Peters, one of us must go in there again. The time's important--the time it occurred, you know. We might find some clue."