In the Whirl of the Rising Part 41

One of these two white men the sound thrilled like the thrill of harp-strings.

Beneath, in the hollow, excitement became intense on every hand. Groups of warriors springing from nowhere, armed, were moving off in the direction of the sound; the large body by which they had just been threatened had already gone. Again and again that dropping volley-- somewhat nearer--and now from a new direction--and this time quite near, a renewed roar.

"D'you hear that?" cried Lamont, eager with repressed excitement. "We could almost join these, only we don't know how many Matabele there may be between us and them."

Ujojo and the other guards were no more impervious to the prevailing excitement. They were pointing eagerly, this way and that way, and taking in all the different points at which warriors were posted among the rocks to give the invaders a warm reception. That a large force of whites was advancing was manifest by the heaviness of the fire, which was now heard on the three open sides of the place.

A little more of this, and still nearer and nearer drew the three lines of fire, the nearest of all being that on their own side; and now, warriors, by twos and threes, rifle in hand, were seen flitting by, clearly in full retreat or to take up some new position. And, around these, spits of dust from the invaders' bullets were already beginning to rise.

"_Nkose_! It is time for us to leave now," called out Ujojo. "Your people will be here directly."

"Good, Ujojo. After the war, all those who have guarded me shall have five cows apiece for to-day's work. Now go!"

"_Nkose! Baba_!" they shouted with hand uplifted. Then they went.

"I'm thinking out our best plan, Father," said Lamont. "If we show ourselves too soon we might get shot in mistake for Matabele. The only thing is to--"

"Give it the schepsels, give it 'em! Give 'em h.e.l.l!" sung out a voice just beneath. And renewed firing broke forth, presumably on the rear of the retreating guards.

"That's Peters," p.r.o.nounced Lamont. "Ahoy, there! Peters!" he bellowed.

Peters stood stock-still for a moment--stared--listened. "It's him!" he roared. "It's him! Wyndham. Here! we've found him! We came out to do it--and--we've done it. How are you, my dear old chap," as the quondam prisoner and invalid emerged from his late prison and hospital, walking with surprising vigour. "Oh, but this is too good, too darn good for anything!"

"Let go, Peters. Dash it, man, you hurt," cried Lamont, ruefully contemplating his half-crushed knuckles. "Or turn some of it on to Father Mathias here. His doctoring skill has pulled me round, I can tell you."

"How are you, sir. Delighted to see you again," went on Peters. "We came out to find Lamont. Swore we wouldn't go back till we had. Isn't that so, boys?"

"Rather," answered the others, who had come up. "How are you, captain,"

and "Glad to see you safe and sound," and a dozen other hearty greetings were showered upon him.

"Peters," he said in a low tone, drawing him apart. "What news?--You know."

"I can't give you any, Lamont, beyond the day you disappeared. You see we came straight away from Kezane. Miss Vidal was marvellously plucky, but not a man jack of us but could see she was half broken-hearted. She wanted to come with us."

"Did she?" said the other huskily.

"Didn't she! Well, of course that wouldn't do. She went back to Gandela."

"And I'm going to do ditto--to-night. You can raise me a horse, Peters?"

"No, I can't; and I wouldn't if I could. By the way, have you any idea where you are?"

"Now I think of it, I haven't."

"Eastern end of the Matopo. So you see the sort of country--and the extent of it--between this and Gandela. And it just swarms with rebels."

Lamont admitted the sense of this, but it was hard to be patient.

Meanwhile the battle, or skirmish,--in which they had ceased to take any further interest,--had rolled farther and farther away, and was slackening off altogether.

When the force went into camp for the night, great was the dissatisfaction expressed over Peters' proposed defection. The latter was adamant.

"I've come out with one object now," he said, "and I've attained it. We must get back to Gandela at once, where Lamont has some very pressing business. Then we're going to start a corps of our own. In fact, that's all cut and dried. Eh, Wyndham?"

Wyndham agreed, and it was arranged they should start at dawn. Father Mathias elected to remain with the expedition. His knowledge of surgery might be useful, he urged, and indeed subsequent events proved it to be very useful indeed, and the intrepidity of the doctor-priest, and his unflagging care for the wounded and the dying, even under the hottest of fire, won for him the admiration of all, not only on that expedition but throughout the entire campaign.

Peters' party duly reached Gandela--not without incident, for on one occasion it had to fight its way through. And then there were great rejoicings, and a reunion which was too sacred for us to meddle with.

Then, too, came about the formation of that hard-bitten corps, 'Lamont Tigers,' and tigers indeed the savage enemy was destined to find them, until eventually he sullenly laid down his arms at the Matopo Peace.

And with their departure, pain and black anxiety deepened down once more--but--such was the common lot.

EPILOGUE.

"Heard the latest, Violet?" said Squire Courtland, as they got up from lunch.

"There are so many latests," was the reply, somewhat acidly made.

"So there are. But this is a local 'latest,' and touches a nearish neighbour. What do you think of Lamont?"

"I never do think of him," she answered, even more acidly.

"Well, he's coming home. His place is being done up, and they've got people working at it night and day. He's not only made a big name for himself as a fighter, but he appears to have struck a gold mine into the bargain, and now he's cleared off all the enc.u.mbrances and is having the place put into tip-top order. What do you think of that?"

"I don't think anything of it either way. In fact the matter has no earthly interest for me whatever," snapped Violet, with her nose in the air.

"Not? That's lucky. You did make a mess of your chances there, Violet, and no mistake."

"Did I? I don't know that I agree, and at any rate it's all ancient history, and like most ancient history rather flat and stale and humdrum. Anyway the whole subject has lost all interest for me."

Squire Courtland looked at his daughter, with a mischievous pucker round his eyes.

"What instinctive liars all women are," he was saying to himself.

Violet made some excuse, and took herself out of his presence. She had to, or her temper would have got the upper hand: result--a stormy scene, recrimination on her part; cold, withering sarcasm on that of her father; then rancour and bitterness for days. She knew he had never forgiven her for breaking off her engagement with Lamont; less, that she had done so than her manner of doing it. And the worst of it was, he seemed determined never to allow her to forget it; and now the man was coming back--coming to settle down at his ancestral home, almost, so to say, next door to them. And--he was bringing with him a bride.

He had been quick to console himself, she reflected, her lips curling with bitterness--oh yes, quite quick. Only two years. Two years to this very day. But two years mean a great deal to a man of action; and following his career in the newspapers, as she had done, this one, whom she had thrown over, was very much a man of action indeed. For herself--well, her intimates had noticed a very considerable change in Violet Courtland. She had gone through her seasons and social functions, but somehow she had done so listlessly. All her adorers, whom formerly she had patted and made sit up and fetch and carry, she now snubbed ruthlessly, including more than one eligible; and what had formerly afforded her keen enjoyment she now went through perfunctorily.

During the war in Matabeleland she had developed a feverish thirst for reading newspapers, and about them she had found Lamont's name pretty frequently strewn in connection with that disastrous rising and a certain dare-devil corps known as Lamont's Tigers, from the fight at the Kezane Store onwards. But ever he seemed to be the leader of this or that desperate venture, wherein the rescue of some outlying, half-armed band, comprising women and children, was the object, and that against large odds. And this saviour of his countrymen--and women--from the horrors of savage ma.s.sacre, was the man whom she, Violet Courtland, had denounced that very day two years ago, had denounced in public, with every expression of aversion and disgust, as a coward.

She had not been able to escape from the sound of his name. At the dinner-table, in the ballroom--everywhere--his deeds came under discussion and comment; and that in one key--admiration. Moreover, certain newspaper men began to rake up two or three of his doings during the former war in the same wild country, causing Violet Courtland's eyes to open very wide as she recalled the scene by the mere, and how she had driven this very man from her as a coward.

Two years ago that very day! Strange that exactly the same conditions should prevail: the same hard frost; the same silver sparkle on the bare trees; even the same Christmas Eve bells practising their carillon at intervals. A wave of a.s.sociation it might have been that moved Violet to take her skates, and start for the frozen mere. She was alone now, but she would be sure to find somebody there--the rector's girls perhaps, and a few others.

She has judged correctly. The surface of Courtland Mere is covered with a smooth and gla.s.sy sheet. The ring of the skates is melodious upon the air, and gliding forms dart hither and thither: but these are few--only four, in fact--for the mere is not yet thrown open, and the ice, undulating freely, here and there with an ominous crack, is none too safe even for these four.

"Come back, Violet," cries a girl's clear voice. "You're too far out.

It's awfully thin there. Do you hear?"--as a couple of warning cracks dart along the heaving surface.

"Yes, do come back, Miss Courtland," echoes the only man in the party.