The White Hand and the Black Part 21

Now Teliso was a brave man, even braver than those of his race who had distinguished themselves on the battlefield, in that he took risks as a matter of business and in cold blood, such as they would never have dreamed of taking. But such risks, great as some of them had been, especially of late, were as nothing to that which he was taking now.

And--all of a sudden he knew it.

His hand dropped carelessly to the right hand pocket of his coat--he had acquired European ways so there was nothing extraordinary about this move. Yet there was nothing whatever to have excited any suspicion on his part. Not a sound had arisen outside. His entertainers sat as before; no weapons were even visible. Old Zisiso seemed half drowsy, and the same held good of Nteseni, while the other two, Babatyana and Nxala were pursuing the conversation in an even, interested tone of voice. No--it was hard to say where any suggestion of peril might have come in, unless it was that wondrous, well-nigh supernatural intuition characteristic of the savage. Yet at that moment Teliso, realised that he had never been in deadlier peril in his life; no, not even when as a very young _umfana_ he had raced, with bursting heart, and stumbling steps, and labouring lungs, with the flying Native Contingent, for the roaring, flooded pa.s.sage of Umzinyati river, driven like dust before the wind by Cetywayo's pursuing victorious destroyers at Isandhlwana.

At this moment he realised that he had one chance, but a desperate one.

He must shoot down, and that with lightning rapidity, at least two out of these four, and one of the two must be Nteseni, but--what a responsibility! Then too, he was but imperfectly skilled in the handling of the weapon which he had instinctively brought for his own protection. He hesitated, and--was lost.

"What is that, brother?" said Nteseni, seizing, with a grip of iron, the wrist of the hand which held the b.u.t.t of the concealed revolver. At the same time, Nxala who was seated on the other side had pinioned his arms.

Both were powerful men, and against them Teliso had not the ghost of a chance, even if Babatyana had not taken the opportunity of slipping the noose of a hitherto concealed thong round his ankles, and drawing it tight. Clearly it was useless to struggle, and in a moment he was securely bound.

"Was this needed among 'thine own people,' dog of Ntwezi?" said Nteseni, holding up the revolver which he had drawn from the prisoner's pocket.

"No longer am! Ntwezi's dog," answered the latter.

"And was it not wisdom to bring away a useful weapon against when the time comes?"

"Ah--ah! 'When the time comes.' But the time has come--for thee, dog of Ntwezi," sneered the chief. "There are those who talk with the tongue of the Amangisi who heard Ntwezi himself tell another of thine errand here to-night."

"And that other?" queried the prisoner.

"I answer no questions," was the contemptuous reply. "Thy treachery deserves a slow and lingering death, yet we will be merciful."

He called through the doorway in a low tone, and immediately there entered two men.

"Take him away," said Nteseni.

A wooden gag was thrust into the unfortunate man's mouth and he was dragged outside, the three chiefs following. The old witch-doctor remained behind.

Teliso knew that doom awaited him, but now he could not even expostulate. The thong which bound his feet was relaxed sufficiently to admit of his taking short steps and thus he was hurried along--whither he had not the remotest idea.

A red moon, appropriately like a huge globe of blood, was rising over the great cliff which dominated the kraal. On the brink, silhouetted against it, a hyena stood and howled.

"He scents meat," said Nxala grimly. "Well he will soon have plenty."

For about half an hour thus they proceeded, their way lighted by the lurid glow of the blood moon. Then they halted.

They had come to the brink of a high cliff which overhung a wild desolate ravine.

"I had intended thee to be slaughtered like a goat, Teliso," said Nteseni. "The death of the spear is not for such as thee."

With a desperate effort the prisoner had managed to slip his gag.

"The _Amangisi_ have many ropes," he said. "Even chiefs will hang by some of them before long." Nteseni laughed.

"I think not," he answered. "Will yonder moon tell what it has seen?

Well, a high leap in the air is before thee, Teliso. Now--take it."

The unfortunate man hesitated. Those who held him stood aside.

"What? Is it then better to be slaughtered like a goat," said the chief jeeringly. "Well then, Isazi," to one of the young men, "thy knife."

But the threat was enough. The doomed man closed his eyes, tottered, then flung himself forward. A crash and a thud came up to the ears of the listeners.

"You two," went on the chief, "go down yonder and take off the thongs; his clothing was thick so they will leave no trace. And--I think Ntwezi will need a new dog."

The redness of the blood moon lightened. Its globe grew golden.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

VENATORIAL.

"Father, I think we must take out Evelyn and show her how we shoot bushbucks."

Thus Edala, one lovely morning at breakfast time.

"I don't mind. What do you say, Evelyn?"

"That it would be delightful. But shouldn't I be in your way?"

"Not if you keep quiet, and do as you are told," said Edala. "Oh, and by the way, don't wear any colours. It's astonis.h.i.+ng how you miss chances that way."

"What have I got? Oh I know. I've got an old khaki coloured dress. At the time of the Boer war, you know, some of us took on a fit of idiocy in the way of khaki fever. It didn't last, of course, but I brought the thing out here with me under a sort of vague impression it might be useful in the veldt for knocking-about purposes."

"The very thing," cried Edala. "Now go and put it on, and I'll get into my 'Robin Hood' outfit. Father, you see about the horses."

"Anything else?"

"Yes--and the guns."

"But--but," protested the visitor, "I've never fired a gun in my life."

"You'll soon learn," returned Edala, tranquilly. "To-day, though, you need only look on."

"What an Amazon the child is," laughed Evelyn. "Why I should never learn. I'm much too nervous. Guns--kick--and all that sort of thing, don't they?"

"Not if you hold them properly. But, that's where the 'learning' part of it comes in. Well, let's go and get our toggery on."

Thornhill did not immediately set to work to make arrangements for the coming sport, instead he lit a pipe and sat thinking. Evelyn Carden had been a guest under his roof for nearly three weeks now, and he was ready to own that she had proved a very great acquisition indeed. She had adapted herself so wholeheartedly to their way of life, and she and Edala had taken to each other wonderfully. It was good for Edala to have the companions.h.i.+p of someone approximately near her own age; the difficulty hitherto had been to obtain such companions.h.i.+p for her. And as regarded himself, why her demeanour was perfection. She could talk brilliantly and well upon all his favourite topics, without ever becoming contradictious or argumentative, as is the way of her s.e.x. She forestalled his every want, yet in such a tactful un.o.btrusive way; and while perfectly frank and unconstrained, she always managed to bring into her intercourse with him just that little scarcely perceptible touch of deference which the difference between their ages rendered so charming. It had more than once occurred to him that Edala might become jealous, but with a certain grim sadness he had recognised that it might not be altogether a bad thing if Edala did.

Now the said Edala reappeared, clad in what she termed her 'Robin Hood suit,' which by the way did not denote 'bloomers' or any such atrocity, but was merely an exceedingly workman-like blouse and skirt of sage green, an excellent hue for blending with the prevailing tints of the surrounding bush country. Her golden head was crowned by a soft felt hat, without any adornment whatever.

"Father!" she cried, "you haven't done anything towards getting up the horses, or getting things ready. And _we_ are ready."

"I don't see 'we' all the same," he laughed. "I only see one. And the day has hardly begun. Hullo! What's all that about?"

'That' was represented by an abominable and riotous clamour suddenly raised by the dogs, who were lying outside. They had sprung up and were pouring forth hideous defiance to the world at large. Quickly each had seized the binoculars lying always handy for the scrutiny of new arrivals or pa.s.sers-by in the distance--and were out on the stoep.