The White Hand and the Black Part 29

Elvesdon called out to more than one whom he knew by name but if they heard him they pretended not to. If the first performance had been terrifying to the uninitiated this one was infinitely more so: the roaring and the stamping, the sea of dreadful faces and gleaming bared teeth, the forest of waving blades, and the animal-like musky odour--as the frenzied circle tightened, its dense ranks drawing nearer and nearer. It was of no use for both men to shout at the top of their voices that they had had enough of the show, and that the ladies were getting frightened. The roaring only increased and the foremost of the frenzied performers shook their blades right in their faces. Elvesdon was convinced that his last moment had come. This was exactly the Hope programme repeated. It was hard to be butchered unresisting, but any resistance would certainly involve the ma.s.sacre of the girls as well.

A sort of gasp from Evelyn made him turn. She was sinking to the ground.

"I feel rather faint," she murmured.

Elvesdon bent down to help her, and as he did so he was suddenly seized from behind by several powerful hands, most effectively pinioning him.

At the same time half a dozen a.s.segai blades were held against his chest. And precisely the same thing had happened to Thornhill.

"Resist not, either of you," said an authoritative voice. "Any resistance and all shall die--all, all of you."

"What does it mean?" asked Elvesdon, shortly.

"This, Ntwezi. For you two we have a use. For your women we have none.

They may go home. But, only if you make no resistance."

"We agree," said Thornhill. "But let us _see_ them--see them with our own eyes, depart in safety. There are their horses."

Parry, although he was going into certain death, had ridden as near as he could to the tumult. With some difficulty he was leading two horses, and both of these were under side saddles.

"Kill him--kill him," began to be cried. "He is Only a common policeman. He is of no use."

"But he is of use," shouted Elvesdon, who began now to see his way, hearing this. "No common man is he. He is only playing at police."

This was effective. Three hostages were better than two. Parry's life was saved--for the present, but he was ordered to dismount, and by the advice of his superior he complied. His revolver was taken from him-- Thornhill and Elvesdon had been similarly disarmed--and he was immediately hemmed in by a ring of blades.

"Now tell your women to go," said the man who appeared to be exercising chief authority. "I will send men with them to see them safe to their home."

"May I not bid my daughter farewell?" said Thornhill, with something of a tremor in his voice, and instinctively taking a step forward.

Instantly a line of blades barred his way.

"Be content, be content," answered the chief. "You are still alive, and your women are safe. Now walk."

"To Tongwana?"

No reply was made to this, but there was no help for it. Hemmed closely in by the huge armed force, they were marched along over the very ground which they had traversed so light-heartedly barely an hour before. No indignity was offered them, but they knew that escape was as impossible as though they had been bound with thongs--at any rate just then.

They had this consolation however. The chief had kept his word.

Looking backward just before they plunged over the ridge they could make out the mounted figures of the two girls away over the plain, the armed escort, keeping pace, distributed on either side--and they were making for home, not for Kwabulazi.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

UNPROTECTED.

"What--will happen to--them?"

It was Evelyn who jerked this forth. For some time the two had ridden in silence, neither daring to trust herself to speak. Perhaps the same thought was in both their minds; they must not break down and display weakness before these savages. Certainly it was in that of Edala--who, raised among them, fully recognised the advisability of keeping-up a show of dignity towards an inferior race.

"They will not be harmed," she answered, with a confidence she was far from feeling. There might be some among their escort who understood English, and it would never do to let an impression get abroad that such a thing as offering harm to such men as Thornhill and the magistrate, could even come within the bounds of possibility. "Who would dare to lift a hand against them? Why it would mean the hanging of every chief concerned, and a good many of the people as well."

"Then you think they are safe--you who know these people so well?"

The question was put in a quick eager tone. Edala's brows wrinkled.

"Don't talk so loud, Evelyn," she said, speaking quickly and, of design rather indistinctly. "There may be some here who understand. Better not talk about it at all, perhaps, until we're alone. Oh, hang it--we must keep up," she broke off roughly, as she felt her eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g.

"Can't give away the show. D'you hear? We _must_ keep up."

The other murmured a.s.sent. The escort, stepping along at a quick walk so as to keep pace with the horses, was somewhat puzzled at the demeanour of the pair, and the warriors were talking among themselves in rapid undertones, as is the way of natives when they wish to disguise their conversation. Edala was adapting their method to English.

"I can't make it out, Evelyn," she said, purposely talking through closed teeth so as to be the more unintelligible to outside listeners.

"None of these here are our people. In fact I hardly saw one, during the dancing, that was. I believe these are from--beyond the border."

"What? Real Zulus?"

"Don't mention names. That's what I think they are," purposely avoiding even the enunciation of the word 'yes,' for reasons given above. "For instance, look at those two ringed men. Their rings are differently sewn on to those on this side. You wouldn't notice it but I do. That looks as if this was going to be a big affair, and had been carefully planned. Oh, you think I'm taking it all remarkably coolly, Evelyn--"

she broke off, in the gusty voice she used in moments of excitement.

"But--we must keep up--we must keep up."

"Yes--yes," came the quick answer.

"There's just this I go upon," went on Edala. "If there are two men in the world who could be reckoned on to keep their wits about them and do the right thing at the right time, those two are father and Mr Elvesdon. See my meaning?"

The other nodded.

"So we must hope for the best."

One thing that troubled Edala was that she could get no explanation whatever from their escort. The head-ringed men had kept carefully on the outskirts of the same, and when applied to to come over and talk had ignored the appeal. After this she would not question the common or unringed 'boy,' so was obliged to practise patience and await developments.

By the time they arrived at Sipazi it was nearly dark. Edala had more than half-expected to find the homestead a ma.s.s of smouldering ruins-- but no. There it stood, yet there was a something that suggested the unusual. There was no sign of life about the place for instance--no smoke rising either from the kitchen chimney or from the huts of the native servants. Could it be that the latter--together with the Indian cook--had all been murdered? Edala drew rein, and addressed the escort.

"There is our home and now we are safe. If you would return you have fulfilled your mission. If you would rest, there is food and drink yonder."

They looked at each other and laughed queerly.

"Ride on, Nkosazana," said one of the ringed men.

Now there was sign of life with a vengeance, for the four great dogs came charging down upon the new arrivals, open-mouthed, barking and snarling savagely.

"Don't kill them, _amadoda_," said Edala, as a.s.segais were detached, and held with suggestive readiness. "They will not hurt."

But the savages were not going to be done out of their fun. A number of them rushed forward. a.s.segais showered through the air, and the unfortunate beasts lay transfixed by several of them, apiece, kicking feebly in their death throes.

"I--jji! I--jji!" went up the death hiss from their slayers, together with great hoa.r.s.e shouts of laughter.

"The cruel wretches," murmured Evelyn, in shuddering disgust. Edala's lips tightened, but she restrained herself. Their own lives were none too secure, and this she knew.

Meanwhile the savages having tasted blood, even though only that of animals, began questing inside the deserted huts, but found no one. No cattle was in the kraals, either, or anything about the house, except a few fowls, which they promptly a.s.segaied.