The Golden Rock Part 35

Hume took his rifle from where it stood against the waggon, and, bidding Webster stay, slipped into the darkness. The minutes pa.s.sed by slowly to those two, standing with bated breath, listening for any cry or token that would break the spell. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, half an hour, went wearily by, and still there was no sign; then Webster shouted, but without response, then fired his rifle.

"I must go after him," he said.

"And I will go, too. We should not have let him face that terrible darkness alone."

"I will go alone."

"No, no, I cannot stay behind. Let me get the lantern," she said feverishly, and quickly unhitched the lantern from its hook under the canvas "scherm," at the same time picking up her rifle.

"This way," said Webster, and they descended rapidly the slope leading to the river, from which there came a rippling noise strangely mysterious in the dark. The shaft of light swept around from left to right over rocks and ant-hills, and nodding bushes, and at every dark object they strained their eyes. Then there came a sound that chilled their blood: the noise of a body falling in the water, followed by a deep groan.

"Frank," she cried; "Frank, where are you?"

The reply was unexpected and startling.

"He is dead," said a voice, hollow and unnatural; "and so will perish all who try to find his secret."

Miss Anstrade shuddered with horror, and clutched Webster by the arm.

"What is it?" she asked, in a thrilling tone.

With an answering shudder, Webster threw up his gun and fired in the direction of the voice. After the brilliant flash, the darkness closed in blacker than before, and when the echoes of the report had rolled away in the sullen mutterings down the valley the silence was the deeper. They waited long, then went on quickly to the river, where they stood above the rushes, looking at the gleam upon the dark water, and listening with pale faces and beating hearts to faint whisperings and gurgling noises. Webster put his hand to his mouth and called, but his voice broke in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, and he called again. There was no answer but the wail of a jackal, and after that the far-off booming of a lion's roar.

"It is horrible," she whispered, looking round over her shoulder, and pressing closer.

"Let me take you back."

"No, this way; let us go along the river."

Again there came a splash from the river, and then, within the shaft of light flas.h.i.+ng on the water, there glowed two glittering green specks.

"Look!" she said, with a gasp.

"Hold the lantern," he said quickly. The rifle rang out, and then the water was lashed into foam, and a dark body showed for a moment in the light.

"A crocodile," he said, with a nervous laugh.

"A crocodile! Can it--oh, merciful heavens--do you remember when we saw the _Irene_--the shark?"

"Don't," he said, laying his hand on her shoulder.

A deep sigh came to their straining ears, followed by a confused noise.

"Oh," she cried, "if I could only see what forms there are about I would not be afraid."

"I think that noise is from the oxen," he said.

"Baas," came a warning shout, "pa.s.s op de leeuw!"

"That is Klaas--what does he cry? The leeuw--the lion--is it not? Ah, that is better. Give me the lantern again."

She took the lantern, while Webster, with his rifle ready, kept by her shoulder, and they slowly advanced, following the shaft of light for the reflection of the lion's eyes. Presently an ox moaned, there was a sound of horns clas.h.i.+ng as the oxen bunched together, then the ground trembled to the roar of a lion, followed by the wild rush and cras.h.i.+ng of branches. When they reached the waggon there was not an ox remaining. The Gaika, who loved his cattle, was raging about with a lighted brand in one hand and an a.s.segai in the other, hurling insults at the lion.

"Mij ossa," he said; "mij mooi swaart-bonte; oh! verdomde leeuw!"

"Where is the baas?" asked Webster, at his wits' end.

"The baas is dead," cried the Gaika; "mij ossa es dood, und ek is dood."

Webster took the Kaffir by the arm and shook him. "Stop this noise and build up the fire."

Klaas obeyed, piling dead brushwood on the coals till the flames mounted up, and shone on the white canvas and on the pale faces of Miss Anstrade and Webster, who stood looking out into the darkness for their missing friend. From far there sounded the wild bellow of an ox, followed presently by the complaining, wailing cry of a jackal and the devilish laugh of a hyaena.

"The lion eats," muttered the Kaffir.

They longed for the light of day to reveal the dark mystery that hedged them in, and, above all, the meaning of that voice and its warning.

"Klaas, did you hear someone calling before I fired the first time?"

"Neh, sieur, I heard the lady call, and then the voice of the jackal, who led the lion here."

"Can we have been mistaken?" she whispered; "and yet I heard it plainly: 'He is dead, and so will perish all who seek his secret.'"

"He cannot be dead," said Webster fiercely; "I will search again."

This time Miss Anstrade remained by the fire, her rifle across her knees, and her eyes following the Will-o'-the-Wisp-like flas.h.i.+ngs of the lantern, while out of the blackness there rang the voice of Webster calling for his friend, a mournful cry that drew no response but the murmur of the river, and the still more plaintive call of a plover overhead. And sitting by the fire, with the light s.h.i.+ning in her eyes, and her face resting on her hands, she still heard the voice calling out that Hume was dead, and she was sitting so when, after a long search, Webster came wearily and hopelessly back.

Before the morning, completely worn out, they dozed at their posts, and when there was light enough to show the ground the Gaika slipped away like a shadow towards the river, quartering the ground as he went, with his body bent, and his thin wide nostrils quivering. Reaching the river, he dwelt awhile over the spoor made by Webster, picking up an empty cartridge, then went up to the right, and presently, with a startled look, darted forward to where there projected the b.u.t.t of a rifle from the rushes. It was Hume's, and as he lifted it his quick glances roamed over the ground, noting the bruised gra.s.s, and then with a "Yoh" he jumped back, for a man stood beneath a tree looking at him with feverish eyes.

"Yinny," said Klaas, fingering his a.s.segai, and stooping his head to get a clearer view of the figure which was in the shade, then he rushed to the tree with a cry, "Baas, baas!"

It was indeed Frank Hume, gagged and fast bound to a mimosa-tree.

As the sun streamed over the valley the two sleepers by the dying fire awakened, and their haggard faces told how real had been the nightmare of the long night. The morning mist lay in a thick blanket over the river, and they shuddered to think what tragedy lay concealed under that winding-sheet, then started up to the sound of m.u.f.fled voices, and the next minute advanced to meet two forms that loomed up vast.

"Halloa!" came a hail in a well-known voice.

"Thank G.o.d!" cried Webster, springing forward; but Miss Anstrade stood with her hand to her heart, looking wildly at this apparition.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE UNKNOWN.

"Thank Heaven you are alive!" cried Miss Anstrade, taking his hand in both of hers, and looking with tear-dimmed eyes into his face. "It seemed I was not free here from the curse that falls on those who are dear to me."

She drew him to a seat, still holding his hand, and Webster, busily engaged in making hot coffee, stopped at times to place his hand affectionately on Frank's shoulder.