The Fire Trumpet Part 92

He might never see Lilian again; he was not going to leave her image here among the savages--that image which he had worn upon his heart throughout so many perils and trials. It was of no use accepting life.

No wonder his would-be deliverer stood and muttered impatiently that he must be mad. Here was a man with a frightful death by torture awaiting him in a few hours, and who, instead of availing himself of the proffered deliverance without loss of time, refused to move because he had lost a trinket. The experience of the savage had never held anything so curious as this.

"We are losing time, we are losing time," he muttered. "Are you so very tired of life, Lenzimbi?"

"Yes--almost," and he made no sign of moving. "Ah!--"

Something had suddenly been thrust into his hand. He grasped it. It was the steel locket.

"Now I am ready," he exclaimed, springing up. "Luck is ours again; my star has risen," and, pressing the trinket to his lips, he put it away in its usual place next his heart.

"Ha! Lenzimbi is sane again," remarked the old Kafir. "Now roll that blanket well round your neck and head, and keep your chin sunk into it or the hair will betray you. Don't speak--not one word--but keep close behind me, without so much as looking up. We shall pa.s.s for two of the Gaikas going on a scouting expedition."

With what a feeling of relief did Claverton draw in deep breaths of the cool night air, so grateful after the stuffy, ill-smelling atmosphere of the hut! What a thrill ran through him as he grasped the pair of heavy ironwood sticks which were put into his hand, and felt himself once more a free man and to a certain extent armed! It was past midnight, and still raining steadily, but the night was not a dark one, owing to the moon, which was completely veiled by the thick, unbroken curtain of cloud--indeed, not dark enough, as both of them thought, with a quick glance upward. The huts stood around, half seen through the dim light, and Claverton could make out a black patch on the ground where had been the fire, and the place where the chiefs and councillors had sat in judgment upon him. A cur, half aroused, began to bark as they made their way through the silent kraal, bringing Claverton's heart into his mouth as he strode along, close behind his guide. He had rolled the blanket well round his shoulders, and his head was adorned with an old battered felt hat, the brim being drawn down over his ears; and now imitating the long, elastic stride of the natives, and also their way of carrying their kerries, he would very well pa.s.s in the darkness for one of them, all m.u.f.fled up as he was after the manner of a Kafir obliged to travel on a cold or wet night.

Soon the huts were left behind and they had gained the lonely bush. So dark was it beneath the overshadowing trees that Claverton could hardly keep up with his guide as they threaded the wet, slippery path, plunging deeper and deeper into the gloom; but not for worlds would he diminish the pace, every swift step bringing him nearer to liberty and all that it involved. Branches flying back swept his face, drenching him in an icy shower, _wacht-am-bietje_ thorns seized his garments and tore his flesh, but not for a moment would he delay. On, on--ever on--on, through that wet, dank, jungly wilderness, whose lonely terrors were to this escaped captive as the fairest of surroundings. Once a great owl dropped down in their faces, gliding along on noiseless wing uttering its unearthly hoot. Strange, mysterious rustlings in the brake on either side, and the patter of feet, betrayed that the beasts of the forest were abroad; the weird, cat-like cry of a panther echoed from a gloomy pile of towering rocks overhanging their path, and, afar, the ravening howl of the great striped hyaena blended in dismal cadence with the chorus of nocturnal voices, which from time to time startled the deathly stillness of those wilds, meet abode of savage creatures, and men even yet more savage. And the rain fell with its ceaseless drip, drip, drip.

"Why, where is Tambusa?" suddenly exclaimed Claverton, looking behind.

"I thought he was with us."

"Silence!"

He obeyed, and subsided once more into his own thoughts. At length it began to lighten perceptibly. They had travelled for nearly four hours now, and travelled with marvellous directness, almost every inch of the ground being known to the experienced Kafir. Wooded heights, deep defiles, frowning krantzes, were all pa.s.sed with a rapidity which astonished even Claverton, who would hardly have believed it possible to make such way on foot. Suddenly, and without turning his head, his guide breathed one single word, drowning it immediately in a slight cough.

"Caution."

Not by word or look did Claverton betray that he had heard; but his grasp tightened round the handles of his kerries, and lo, starting out of the gloom so suddenly and so noiselessly that they might have started out of air, five Kafirs, fully armed, stood in the path before them.

A hurried conversation took place, Claverton every now and then putting in a grunt of a.s.sent with the rest, in true native fas.h.i.+on. Xuvani did all the talking.

"We are carrying the 'word' of the Great Chief," he said, making a step forward. "We must not delay."

"What is the matter with your relation?" asked one of the five, Xuvani having thus categorised his charge for the time being.

"He has been shot through the cheeks, and the cold must be kept from the wound," was the reply. By nature an intensely suspicious animal, the Kafir was peering distrustfully at Claverton, whose bronzed complexion, however, aided by the shade of the ragged hat, looked as dark as their own in the incipient dawn. But the very presence of Xuvani, whose valour and fidelity had been abundantly proved, disarmed further suspicion, and, without another word, the strangers disappeared as quickly as they had come, and the pair resumed their way.

"Do you think they will have discovered the joke, Xuvani?" asked Claverton at length, referring to his escape.

"The rain is good; it will have washed out our tracks," replied the other. "It is unfortunate that we should have met with those men just now."

"Did they suspect?"

Xuvani shrugged his shoulders. "In war-time every one suspects."

"They'll be roasting that poor devil of a preacher instead of me, I'm afraid, up yonder."

But Xuvani was not of this opinion. The councillors always liked to stand well with the missionaries, he said, and this one would probably be released. Besides, there were plenty of mission-station men among the Gaikas--Dukwana, for instance, who was a real preacher himself, and several others--who would be sure to find an opportunity of letting the missionary go; which piece of information would have set at rest any misgivings Claverton might have had upon the subject, though, in truth, he had none, simply not having given it a thought until that moment. As for Xuvani, that unregenerate old heathen, though he understood and practised the virtue of grat.i.tude so well, yet it was patent that the sacrifice of a hecatomb of missionaries would have inspired him with no compunction whatever.

"Do you remember giving water to a wounded man after the burning of the Great Place in Gcaleka-land, and watching over him while the Fingo dogs went by?" suddenly inquired Xuvani.

"Yes."

"That was Tambusa."

Claverton whistled.

"What on earth was he doing up there?"

The other shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes, it was," he said. "Whaow! Lenzimbi. You must be a wizard, indeed," went on the old man, when he had listened to the recital of Claverton's miraculous escape over the cliff, and his subsequent capture. "That storm must have been brought up on purpose for you, for nothing in the world else could have saved your life when the chief gave the word for them to burn you. And, even as it is, I could not have saved you--I and Tambusa--if you had not blinded the eyes of that dog Mopela. If he had known I was about he would have smelt the game and rendered it impossible. Now he is half-dead himself."

It was indeed miraculous, thought Claverton. He had been brought through this with a purpose. The web of Fate was nearly woven.

"Xuvani?" he said. "You have saved my life, and a great deal more this day. Now, be advised by me. Leave this business, you and Tambusa, and go away quietly into the colony until it is all over. You are bound to come to grief if you remain in it. Then, when things are s.h.i.+p-shape again, you shall see what my grat.i.tude is."

"_We_ have paid our debt," replied the old Kafir. "Lenzimbi was always open-handed. Some day we will come and ask him for a few cows to give us milk, when all our cattle have been taken. If we come into the colony now, Government will hang us for having fought."

"Not a bit of it. At most you would get a few months' imprisonment, and, perhaps, I could obtain a free pardon for you. Then we will talk about this day, and you will be none the worse off for it. You know me--that is enough."

The rain had ceased and the clouds were parting, and now, through the widening patch of blue firmament, the rising sun began to dart his warming beams upon the saturated earth, and all the joyous freshness of early morning was around. A few days earlier, and what exultation would have thrilled around this man's heart, s.n.a.t.c.hed as he had been from a horrible death, and restored to a world of light, and joy, and gladness; but now he had a task on hand which precluded any such thought--the accomplishment of his fell purpose of vengeance. After that--well, the future must take care of itself.

"Look!" exclaimed Xuvani, pointing to a column of smoke arising from a hollow about three miles off. "There are your people. Now go. You are safe."

"Come with me, Xuvani," urged Claverton, earnestly. "Not a soul shall harm you, I pledge you my life. I shall be better able to repay you, then--and--"

His words were cut short by an interruption as sudden as it was alarming. A volley of six or eight shots in rapid succession was poured into them, and several yellow faces simultaneously came into view, peering from behind the bushes to mark the effect. Fortunately the bullets whizzed harmlessly overhead and around, though perilously near.

"Cease firing, men," thundered Claverton, throwing off his native disguise and standing erect and commanding. The well-known voice had a magic effect. With a shout of delight the astonished Hottentots, disregarding all dangers--past, present, and to come--leaped from their cover and crowded round their former leader; for it was into the midst of his old levy that Claverton had walked.

"Allamagtig, Kaptyn!" cried old Spielmann--his erewhile favourite sergeant. "Why, how did you manage to get away? We thought those devils of Kafirs must have roasted you," and the old fellow's wrinkled parchment face was puckered up like that of a monkey, as he grinned from ear to ear in his delight, and the others were none the less loud in their expressions of gratulation. Meanwhile, Claverton looked around for Xuvani, but he looked in vain. The Kafir had disappeared.

"Where's the other n.i.g.g.e.r?" cried a loud, harsh voice behind them.

"What the devil were you fellows about to let him escape? After him-- directly. Bruintjes--Spielmann! d.a.m.n it--don't stand staring at me!

Do as I tell you--d'you hear?"

Claverton turned--and stood face to face with Ralph Truscott.

"At last!" he said, with a cool, sneering smile. "At last. Twice we have met before. The third time's lucky."

The other started and changed colour visibly.

"Who the h.e.l.l are you, sir?" he exclaimed, in a loud, arrogant tone.

"Better be a little more civil, I can tell you!"

"Oh, you know me well enough," was the answer. "Well enough to estimate me at the value of about one hundred pounds. Not very much, is it?"

Truscott turned ashy white.

"Bah?" he cried, insultingly. "I think I do, and I think I know where the shoe pinches. Now be advised, my good fellow, and cry off that bargain. It isn't for you, I tell you. I was in the field long before you were; I'm in it now, and in it I intend to remain--by G.o.d!"