Chapter Thirty.
The Latest Victim.
There she stood—Aïda, my love. I could see every line of the sweet pale face, turned full towards me in the moonlight, but it wore a half-dazed look as that of one who walks and talks in her sleep. But it bore no sign of fear.
“This is the third night, Inkosikazi, and it is time to restore you to your own people,” Ukozi was saying. “You will tell them that we have not harmed you, but that your presence was necessary for three nights, to render perfect our múti.”
She looked as if she but half understood him, and nodded her head. They were but a few paces from us, and where they had emerged from we could not make out. Their backs were toward the horrid remains, and also toward the two crouching figures.
“So now we are ready. Come.”
This was clearly a signal, for the two crouching figures sprang up and forward to seize her. The first went down like a felled bullock, under a judiciously planted whack from Jan Boom’s knobkerrie as we leapt from our concealment. Falkner had grappled with the witch doctor, but Ukozi was a muscular and powerful savage, and it taxed all his younger foeman’s athletic resources to hold him. He writhed and struggled, and the two were rolling over and over on the ground. Then Jan Boom seizing his chance, let out again with his formidable knobkerrie, bringing it down bang in the middle of Ukozi’s skull. He, too, flattened out. The third, held at the point of Kendrew’s pistol, had already surrendered.
“Better tie them up sharp before they come to,” said Falkner. “Here goes for Mr Witch Doctor anyhow.”
All this had happened in a moment. In it I had borne no active part, my first care and attention had been given to Aïda. It was remarkable that she showed but little surprise at the sight of me.
“Is that you, dear? And you have come to take me home? I am rather relieved, for I was beginning to get a little frightened I believe. But—what is it all about? These people have done me no harm.”
“No—thank the Lord and we four,” said Falkner grimly. “Not yet, but we were only in the nick of time. There—you evil beast. You can come to now, as soon as you like.”
This to the fellow whom Jan Boom had first stunned and whom he had just finished tying up in the most masterly manner. The Xosa had effected the same process with the third, under cover of Kendrew’s pistol.
“Don’t look round, Aïda,” I said. “There’s a sight it’ll be as well for you not to see. In fact I’ll take you away as soon as Jan Boom is ready to show us the way out.”
But Jan Boom was apparently not ready. He stood glaring down upon the prostrate and unconscious witch doctor with an expression of vindictive hatred upon his countenance that was positively devilish.
“Not killed,” he muttered in his own tongue. “No—no—not killed. That were too sweet and easy for him.”
“Ha-ha, Jan,” guffawed Falkner. “You were so keen on capturing the brute alive, and now you’ve killed him yourself.”
“He not dead,” answered the Xosa in English. “Zulu nigga’s skull damn hard. He come to directly.”
“Well it wasn’t much of a scrap anyway,” grumbled Falkner. “Are there any more of them?”
“Only two women up there at the huts,” said Aïda. “But I don’t understand. They’ve done me no harm.”
“No, exactly. You don’t understand, but we do,” answered Falkner grimly. “And, now, by the way, where are the said huts?”
“Up above there. You go by the way you saw me come in. Through that passage.”
Now we saw a narrow passage similar to the one we had entered by. It seemed to lead upward.
“Quite sure it’s all there are?” he said.
“Yes. There are only a couple of huts there, and I don’t think there’s any way out, that side. Oh—What is that?”
The words came out in a sort of shriek. As ill luck would have it she had turned and caught sight of the remains of the other two victims. She covered her face with her hands.
“Oh take me out of this horrible place. Now I begin to see,” and she shivered all over.
“Be brave now, darling,” I whispered. “We will go at once. I didn’t want you to see that, but—it’s only a way they have of burying their dead,” I added under a swift inspiration that a lie of that sort was highly expedient, and even then I don’t think she more than half believed me.
Jan Boom the while, together with Kendrew, had been acting in a thoroughly practical manner, by way of rendering the situation more secure. They had tied the three prisoners together by the leg, in addition to their other bonds, and this was as well, for the pair who had been stunned were showing signs of returning consciousness. Then we held a council of war. It was arranged that Jan Boom was to return with Aïda and myself to my place, thence he was to take one of the horses and ride straight on to Major Sewin’s and return with the police. The while Kendrew and Falkner would remain, and mount guard over the prisoners.
“Mind you sing out loud enough when you come back, Jan,” said Falkner meaningly. “Because we are going to blow the head off the very first nigger that happens to poke his nose in upon us through either of those holes, and that without warning too.”
The Xosa grinned broadly.
“No fear, I’ll sing out, sir,” he said in English. “But you look after Ukozi. Witch doctor damn smart nigga. Plaps he get away.”
“If he does he’s welcome to,” rejoined Falkner, poking the muzzle of his pistol against the shaven head of the principal prisoner, who having now recovered consciousness was staring stupidly about him. “Eh, my buck? But we won’t cheat the hangman in your case, no fear.”
I was unspeakably glad on Aïda’s account, to find ourselves through the horrid tunnel-like way by which we had entered, and out in the wholesome night air again. She seemed none the worse for her adventures, and was wonderfully plucky. She never could feel anything but safe with me, she declared.
The way was much easier now in the clear moonlight than when we had come, under the light of the stars, and as we walked she told me as well as she was able, what had befallen her on the afternoon of her solitary walk. When I chided her for undertaking a solitary walk she answered that she could not imagine harm overtaking her with so powerful a protector as Arlo.
“I don’t know why,” she went on, “but I felt a half unconscious inclination to go over that way we came together that evening before you went. Suddenly I discovered that Arlo was no longer with me. I called him but he didn’t come. This was strange, so I turned back, still calling him. Then I saw him lying as if he was dead, and bending over him were two natives. They started up at the sound of my voice, and I recognised Ivondwe and the witch doctor.”
“Ivondwe? Ah!” I interrupted, for a new light had now struck me. “Yes. Go on.”
“They called to me to come—and I advanced, dreadfully concerned about poor Arlo, and then I don’t know how it was, whether some instinct warned me, or whether it was a look I saw pass between them, but—I acted like an idiot. I turned and ran. You see, I lost my head completely.”
For answer I pressed the hand that rested on my arm closer to my side.
“Well, and what then?” I said.
“As soon as I began to run they came after me. As I say—I had lost my head completely, and hardly knew where I was going. Then, suddenly, I found myself on the brink of the waterhole; in fact I had nearly fallen into it. I turned, and the two were right upon me. ‘Why had I run away?’ they asked. ‘There was surely nothing to be afraid of. Surely I knew them both well enough. My dog was lying there dead and they had been trying to see what they could do for him.’
“I was unaccountably frightened, and dreadfully out of breath after the run. I felt half faint. Then just as I began to think I had behaved like a fool something was thrown over my head from behind, something that seemed saturated with some particularly overpowering and nauseous drug. Then I became unconscious, and only recovered when I found myself at the place we have just come from—or rather in a small kraal in a hollow just above it.”
“And you have been there all the time. Aïda, you are sure they have not injured you?”
“Oh yes. On the contrary they were quite deferential, the witch doctor especially. He told me my presence was necessary for a certain time on account of an important rain-making ceremony he was engaged in. After that I should be taken home again. Well I thought it advisable to make a virtue of necessity, and conciliate them. I even began to enter into the adventure of the thing, and supposed I was going to witness some quaint and rare native superstition. Another thing. The drug that at first overpowered me had left a strange effect—I believe it is a little upon me still. It was a sort of half drowsy apathetic feeling, as if it was too much trouble to think about anything. The women there took care of me, great care; they were Ukozi’s wives they said. Well, this evening he came to me and said the moon was right, and with my help, he had accomplished all he wanted, and it would soon rain abundantly. The time had come to take me home and he would guide me there. Do you know, he can talk English quite well?”
“No—by Jove I didn’t. He’s kept it remarkably dark hitherto. Yet he wasn’t talking English when you appeared.”
“No he wasn’t. I’ve got to understand them rather well by this time. Well, then you all burst out upon us and here I am.”
“Thank God for that!” I said fervently. “There’s another, too, of whom the same holds good, Jan Boom here.”
The Xosa, who was walking a little ahead of us, paused at the sound of his name and waited for us.
“Nkose,” he said, speaking in the vernacular. “Did you promise to tell me before three moons were dead, whether you were sorry you had kept me in your service or not?”
“That I did, Jan Boom, and you know the answer. Nor will you find me forgetful—impela!”
“Nkose!” he ejaculated and walked on.
“I have yet to get the whole mystery out of him,” I said in a low tone, “but for that I must wait his own time.”
There was another “time” for which I meant to wait. Not yet would I reveal to Aïda the horrible fate to which the repulsive superstition of the witch doctor had consigned her. That she would learn in due course. At present I wanted her to recover completely from the effects of her experience.
It was close upon dawn when we reached my place, and as I attended to the refreshment and comfort of my love, after her trying and perilous experience, it was as a foretaste of the future. Her people would be here as soon as they could possibly arrive, meanwhile she was under my care. And she needed sleep.
Tom, now cut loose from his night’s bonds, but none the worse, came up looking very sulky and foolish, and muttering vengeance against the Xosa, who for his part cared not a straw for such. A judicious present however soon altered that mood, and I believe he would have been quite willing to undergo the same treatment over again on the same terms, and bustled about making himself generally useful with renewed zest.
Ah, how fair arose that morning’s dawn. All that I held precious—my whole world as it were—lay peacefully sleeping within that hut, and while I kept guard outside, half fearing lest again that priceless gem should be stolen from its casket, an overwhelming rush of intense thankfulness surged deep through my heart. What had I done—what could I ever do—to deserve such a gift, now valued, if possible, a hundredfold by reason of the awful agony and blank of a temporary loss?
Far down in the river-bed lay waves of fleecy mist, and the rising sun gilded the heights with his early splendour. Birds piped and flashed among the dewy bush sprays, and the low of cattle and bark of a dog from a distant kraal floated upward. All was fair and bright and peaceful—and within—my love still slept on, serene, quiet, secure.