Chapter Twenty Three.
In Want of Water—The Honey Guide Plays me a Trick—How I am Saved—Zenuta.
On rising the next morning, and disposing of some biltongue, we again started on our journey, and got through many hours of the day with but little incident to recount, save that we were consumed by a terrific thirst, having, since the previous evening, been unable to procure water. The rain which had fallen in the neighbourhood of the kraal appeared never to have reached this spot, for the bed of a small stream we had passed was perfectly cracked and arid from want of moisture. So, while a tropical sun was shining down upon our heads, we had to proceed without being able to procure a drop of water to cool our parched lips, only finding relief in sucking or chewing different fruits and leaves of a watery nature, which Umatula pointed out to us.
Having heard our guide once or twice exclaim, “If I had but a chacma here,” I at last asked him what a chacma was, and why he wanted one at that particular moment.
“The chacma,” he answered, “is a baboon, one of the most destructive of the whole species to our crops, for he knows where to find the best as well as we do.”
“By old Davy Jones himself,” ejaculated Thompson in English to me, “but what good would a blessed ape, with these propensities, serve us here?”
The question was answered immediately by Umatula, who had stopped on observing Jack was speaking, and now continued—
“Though our enemy in this, we make him a friend sometimes by taming him; for the chacma is passionately fond of a root called babiana, which is always full of a watery juice; so, when lacking water in dry weather like the present, we lead these creatures by a piece of hide, and they will direct us to these roots, from which, on digging them up, we extract the fluid.”
After this explanation, Jack, as well as I, desired the presence of the chacma as much as Umatula did, but the three wishes were no better than the one—we were quite as destitute of water as ever, and proceeded with our spirits slightly depressed in consequence. To make matters worse, I had happened to tread upon a thorn, which had so pierced my foot as to create a slight lameness, so that I could not walk at the same rate which I had done on the day previously.
It was within two or three hours of nighttime—and here that period succeeds quickly to day—when, by sundry signs and a change in the genus of the vegetation, Umatula said he felt sure that a stream, perhaps a river, must be close at hand, and proposed that, as I was so crippled, he and Jack should, diverging a little from the right track, climb a small eminence some little distance off and ascertain if his surmises were correct.
Willing to save myself from more exertion than was absolutely necessary, I gladly agreed to the plan, and, casting myself at the foot of a tree, watched them depart. They had not long disappeared, however, before the now easily recognised cherr of the Honey Bird attracted my attention. Looking up, I saw the little feathered biped, perched on a bush close by, his head on one side as if making a minute inspection of my person. Fancying a few honey-combs would be a pleasant addition to our late meal, if we could but find water, I scrambled on to my feet and began to follow my small guide. The sweet treasure was evidently not far off, for the bird went slowly, and, after a few yards, stopped by a tangled fence of parasites.
Seeing no place for the bees’ store, I approached and drew aside the tangled mass, believing I should find some felled tree or shattered trunk, which the insects had converted into a hive; but, with a chilling horror, I stood transfixed to the spot, as my eyes encountered those, red as blood, of a leopard that was crouching behind.
How long we remained gazing into each others eyes I do not know—it seemed an hour, but could only have been a few seconds—when a stealthy movement of the animal, as it apparently began to contract its muscles for a spring, recalled me to a sense of my danger, and instinctively I raised an assagai and flung it at the creature; it pierced him in the shoulder, and with a roar of pain he rose, but failed in his bound. Instantly I sprang back, then a cry of horror escaped my lips, for I felt as if a companion of the fierce beast in front had seized me both with claws and teeth from behind. The next instant, however, I had learned the terrible truth. I was once more in the tenacious grasp of another of those awful species of the acacia tribe—the acacia detinens. Yes, there I was, held firmly, confident that the least struggle would but make me a greater prisoner; while the leopard, as if conscious of my helpless position, was slowly dragging itself through the bushes, never once, however, taking its red fiery eyes from my face. I tried to raise my arm with an assagai, but it was useless; the thorns penetrated my flesh, while I felt I had no power to aim the weapon, or, if I did so, the blow would be so light that it would only further irritate without harming the brute in front. I even now shudder at the remembrance of that awful moment. No savage of the most fiendish nature could have gloated over his intended victim more than the leopard seemed to. He drew himself along on his stomach as I have seen a dog do. The wound I had given him I fancied had made him weak, for apparently he was unable to spring, and, though dreading each moment that he would do so, I grew sick and dizzy at the terrible suspense.
All at once I read in the creature’s eyes his intent to put an end to the affair. His tail began slowly to lash backwards and forwards, beating the ground fiercely; then I saw the haunches of the lithe body crouch up, the shoulders draw back. I could bear it no longer. I felt my brain turning, and, uttering cry after cry, called aloud for help, addressing both Umatula and Jack, yet feeling despairingly aware that, even did they hear my cries, they never could arrive in time to aid me. A prayer rose to my lips. I gave one gigantic, mad struggle as I saw the leopard rise quickly into the air; then shrieked wildly as its horrid face, with its eyes aflame—its terrible mouth agape and glistening with strong white teeth—glared into mine, while its breath, like a simoom, stirred my very hair. Madly I flung up my arms, then sunk back insensible.
When I came to—for of course I did, else this history would never have been written—I believed I had been killed, and, having passed through the darkness of the grave, had awakened in the other world; but a few instants after my eyes recognised the African foliage about me, and I felt I was lying on the ground, my body painful with pricks and tears, and my head supported on somebody’s knees.
“Is that you, Jack, old fellow?” I asked faintly.
“Ah, you speak! you live!” exclaimed a well-remembered voice in the Kaffir tongue, and Zenuta’s face was bent over mine.
Faint and sore as I was, I started up in my surprise, ejaculating—“Zenuta! you here? How can it be possible?”
“Possible! Oh, Galbrth, do you think I could have ever lived without you? You went—oh, cruel, cruel!—but I followed—pardon me.”
“What! followed, Zenuta? Have you braved the dangers of the bush alone, and for my sake?” I said, in much astonishment and emotion.
“Dangers!” she repeated, smiling, “I did not think of them. What were they to me when I knew by surmounting them I should again see you; and if I did not,” she added seriously, “I thought we might meet again there,”—pointing upward—“as you have so often told me we should.”
The tears started to my eyes at the affection of this poor girl, and, taking her hand, I said, “Heaven bless you, Zenuta! I shall never be able to repay you—never, indeed, for it must be to you that I owe my life.”
“Yes, yes! to me, Galbrth, to me!” she cried, a bright joy radiating her features, as she clapped her hands with delight; “you owe your life to me, poor Zenuta! Oh, I am glad—so glad!”
“But tell me how, dear Zenuta. I really thought my hour had at last come.”
As she was about to commence her story we were interrupted by the return of Umatula and Jack, whose surprise at the appearance of Zenuta was equally as great as mine had been. The Kaffir, I fancied, regarded her angrily, and I secretly resolved that, if he expressed his disapproval in words, the affectionate girl should find a powerful protector in me; but as he remained quiet, and the first vexed expression died out of his features, I explained to them the danger I had run, and learned from Umatula that it was no uncommon thing for the honey guide to lead persons occasionally to the lair of some fierce beast of the forest instead of to the bees’ treasure, which unpleasant propensity makes the natives very cautious when they follow the bird.
“But how, Zenuta,” I added, turning again to her, “were you able so soon to follow us and thus become my protector, my preserver?”
“At the same time that you left the kraal,” she said, “it seems that a party of warriors was sent to bring us, the women, and cattle to their new home. My people travel faster than white men, and a few hours after I heard—oh, Galbrth! I heard that you had gone—gone for ever to the white settlement. I threw myself in agony on the ground; but I could not weep. My head felt on fire, and at last, starting up, I resolved to follow you. Creeping, in the confusion, out of the kraal, I fled to the bush. I did not care if I died there: I only felt I could no longer live with my people when you were away.”
“And the fire last night, Zenuta?” I asked anxiously.
“It nearly caught me,” she answered, laughing gleefully, “but I ran—I ran till I could escape it. Then I went on: I could not sleep, for I could find no trace of the path you had taken. It made me mad. I ran on and on—I felt no fatigue—I had no fear—when suddenly a cry, a shout of terror, reached me. It was your voice, Galbrth. I rushed forward: I saw the leopard just rising into the air. I saw your danger. The next moment, with a leap, I had flung my arms tightly about the creature, and we both together fell struggling to the ground, when, feeling one of your assagais touch my hand, I seized it, and plunged it again and again into the leopard’s body, till I felt his claws relax on my arms, when I knew he was dead and I was safe.”
“What!” I cried, in much concern, “did the frightful animal harm you, my noble Zenuta?”
“A little,” she replied, smiling, as she turned to me her arm, on the back of which I perceived the flesh to be torn and bleeding.
“My poor, my brave girl!” I exclaimed tremulously.
“It is nothing—I like it,” she laughed softly, “because did I not save you, my Galbrth?”
I pressed her hand affectionately in mine, and, before anything else was said or done, persisted that her shoulder should be attended to. Then, being consumed with a terrible thirst, I asked Umatula whether he had prophesied rightly respecting water being near.
“Yes,” he replied with an amused smile, “there is plenty at a little distance off, as I should have known,” he added, “had your accident occurred before we started, for the plant which held you prisoner always grows near water.”
“If that be so,” I exclaimed, getting up, “for heaven’s sake let us go there, for I am perishing of thirst! Let us get to this stream which you have discovered.”