Chapter Twenty Seven.
A Night in the Reeds.
The day’s long march had tired them, and wanting the sociable aid of a fire, they soon fell asleep, each one on his own bed of reeds, lulled by the continuous ripple and murmur of the waving mass. The two blacks slept with their blankets completely drawn over their heads, so that no sound disturbed them, but the other three in turn would start, and with lifted head peer vainly into the blackness round them, and twice Laura reached out a hand on either side to feel if her protectors were there, and each time the hand instinctively was grasped in a strong palm.
At a deep, low growl of some prowling animal, perchance the lion seen on the march, Hume sat up gently and cradled his gun on his knees, giving ear to the soft, mysterious creeping noises, as though a legion of elves were whispering in the reeds, and eyeing the stars for comfort. As he listened he heard the beast outside move off, uttering a deep-drawn sigh, and he was about to lie down again, when he fancied he heard the sound of another animal sniffing. The noise, however, was not repeated, or the heavy breathing of the sleepers prevented him from tracing it, but he was on his guard again, with every sense on the alert. He could feel that something was stealing in upon them, and the slight path they could not avoid making when they entered was no doubt being used. He had fixed his couch opposite the entrance, and held his rifle with the muzzle towards it; but if his suspicions were correct, and something was approaching, the movement was more stealthy than the advance of a footless serpent. Presently, however, raising his glance until he dimly outlined the waving heads of the reeds against the stars, he saw a reed bend slowly away, and then another, each one disappearing as though gently drawn down.
There could only be one solution to that mystery. The reeds must have been cut at their base, and then gently lowered, and whose work could this be but that of a human foe, patient and cunning? At once he cocked the trigger, and the sharp click woke Webster with a start.
“Ssh!” Hume hissed, while still keeping his eyes fixed on the reed tops.
The click of the gun and the noise of the waking man had been heard, for the movement stopped. The moments went slowly by, and for the one who was in ignorance the suspense was keen.
“What is it?” whispered Webster at last.
Hume bent over to reply. “I think we have been tracked. Waken Sirayo.”
Webster laid his hand on the chief’s blanket, and slowly drew it from his face.
He saw the gleam of the fierce eyes as the cold night air at once awakened the sleeper; then there was a deep-drawn sniff, and without a sound, the Zulu was sitting up.
Hume still kept his eyes fixed on the reeds, but noting no further movement, he rose gently to his feet, and slipping over the bundle of reeds, sank to the ground, and with his rifle held before him, with one hand crawled slowly to the edge without hint to anyone. On returning, however, he felt on either side, and found reeds carefully laid after being cut.
He had made noise enough, and on his return to the enclosure he found all the party astir.
“There is no doubt of it,” he said; “we have been followed.”
“Yes,” said Sirayo; “there are people afoot.”
“How do you know, chief, since you slept when this man stole in on us? and how he came, and when he went, is to me a mystery. He cut the reeds as he advanced, and lowered each one to the ground. Before he came I heard the sigh of a lion.”
“Mawoh!” exclaimed the Gaika.
“Well, Klaas, what is it?”
“It is the wizard; the same who came to the kraal after the lion sprang over. They go in couples.”
“It may be the same,” muttered Hume; “what do you say, Sirayo?”
“I know not,” said the Zulu gloomily, “for the ways of those men are dark; but there are people afoot; I can hear them now.”
There was a long spell of silence after this, as they listened, with a feeling at their hearts that if there were people moving it was in search of them.
“Eweh! it is true!” broke in Klaas; “they are men on the war-trail, and they sing of battles.”
“I hear nothing,” said Laura, trembling.
“Nor I,” growled Webster.
“Neither do I,” said Hume; “but these men do. If they sing, however, they must be halting round their fires, and if they are after us there is nothing to fear now; but we must shift our quarters before we are trapped. What do you say, Sirayo?”
“Yebo, we must fly to the mountain and hide. No man can live long in these reeds, and a woman would be quickly struck down by the sickness.”
“Yes, we must reach the mountains.”
“What!” said Webster; “at first we fly to the reeds, to escape the people on the hills—people we cannot see; and now you ask us to fly to the mountains to escape people we cannot hear. It seems to me we are dodging shadows.”
“You are right,” said Hume wearily; “for what but a shadow could have stolen in like this man did just now while I watched and listened? For all we know he may have returned.”
“Don’t!” gasped Laura; “when I look round I see eyes staring at me, and in every noise I hear a footstep. It is horrible, this place, and the air seems heavy.”
“Let us get out, then,” said Webster; “but it is a mystery to me why we should have entered a place which is now considered to be a trap.”
“It is no use discussing the matter; let us quickly get our traps together;” and suiting the action to the word, Hume rolled up his blanket. Luckily the bundles containing the kits were still intact.
Soon they were all ready, and then they followed Hume deeper into the reeds, until one of the numerous game tracks was crossed, upon which they followed it to the edge, coming out about two hundred yards below the spot where they entered. Then, treading softly to leave no spoor, they advanced for a considerable distance, when the pace was quickened up the rising and rock-strewn ground. And now they were out in the open they heard, unmistakably, the murmur of many voices, and caught, afar off, on the edge of the reeds, the reflection of fires. Their fears at once saw enemies seated about those fires, and gave them energy to pursue their way. Gradually the ground grew rougher, the incline more steep; but Sirayo unerringly kept to a ridge that wound tortuously up among valleys whose growing depth could only be felt. Up and up they went doggedly, with bodies bent forward to the incline, and the two friends took Laura each by an arm, and always spurring them on came the faint echo of that deep-throated war-chant.
“I can go no further,” said Laura presently, with her hand to her side.
“Rest awhile,” said Hume gently; and she sank to the ground, while the men stood near drawing deep breaths.
“The sun is soon up,” said Sirayo, “and the watchers on the mountain will see us.”
Webster thrust his gun into Hume’s hands, and, picking her up, went staggering on a few ineffectual yards.
“Thank you,” she said, as she sank to the ground, and at the words Hume recalled the stinging rebuff he had received when he had lifted her in his arms on the Swift. Time and the alarms of many dangers had since then tamed her spirit to indifference as to the degree of respect due to her, and she would not have revolted had the Gaika carried her; but Hume read in her thanks a deeper meaning.
“The horizon on the east is brightening, and in an hour there will be light. Let us find shelter, and rest the day,” he said.
“Go on,” she said; “but as for me, I will stay here.”
“And I, too,” said Webster.
“Stay, Klaas,” said Hume quietly; then went off with Sirayo up the ridge.
“He has left you to me,” murmured Webster.
“I am content,” she said; “his energy tires me.”
“I care not, if we are together.”
“The baas has gone to find a hiding-place; he will return,” said Klaas.
“Of course,” said Webster bitterly; “it is of our safety he is thinking, and the mischief is that I am completely helpless in my ignorance.”
“I am too tired to talk,” she muttered; and he sat looking out over the dark expanse to a light in the eastern sky.
In a few minutes Hume and Sirayo were back again.
“There is a place above here where we can halt against the shelter of a precipice, which will screen us from any people above. It is but a short distance.”
“It is so restful here,” she said.
“Persuade her,” he said, turning to Webster.
“I have not the will, even if I had the privilege,” he replied; “she is tired.”
“Come,” said Hume harshly; “this is no time to be nice. We can take no risks, and must reach the shelter.”
She rose up, and disdaining any offer of help, walked on; and so, in silence, they continued until the precipice was reached. Here among some huge boulders they spread their blankets, and in a minute Laura and the two blacks were in deep slumber.
“Sleep, Frank,” said Webster; “you will wear yourself out.”
“So much the better for you,” he said.
“Look here, Frank, you are the leader, and I follow you with my eyes shut; but heavens above, man, my helplessness breeds in me a feeling of desperation, which finds vent now and again in bad humour. You must bear with me.”
“Ay, and what of myself? I have brought you all here, and am answerable for your safety. That is anxiety enough without the additional weight of your ill humour and her dislike.”
“It will be all right when the morning breaks; now sleep, my lad.”
Frank stretched himself out and Webster remained on guard till the dawn broke in a red glory, and the heavy mists began to roll up from the river. Then Sirayo and Klaas arose and went away to a fountain, which gurgled from the rock, to wash the sleep from their eyes, and to polish their white teeth with bits of stick. Then one of them made a fire with dry sticks, trusting to the curling wraiths of mist to hide the slight smoke, and the other filled the kettle. They built up a screen of rocks to hide the blaze, then sat down to warm their hands and feet. Then Hume woke, and when the coffee was ready Laura stirred under her blanket and lifted her head to look around.
“For heaven’s sake, Laura,” said Webster, “do go and wash that hideous mask from your face! It is a nightmare.”
“Thank you,” she said stiffly, but, nevertheless, was prompt to take the hint, Webster leading her to the fountain, while Hume looked after them with a sigh. His face had a worn and anxious look, and his cheeks seemed to have suddenly hollowed.
“Laura,” said Webster gravely; “we did not behave well to Frank last night, and he feels it deeply. Be kind to him.”
She looked at him with a flash in her eyes. “You presume too much,” she said coldly; but, nevertheless, on returning to the fire, she took her place next to Hume, and treated him with a winning deference that soon smoothed the lines from his face.
Then they sat and watched the mist fade and the country below appear suddenly fresh and brilliant in the soft light, and presently, as they looked, they saw a band of warriors move quickly along the edge of the reeds. In the clear light they were plainly seen even to the colour of their shields, and it was noticed that at intervals small bodies broke away to enter the reeds, while the rest followed the lead of a solitary warrior who went ahead.
“They are hunting,” said Hume.
“Yebo—they hunt us; and the men who enter the reeds are stationed in game tracks. It is good; they think we are still there.”
“And if we had remained,” said Laura, “could we not have hidden?”
“No, Inkosikasi; those men who continue will presently enter in the rear of our retreat. They will then spread out and advance. If we were there we should be driven ahead like game, and those stationed in the paths would see us sooner or later. Oh, ay, it is a good plan they have made, but we have made a better.”
She put her hand on Hume’s shoulder.
“You were right, Frank.”
They watched in breathless interest, and it followed as Sirayo had said. When the main body of warriors reached the spot they entered the reeds, leaving half a dozen men on the outside, who turned and followed the line of beaters.
“Two of those are white men,” said Klaas; “they carry guns.”
“The devils,” growled Webster; “there is some mystery in the hate with which they pursue us.”
“No mystery,” answered Laura; “they have the key to the Golden Rock, and know we are in search of it.”
“I’m afraid it is so,” said Hume. “They do not shout as they would if they were after game; and, see, a buffalo has broken cover, and the men on the outside do not fire.”
For an hour the man hunt went on, and from time to time game of all kinds broke out, circled round unnoticed, and re-entered the reeds. At last a gun was fired as a signal, and the men straggled out in twos and threes till the whole body had re-assembled about a mile below the point they had entered. They remained for some time, after which they lit fires, while half a dozen men again advanced, quartering the ground along the reeds, searching evidently for spoor.
“It is well we were careful to leave no spoor when quitting the reeds,” muttered Hume, as he brushed his hand across his brow.
Slowly the six men advanced until they were opposite the retreat, when they again entered the reeds, remaining hidden for some time, to emerge at last from the very game track followed by the fugitives.
Hume grasped his rifle, while Sirayo’s hand felt for his assegai.
The men stayed a few minutes gesticulating; then four of them started back for the main body, leaving two, who moved about for some time with their bodies bent. Then, straightening up, they advanced swiftly.
“Good God!” muttered Hume; “they have hit off the spoor. Behind the rocks!”
Sirayo said a word to the Gaika, and, slipping off their blankets, they each took an assegai and went down, one on each side of the ridge, taking so much advantage of the shelter, that, after a few moments, even Hume could not follow them.
“Have they deserted?” said Laura, with a gasp.
“No,” said Hume, in a suppressed whisper; “they are taking the only measure that will save us. They are brave men and faithful, and our lives depend on them.”
“It is true,” she murmured, while her eyes grew large. “I said it when you first told me of the accursed Rock—it can only be reached through blood.”
From the shelter of the rocks they saw the two men breast the ridge, following on the spoor like bloodhounds, and stopping at intervals to look over the ground ahead. Gradually their pace slackened, until, when they had reached the place where Laura had rested, they halted, and seemed reluctant to advance further; indeed, after looking long at the precipice which crossed the ridge, they turned to retreat.
They were about four hundred yards off, and Hume raised his rifle.
“If they escape,” he said, “the whole crowd will be about us, and if I fire it will also draw them.”
At this moment the men sprang aside as though suddenly alarmed, and in the same breath the two concealed foes hurled themselves upon them. There was a shout, the sharp click of assegais, a death hug and tumble, and two men arose to continue their flight down the hill.
The three spectators looked at each other horrified.
“Our men are killed,” said Webster, moistening his lips.
“This is the beginning of the end,” she whispered; “poor Klaas, who was so willing, and Sirayo so strong and brave.”
Hume looked after the two men with despair in his eyes. They reached the bottom of the ridge, shouted after the four men, who were half-way to the main body, and then entered the reeds.