Chapter Twenty Three.
A Duel.
They agreed to keep back from Laura the alarming incident of the night, and when she stepped out in the morning, full of curiosity, they made light of their strange visitor, and drew her attention instead to the huge body of the old lion. But though they would give her no cause for fresh anxiety, their minds were troubled and their glances continually roaming over the country for sign of the danger they were sure was preparing for them.
“It is not right,” said Hume, “that we should expose her to these terrors and risks.”
“True, my lad; and there is a look in her eyes already which I do not like.”
“What are you talking about so gloomily?” she asked.
“The fact is,” said Frank gravely, “we have made a mistake in bringing you into this wilderness, and we think we should take you back to Pretoria, or, at any rate, to some farm where you could stay safely while we returned from the search.”
“Then something did occur last night,” she said, looking from one to the other.
“The lion occurred,” said Webster, with the ghost of a smile.
“There is nothing very terrible in a dead lion. You are keeping back something from me.”
“We are just entering upon the most dangerous part of our journey, and the risks we have encountered are nothing compared to those we must expect, but they have been bad enough to alarm us on your account. We feel that we cannot expose you to the dangers and strain of constant alarms.”
“You should know by this time,” she said slowly, “that I am prepared to encounter danger, and we have already discussed and faced this very matter when we reckoned up the difficulties and hardships of the enterprise. I am resolved to continue unless my presence tires you.”
“Heaven forbid!” they muttered.
“Then be satisfied,” she said, with a sad smile; “you are relieved of the responsibility which you think due to me because I am a woman, for if I knew death were awaiting me over there among those grim mountains I would not draw back.”
They shuddered.
“Come,” she said, “I have put into words what was in your thoughts. Tell me now what happened last night, and let me judge whether the danger be the greater.”
So they told her.
“Now, see, if you had not told me I should have magnified horrors out of the unknown; but now the incident sinks into the plot of a cunning native to steal our oxen. These people can have no designs on your lives.”
They sat down to their little camp table, and then for an hour afterwards they cut bundles of long grass for their oxen that night, as Hume was determined to make long treks until they reached the vlei or lake.
The oxen were then inspanned, and they started, Hume going on ahead, Miss Anstrade sitting in the back of the waggon with her little rifle, while Webster handled the long whip, and Klaas led the oxen. They passed along a ridge, whose wooded slopes sank to the river, disturbing many troops of big game as the waggon creaked and rumbled slowly on between huge ant-hills, and in and out among aloes standing like sentinels. At noon they reached the lip of the plateau, and below them stretched a wide plain, where gleamed a large sheet of water, with moving troops of game around. Here they outspanned for the mid-day rest, and with the map before them traced the route taken by Old Hume, away to the right, across the river, through a wide belt of reeds, which shone in the sun like a white streak, then up the far-distant range of rugged mountains.
“I feel within me the glow of the explorer who sees the mists veiling the bed of a mighty and unknown river,” said Miss Anstrade, as she looked with kindling eyes over the low-lying country. “But the way seems so easy that a horrible doubt arises. Surely someone must have been before us.”
“What do you think, Webster?”
“It seems to me to be plain sailing; but no doubt a nearer view would open up reefs and difficulties.”
“Yes, difficulties enough. Now, see that belt of reeds looking like a ribbon for thickness: it must be three miles in width and saturated with water. It will need a struggle to get through. Then there is the mountain to climb, and a particular spot in it to find, and beyond that the dangers from those who are said to protect the Rock; but before we enter upon any of those tasks we have to reach that sheet of water, which must be some twenty miles off, and there we may be forced to abandon our waggon.”
“Why should we?—the country looks quiet enough.”
“Well, our party is too small to divide, and in anything we attempt we must keep together. As for the country being quiet, I can see smoke rising from three different kraals, and depend upon it, as soon as the people see us they will swarm round, ready to beg, steal, or fight.”
The day was sultry, with a hot steam rising from the marshy lowlands, and they soon sought the welcome shade of the baobab, whose wide-spreading branches sent down roots to the ground. The ground beneath, in a wide circle, had been trampled bare of grass by buffalo and wild beast, which had here resorted to rub their tough hides against the rough stems; there were the remains, too, of old fires, and on the parent trunk, high up, where the bark was smooth, the handiwork of some roving white man, who had deeply scored his initials.
“It is quite a fresh scar,” said Webster, noticing the marks.
“By Jove, yes! and made within the day; for, see, here are parts of the old bark on the ground. What is it? D.H.—the initials of my uncle.”
“Baas,” said Klaas warningly; “here come men.”
They started round, snatched up their rifles, and looked about to see a small body of natives hesitating whether to advance or not.
“Advance,” said Hume in Zulu.
The leading man at once stepped forward, the others following, and in a few moments six stalwart natives, armed with assegais and shields, were looking curiously at the small party of whites.
“Greeting, inkose,” said the leader in deep tones, looking out of the corner of his eye at Miss Anstrade.
“To you also,” said Hume quietly.
The men stood silent for a full minute; but their quick glances took in every detail, coming back always to the slender form of the white lady.
“I come from the great chief, Gungunhama, the strong one,” said the leader, “and demand a present from the stranger.”
“Demand?” said Hume.
“Oh, ay, the country is his, the game in it, and the people. Inkose must pay, or take the path he has travelled.”
“You have flown fast if you come from Gungunhama, for his kraal is six suns away.”
“My chief is not one who sends a word to each white man who enters his country. He moves himself only when he wishes to strike, and his word is spoken to little people through his Indunas.”
“So,” said Hume, swallowing his wrath, “I have a present for the chief; but I must know that the man I give it to is the one authorised to receive.”
“You are few, and one of you is a woman,” said the Zulu, coolly taking a pinch of snuff. “So I brought only these men. If your present is large I can bring a regiment, that of Incornati, to-night, and my young men are quick to anger.”
This was a veiled threat that checked Hume, who had been disposed to carry matters with a high hand.
“Sit!” he said, “and eat. Klaas, give these men meat.”
Klaas did as he was ordered, and the Zulus eyed him disdainfully at first, then subjected him to a running fire of stinging criticism. Presently he answered back, and one of the younger men struck at his shins with a kerrie.
The Gaika’s blood was up, and flinging the venison down in the ashes, he ran for his sticks, while the young Zulu, with a jeering laugh, rose to his feet.
“Drop those sticks, Klaas,” shouted Hume angrily.
Klaas hesitated, then sullenly replaced his kerries and turned away, whereat the Zulus laughed again.
“It is not fitting that we should serve ourselves,” said the Induna; “let this servant wait on us.”
Hume called to the Gaika to attend to the guests, but he clicked his tongue and would not move.
“Come,” said Miss Anstrade gently; “do as you are told, Klaas.”
Thereupon Klaas moved slowly to the fire, placed the kettle on to boil, and made coffee, while all the time a running fire of chaff was turned on him.
“It seems they want to provoke him,” muttered Webster, with an unfriendly glance at the arrogant natives.
“Yes,” said Hume, “and it is contrary to their custom, for Zulus are aristocrats.”
When the visitors had fed, Hume brought out from the waggon a roll of coloured print, a railway rug, and a few knives, which he laid on the ground.
The Induna regarded them contemptuously, and, after a long argument, Hume added a couple of blankets and a roll of brass wire to the articles. At a shout from the Induna, four other men appeared, gathered up the presents, and departed. Then the Induna demanded something for himself, and receiving a quarter of what he asked, presently rose, whereupon the young Zulu, a tall and powerful savage, deliberately emptied the steaming contents of his pannikin over Klaas’ bare feet. With a bound Klaas reached his sticks, and this time Hume did not interfere.
“You will not let them fight,” implored Miss Anstrade.
“Yes,” said Hume; “Klaas comes of a tribe who have no equals in the use of sticks, and he will teach this young brute a lesson. Now,” he continued, turning to the Induna, “you wish these men to fight. Let them; but if one of you raises a hand to help I will shoot him.”
The Induna smiled contemptuously.
“A Zulu is better than three slaves and sons of slaves. My man will beat him; but you must not help either. Let them battle in the open, and we will stand here.”
Miss Anstrade cast one shuddering look at the two men; then, suddenly running forward, she dipped her handkerchief in the water, bade Klaas lift his foot, and made a bandage round the inflamed ankle. Then she climbed into the waggon and stopped her ears to the fierce sound of the strife.
Klaas threw his head back and shouted the Gaika war-cry, then rolled a blanket about his left arm, and moved forward with his long iron-wood kerrie outstretched. He was an older man than the Zulu, shorter, and thinner, and his much-patched clothes made his movements appear awkward when compared with the agile grace of the almost naked Zulu, whose smooth skin shone like satin. In his left hand the Zulu held a long shield, while he twirled in his left hand a short but heavily-knobbed kerrie.
“They are not fairly matched,” growled Webster; “and that fellow has a further advantage in his shield and heavy stick.”
“The Gaika does not think so. Look at his face.”
The small eyes of the Kaffir glistened like those of an animal, and he followed every movement of the Zulu, who was going through a performance by which he meant to strike his opponent with terror at his prowess. He leaped into the air, bounded from side to side, danced on his toes, twisted, turned, struck at the ground—all the time accompanying these antics with shouts and deep grunts.
“Enough,” said the Gaika; “these are for children. Stand still and fight.”
The Zulu paused, astonished, then, with his shield before him, he advanced, crouching to the attack, and springing suddenly into the air struck swiftly a blow that would have settled the fate of Klaas had he not been prepared, but springing lightly to one side, he rapped his enemy across his broad back.
The Zulu bounded forward out of reach, turned, and again advanced impetuously, his glaring eyeballs showing above the feathered tuft at the end of his shield.
This time Klaas did not wait, but swinging his five feet of tough kerrie, he delivered, in rapid succession, three sweeping blows, one at the head, the next at the body, and the last at the bare toes, and then sprang back to keep the proper distance for a telling blow. The Zulu rushed in again, to be again beaten back by blows delivered with lightning rapidity, one of which drew the blood from his forehead; then he sprang from side to side, advanced, retreated, and feinted, until his movements were almost too rapid to follow, and at last bounded forward with stick uplifted.
“By Jove!” muttered Webster, “he will kill him.”
The Gaika had his kerrie trailing from his side, and as the Zulu bounded through the air he made a sweeping blow upwards, which, falling full on the Zulu’s elbow, made him drop his stick. As it fell, Klaas knocked it away with a backhanded blow, and sprang between it and his foe.
There was a fierce cry from the Induna, a triumphant shout from the two white men, and the tall Zulu, standing with his arm at his side, looked with bloodshot eyes and curling lips at the despised Kaffir. A minute he stood panting heavily, then his hand stole behind his shield, and he drew forth a short-hafted, long-bladed stabbing assegai.
“Stop!” thundered Hume.
“It is a fight,” said the Induna, sullenly fingering his assegai.
“All right, my baas,” said Klaas, and, with his left arm across his body, he shook his stick.
The Zulu threw forward his shield at full length, and walked forward warily, determined to get in one stab, his right arm held back out of reach of that whirling stick.
“It is murder,” said Webster hoarsely.
Twice the long blade darted out like the tongue of a snake, and the second time it pierced the Gaika’s thigh; but the Gaika was not idle, and the air whistled to his rushing blows, and the drumming on the hard shield was continuous. Still the Zulu pressed relentlessly, though the blood trickled over his face, and his shoulders showed the marks of angry blows. At last he gave his war-cry, “Zu-tu,” and throwing his shield above his head, made one fierce thrust. The blade was caught, however, in the folds of the blanket, and the kerrie came with a sounding crack across the unprotected shins, bringing the Zulu to the ground. Klaas picked up the assegai, and threw his hand back to stab, but Hume, expecting this, reached his side and seized his wrist. Then the prostrate Zulu bounded to his feet, and ran to his friends for another assegai.
“Enough!” cried Hume sternly. “Go!”
In five minutes the little party were left alone, the Induna and his followers having moved off without a word.
“Are you hurt, Klaas?” said Hume, while Webster shook the Kaffir by his bruised and bleeding hand.
“Neh, baas; the Zulu is no good with kerrie. Will baas give me supje brandy?”
The baas gave him two, which Klaas drank with a smack of his lips, then with his eyes still glowing, he swelled out his chest and sang his song of victory.
An hour afterwards, when his wounds had been looked to, the order was given to inspan.
The oxen were grazing near the waggon when the Zulus appeared; but now they were missing. A few minutes’ search showed them far down the plain, being driven away, while the sun shone on the spears of a large number of blacks seated in a circle behind them.
Hume brought out the glass and examined the group.
“There is the Induna,” he said, shutting the glass and turning with a set face to Webster and Miss Anstrade.
“Well,” said Webster, “of course he is there; but you have paid him, and he will send the oxen back.”
“No, they mean trouble. They came here prepared to kill Klaas, and they have stolen our oxen so that they can attack us at their leisure. What do you say, Klaas?”
“Yah, sieur. They think Kaffir too quick, and they want to kill him first, then kill masters after. Chief tell his people now that we hurt one of his men. That is enough.”
“It is pretext enough,” said Hume bitterly; “and I should not have allowed the fight.”
“We have four guns,” said Webster, “and plenty of ammunition and provisions if they attack us.”
“And if they don’t,” said Miss Anstrade quietly, “we must leave the waggon and walk.”
“We have first to think of defence,” said Hume gloomily, eyeing the waggon and the great tree. “We shall want time to talk over our plans and get together the articles we want. They may attack to-night.” He paced off the width of the tree, then did the same to the waggon. “That is it, we must draw the waggon up parallel with the trunk, leaving a space of twelve feet between, then build a turf wall with an outer fence of thorns.”
This was done. After strenuous efforts the heavy waggon was drawn up, and with pick, shovel, and axe they set to work in feverish haste.
“They are moving,” said Miss Anstrade, who was keeping watch, “and coming this way.”