Chapter Eighteen.
The Ride to Salisbury.
There was no chance of letters getting in before them, while as for telegraphic messages, it was too early yet for such to be delivered.
As they rolled into the station they saw no one about, except the station-master and one sleepy porter.
The town had not yet woken up, as they could see from the lack of wood smoke issuing from any of the chimneys.
Three of the men denuded themselves of their beards, which our heroes put on, transforming themselves into middle-aged men in a twinkling. They left three young fellows, with their handkerchiefs wrapped round the lower portions of their faces, so that no one could recognise them. These precautions were needful, even in loyal Bulawayo, for there were Boer agents here as well as elsewhere.
The horses were detrained, and led off by their owners to the stables of the Palace Hotel, where faithful grooms were waiting to receive them. After delivering over their steeds, each man went by different directions back to the hospital. As far as they were concerned the ruse had been entirely successful. As for the special train, it took on a fresh supply of fuel and water, and dashed off down the line again.
When the townsmen of Bulawayo would get up and resume business for the day, there was no one to tell them that a special train had arrived and departed.
“So far, so good,” said Dr Jim, as he sent off his wire to Salisbury. “Now, boys, let us get on. We shall find relays all the road up, and, although we need not make tracks quite so quickly, for the first fifty miles we mustn’t let the grass grow under us.”
They had filled their water-flasks, and laid in provisions while on the train, so that now they did not wait to look at this rising city. They put spurs to their steeds and dashed away impetuously towards Gwalo.
At Imbembesi they had breakfast, having ridden through a lonely, undulating, and woody country. The landlord of the small inn there was prepared for them, and did not keep them waiting. After enjoying a good wash and substantial feed, they mounted fresh horses and went on at an easy gallop.
At Shangain they changed again, and kept on until Gwalo was reached. Here they rested for a couple of hours, while the doctor received and answered some telegrams which were waiting.
“As I expected,” he said. “The hue and cry is out, but there is no one to stop us about these parts. We must keep on all night, though, as time with me is everything.” As they rode out of Gwalo he said, “This is a most interesting locality from an antiquarian point of view: all round are ancient mine-workings. Some day, when you can spare the time, you must come back and examine these remains of past races.”
They changed horses twice during the night, resting and eating at each place, so that when morning dawned they had reached Fort Charter, two hundred and fifteen miles from Bulawayo, and had only sixty-five miles more to traverse. At Fort Charter they had a bath, breakfast, and three hours’ rest.
They rode easy for the rest of that day, and arrived at the Hamyani River Hotel about sundown. They were only twelve miles now from their destination. They were not at all fatigued, although they had been for thirty-six hours almost constantly on their saddles. Their horses were also quite fresh.
Yet their leader, for reasons of his own, did not wish to reach Salisbury until after midnight. They had, therefore, supper here, and afterwards lay down and had a few hours’ sleep. At half-past eleven they once more took the road, greatly the better for that short repose and brush-up afterwards.
Their ride had been absolutely without human incident for the past two days, except for those people at the hotels. They had encountered neither horseman nor waggon. At the inns their coming had been provided for, so that they escaped any outside curious eyes.
Dr Jim was in a most contented mood now that he had escaped observation. It did not matter greatly after this if they chanced to pass or meet any one, since they were so near to the end. He had rescued three young Englishmen from the remorseless clutches of his enemy, and punished some of that enemy’s satellites.
“You are in great favour with the chief,” he said. “I don’t know if he would have permitted me to leave his side at this time for any one else. But when he heard your sentences he swore a mighty oath that you should not taste the cat, even if he had to go himself and pull you out.”
“We also made a vow that we should not be flogged,” said Ned, quietly.
“You are plucky young fellows, and have stood this journey gamely. If you look after number one, and do your duty, there is a future before you. Cecil Rhodes, once he takes a fancy, sticks to it through thick and thin.”
“We shall try to deserve his good opinion, and yours also, doctor.”
“Be true to your country, faithful to your friends, and never shirk your duty, and you are safe to keep the good opinions you have already gained. Here we are at our destination.”
As he spoke he turned into a gate that was held open by a young Kaffir boy, and walked his horse up an avenue of blue gums, that looked inky, with their pendulous leaves, in the light of the late moon. The bush spiders were yet busy spinning their silky traps for the unwary, early morning fly, and the dew lay heavily upon those gleaming meshes. They were entering by the back road to the spacious Salisbury abode of the ex-premier of South Africa.
On each side of them as they rode slowly along were the numerous outhouses and stables, all substantially built of limestone, and slated. The gum trees, which had been planted within the past three years, were already thirty and forty feet in height, and gave out a pleasant aroma.
In front of them they could see a wide-spreading building, surrounded by three tiers of verandahs, and terminated with picturesque pinnacles. It was like a large hydropathic rather than a private residence.
A solemn stillness lay over this building, plunged as it was in darkness, and rising out of the shrubbery and fruit trees which had been planted and forced up regardless of expense. Solemnly and darkly this combined mass of building and foliage, with the delicate filigree tracings of palm trees and other exotics, rose against the declining moon. There was not a light to be seen in any of the windows.
But in a corner of the garden was a small single-storeyed building, like a summer-house, and here in the two windows facing them gleamed a ruddy glow of lamplight.
“The master is still up, Pete?” observed Dr Jim, as they dismounted and gave their horses to the Kaffir boy.
“Yes, Baas. He is waiting for you.”
“Then, we must not keep him waiting. Come, lads, and report yourselves.”
He opened a little side gate, and strode through the shrubbery towards the lighted windows, with our heroes at his heels.
For the second time they were about to behold this colossus of Africa—the man who never turned upon a friend, or took refuge behind an excuse; the man who considered his vast possessions as only trust-money for the good of his country; the most powerful and striking personality of the nineteenth century. Our heroes did not tremble as they had done when entering the abode of the ignoble enemy at Pretoria. There were no policemen here to guard this potent life. He was hedged round by admiration and affection. Nor had he any dread of the assassin’s bullet, for he was a man absolutely fearless. Yet they approached with timid expectation for all that.
Dr Jim tapped at the door, and a strong clear voice bade them enter. Next moment they were inside a small room plainly furnished with a table, a few chairs, and a small camp bed. They were in the favourite sanctum and bedroom of the modern Napoleon. He had been busy writing before they came, for the table was littered with papers. But at their entrance, he sprang up quickly, and, taking two strides, held out his shapely hand and clasped that of Dr Jim with a firm fervent grasp.
“Welcome back, old fellow, and you also, young gentlemen; let me congratulate you on your escape.”
He pushed the spirit-decanter and a box of cigars over to Dr Jim, who helped himself. Then he looked at our heroes with a genial smile.
“You have been already adding a line to our history, and making yourselves famous in Africa,” he said. “I have here my orders to look out for you, and hand you back to prison. Ah, there is a fine to do over this affair. Thirteen valuable burghers gone under, I believe.”
“Twelve I am answerable for,” answered Dr Jim, calmly.
“The thirteenth was killed by one of the Kaffirs who escaped with us,” said Ned.
He had been wondering how they had got on, and now enquired if any of them had been captured.
“Not yet. Nor do I expect they will be. I suppose you made arrangements about their safety, Jim?”
“Yes,” replied the doctor. “They will be passed on to their own people by the friendly Kaffirs, while if any care to come up here, the railway authorities have orders to forward them without delay.”
Our heroes rejoiced to hear this news, for their Kaffir friends had lain heavy on their minds since they had parted from them.
“Then, by this time they are into British territory, for these fellows know their way about much better than either the Boers or we do. We shall have them up here in a few days. Now, I suppose, you are ready for your breakfast, and bed afterwards?”
Our heroes were ready for their beds at least, although they declined the offer of any more refreshments.
“Right you are.”
Cecil Rhodes pressed an electric knob at his side, and in another moment the Kaffir boy Pete appeared.
“Show these young gentlemen to their bedrooms, Pete, and afterwards go to your own lair. I shall not require you any more this morning.”
He nodded to our heroes as he resumed his seat at the table.
“We shall have a chat after you have rested. Don’t hurry up before noon. Breakfast will be sent up to your bedrooms. Now, Jim, old fellow, you can do without sleep, I know, and there are three hours’ hard work before us here to get over ere I can let you go.”
Dr Jim drew a chair up to the table, and prepared to listen to instructions.
“I guess it is no sinecure that post of Dr Jim’s,” said Ned to his chums as they left the little house and walked after Pete towards the big one.
“When does your master sleep, Pete?”
“Never, I think,” answered the boy. “He is always working and wide awake. When sun rises he will be off to the veldt for a long ride with Baas Jim, then all the day they will be working again. Sometimes he lie down on that little bed for half an hour after lunch, or he have a nap in his chair after dinner, but that is all he takes of sleep.”
When they got inside, the boy set on the electric light in the hall and staircase to show them up to their rooms. There he left them, as they desired him, to manage for themselves.
Three nights before they had been slaves, with only a caked earth floor to lie upon. They were now the occupants of a sumptuous bedroom each, with every comfort and appliance that unlimited wealth could procure.
Full of heartfelt gratitude, they knelt and poured out their thanks to the God who had protected them and liberated them from the house of bondage. Neither did they forget to blend the names of those who had been the instruments in His hands of their deliverance. Lastly, they prayed that He might watch over and guard the dark-skinned brothers who had escaped with them.
After this grateful offering they crept into the comfortable beds, and very soon forgot all the troubles of the past.