“Now I am ready,” he exclaimed, springing up. “Luck is ours again; my star has risen,” and, pressing the trinket to his lips, he put it away in its usual place next his heart.
“Ha! Lenzimbi is sane again,” remarked the old Kafir. “Now roll that blanket well round your neck and head, and keep your chin sunk into it or the hair will betray you. Don’t speak—not one word—but keep close behind me, without so much as looking up. We shall pass for two of the Gaikas going on a scouting expedition.”
With what a feeling of relief did Claverton draw in deep breaths of the cool night air, so grateful after the stuffy, ill-smelling atmosphere of the hut! What a thrill ran through him as he grasped the pair of heavy ironwood sticks which were put into his hand, and felt himself once more a free man and to a certain extent armed! It was past midnight, and still raining steadily, but the night was not a dark one, owing to the moon, which was completely veiled by the thick, unbroken curtain of cloud—indeed, not dark enough, as both of them thought, with a quick glance upward. The huts stood around, half seen through the dim light, and Claverton could make out a black patch on the ground where had been the fire, and the place where the chiefs and councillors had sat in judgment upon him. A cur, half aroused, began to bark as they made their way through the silent kraal, bringing Claverton’s heart into his mouth as he strode along, close behind his guide. He had rolled the blanket well round his shoulders, and his head was adorned with an old battered felt hat, the brim being drawn down over his ears; and now imitating the long, elastic stride of the natives, and also their way of carrying their kerries, he would very well pass in the darkness for one of them, all muffled up as he was after the manner of a Kafir obliged to travel on a cold or wet night.
Soon the huts were left behind and they had gained the lonely bush. So dark was it beneath the overshadowing trees that Claverton could hardly keep up with his guide as they threaded the wet, slippery path, plunging deeper and deeper into the gloom; but not for worlds would he diminish the pace, every swift step bringing him nearer to liberty and all that it involved. Branches flying back swept his face, drenching him in an icy shower, wacht-am-bietje thorns seized his garments and tore his flesh, but not for a moment would he delay. On, on—ever on—on, through that wet, dank, jungly wilderness, whose lonely terrors were to this escaped captive as the fairest of surroundings. Once a great owl dropped down in their faces, gliding along on noiseless wing uttering its unearthly hoot. Strange, mysterious rustlings in the brake on either side, and the patter of feet, betrayed that the beasts of the forest were abroad; the weird, cat-like cry of a panther echoed from a gloomy pile of towering rocks overhanging their path, and, afar, the ravening howl of the great striped hyaena blended in dismal cadence with the chorus of nocturnal voices, which from time to time startled the deathly stillness of those wilds, meet abode of savage creatures, and men even yet more savage. And the rain fell with its ceaseless drip, drip, drip.
“Why, where is Tambusa?” suddenly exclaimed Claverton, looking behind. “I thought he was with us.”
“Silence!”
He obeyed, and subsided once more into his own thoughts. At length it began to lighten perceptibly. They had travelled for nearly four hours now, and travelled with marvellous directness, almost every inch of the ground being known to the experienced Kafir. Wooded heights, deep defiles, frowning krantzes, were all passed with a rapidity which astonished even Claverton, who would hardly have believed it possible to make such way on foot. Suddenly, and without turning his head, his guide breathed one single word, drowning it immediately in a slight cough.
“Caution.”
Not by word or look did Claverton betray that he had heard; but his grasp tightened round the handles of his kerries, and lo, starting out of the gloom so suddenly and so noiselessly that they might have started out of air, five Kafirs, fully armed, stood in the path before them.
A hurried conversation took place, Claverton every now and then putting in a grunt of assent with the rest, in true native fashion. Xuvani did all the talking.