He stood watching the sleeper for a few minutes, thinking of how perfectly helpless the strong man had become, and then a thought occurred to him. In an hour’s time the guinea-fowl would be coming to roost in the trees beyond the kopje, and a couple of these stewed down by Tanta Sal would make a delicious kind of broth, the very thing for the sick man. Going out, he called to the Kaffir woman, and sent her to watch over Emson; while, gun in hand, he prepared to start for the kopje, so as to get into a good hiding-place before the guinea-fowl came home to roost.
His first act was to whistle for Duke, but the dog did not appear, and this set the lad wondering, for he remembered now that he had not seen it for hours.
But he was too intent upon the task he had in hand to think more of the dog just then, and hurried on past the kopje, and into the patch of forest growth which nourished consequent upon the springs which trickled from the granite blocks that sheltered the spring and fertilised a few dozen acres of land, before sinking right down among the sand and dying away.
Dyke felt as if a complete change had come over his life during the past few hours. The golden light of evening had transformed the desert veldt, and everything looked glorious, while his spirits rose so, that had he not wanted the birds, he would have burst out shouting and singing in the exuberance of his joy.
“Who says Kopfontein isn’t a beautiful place?” he said softly. “I did, and didn’t know any better. Why, it’s lovely, and Joe and I will do well yet.”
A cloud came over his brow as he made for the patch of trees. His memory was busy, and he began to recall the past—his discontent, and how trying he must have been to his big, amiable, patient brother.
“But never again!” he said to himself. “I didn’t know any better then: I do now;” and, forgetting the dangers and troubles, or setting them aside as something of no consequence at all, Dyke passed on, and at last entered the trees just as there was a glint of something bright from which the sunset rays flashed.
But Dyke did not see the glint, neither did he hear the bushes being parted as something glided through the low growth, and another something, and then another, and again another—four dark, shadowy figures, which glided softly away, and then seemed to drop down flat and remain silent, as if watching.
Dyke saw nothing and thought of nothing now but the broth for his invalid, but picking out a good hiding-place, he cocked his piece and waited for the birds; while at the click, click of the gun-locks, something bright was raised about fifty yards from where he was hidden, and the bright thing quivered above the bushes for a few moments before it disappeared again.
That bright object, which was gilded by the sun’s rays now flashing horizontally through the trees, was the head of an assegai, sharp and cruelly dangerous; but Dyke’s eyes were gazing straight away, over the desert veldt, while he felt as if he should like to whistle.