The aged Prophet had, as he afterwards confided to Kenyon, positively no other course open to him under his instructions: either he must declare the party guilty, and cut them off, one and all, absolutely without exception; or he must liberate them unconditionally, congratulate them upon the success of their actions, and give them large rewards for the valuable services they had rendered to the community in destroying the slavers; and this latter course the old gentleman had, fortunately, seen his way to take.
The old fellow would, however, listen to no word of pleading or of explanation for either Amaxosa or Barad, and frankly said that he dared not leave the country until Zero was known to be actually dead, as otherwise he would himself get into very serious trouble at head-quarters, and experience an unpleasantly warm time of it on his return; and he accepted with grateful alacrity Kenyon’s offer to assist with his own party in the search for the missing man—an offer which Grenville gladly concurred in, saying that none of them could know a moment’s perfect rest until this slippery villain was finally disposed of.
To our friends, the unexplained absence of Amaxosa and of the Chieftain of the Stick was, of course, a complete enigma. Only of this one thing were they sure: that, though both might have either followed or have preceded the slaver-chief—probably the former—they certainly had not escaped along with him, but would, on the contrary, never rest until the rascal’s life-blood had washed their spears and clubs.
Chapter Nineteen.
A Forced March.
After arranging with the old Mormon to start out with Grenville and a scouting party of Zulus at dawn of day, Kenyon turned into the room jointly occupied by himself and Grenville; but, both being overwrought by the events of the day, entirely failed to find the sleep they sought, and finally rose and strolled outside for a moonlight smoke, carefully taking with them their restored and treasured rifles. Both felt relatively happy, for the fear of death—and, however brave a man may be, a violent death is still a fearsome thing—the fear of death, I say, no longer weighed upon them; and the fact that Leigh had that night taken a favourable turn, which placed him out of danger, had also lifted a load of sorrow from the heart of each; and as they strolled quietly along, the pair talked pleasantly of home and friends, and of an early start for England.
Just as the twain reached the limits of their stroll, and were about to turn back and have another try to sleep, Grenville’s keen eye detected a movement in the long grass at his right hand. Throwing forward his rifle, he was about to fire, when a shrill, peculiar whistle broke upon the night air, and, dropping the butt of his rifle upon the ground, he stood expectant, whilst Amaxosa coolly stalked forth from his lair, and, advancing to where they stood, gravely saluted them.
“Greeting, Inkoosis, greeting,” said the great Zulu; “it does my heart good to see ye free again, and gun in hand. And now, my brothers, lead me, I pray ye, to the ancient man of this people of many women and three kings, for I have news to tell him—news which will not wait; and ye must be my mouth to him, O chiefs!”