“Mrs Lyle! I was not aware”—and a sudden glow suffused the manly face unused to blushing—“that—that the young lady was married.”
“She is a widow,” answered Mr Daveney; and then he abruptly changed the subject, as, settling his reins, he directed Frankfort’s attention to a wild pass on the left, in which he had once had an adventure with Kafirs.
Married! a widow! so young! Frankfort was astonished—yet what was it to him?—His host evidently thought so too; for, having set him right as to his daughter’s position, he began talking on other matters.
Mr Daveney pointed out many a covert, whence, he said, probably some dark spirits were looking down on them, but unwilling to show themselves on the open plains. They soon sighted the vley; but it was necessary to be cautious in approaching it, in consequence of the dense bush with which it was partially bordered.
The keen-eyed old Hottentot gave it as his opinion, that no body of Kafirs was concealed within, as the birds were swaying in the branches of the taller trees, and the ground showed no sign of fresh spoor (track, footmarks). From the spot at which the party halted, only a portion of the vley was visible, and Mr Daveney was beginning to consider at which point they were to commence their reconnoitring operations, when Ormsby’s bloodhound dashed into the copse, and came back whining and importunate.
Both gentlemen dismounted, gave their horses to the Fingoes, and, despite the caution of the Hottentot, followed the beast into the bush, their arms ready. Klaas, seeing this, entered it with them; the dog leaped in, and the three creeping after him on hands and knees, Mr Daveney put aside a bough, and within a yard discovered Piet lying on his face—dead.
They turned him over; he had been stabbed in the chest by an assegai, and had doubtless crawled into the thicket to die, for a bloody track crimsoned the green leaves beyond him.
But where were May and Fitje and the child? Klaas scrambled through the copse as fast as he could, and the others, shocked at the sight, drew back instinctively.
On emerging from the bush, they found one Fingo with their horses, who informed them that his comrade had discovered the wagon, or rather the remains of it, for it had been set fire to. On reaching the side of the vley where the shattered vehicle lay, they were all greatly relieved at hearing May’s voice issuing, apparently, from the depths of the earth, and next his head appeared above ground, then Fitje’s, and, at last, the impish, roguish, yellow countenance of the child.
Kafirs had been concealed in the bush beside the vley the preceding night. Piet owed his death to his obstinacy. Jealous of May’s authority, he had dawdled behind in spite of Fitje’s entreaties to keep close to the other wagons; the more anxious she became, the more dogged was he; and, laying the long whip across the roof of the wagon, he folded his arms, and left the oxen to crawl as they liked along the pathless waste. Fitje resigned herself to circumstances with true Hottentot philosophy, and, tying down her douk, wrapped her patchwork petticoat over her child, and lay down within the vehicle to sleep. All at once she heard a groan; something rolled off the box and obstructed the fore-wheel, she looked out into the waste, and three dark figures gibbered at her in the mist. She thought she was dreaming, but she soon felt she was not; a strong arm dragged her out, and flung her on the ground, and she saw her child lifted up, about to be impaled most likely, when one of the men, whom she discovered to be Kafirs, flung it from him, remarking, “it was a girl, and not worth killing.”