A Vendetta of the Desert

by W. C. Scully

A stout coloured woman was standing at the door of a little shop, the stock-in-trade of which appeared to be composed principally of stale, unwholesome-looking fruit. Some spell of kindness in the woman’s homely face caused Kanu to pause. Then the woman addressed Elsie in Dutch, in a kind voice, and the tired child bent her head and burst into a passion of tears.

The woman drew Elsie into the shop and tried to comfort her, but it was long before the child’s pent-up woe, terror and disappointment had spent themselves. At length, when exhaustion had brought calmness, Elsie murmured that she wanted to see the Governor. The woman at once looked askance at her, suspecting that she was mad. But in a moment her look softened and her eyes became moist. Then the kind creature drew the child into a little room at the side of the shop and laid her tenderly on a bed. Elsie became calmer, so the woman drew off the tattered shoes and wept over the poor, lacerated feet. She covered the poor waif up with a soft patchwork quilt, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing her sink into a deep sleep.

The woman then went out to the shop, where Kanu was lying exhausted on the floor. She questioned him closely—and afterwards angrily, but the Bushman was proof against her cross-examination. All she could elicit from him was that they had come from a great distance and that they wanted to see the Governor about an important matter.

The woman stole back into the room on tip-toe, and gazed at the sleeping child. Made paler by sleep the face of Elsie looked like that of a corpse. Her hair lay in a glowing, tangled mass on the pillow; the gazer picked up one of the tresses and examined it with reverent wonder. Then she left the room, closed the door softly, shut up the shop and went to her kitchen for the purpose of concocting some strong broth.

It was late when Elsie woke. Her hostess was sitting at the bedside. She soothed the child, gave her a drink of warm broth and made her lie down again. Then the woman crept into the bed, and the two slumbered together until morning. Kanu had been accommodated with a sack in the kitchen and a supper of fruit which had become unsaleable stock.

At early dawn the woman arose, leaving Elsie still sleeping. She went to the kitchen and lit a large fire, over which she placed a capacious pot of water. Then she fetched a wooden tub and laid it noiselessly in the bedroom. When Elsie awoke she found a good cup of coffee and a biscuit ready for her. These she consumed with a good appetite.

It was in preparing her for the bath that the woman found out that the child was blind. Then her pity overcame her so that she sobbed aloud. She had lost her own only child, a girl of about Elsie’s age, a few years previously. After Elsie had bathed, the woman went to a cupboard and fetched out what was her greatest treasure,—the clothes of her dead child, which she had folded carefully away interspersed with aromatic herbs to keep out the moth. With the best of the garments she clothed her little guest. Then, after dressing the lacerated feet, she wrapped them in clean strips of linen, and put shoes and stockings which would have been much too large under other circumstances, upon them. This done, she combed out the child’s hair, marvelling audibly at its length and richness.

Elsie could no longer resist the importunities of her kind friend, so she told her story,—how her dearly-loved father was in prison, suffering for a crime he had never committed; how she and Kanu were the only ones who could establish his innocence; how they had run away and wandered thither over mountain and desert plain for the purpose of seeing the great English Governor and obtaining justice.

The woman did not know what to make of it. The places named were strange to her; the whole thing seemed uncanny. The extraordinary tale of the shooting, the child’s blindness,—her wonderful tresses,—the savage, wild-animal look of her diminutive protector,—his language—an outlandish click-mingled corruption of an already corrupt patois—it was quite beyond the good soul’s imaginative range, so she gave up the problem with a sigh and redoubled her tenderness to Elsie.

After breakfast Elsie and Kanu again wandered forth on their pathetic quest. The woman tried her very best to induce Elsie to remain, and let Kanu endeavour to locate the Governor’s dwelling as a preliminary measure. She herself could give no information on the subject, nor could any of the neighbours of whom she enquired. She made Elsie promise to return if her search proved unsuccessful.