But the spoor could then be traced no further, and the nature of the ground rendered it extremely unlikely that any more tracks would be found. The top of the mountain was composed of flat stones lying closely together, and bare even of lichen.
At nightfall the searchers again returned to the homestead, and Nomfunda hurried down the mountain to the spring, from which he drank his fill of the pure, cold, delicious water, the dog lapping next to him. Then he again ascended the mountain, stepping carefully from stone to stone so as to avoid making a spoor. In places where the stones were not continuous he carried the dog in his arms. He knew the animal was a source of danger to him, and he thought of tying its mouth up and its legs together and cutting its throat, but he remembered that the signs of the deed would be so much more to conceal, and, moreover, he could not endure the thought of the utter loneliness which would be his lot without the dog’s companionship.
At midnight Nomfunda was sitting on a stone near the very summit of the mountain. The place where the body was concealed was about half-a-mile from him. The night was cold, but he did not feel any inconvenience although clothed only in a threadbare cotton blanket. He had been for two days almost without food, and for three nights he had not slept, yet he knew neither hunger nor fatigue. Just then he felt fairly comfortable. He was quite easy in his mind about the body; it would never be found—none of the searchers would ever dream of looking in that cave—probably none of them even knew of its existence... Nomfunda sprang to his feet and gasped for breath, whilst his very heart seemed to freeze in his breast. Had he not himself shown this very cave to young Piet, “Rooi Jan’s” brother, one day when they together were seeking strayed horses about two years ago? Fool, and again fool! Why had he hidden the body there? Talking over the events of the day down at the homestead, young Piet had probably by this told the others about the cave. It was certain to be visited next day—probably early in the morning. What was there to be done? An unspeakable solution of the difficulty kept suggesting itself, but he drove the frightful notion from him over and over again. At length it overwhelmed him like the slime of a serpent that drenches a crushed victim about to be swallowed. He must enter the charnel cave, and remove the body to some other hiding-place. But the horror of it! There is nothing so horrifying to a native as having to handle a dead body... “Rooi Jan” had been dead nearly three days... He felt through every fibre of his tortured being that he could not do this thing. But he must. The body must not be found. Until the body were found there was only suspicion against him; not proof. Yes, it must be done, so get it over quickly and then laugh at danger. He caught up the dog again in his arms and fled, leaping from stone to stone, towards the cave. Before he reached it he had made up his mind as to what he should do with the corpse. There was another cave in an adjoining mountain about four miles away, and in a very inaccessible place. Fool, and again fool, not to have thought of this spot in the first instance.
Nomfunda readied the mouth of the cave and, throwing down the dog, burst through the bushes into the charnel-house. He tore a strip off his blanket and tied it over his mouth and nostrils. Then he caught up the body, which lay horribly limp in his arms. He seemed to be endowed with more than human strength. The frightful thing seemed to cling to him as it lay across his shoulders, and one loosely-hanging hand patted him gruesomely on the bare flesh of his flank with rhythm corresponding to his steps. His course led over bare, flat, rocky ledges. Here and there he sat down to rest. He noticed that the dog, although it followed, did not come near him. Day was just breaking when he reached the other cave. He entered at once, and placed the body in a cleft at the further extremity, piling up stones, which he felt for in the darkness, against it. One of these slipped down, and Nomfunda thought he heard the body move. He gave a wild shriek and rushed outside. It was broad daylight. The dog heard his steps and ran forward to meet him. When it caught sight of his face the dog stopped short and stood rigid with uplifted paw, and a tingling ridge of hair erected along its back. Then it gave a terrible howl, turned, and fled. It never returned to him.
All day long the wretched Nomfunda lay beneath the undermined bank of a donga. Reeds and long grass concealed his hiding-place. When night fell, he again visited the spring, drank his fill of water, and plundered a bees’ nest in the cliff, from which he had only recently removed nearly all the honey. The combs were now full of bee-bread and young bees. These were better as food for him just then than mere honey would have been. After this he re-ascended the mountain and again concealed himself in the donga, where he fell into a deep sleep. This was the first time he had slept since the death of “Rooi Jan.” He was awakened early in the forenoon of the next day by voices. The speakers stood so close that he could hear what they were saying. Their speech was to the effect that in the event of the present day’s search proving unsuccessful they would on the following day overhaul the adjacent mountain, in which it was known that several caves existed. The wretched listener nearly expired from sheer terror. When night fell he emerged from his den and hurried to the second sepulchre of “Rooi Jan.” The body must again be removed. The moon was new and sank soon after the sun. He reached the cave and grovelled upon the ground before the entrance in terror and anguish. But the awful deed had to be done. He entered; the air was horribly foetid. One by one, with dreadful groanings, he dragged away the piled-up stones, and then, trying to hold his breath, he bore the corpse out into the pure air of the spring night. Then, shutting his teeth tight, he lifted the swollen horror to his shoulders and carried it in the direction of its former resting-place. He knew of another secret spot—a deep cleft near the edge of the clift overhanging the spring. He reached this spot with his ghastly burthen just before dawn. He rolled the body into the cleft and covered it with small bushes and handfuls of grass which he pulled out. After this he concealed himself in another cleft in the vicinity.
Shortly after daybreak he saw the searchers again ascending the kloof, one of them leading his dog by a rein fastened to its neck. They passed over the mountain to his left, and he did not again see them until they returned in the evening. About mid-day he saw his dog, which had evidently escaped, running as hard as ever it could down the mountain towards the homestead, with the rein trailing from its neck.
Nomfunda remained three weeks upon the mountain, and nine separate times he took the body of “Rooi Jan” on his shoulders at the last hiding-place, and, limping on lacerated and bleeding feet, removed it to another. The moon grew night by night in soft splendour, and looked down upon the awful spectacle of a putrid human corpse being carried from place to place by a human being. The tempest wrapped the mountain in flame and roarings, and the rain-charged wind buffeted the quick and the dead thus linked together by a gruesome prank of Fate. The pure breath of the midnight mountain breeze hurried on to rid itself of the taint left by the gross gases of mortality which the earth should have sealed up in its transmuting alembic, and the clear mountain height, sacred to the most cleanly influences of Nature, was polluted by the ghoul-wanderings of a terrific creature bearing an unspeakable burthen, whom horror had deprived of the semblance of humanity.
The sequel to this narrative may be found in the records of a certain Circuit Court and the (more or less) thirty-year-old files of some Colonial newspapers. It may therein be read how old Gezwint was perplexed by the fresh spoors which he found from time to time; these sometimes showing signs of blood. Further, how the searchers eventually determined to remain on the mountain by night, where they then scattered about in pairs; how two of the searchers, concealed one night near a certain footpath, were startled by the sound of heavy groanings, followed by the rustle of staggering footsteps and an awful stench; how they then captured Nomfunda carrying what had once been the body of “Rooi Jan” Marais. He made no resistance, and they led him away to prison. His aspect was such as to strike dread into all who beheld him.
It may also be ascertained from the same sources how Nomfunda was tried for murder by a jury composed of Dutch farmers, found guilty without any recommendation to mercy, and sentenced to be hanged by the neck till he was dead; how a certain minister of the United Presbyterian Church obtained access to the condemned man, heard his story, believed it, went to the scene of the initial tragedy, and found “Rooi Jan’s” gun where it was still concealed, with one barrel empty and one yet loaded; how representations were made to the proper quarter with the effect that the death-sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life. One somehow fails to see clearly either the justice or mercy of this particular commutation. Possibly Nomfunda is still serving out his sentence.