by L. T. Meade
*Chapter VI.*
*THE SHADOWERS AND THE SHADOWED.*
Antonio Minho, at eleven o'clock on the morning on which the Englishmenhad quitted Mossamedes, was to be seen with Karl Engelbrecht in thecoolest corner of the billiard-room in a well-known canteen in the town,engaged in earnest conversation. The two men had long glasses ofcooling drinks in front of them, and looked thoroughly comfortable.Antonio Minho was a Madeira-born Portuguese, who, some six years before,having found that lovely island somewhat too hot to hold him, had madehis way to Benguela and thence to Mossamedes. He was a clever rascal,who spoke English and Spanish as well as his own language, and in ayear's time had found no difficulty in acquiring a fair knowledge ofBoer Dutch. He had many transactions with the Trek Boers, and, havingopened a general store, managed to extract from these farmers andhunters of the wilderness a good deal of profit. Karl Engelbrecht wasone of his best customers, and the two had done much business together,the bulk of it of an exceedingly doubtful character. Each man had foundthe other useful to him, and a strong alliance, offensive and defensive,had been struck up between them.
"Well, Karl," said Minho, as he took a pull at his gin tonic and lit acigar, "I have more news for you."
"What is it, my friend?" asked the Boer, in his thick guttural voice.
"Well, it's this," continued the Portuguese, contemplating the burningend of his cigar. "For several days, as you know, I have made it mybusiness to discover what this Englishman and his two cubs are after. Ihave, as I told you, opened up communication through my bedroom wall,and by this means have overheard a good deal, as Blakeney has been inthe habit of chatting with the boys before they went to bed eachevening. Thanks to the two dear cubs, whose thirst for information isinexhaustible, I have managed to discover that they are on the track ofsome wonderful gold discovery. Poeskop, your Bushman friend, is, Igather, the man who is to lead them into some part of the interior wheregold is to be found abundantly."
"Poeskop, my friend, is to do this, is he?" repeated Engelbrecht, with agrim, hoarse laugh. "Poeskop owes me for a good many rubs. Perhaps Imay find means to make him repay me. Well, what further? You know I amnot much of a believer in gold and gold mines."
"I have discovered something besides," pursued Minho. "Do you remembera man named Hardcastle, an English mining engineer, who was in thiscountry a year or so back?"
"Yes, I do," returned the Boer. "He took on that scoundrel Poeskopafter he ran away from me. What of him?"
"He's dead," said the Portuguese, "and one of these two boys is his son.They have from this dead Hardcastle some kind of a clue to a gold fieldor a gold treasure of some sort, and Poeskop is the man who is to guidethem to it. Now, you scoff at gold, and in the ordinary way I should beprepared to scoff too. I have seen and heard of too many frosts in theway of mineral discovery, even in the six years I have been out here.But look at this case! This man, Blakeney, whatever we may think ofhim"--a snort and an opprobrious expression from Karl Engelbrecht hereinterrupted the Portuguese's remarks--"whatever we may think of him," hewent on, "and I know your opinion is not a flattering one, is no fool.Blakeney, I say, has come out on no other errand than to hunt up thistreasure. Hardcastle was, I gather, himself hot upon the scent of thegold, and he was not a man likely to run about on a fool's errand. Iknew him, and he was a shrewd fellow. Poeskop seems to be the backboneor mainspring of the whole thing. As far as I can make out, he, and heonly, is the man who knows where the gold is."
"Then," broke in Engelbrecht, "all we have to do is to kidnap Poeskop,squeeze his secret out of him--a matter easy enough away out on theveldt--and rake in the plunder. There will be no difficulty insurprising the camp at any time, and the rest is easy enough."
"Steady, my friend," said Minho. "You go too fast. This Englishman, asfar as I can make out, is a good veldt man, and not likely to be hustledout of his secret in this easy way. And Poeskop, as you yourself knowvery well, is as cunning a little piece of vermin as ever crawled on twolegs. He'll not be easily squeezed or caught either. I've had my eyeon Poeskop for a long time, thinking to make use of him; and I shouldhave done so already if that man Hardcastle had not turned up, and you,I may add, had not been so unwise as to quarrel with a clever servant.Why, Poeskop is worth all the rest of your 'boys' put together."
"Well, if my plan doesn't suit you, what do you propose?" asked the Boergruffly. Engelbrecht, as the result of much experience, had acquired agood deal of respect for the crafty and resourceful mind of hisPortuguese ally; he recognized that the affair they were now engaged onwas something out of the ordinary run of things, and he was prepared tolisten to his advice.
"My plan," said Minho, a smile of oily cunning illuminating his fat,yellow face, "is a somewhat different one. I think it would be veryunwise to attempt to seize Poeskop before he has shown where thetreasure is. If, as I hope and firmly believe, there is gold where theyare making for, let us wait. Let us shadow them in their wanderings,and when they have laid hands upon the treasure, we shall find somemeans of making them part with it, even if"--and he smiled grimly at thethought that rose before him--"we have to use some of your strongmeasures to make them do so."
Karl Engelbrecht's right hand dived into his jacket pocket, from whichhe took a handful of Boer tobacco and filled his pipe. A hideous grinexpanded over his broad face and illumined very unpleasantly his paleblue eyes.
"Ja!" he said, contemplatively. "That is a good idea of yours, Antonio.We will shadow them, and see them to their treasure ground. Then--well,we shall see what we shall see." The evil grin grew yet broader, andthe Boer burst into a shout of laughter. "Ah!" he said, "I have twolong accounts to settle; one with that _schepsel_ Poeskop, the otherwith this Englishman. I shall not rest content, day or night, till I ameven, and more than even, with them. But," he continued in a gravertone, "are you sure, Antonio, that these men are on the track of gold?What if the whole thing is a fool's errand, and the Bushman is deceivingthem?"
"Trust to me, Karl, in this affair," returned the Portuguese; "I knowwhat I am about, and I have heard enough to convince me that this thingis genuine. I want a change. I have been too long in Mossamedes, and Iwill come with you myself. We can take a wagon with a light load oftrading stuff, and do some business. I have a lot of Hamburg gin, whichI must work off somewhere. But we shall have to be very careful, sothat the Englishmen have no suspicion that we are on their spoor."
"Ja," added Engelbrecht, emptying his glass. "We will keep at least twodays' trek behind them. I will have a man or two out in front of us,keeping an eye on them. My Hottentot, Stuurman, is a capital fellow fora business like this. I will pack him off on a horse to-day with someprovisions. He can follow the party up, and let us know theirmovements. At present they are taking the Humpata road--that much Ihave ascertained. We will get our things together, and start in a dayand a half's time. That will be time enough."
"Right you are, Karl," added Minho. "I will be ready in twenty-fourhours' time. Send your wagon round to my place, and I'll load up two orthree thousand pounds weight of trading stuff. We must leave room forour kartels. Now, let us have one more drink, and be off." The tworuffians drank to the success of their precious conspiracy, andseparated.
The English trekkers had negotiated, after considerable difficulty, thegreat mountain range that lay in front of them. There was some kind ofa track, but it lay through wild ravines littered with boulders andovergrown with thorn bush and low timber, and it took them a long dayand a half of severe labour before they had accomplished the passage andemerged upon the open country beyond.
The whole camp--oxen, horses, and men--enjoyed a long rest thatafternoon, and after a good night's sleep all were refreshed andcheerful upon the following morning. They were up as the sun rose, andafter ablutions in a bucket of water, Mr. Blakeney and the two lads satdown to an excellent breakfast of klipspringer chops and fry--Tom hadshot one of these little mountain bu
ck on the previous day--with keenappetites. Good coffee and a tin of marmalade rounded off an amplemeal. Each of them had a little squat wagon chair, such as the Boerscarry on their travels. The frames were made of the tough wood of the_kameeldoorn_ (giraffe-acacia), and the seats consisted of thongs of rawhide. These folded up, and were stowed under the wagon while theytrekked. A small folding table did duty for all three of them.
"Now, lads," said Mr. Blakeney, as, having filled and lit his pipe, hestood up and looked over the country in front of them, "Poeskop saysthat we shall find plenty of game out here. I believe we shall. Itlooks all over like a game veldt. We may see giraffe, buffalo, eland,blue wildebeest, roan antelope, zebra, lion, leopard, and wart-hog atany time. It's beautiful veldt. It reminds me of part of Khama'sCountry and Mashonaland. I only hope the game will be as plentiful asit used to be there twenty years ago, when I was a lad a year or twoolder than you are now, Guy."
And, indeed, the scene was very fair. They stood on the lower slopes ofthe mountain range through which Poeskop had shown them a path. Forsome miles in front open forest of giraffe-acacia lay before them.Beyond this stretched a vast plain of grass, here and there dotted witha clump or two of trees or a patch of bush. Through the centre of thisgreat yellow plain ran a dark-green ribbon of thorn bush, indicating thebed of a stream. Far away in the dim distance rested, blue on thehorizon, another chain of mountains.
"It's perfectly splendid," exclaimed Tom enthusiastically. "Father, I'llget your stalking-glass."
The boy climbed up into the wagon and took down from a hook at the sidea leather case, from which he drew one of Ross's telescopes. Seatinghimself on the ground, he adjusted the focus and gazed over the plain.
"There's game out there on the flat!" he cried. "I can see clumps hereand there. What do you make them out to be, father?"
His father took the glass, and indulged in a prolonged survey.
"I take most of those clumps to be blue wildebeest and quacha," he saidpresently. "When I say 'quacha,' Guy," he added, "I don't mean the oldCape Colony, half-striped quagga, which is now quite extinct, butBurchell's zebra, which the Boers and up-country hunters still alwaysinsist on calling quacha. As a matter of fact, the old Dutch hunterscalled the true quagga 'quacha,' and Burchell's zebra 'bonte quacha,'which latter means 'striped quacha.' Quacha, by the way, is an oldHottentot word, taken from the neighing call of the animal, which hasbeen corrupted to our English quagga. Well, now, I think I see someother kinds of game, probably eland, hartebeest, or tsesseby--what theBoers call bastard hartebeest--and, I fancy, ostriches. We'll trek inan hour. The wagon will move along across the plain. Meanwhile we'llsaddle our best ponies, and see if we can't find a troop of roanantelope or giraffe as we ride through the forest. We'll go ahead ofthe wagon. Jan Kokerboom knows the route, straight across the plain forthe mountain yonder in the distance. Poeskop can come with us and helpspoor. Hi! Poeskop!" he called out.
The little Bushman came up.
"Ja, baas!" he said, his eyes twinkling with pleasure.
"We shall go in front of the wagon, Poeskop," said Mr. Blakeney, "andyou can come with us. Take the bay pony, Rooibok; he'll carry you verywell. And mind, if we find _kameel_ [giraffe] you are not to shoot; atall events, until the young baases have each had a fair chance. I wantthem to shoot a kameel apiece. When they have done that, you and I canjoin in. Shall we find kameel, think you?"
"Ik denk so, baas," answered the Bushman. "I have been out since sun-upin the forest yonder, and I have seen spoor of kameel and rhinoster."
"Splendid," said Guy. "Now let's saddle up and be off."
They soon had their ponies ready, and, strapping on their bandoliers,fastened their spurs, took down their rifles from the wagon hooks,mounted, and rode down the hill.
"Now, boys," said Mr. Blakeney, "I want you to remember two things. Ifwe find giraffe--kameel, as the up-country hunters all call them--wemust try and drive them out on to the plain in front. Then we can runthem down fairly comfortably. You must ride hard at first. Don't beafraid of using sjambok and spur. Try and push the giraffe beyond theirspeed, and they are yours. Ride right up to the stern of the beasts andput in your shots as you gallop, as near as possible to the root of thetail. Your bullets will penetrate the giraffe's short body, and you'llbring him down. You, Guy, take the biggest one of the troop. Follow himas hard as you can split, and stick to him till you get him.Blinkbonny, your pony, is a real good one, and knows what to do. You,Tom, take the next biggest, which will be, probably, a tall cow, and runher down. Now we'll get on. No talking, except in the merest whisper.Spread out, and keep an eye on Poeskop. You can't mistake giraffespoor. It's like the huge, elongated footprint of a colossal ox, if youcan imagine such a thing."
They rode into the forest and, spreading out a few paces apart, followedthe lead of the Bushman, who, mounted on an upstanding pony of fourteenhands three inches, looked an odd little figure. On they went in silencefor half an hour, Poeskop pointing here and there to spoor as theypassed it. A big troop of lovely red pallah swept across their front,the graceful antelopes bounding into the air as they shot past. Numbersof guinea-fowl were to be seen moving hither and thither, busily engagedin digging up the bulbs on which they feed. An hour had passed. Theyhad sighted koodoo, and let them go unscathed, hoping for heavier game.Some tracks of buffalo had been crossed. But they were now hot upon thespoor of a good troop of giraffe. The boys noted with the keenestinterest the huge, slipper-like impression left in the red sand. Heresome of the troop had browsed round a giraffe-acacia; the scraping oftheir fore feet, as they had stretched themselves to their fullestcapacity to seize some tempting morsel of foliage, was plainly apparentin the tell-tale sand. Poeskop, mounted as he was, described theoperation in dumb show, with all the dramatic ability of his race.
Suddenly he drew rein and lifted a warning hand. Then pointing through awide, open glade in the forest, he glared intently. His audience staredhard, and saw nothing stir for a full half-minute. Then something whichthey had mistaken for the trunk of a tree moved, and they saw instantlythat it was a giraffe.
"Go on," whispered Mr. Blakeney; "ride for the right hand. Push themout in the open." They walked their horses forward, and then, onclearing a patch of timber, an amazing and most wonderful sight wasbefore them. A hundred and fifty yards away, gathered round three orfour spreading trees of the giraffe-acacia species, stood a troop ofmore than twenty tall giraffes. Most of the animals were browsingcontentedly at the green leafage; some few stood with necks stretchedout at an angle of forty-five degrees, quietly chewing the cud andapparently half asleep. The troop varied much in colour. A huge, old,mahogany-coloured bull, so dark as to appear almost black upon his backand shoulders, towered above the rest. Several fine cows of a richorange-tawny colour stood next. Then came young cows, a young bull ortwo, and some stilty, half-grown calves, all varying in colour fromorange-tawny and rufous-tan to a pale yellowish buff.
All this the hunters took in instantly; then, setting spurs to theirponies, they sprang forward in the chase. There was a strange, confusedmovement of tall heads and necks among the startled giraffe, and thenthe troop, having swung round their heads and noted the danger thatmenaced them, strode off at a curious, gliding shuffle. The hunterscantered, but their canter made but little impression. The shufflingwalk of a giraffe is, as a matter of fact, far faster than any oneunacquainted with these animals could imagine.
"Gallop hard, boys," shouted Mr. Blakeney excitedly, "or they will getaway from us."
Following his example, the two lads now put spurs to their ponies andgalloped in right earnest. Even in this open forest the chase was by nomeans an easy one. Guy, being the best mounted, pressed ahead, and,passing his uncle, rode for the great dark bull, which was lunging alongat the head of the troop, evidently trying to sheer right-handed for thedeeper parts of the forest. But Guy's blood was now up, and, pressinghis good pony yet more, he galloped faster than the flying
giants. Thetroop swung across an open glade, and, as they strode along like tall,dappled spectres, it seemed to Guy that he must surely be gazing uponsome long-forgotten pageant of the earth's primeval past. Theseextraordinary creatures could surely scarce belong to this modern world!The whole thing seemed almost unreal. Still he galloped on, andpresently achieved his purpose. The big bull, seeing that he was foiledin his attempt to plunge deeper into the forest, sheered left-handed andincreased his pace. The troop began to string out, the calves andyounger animals falling behind. Guy was riding, like his uncle andcousin, in his flannel shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. It was a warmmorning, and their coats were as usual strapped to their saddle-bows.
On they went, through thorn jungle, over fallen timber, dodging treetrunks. Now the big bull tacked round a tree with the deftness of awell-handled yacht. Now a tall cow bent her swan-like neck and duckedmarvellously under the spreading branches of an acacia. Guy felt many ascratch and stab as his excited pony plunged through the thorny brakes.In a patch of _haak-doorn_, through which they forced a passage, hisleft stirrup-leather and stirrup were ripped clean from the saddle. Helost his hat. These were mere nothings in the heat of a chase such asthis, and he galloped on. At last they were clearing the forest. Nowthey were on the grass, with nothing but wide, open plain in front ofthem. Barring falls, that big bull must surely soon be his. The greatgiraffe was now running apart from the rest of the troop, going greatguns, and manifestly thinking only of the safety of his own skin. Thesmooth, long, shuffling walk had been long since exchanged for a strangerocking gallop, in which the hind legs were straddled widely, and thelong neck swung up and down in a rhythmic motion, which reminded Guy ofa gigantic pendulum. Meanwhile the long black tail, screwed oddly up,was executing wild and fantastic flourishes. The chase swept headlongover the pale yellow grass plain. A mile and more had been accomplishedsince they quitted the timber. The great bull was running well, but Guynoted with a sense of exultation that he was now no more than eightyyards ahead. Another mile slipped by. The bull was tiring; he was nowno more than sixty yards ahead. Guy shook up his pony and gave him justone firm touch of the spur. The gallant beast answered by a wonderfuland prolonged spurt, which carried his rider to within twenty yards ofthat great dappled figure, rocking and swaying, like some tall ship onan uneasy sea, in front of them. One more touch of the spur and Guy waswithin eight paces of the giant's tail. Dropping his reins, he raisedhis rifle and fired. The heavy Martini bullet struck the giraffe fair,close to the root of the tail, and the great beast staggered to theshot. Still it pressed on. Guy instantly reloaded, and, taking aim aswell as the motion of his pony would allow him, fired again. This timehis bullet raked the giant's heart. Guy saw that its end had come, andgalloped wide to the left. The bull faltered in his stride, staggered,strode on again, again staggered, and then with a crash that literallyshook the earth fell to rise no more. The mighty limbs kicked twice orthrice, once the long neck was raised, then a shiver passed over thedappled frame, and the beast was dead.
Guy leapt from his reeking pony and, wild with excitement, turned towave his rifle to the rest of the party. A quarter of a mile away onthe left he saw Tom and his father riding close up to the rear of themain troop, which now contained about twelve giraffes. In a matter of ahundred yards Tom was right up behind a big cow. He fired, and the cow,turning away from her fellows, stood. Tom jumped off and finished her.Meanwhile Mr. Blakeney, having seen Tom bring his chase to a standstill,was himself galloping hard to make up leeway. He was soon up behindanother tall cow, and she too went down. Three giraffes in the space offive minutes! Guy shouted congratulations to his fellow sportsmen, andturned to attend to his prize.
It was a magnificent beast, indeed, that lay before him. As Guyexamined it, handled it carefully, almost lovingly, he realized themighty proportions of the creature. His fingers could make noimpression on the thick, tense skin of the back and ribs and neck.Almost the mighty beast seemed to be enveloped in a mantle of bronze.Presently Mr. Blakeney, having picked up Tom, rode up.
"Well done, my lad," he said. "You've got the finest camel of thetroop. A tremendous old fellow. Let me tape him. I never saw abigger."
The tape measure was carefully and scientifically applied.
"Eighteen feet nine, from hoof to tip of false horns! That's a greatmeasurement," said Mr. Blakeney. "You seldom hear of a better. Onlyonce or twice in five years of knocking about in the interior have Iheard of giraffe of nineteen feet."
