Complete Fictional Works of John Buchan (Illustrated)

by John Buchan

  Playing football, I used to notice how towards the end of a game I might be sore and weary, without a kick in my body; but when I had a straight job of tackling a man my strength miraculously returned. It was even so now. I lay on my side, luxuriating in being still, and slowly a sort of vigour crept back into my limbs. Perhaps a half-hour of rest was given me before, on the lip of the gully, I saw figures appear. Looking down I saw several men who had come across from the opposite side of the valley, scrambling up the stream. I got to my feet, with Colin bristling beside me, and awaited them with the stiffest face I could muster.

  As I expected, they were Machudi’s men. I recognised them by the red ochre in their hair and their copper-wire necklets. Big fellows they were, long-legged and deep in the chest, the true breed of mountaineers. I admired their light tread on the slippery rock. It was hopeless to think of evading such men in their own hills.

  The men from the side joined the men in front, and they stood looking at me from about twelve yards off. They were armed only with knobkerries, and very clearly were no part of Laputa’s army. This made their errand plain to me.

  ‘Halt!’ I said in Kaffir, as one of them made a hesitating step to advance. ‘Who are you and what do you seek?’

  There was no answer, but they looked at me curiously. Then one made a motion with his stick. Colin gave a growl, and would have been on him if I had not kept a hand on his collar. The rash man drew back, and all stood stiff and perplexed.

  ‘Keep your hands by your side,’ I said, ‘or the dog, who has a devil, will devour you. One of you speak for the rest and tell me your purpose.’

  For a moment I had a wild notion that they might be friends, some of Arcoll’s scouts, and out to help me. But the first words shattered the fancy.

  ‘We are sent by Inkulu,’ the biggest of them said. ‘He bade us bring you to him.’

  ‘And what if I refuse to go?’

  ‘Then, Baas, we must take you to him. We are under the vow of the Snake.’

  ‘Vow of fiddlestick!’ I cried. ‘Who do you think is the bigger chief, the Inkulu or Ratitswan? I tell you Ratitswan is now driving Inkulu before him as a wind drives rotten leaves. It will be well for you, men of Machudi, to make peace with Ratitswan and take me to him on the Berg. If you bring me to him, I and he will reward you; but if you do Inkulu’s bidding you will soon be hunted like buck out of your hills.’

  They grinned at one another, but I could see that my words had no effect. Laputa had done his business too well.

  The spokesman shrugged his shoulders in the way the Kaffirs have. ‘We wish you no ill, Baas, but we have been bidden to take you to Inkulu. We cannot disobey the command of the Snake.’

  My weakness was coming on me again, and I could talk no more. I sat down plump on the ground, almost falling into the pool. ‘Take me to Inkulu,’ I stammered with a dry throat, ‘I do not fear him;’ and I rolled half-fainting on my back.

  These clansmen of Machudi were decent fellows. One of them had some Kaffir beer in a calabash, which he gave me to drink. The stuff was thin and sickly, but the fermentation in it did me good. I had the sense to remember my need of sleep. ‘The day is young,’ I said, ‘and I have come far. I ask to be allowed to sleep for an hour.’

  The men made no difficulty, and with my head between Colin’s paws I slipped into dreamless slumber.

  When they wakened me the sun was beginning to climb the sky, I judged it to be about eight o’clock. They had made a little fire and roasted mealies. Some of the food they gave me, and I ate it thankfully. I was feeling better, and I think a pipe would have almost completed my cure.

  But when I stood up I found that I was worse than I had thought. The truth is, I was leg-weary, which you often see in horses, but rarely in men. What the proper explanation is I do not know, but the muscles simply refuse to answer the direction of the will. I found my legs sprawling like a child’s who is learning to walk.

  ‘If you want me to go to the Inkulu, you must carry me,’ I said, as I dropped once more on the ground.

  The men nodded, and set to work to make a kind of litter out of their knobkerries and some old ropes they carried. As they worked and chattered I looked idly at the left bank of the ravine — that is, the left as you ascend it. Some of Machudi’s men had come down there, and, though the place looked sheer and perilous, I saw how they had managed it. I followed out bit by bit the track upwards, not with any thought of escape, but merely to keep my mind under control. The right road was from the foot of the pool up a long shelf to a clump of juniper. Then there was an easy chimney; then a piece of good hand-and-foot climbing; and last, another ledge which led by an easy gradient to the top. I figured all this out as I have heard a condemned man will count the windows of the houses on his way to the scaffold.

  Presently the litter was ready, and the men made signs to me to get into it. They carried me down the ravine and up the Machudi burn to the green walls at its head. I admired their bodily fitness, for they bore me up those steep slopes with never a halt, zigzagging in the proper style of mountain transport. In less than an hour we had topped the ridge, and the plateau was before me.

  It looked very homelike and gracious, rolling in gentle undulations to the western horizon, with clumps of wood in its hollows. Far away I saw smoke rising from what should be the village of the Iron Kranz. It was the country of my own people, and my captors behoved to go cautiously. They were old hands at veld-craft, and it was wonderful the way in which they kept out of sight even on the bare ridges. Arcoll could have taught them nothing in the art of scouting. At an incredible pace they hurried me along, now in a meadow by a stream side, now through a patch of forest, and now skirting a green shoulder of hill.

  Once they clapped down suddenly, and crawled into the lee of some thick bracken. Then very quietly they tied my hands and feet, and, not urgently, wound a dirty length of cotton over my mouth. Colin was meantime held tight and muzzled with a kind of bag strapped over his head. To get this over his snapping jaws took the whole strength of the party. I guessed that we were nearing the highroad which runs from the plateau down the Great Letaba valley to the mining township of Wesselsburg, away out on the plain. The police patrols must be on this road, and there was risk in crossing. Sure enough I seemed to catch a jingle of bridles as if from some company of men riding in haste.

  We lay still for a little till the scouts came back and reported the coast clear. Then we made a dart for the road, crossed it, and got into cover on the other side, where the ground sloped down to the Letaba glen. I noticed in crossing that the dust of the highway was thick with the marks of shod horses. I was very near and yet very far from my own people.

  Once in the rocky gorge of the Letaba we advanced with less care. We scrambled up a steep side gorge and came on to the small plateau from which the Cloud Mountains rise. After that I was so tired that I drowsed away, heedless of the bumping of the litter. We went up and up, and when I next opened my eyes we had gone through a pass into a hollow of the hills. There was a flat space a mile or two square, and all round it stern black ramparts of rock. This must be Inanda’s Kraal, a strong place if ever one existed, for a few men could defend all the approaches. Considering that I had warned Arcoll of this rendezvous, I marvelled that no attempt had been made to hold the entrance. The place was impregnable unless guns were brought up to the heights. I remember thinking of a story I had heard — how in the war Beyers took his guns into the Wolkberg, and thereby saved them from our troops. Could Arcoll be meditating the same exploit?

  Suddenly I heard the sound of loud voices, and my litter was dropped roughly on the ground. I woke to clear consciousness in the midst of pandemonium.

  CHAPTER 16

  INANDA’S KRAAL

  The vow was at an end. In place of the silent army of yesterday a mob of maddened savages surged around me. They were chanting a wild song, and brandishing spears and rifles to its accompaniment. From their bloodshot eyes stared the lust of blood, the fury
of conquest, and all the aboriginal passions on which Laputa had laid his spell. In my mind ran a fragment from Laputa’s prayer in the cave about the ‘Terrible Ones.’ Machudi’s men — stout fellows, they held their ground as long as they could — were swept out of the way, and the wave of black savagery seemed to close over my head.

  I thought my last moment had come. Certainly it had but for Colin. The bag had been taken from his head, and the fellow of Machudi’s had dropped the rope round his collar. In a red fury of wrath the dog leaped at my enemies. Though every man of them was fully armed, they fell back, for I have noticed always that Kaffirs are mortally afraid of a white man’s dog. Colin had the sense to keep beside me. Growling like a thunderstorm he held the ring around my litter.

  The breathing space would not have lasted long, but it gave me time to get to my feet. My wrists and feet had been unbound long before, and the rest had cured my leg-weariness. I stood up in that fierce circle with the clear knowledge that my life hung by a hair.

  ‘Take me to Inkulu,’ I cried. ‘Dogs and fools, would you despise his orders? If one hair of my head is hurt, he will flay you alive. Show me the way to him, and clear out of it.’

  I dare say there was a break in my voice, for I was dismally frightened, but there must have been sufficient authority to get me a hearing. Machudi’s men closed up behind me, and repeated my words with flourishes and gestures. But still the circle held. No man came nearer me, but none moved so as to give me passage.

  Then I screwed up my courage, and did the only thing possible. I walked straight into the circle, knowing well that I was running no light risk. My courage, as I have already explained, is of little use unless I am doing something. I could not endure another minute of sitting still with those fierce eyes on me.

  The circle gave way. Sullenly they made a road for me, closing up behind on my guards, so that Machudi’s men were swallowed in the mob, Alone I stalked forward with all that huge yelling crowd behind me.

  I had not far to go. Inanda’s Kraal was a cluster of kyas and rondavels, shaped in a half-moon, with a flat space between the houses, where grew a big merula tree. All around was a medley of little fires, with men squatted beside them. Here and there a party had finished their meal, and were swaggering about with a great shouting. The mob into which I had fallen was of this sort, and I saw others within the confines of the camp. But around the merula tree there was a gathering of chiefs, if I could judge by the comparative quiet and dignity of the men, who sat in rows on the ground. A few were standing, and among them I caught sight of Laputa’s tall figure. I strode towards it, wondering if the chiefs would let me pass.

  The hubbub of my volunteer attendants brought the eyes of the company round to me. In a second it seemed every man was on his feet. I could only pray that Laputa would get to me before his friends had time to spear me. I remember I fixed my eyes on a spur of hill beyond the kraal, and walked on with the best resolution I could find. Already I felt in my breast some of the long thin assegais of Umbooni’s men.

  But Laputa did not intend that I should be butchered. A word from him brought his company into order, and the next thing I knew I was facing him, where he stood in front of the biggest kya, with Henriques beside him, and some of the northern indunas. Henriques looked ghastly in the clear morning light, and he had a linen rag bound round his head and jaw, as if he suffered from toothache. His face was more livid, his eyes more bloodshot, and at the sight of me his hand went to his belt, and his teeth snapped. But he held his peace, and it was Laputa who spoke. He looked straight through me, and addressed Machudi’s men.

  ‘You have brought back the prisoner. That is well, and your service will be remembered. Go to ‘Mpefu’s camp on the hill there, and you will be given food.’

  The men departed, and with them fell away the crowd which had followed me. I was left, very giddy and dazed, to confront Laputa and his chiefs. The whole scene was swimming before my eyes. I remember there was a clucking of hens from somewhere behind the kraal, which called up ridiculous memories. I was trying to remember the plan I had made in Machudi’s glen. I kept saying to myself like a parrot: ‘The army cannot know about the jewels. Laputa must keep his loss secret. I can get my life from him if I offer to give them back.’ It had sounded a good scheme three hours before, but with the man’s hard face before me, it seemed a frail peg to hang my fate on.

  Laputa’s eye fell on me, a clear searching eye with a question in it.

  There was something he was trying to say to me which he dared not put into words. I guessed what the something was, for I saw his glance run over my shirt and my empty pockets.

  ‘You have made little of your treachery,’ he said. ‘Fool, did you think to escape me? I could bring you back from the ends of the earth.’

  ‘There was no treachery,’ I replied. ‘Do you blame a prisoner for trying to escape? When shooting began I found myself free, and I took the road for home. Ask Machudi’s men and they will tell you that I came quietly with them, when I saw that the game was up.’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It matters very little what you did. You are here now. — Tie him up and put him in my kya,’ he said to the bodyguard. ‘I have something to say to him before he dies.’

  As the men laid hands on me, I saw the exultant grin on Henriques’ face. It was more than I could endure.

  ‘Stop,’ I said. ‘You talk of traitors, Mr Laputa. There is the biggest and blackest at your elbow. That man sent word to Arcoll about your crossing at Dupree’s Drift. At our outspan at noon yesterday he came to me and offered me my liberty if I would help him. He told me he was a spy, and I flung his offer in his face. It was he who shot the Keeper by the river side, and would have stolen the Snake if I had not broken his head. You call me a traitor, and you let that thing live, though he has killed your priest and betrayed your plans. Kill me if you like, but by God let him die first.’

  I do not know how the others took the revelation, for my eyes were only for the Portugoose. He made a step towards me, his hands twitching by his sides.

  ‘You lie,’ he screamed in that queer broken voice which much fever gives. ‘It was this English hound that killed the Keeper, and felled me when I tried to save him. The man who insults my honour is dead.’ And he plucked from his belt a pistol.

  A good shot does not miss at two yards. I was never nearer my end than in that fraction of time while the weapon came up to the aim. It was scarcely a second, but it was enough for Colin. The dog had kept my side, and had stood docilely by me while Laputa spoke. The truth is, he must have been as tired as I was. As the Kaffirs approached to lay hands on me he had growled menacingly, but when I spoke again he had stopped. Henriques’ voice had convinced him of a more urgent danger, and so soon as the trigger hand of the Portugoose rose, the dog sprang. The bullet went wide, and the next moment dog and man were struggling on the ground.

  A dozen hands held me from going to Colin’s aid, but oddly enough no one stepped forward to help Henriques. The ruffian kept his head, and though the dog’s teeth were in his shoulder, he managed to get his right hand free. I saw what would happen, and yelled madly in my apprehension. The yellow wrist curved, and the pistol barrel was pressed below the dog’s shoulder. Thrice he fired, the grip relaxed, and Colin rolled over limply, fragments of shirt still hanging from his jaw. The Portugoose rose slowly with his hand to his head, and a thin stream of blood dripping from his shoulder. As I saw the faithful eyes glazing in death, and knew that I had lost the best of all comrades, I went clean berserk mad. The cluster of men round me, who had been staring open-eyed at the fight, were swept aside like reeds. I went straight for the Portugoose, determined that, pistol or no pistol, I would serve him as he had served my dog.

  For my years I was a well-set-up lad, long in the arms and deep in the chest. But I had not yet come to my full strength, and in any case I could not hope to fight the whole of Laputa’s army. I was flung back and forwards like a shuttlecock. They played some kind of game
with me, and I could hear the idiotic Kaffir laughter. It was blind man’s buff, so far as I was concerned, for I was blind with fury. I struck out wildly left and right, beating the air often, but sometimes getting in a solid blow on hard black flesh. I was soundly beaten myself, pricked with spears, and made to caper for savage sport. Suddenly I saw Laputa before me, and hurled myself madly at his chest. Some one gave me a clout on the head, and my senses fled.

  When I came to myself, I was lying on a heap of mealie-stalks in a dark room. I had a desperate headache, and a horrid nausea, which made me fall back as soon as I tried to raise myself. A voice came out of the darkness as I stirred — a voice speaking English.

  ‘Are you awake, Mr Storekeeper?’

  The voice was Laputa’s, but I could not see him. The room was pitch dark, except for a long ray of sunlight on the floor.

  ‘I’m awake,’ I said. ‘What do you want with me?’

  Some one stepped out of the gloom and sat down near me. A naked black foot broke the belt of light on the floor.

  ‘For God’s sake get me a drink,’ I murmured. The figure rose and fetched a pannikin of water from a pail. I could hear the cool trickle of the drops on the metal. A hand put the dish to my mouth, and I drank water with a strong dash of spirits. This brought back my nausea, and I collapsed on the mealie-stalks till the fit passed. Again the voice spoke, this time from close at hand.

  ‘You are paying the penalty of being a fool, Mr Storekeeper. You are young to die, but folly is common in youth. In an hour you will regret that you did not listen to my advice at Umvelos’.’