VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
"A LIFE FOR A LIFE."
When a man knows that the first light of dawn will see him led forth toa lingering death by torture, he is not likely to pass a very tranquilnight, be he never so courageous or philosophical. Clavertonexemplified both of these attributes to the full; yet as he lay there,thinking upon his position, even his fearless spirit sank within him.
To begin with, there was not the shadow of a chance of escape. He wasfirmly secured with strong and well-tried _reims_--a detail to which hiscaptors, warned by the Mopela episode, had given their extra attention--and two stalwart Kafirs, fully armed, mounted guard over him by relays,one lying across the door of the hut. Not a muscle could he move, notever so slightly could he shift his wearisome position, but their eyeswere upon him, as they sat chatting in their deep bass tones; butcarefully avoiding any subject likely to interest their charge.
And he? He looked upon himself as dead already. His guards started andgazed at him watchfully, handling their weapons, as he ground his teethaudibly in the fury begotten of his reflections. Their task was not acongenial one, for in their superstitions souls, hatred of a powerfulenemy was strongly dashed with a touch of secret awe. They hadwitnessed what hid befallen Mopela, then the terrific storm breakingover them all at the very moment when they were about to sacrifice theprisoner, and now they were by no means easy in their minds, shut up atsuch close quarters with such a formidable foe, even though he wasbound, and helpless as a log. The rain swept down in sheets outside,and the wind howled in furious gusts; within sat the prisoner and hissavage sentinels, the latter huddled in their blankets and talkingdrowsily.
Yes. At last Claverton felt that he must yield to Fate. Fortune hadbefriended him for long, but now it had forsaken him. Many a triflingincident, little thought of at the time, now seemed fraught with direfulomen. Lilian's forebodings of ill, followed by the reappearance of thehated rival; the unusually devoted leave-taking of his faithfulfollower; but what weighed him down most was the loss of the steellocket--the "charm," to which scarcely less than the savages he attacheda superstitious importance--as symbolising the constant protectingpresence of his adored love with him in all danger. And now even thisamulet had been taken from him, simultaneously with the love--theguiding star of his life--which it symbolised; well might the incidentpresage his doom, for life was of no further value to him.
Then an intense craving came over his soul once more to behold thetenderly-loved face, to hear the soothing tones of that voice; and withthe grave yawning to receive him, Claverton would have bartered hissalvation a dozen times over for one momentary glance of her whorepresented his all--his world--his Heaven--his God. And ever upon thethatch beat the monotonous fall of the rain, and in the dead silentnight floated a weird cry from the lonely bush, answered by theoccasional yelp of a half-starved cur prowling among the silent huts--and the prisoner slept. Slept, but rested not, for his mind was wideawake. Now he was talking with Lilian, as of old at Seringa Vale, whenall their future was wrapped in apprehensive uncertainty. Now he satwith her in the garden at Fountains Gap, and the birds sang around, andoverhead the sky was one fair expanse of unclouded blue, even as thegolden dawn of perfect and uninterrupted love opening its flowerypathway before them. Now it was that sweet sad parting in the grey,chill morning--and lo, he stood within a lonely valley, and his pistolwas pointing at the heart of a man who stood before him--a man with anawful expression of rage, and terror, and despair upon his features--andthe face was that of Ralph Truscott. Ah, so real! Then he awoke. Itwas morning, and his time had come. Other voices were mingled withthose of his guards, and a chill blast of air came in at the open doorof the hut, which was what had aroused him. But it was far frommorning, for outside all was still dark and silent, save for theceaseless patter of the rain.
"Good; we will go," the sentinels were saying in response to one of thenew arrivals. "We are tired of sitting here in the dark, watching thiswhite wizard; but it will soon be day, and then we shall get some rarefun out of him," and with a grunt of farewell the two Kafirs, huddlingtheir blankets about them, crawled through the diminutive door and madeoff in search of more congenial quarters.
For some time after the sound of their retreating footsteps had ceased,the relief guards kept almost complete silence. The prisoner could hearthem settling themselves down with a word or two of remark, and everynow and then the rattle of their assegais on the ground beside them, butthe circumstance mattered nothing to him. His guards had been changed--that was all. But after a while one of the said worthies, opening alittle of the wicker-work door, bent his ear to the aperture, andappeared to be listening intently. Then he softly closed it andwhispered:
"Lenzimbi!"
In spite of himself, Claverton could not restrain a start. He did notrecognise the voice, but the whole action had been suspicions to adegree. Surely he was dreaming.
"Whaow!" exclaimed one of the Kafirs in a brutal tone. "This is poorwork. Let's amuse ourselves a little with the cursed white dog!" andthe speaker struck a match and proceeded to light his pipe, and, with astart of amazement, Claverton recognised the rugged, massive features ofXuvani, the ex-cattle-herd of Seringa Vale.
Hardly able to believe his eyes, he stared again and again; but therethe old man was, his face distinctly visible as he pressed down thetobacco with his middle finger, blowing out great clouds of smoke fromhis thick, bearded lips. The discovery, however, brought Claverton nohope. Yielding to the combination of circumstances, he had long pitchedthat article overboard, as he told himself, and watched it sink, and nowthe sooner the whole ship went after it the better. And then, likelightning, there flashed upon his recollection the words: "_The futureis uncertain, and we never know what turn events may take, and that ifever at any time he or Tambusa can render you a service they will do so,even should it be at the risk of their lives--a life for a life_." Howwell he remembered Hicks translating the old cattle-herd's speech--thatday long ago in the sunny garden at Seringa Vale--and how littleimportance he had attached to the Kafir's professions of gratitude! Hehad not believed in them then, nor did he now in the gloomy night of hisabandonment and downfall. Gratitude! No. The word was not in theKafir vocabulary, he thought, in bitter scorn, as again the brutal,mocking tones of the old savage fell upon his ear.
But along with them--covered by them, as it were--came that whisperagain.
"It may be that Lenzimbi will watch the sun arise from among the tentsof his people."
"Who speaks?" whispered Claverton, quickly.
"A friend. Tambusa."
"Ah!"
For a moment he could not speak--could scarcely think. His nerves hadbeen terribly strained within the last forty-eight hours; and now therush of blood to his head, the sudden overpowering revulsion of hope,succeeding the black, outer gloom of despair, would have been dangerousto the very reason of one less philosophically endowed. Life--liberty--revenge, and after that--love! He dared not think of it. Yet it waswithin his grasp once more. These two were about to redeem theirpromise. They would save him yet.
He had not seen them before, for the simple reason that they had onlyarrived at the kraal after he had been thrown into the hut; and then bythe merest chance. And now, like the bright warming sunshine let into acold dungeon which had never known daylight, came that friendly whisperthrough the darkness.
"I am ready," he replied. "Just slip off these bits of _reimpje_,Tambusa; and give me an assegai and a stick or something, and start meoutside, and then if ever these devils get hold of me again, why,they're welcome to."
"Not yet, 'Nkos, not yet," whispered the young Kafir. "Too soon, toosoon; there are still some of them awake. Leave it to us."
What a lifetime now was every moment to the prisoner! Each rain-dropseemed to fall with a crash like thunder; every sound was to his feveredimpatience as the beat of footsteps coming to rend from him for everthis one last chance. The old man still sat by the
door, occasionallygrowling out curses upon the dog of a white wizard, and wishing it wasmorning that they might begin their horrid work; but this the captiveknew now to be only a blind. Hours--weeks--years--seemed to roll by inthat terrible suspense; in reality it was scarcely more than half anhour.
At length some one touched him in the darkness, and this time it wasXuvani who spoke.
"Don't rise, Lenzimbi. Make the blood circulate, but do it quietly.Don't move from your place until I tell you," and, dexterously feelinghis way, the old man, in a couple of slashes, cut through the prisoner'sbonds.
"Ah, that's better," whispered Claverton, stretching his limbs, whichhad been terribly cramped, so securely had they bound him. "But I say,Xuvani, there's a poor devil of a preacher shut up here somewhere.Couldn't we bring him out, too?"
"Do I owe the _Umfundisi_ anything?" was the cold reply. "Lenzimbishall go free, but I would not stir an arm to save a townfull of theseblack-coated preachers. If this white man is a real prophet, his Godwill save him; if not, the Gaikas may do what they please with him--Icare not."
Now, I am aware that by all the laws of romance Claverton should haveabsolutely refused to accept his own deliverance rather than desert acountryman, whoever he might be. But, even at the risk of hisirretrievably losing the reader's good opinion, the fact must berecorded that not only did no such wild idea enter his head for amoment, but that he there and then dismissed all thought of hiscompanion in adversity from his mind. What was this cowardly,egotistical, "shoppy" preacher to him? He had never seen him beforethey had picked him up in the bush, and certainly had no great wish everto see him again. If it had been Hicks or Armitage, or any of his oldcomrades, even Allen, the case would have been vastly different; but tosacrifice himself, Lilian, everything, for such as this--no, not he.
"Xuvani," he suddenly exclaimed. "Where is the `charm' that was takenfrom me to-day? I cannot leave that behind."
"Whaow! It is lost," replied the old Kafir, a little impatiently."Stand up, now, and roll yourself in that blanket, for it is time tostart."
But Claverton did not move. A queer freak had taken possession of him.He might never see Lilian again; he was not going to leave her imagehere among the savages--that image which he had worn upon his heartthroughout so many perils and trials. It was of no use accepting life.No wonder his would-be deliverer stood and muttered impatiently that hemust be mad. Here was a man with a frightful death by torture awaitinghim in a few hours, and who, instead of availing himself of theproffered deliverance without loss of time, refused to move because hehad lost a trinket. The experience of the savage had never heldanything so curious as this.
"We are losing time, we are losing time," he muttered. "Are you so verytired of life, Lenzimbi?"
"Yes--almost," and he made no sign of moving. "Ah!--"
Something had suddenly been thrust into his hand. He grasped it. Itwas the steel locket.
"Now I am ready," he exclaimed, springing up. "Luck is ours again; mystar has risen," and, pressing the trinket to his lips, he put it awayin its usual place next his heart.
"Ha! Lenzimbi is sane again," remarked the old Kafir. "Now roll thatblanket well round your neck and head, and keep your chin sunk into itor the hair will betray you. Don't speak--not one word--but keep closebehind me, without so much as looking up. We shall pass for two of theGaikas going on a scouting expedition."
With what a feeling of relief did Claverton draw in deep breaths of thecool night air, so grateful after the stuffy, ill-smelling atmosphere ofthe hut! What a thrill ran through him as he grasped the pair of heavyironwood sticks which were put into his hand, and felt himself once morea free man and to a certain extent armed! It was past midnight, andstill raining steadily, but the night was not a dark one, owing to themoon, which was completely veiled by the thick, unbroken curtain ofcloud--indeed, not dark enough, as both of them thought, with a quickglance upward. The huts stood around, half seen through the dim light,and Claverton could make out a black patch on the ground where had beenthe fire, and the place where the chiefs and councillors had sat injudgment upon him. A cur, half aroused, began to bark as they madetheir way through the silent kraal, bringing Claverton's heart into hismouth as he strode along, close behind his guide. He had rolled theblanket well round his shoulders, and his head was adorned with an oldbattered felt hat, the brim being drawn down over his ears; and nowimitating the long, elastic stride of the natives, and also their way ofcarrying their kerries, he would very well pass in the darkness for oneof them, all muffled up as he was after the manner of a Kafir obliged totravel on a cold or wet night.
Soon the huts were left behind and they had gained the lonely bush. Sodark was it beneath the overshadowing trees that Claverton could hardlykeep up with his guide as they threaded the wet, slippery path, plungingdeeper and deeper into the gloom; but not for worlds would he diminishthe pace, every swift step bringing him nearer to liberty and all thatit involved. Branches flying back swept his face, drenching him in anicy shower, _wacht-am-bietje_ thorns seized his garments and tore hisflesh, but not for a moment would he delay. On, on--ever on--on,through that wet, dank, jungly wilderness, whose lonely terrors were tothis escaped captive as the fairest of surroundings. Once a great owldropped down in their faces, gliding along on noiseless wing utteringits unearthly hoot. Strange, mysterious rustlings in the brake oneither side, and the patter of feet, betrayed that the beasts of theforest were abroad; the weird, cat-like cry of a panther echoed from agloomy pile of towering rocks overhanging their path, and, afar, theravening howl of the great striped hyaena blended in dismal cadence withthe chorus of nocturnal voices, which from time to time startled thedeathly stillness of those wilds, meet abode of savage creatures, andmen even yet more savage. And the rain fell with its ceaseless drip,drip, drip.
"Why, where is Tambusa?" suddenly exclaimed Claverton, looking behind."I thought he was with us."
"Silence!"
He obeyed, and subsided once more into his own thoughts. At length itbegan to lighten perceptibly. They had travelled for nearly four hoursnow, and travelled with marvellous directness, almost every inch of theground being known to the experienced Kafir. Wooded heights, deepdefiles, frowning krantzes, were all passed with a rapidity whichastonished even Claverton, who would hardly have believed it possible tomake such way on foot. Suddenly, and without turning his head, hisguide breathed one single word, drowning it immediately in a slightcough.
"Caution."
Not by word or look did Claverton betray that he had heard; but hisgrasp tightened round the handles of his kerries, and lo, starting outof the gloom so suddenly and so noiselessly that they might have startedout of air, five Kafirs, fully armed, stood in the path before them.
A hurried conversation took place, Claverton every now and then puttingin a grunt of assent with the rest, in true native fashion. Xuvani didall the talking.
"We are carrying the `word' of the Great Chief," he said, making a stepforward. "We must not delay."
"What is the matter with your relation?" asked one of the five, Xuvanihaving thus categorised his charge for the time being.
"He has been shot through the cheeks, and the cold must be kept from thewound," was the reply. By nature an intensely suspicious animal, theKafir was peering distrustfully at Claverton, whose bronzed complexion,however, aided by the shade of the ragged hat, looked as dark as theirown in the incipient dawn. But the very presence of Xuvani, whosevalour and fidelity had been abundantly proved, disarmed furthersuspicion, and, without another word, the strangers disappeared asquickly as they had come, and the pair resumed their way.
"Do you think they will have discovered the joke, Xuvani?" askedClaverton at length, referring to his escape.
"The rain is good; it will have washed out our tracks," replied theother. "It is unfortunate that we should have met with those men justnow."
"Did they suspect?"
Xuvani shrugged his shoulders. "In war-time every on
e suspects."
"They'll be roasting that poor devil of a preacher instead of me, I'mafraid, up yonder."
But Xuvani was not of this opinion. The councillors always liked tostand well with the missionaries, he said, and this one would probablybe released. Besides, there were plenty of mission-station men amongthe Gaikas--Dukwana, for instance, who was a real preacher himself, andseveral others--who would be sure to find an opportunity of letting themissionary go; which piece of information would have set at rest anymisgivings Claverton might have had upon the subject, though, in truth,he had none, simply not having given it a thought until that moment. Asfor Xuvani, that unregenerate old heathen, though he understood andpractised the virtue of gratitude so well, yet it was patent that thesacrifice of a hecatomb of missionaries would have inspired him with nocompunction whatever.
"Do you remember giving water to a wounded man after the burning of theGreat Place in Gcaleka-land, and watching over him while the Fingo dogswent by?" suddenly inquired Xuvani.
"Yes."
"That was Tambusa."
Claverton whistled.
"What on earth was he doing up there?"
The other shrugged his shoulders.
"Yes, it was," he said. "Whaow! Lenzimbi. You must be a wizard,indeed," went on the old man, when he had listened to the recital ofClaverton's miraculous escape over the cliff, and his subsequentcapture. "That storm must have been brought up on purpose for you, fornothing in the world else could have saved your life when the chief gavethe word for them to burn you. And, even as it is, I could not havesaved you--I and Tambusa--if you had not blinded the eyes of that dogMopela. If he had known I was about he would have smelt the game andrendered it impossible. Now he is half-dead himself."
It was indeed miraculous, thought Claverton. He had been broughtthrough this with a purpose. The web of Fate was nearly woven.
"Xuvani?" he said. "You have saved my life, and a great deal more thisday. Now, be advised by me. Leave this business, you and Tambusa, andgo away quietly into the colony until it is all over. You are bound tocome to grief if you remain in it. Then, when things are ship-shapeagain, you shall see what my gratitude is."
"_We_ have paid our debt," replied the old Kafir. "Lenzimbi was alwaysopen-handed. Some day we will come and ask him for a few cows to giveus milk, when all our cattle have been taken. If we come into thecolony now, Government will hang us for having fought."
"Not a bit of it. At most you would get a few months' imprisonment,and, perhaps, I could obtain a free pardon for you. Then we will talkabout this day, and you will be none the worse off for it. You knowme--that is enough."
The rain had ceased and the clouds were parting, and now, through thewidening patch of blue firmament, the rising sun began to dart hiswarming beams upon the saturated earth, and all the joyous freshness ofearly morning was around. A few days earlier, and what exultation wouldhave thrilled around this man's heart, snatched as he had been from ahorrible death, and restored to a world of light, and joy, and gladness;but now he had a task on hand which precluded any such thought--theaccomplishment of his fell purpose of vengeance. After that--well, thefuture must take care of itself.
"Look!" exclaimed Xuvani, pointing to a column of smoke arising from ahollow about three miles off. "There are your people. Now go. You aresafe."
"Come with me, Xuvani," urged Claverton, earnestly. "Not a soul shallharm you, I pledge you my life. I shall be better able to repay you,then--and--"
His words were cut short by an interruption as sudden as it wasalarming. A volley of six or eight shots in rapid succession was pouredinto them, and several yellow faces simultaneously came into view,peering from behind the bushes to mark the effect. Fortunately thebullets whizzed harmlessly overhead and around, though perilously near.
"Cease firing, men," thundered Claverton, throwing off his nativedisguise and standing erect and commanding. The well-known voice had amagic effect. With a shout of delight the astonished Hottentots,disregarding all dangers--past, present, and to come--leaped from theircover and crowded round their former leader; for it was into the midstof his old levy that Claverton had walked.
"Allamagtig, Kaptyn!" cried old Spielmann--his erewhile favouritesergeant. "Why, how did you manage to get away? We thought thosedevils of Kafirs must have roasted you," and the old fellow's wrinkledparchment face was puckered up like that of a monkey, as he grinned fromear to ear in his delight, and the others were none the less loud intheir expressions of gratulation. Meanwhile, Claverton looked aroundfor Xuvani, but he looked in vain. The Kafir had disappeared.
"Where's the other nigger?" cried a loud, harsh voice behind them."What the devil were you fellows about to let him escape? After him--directly. Bruintjes--Spielmann! Damn it--don't stand staring at me!Do as I tell you--d'you hear?"
Claverton turned--and stood face to face with Ralph Truscott.
"At last!" he said, with a cool, sneering smile. "At last. Twice wehave met before. The third time's lucky."
The other started and changed colour visibly.
"Who the hell are you, sir?" he exclaimed, in a loud, arrogant tone."Better be a little more civil, I can tell you!"
"Oh, you know me well enough," was the answer. "Well enough to estimateme at the value of about one hundred pounds. Not very much, is it?"Truscott turned ashy white.
"Bah?" he cried, insultingly. "I think I do, and I think I know wherethe shoe pinches. Now be advised, my good fellow, and cry off thatbargain. It isn't for you, I tell you. I was in the field long beforeyou were; I'm in it now, and in it I intend to remain--by God!"
There was a quick, panther-like movement, a spring, and a half-smotheredimprecation, and Truscott staggered back half-a-dozen paces, reelingbeneath two straight-out hits from Claverton's clenched fists. With anawful execration, something between a yell and the roar of a wildanimal, he recovered himself, and, with his livid features workingviolently, dashed at his assailant. He was the taller and heavier manof the two, as well as the stronger, but he had lived hard, whereas theother was in splendid order--quick, supple, keen of eye, and dangerouslycool, notwithstanding his deadly wrath. Half blinded by his own rage,like an infuriated bull, Truscott rushed upon his adversary, drawing, ashe did so, his revolver from the holster hung upon his side. But beforehe could bring it to bear it was struck violently from his grasp, with ablow of the heavy Kafir stick, and, quick as lightning, that terrible"one--two," straight from the shoulder, met him in his onward rush, andthis time stretched him, half stunned, upon the ground.
"Coward, as well as liar, thief, and murderer!" exclaimed Claverton, hisvoice shaking with suppressed fury, as he thought of all the ruinwrought by his foe's unscrupulous malice. "I suppose even you wouldlike to settle this as soon as possible. You know where to find me.I'll be ready at any time."
"Shoot him. Do you hear? Shoot him down! Fifty pounds to the man whoshoots him dead!" foamed Truscott, raising himself, half-dazed, upon hiselbow. "Do you hear, men, God damn you, or are you all in a state ofmutiny?"
Claverton laughed coldly.
"I don't imagine any of them will lay themselves out to earn the money,"he said. "They are not quite such fools as their leader. But I repeat,Captain Truscott, that you will know where to find me, unless you preferto let well alone, that is, and console yourself with thinking over thethrashing you've just had."
"Wait, my fine fellow," replied the other, between his set teeth. "I'llriddle that carcase of yours for this morning's business. I used to beable to shoot pretty straight, I can tell you."
"Yes? Glad to hear it. We'll have some tall practice presently. Tillthen--so long!" and, with a mocking nod, Claverton turned and walkedaway in the direction of the camp, while the Hottentots, who had stoodaloof, awe-stricken witnesses of this unexpected and stirring incident,hastened to raise their discomfited chief. Their sympathies, however,were all with the enemy; for Truscott, since he had had the command ofClaverton's old corps, ha
d rendered himself exceedingly unpopular--asmuch so, in fact, as its former leader had been the reverse; and now--though by reason of their ignorance of the English tongue they failed tounderstand what the row had been about--they mightily but secretlyrejoiced over its issue.
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Great and terrible was the hubbub which prevailed in the temporary kraalof the Gaika chief as soon as it became known that the white prisonerhad disappeared. And the circumstances which led to this discovery wereas follows.
Obedient to the instructions of his uncle, Tambusa had not stirred fromthe hut which had constituted Claverton's prison-house, so as to allowthe two to get clear off without running the risk of exciting alarm. Atlength, towards morning, the young Kafir began to think he might fairlytake steps to ensure his own safety. Accordingly he stole forth fromthe hut--not quickly, and of set purpose, but with apparent reluctanceand rubbing his eyes as if he had just woke up--this in case any pryingglance should be watching his movements. All was still, though therewas just a sign of the coming dawn discernible in the east, and with hisblanket over his shoulder and his assegais in his hand, Tambusa walkedswiftly through the group of huts in the direction of the bush, when, asill-luck would have it, he was hailed, and by one of the men who hadbeen mounting guard over the prisoner the night before.
"Where are you going to?" asked this man.
"Oh, I shall come back in a moment."
"I'll just go and look at the prisoner till you do, then," was thereply. "He oughtn't to be left in the charge of only one man."
"No, don't do that," promptly rejoined Tambusa, whose heart sank withinhim. "Xuvani is there, and he'll be very angry with me. He doesn'tknow I've gone out."
"Never mind. He won't hurt you," said the other. "I'll tell him I metyou," and he walked straight towards the hut. Could it be that hissuspicions were aroused? Was there something in Tambusa's mien thatbetrayed him? Anyhow, the latter's safety now would depend on the usehe could make of the very brief start allowed him by the time hisinterlocutor would take to reach the hut--that, and no more.
Opening the door, the man bent down and looked in.
"Xuvani!" he called.
No answer. Perfect stillness. Not even the regular breathing of asleeping man broke the silence. For a moment the savage shrunk fromentering, his superstitious soul fearing the spells of this redoubtedwhite sorcerer. Then his loud cry of alarm roused the sleeping kraal.Dark forms came hurrying out of their huts, half expecting to findthemselves attacked by the enemy; but quickly grasping the cause ofalarm they gathered round their countryman.
"The white man--the prisoner! Where is he?" was heard on all sides.
Quickly one of the Kafirs made his way through the crowd, a box ofmatches in his hand. Striking one, he peered into the gloomy interiorof the hut. It was empty.
"Treachery, treachery!" he shouted. "The prisoner has disappeared!" andthe cry was taken up by the crowd, which glared inquiringly around, asif in search of some trace by which to follow the fugitive.
"Where is Tambusa?" cried the man who had first raised the alarm. "Heis the traitor--he has released the white man--he was here a momentago--where is he now?"
He might well ask. Tambusa, it may be readily supposed, had lost notime in following the prisoner's example. He, too, had disappeared.
Then again the wild, thrilling cry of alarm rang out through the forest.It fell upon the ear of the devoted young Kafir, straining every nerveto make the most of that brief start, and it seemed to peal forth hisdoom. There was no lack of spoor to guide them in their pursuit of him,his fresh footmarks in the muddy soil were only too apparent to all; andaway started two score of fierce warriors upon his track. The fugitive,husbanding his strength, dashes along at a swift, easy run, intending togain the white man's camp. There at any rate he will be safe; but heknows full well the fate in store for him should he fall into the handsof his fierce countrymen, for has he not just been guilty of what intheir eyes is an act of treason of the blackest dye? On, on; the youngwarrior is lithe and agile, and in splendid training, and it may be thathe will distance his pursuers yet. But those horrid whoops areresounding from many a hill-top, and with fatal effect, for theattention of the five Kafirs whom Xuvani and his charge met not longsince, is attracted thereby, and, with the quick suspicion of theirrace, they put two and two together. So, as poor Tambusa comes flyingdown the narrow bush-path, five dark forms spring up panther-like infront of him, effectually barring his progress. On either side is thethick tangled bush, almost impenetrable. He is lost; the pursuers areadvancing rapidly upon his rear, and his road is barred. Disregardingthe warning voices of those in front of him, the hapless youth boundsoff the track and plunges into the tangled thorny brake. He is on arock; below and in front of him lies a deep, stony ravine all overhungwith trailers, a tiny stream trickling down its funnel-like depths. Ha!It is his last and only chance. But at that moment two reports ringout through the forest. With a groan poor Tambusa sways, and thentopples heavily forward into the bed of the rivulet ten feet beneath;and his fierce pursuers rushing up, find only a corpse. He has escapedthe most terrible side of their ruthless vengeance, to wit, hours offrightful torture; but he has lost his life--rather has he given itdevotedly in exchange for that of the man who has twice already savedit.
So there he lies, this young hero--a naked savage, but a hero for allthat--dead among the ferns and rocks beneath the mass of foliage andtrailing creepers, which the sun's rays can scarcely penetrate, slain byhis own countrymen. He has given his life in satisfaction of the debtincurred and the promise made long ago--given it in exchange for that ofhis benefactor--"a life for a life."
The Fire Trumpet: A Romance of the Cape Frontier Page 48
