Smith and the Pharaohs, and other Tales

by H. Rider Haggard

  "'_Ow!_ I understand, Macumazahn. I have known the face of war and seenmany a little one like my grandson Sinala assegaied upon his mother'sback.'

  "'Very good. But if I do this for you, you must do something for me.Say, Magepa, does Cetewayo _really_ mean to fight, and if so, how? Ohyes, I know all you have been telling me, but I want not words but truthfrom the heart?'

  "'You ask secrets,' said the old fellow, peering about him into thegathering gloom. 'Still, "a spear for a spear and a shield for ashield," as our saying runs. I have spoken no lie. The king _does_ meanto fight, not because he wants to, but because the regiments swear thatthey will wash their assegais; they who have never seen blood since thatbattle of the Tugela in which we two played a part, and if he will notsuffer it, well, there are more of his race! Also he means to fightthus,' and he gave me some very useful information, that is, informationwhich would have been useful if those in authority had deigned to payany attention to it when I passed it on.

  "Just as he had finished speaking I thought that I heard a sound in thedense green bush behind us. It reminded me of the noise a man makeswhen he tries to stifle a cough, and frightened me. For if we had beenoverheard by a spy, Magepa was as good as dead, and the sooner I wasacross the river the better.

  "'What's that?' I asked.

  "'A bush buck, Macumazahn. There are lots of them about here.'

  "Not being satisfied, though it is true that buck do cough like this,I turned my horse to the bush, seeking an opening. Thereon somethingcrashed away and vanished into the long grass. In those shadows, ofcourse, I could not see what it was, but such light as remained glintedon what might have been the polished tip of the horn of an antelopeor--an assegai.

  "'I told you it was a buck, Macumazahn,' said Magepa. 'Still, if yousmell danger, let us come away from the bush, though the orders are thatno white man is to be touched as yet.'

  "Then, while we walked on towards the ford, he set out with greatdetail, as Kaffirs do, the exact arrangements that he proposed to makefor the handing over of his daughter and her child into my care. Iremember that I asked him why he would not send her on the followingmorning, instead of two mornings later. He answered because he expectedan outpost of scouts from one of the regiments at his kraal that night,who would probably remain there over the morrow and perhaps longer.While they were in the place it would be difficult, if not impossible,for him to send away Gita and her son without exciting suspicion.

  "Near the drift we parted, and I returned to our provisional camp andwrote a beautiful report of all that I had learned, of which report, Imay add, no one took the slightest notice.

  "I think it was the morning before that whereon I had arranged to meetGita and the little boy at the drift that just about dawn I went down tothe river for a wash. Having taken my dip, I climbed on to a flat rockto dress myself, and looked at the billows of beautiful, pearly mistwhich hid the face of the water, and considered--I almost said listenedto--the great silence, for as yet no live thing was stirring.

  "Ah! if I had known of the hideous sights and sounds that were destinedto be heard ere long in this same haunt of perfect peace! Indeed, atthat moment there came a kind of hint or premonition of them, sincesuddenly through the utter quiet broke the blood-curdling wail ofa woman. It was followed by other wails and shouts, distant and yetdistinct. Then the silence fell again.

  "Now, I thought to myself, that noise might very well have come from oldMagepa's kraal; luckily, however, sounds are deceptive in mist.

  "Well, the end of it was that I waited there till the sun rose. Thefirst thing on which its bright beams struck was a mighty column ofsmoke rising to heaven from where Magepa's kraal had stood!

  "I went back to my wagons very sad--so sad that I could scarcely eat mybreakfast. While I walked I wondered hard whether the light had glintedupon the tip of a buck's horn in that patch of green bush with thesweet-smelling white flowers a night or two ago. Or had it perchancefallen upon the point of the assegai of some spy who was watching mymovements! In that event yonder column of smoke and the horrible criesthat preceded it were easy to explain. For had not Magepa and I talkedsecrets together, and in Zulu?

  "On the following morning at dawn I attended at the drift in the fainthope that Gita and her boy might arrive there as arranged. But nobodycame, which was not wonderful, seeing that Gita lay dead, stabbedthrough and through, as I saw afterwards, (she made a good fight forthe child), and that her spirit had gone to wherever go the souls of thebrave-hearted, be they white or black. Only on the farther bank of theriver I saw some Zulu scouts who seemed to know my errand, for theycalled to me, asking mockingly where was the pretty woman I had come tomeet?

  "After that I tried to put the matter out of my head, which indeed wasfull enough of other things, since now definite orders had arrived as tothe advance, and with these many troops and officers.

  "It was just then that the Zulus began to fire across the river at suchof our people as they saw upon the bank. At these they took aim, and,as a result, hit nobody. A raw Kaffir with a rifle, in my experience, isonly dangerous when he aims at nothing, for then the bullet looks afteritself and may catch you. To put a stop to this nuisance a regiment ofthe friendly natives--there may have been several hundred of them--wasdirected to cross the river and clear the kloofs and rocks of the Zuluskirmishers who were hidden among them. I watched them go off in finestyle, and in the course of the afternoon heard a good deal of shoutingand banging of guns on the farther side of the river.

  "Towards evening someone told me that our _impi_, as he called itgrandiloquently, was returning victorious. Having at the moment nothingelse to do, I walked down to the river at a point where the water wasdeep and the banks were high. Here I climbed to the top of a pile ofboulders, whence with my field-glasses I could sweep a great extent ofplain which stretched away on the Zululand side till at length it mergedinto hills and bush.

  "Presently I saw some of our natives marching homewards in a scatteredand disorganised fashion, but evidently very proud of themselves, forthey were waving their assegais and singing scraps of war-songs. A fewminutes later, a mile or more away, I caught sight of a man running.

  "Watching him through the glasses I noted three things: First, thathe was tall; secondly, that he ran with extraordinary swiftness; and,thirdly, that he had something tied upon his back. It was evident,further, that he had good reason to run, since he was being hunted bya number of our Kaffirs, of whom more and more continually joined thechase. From every side they poured down upon him, trying to cut him offand kill him, for as they got nearer I could see the assegais which theythrew at him flash in the sunlight.

  "Very soon I understood that the man was running with a definite objectand to a definite point; he was trying to reach the river. I thought thesight very pitiful, this one poor creature being hunted to death by somany. Also I wondered why he did not free himself from the bundle onhis back, and came to the conclusion that he must be a witch-doctor, andthat the bundle contained his precious charms or medicines.

  "This was while he was yet a long way off, but when he came nearer,within three or four hundred yards, of a sudden I caught the outline ofhis face against a good background, and knew it for that of Magepa.

  "'My God!' I said to myself, 'it is old Magepa the Buck, and the bundlein the mat will be his grandson, Sinala!'

  "Yes, even then I felt certain that he was carrying the child upon hisback.

  "What was I to do? It was impossible for me to cross the river atthat place, and long before I could get round by the ford all would befinished. I stood up on my rock and shouted to those brutes of Kaffirsto let the man alone. They were so excited that they did not hearmy words; at least, they swore afterwards that they thought I wasencouraging them to hunt him down.

  "But Magepa heard me. At the moment he seemed to be failing, but thesight of me appeared to give him fresh strength. He gathered himselftogether and leapt forward at a really surprising speed. Now the riverwas not more than three hundre
d yards away from him, and for the firsttwo hundred of these he quite outdistanced his pursuers, although theywere most of them young men and comparatively fresh. Then once more hisstrength began to fail.

  "Watching through the glasses, I could see that his mouth was wide open,and that there was red foam upon his lips. The burden on his back wasdragging him down. Once he lifted his hands as though to loose it; thenwith a wild gesture let them fall again.

  "Two of the pursuers who had outpaced the others crept up to him--lank,lean men of not more than thirty years of age. They had stabbing spearsin their hands, such as are used at close quarters, and these of coursethey did not throw. One of them gained a little on the other.

  "Now Magepa was not more than fifty yards from the bank, with the firsthunter about ten paces behind him and coming up rapidly. Magepa glancedover his shoulder and saw, then put out his last strength. For fortyyards he went like an arrow, running straight away from his pursuers,until he was within a few feet of the bank, when he stumbled and fell.

  "'He's done,' I said, and, upon my word, if I had had a rifle in my handI think I would have stopped one or both of those bloodhounds and takenthe consequences.

  "But no! Just as the first man lifted his broad spear to stab himthrough the back on which the bundle lay, Magepa leapt up and wheeledround to take the thrust in the chest. Evidently he did not wish to bespeared in the back--for a certain reason. He took it sure enough, forthe assegai was wrenched out of the hand of the striker. Still, as hewas reeling backwards, it did not go through Magepa, or perhaps it hit abone. He drew out the spear and threw it at the man, wounding him. Thenhe staggered on, back and back, to the edge of the little cliff.

  "It was reached at last. With a cry of 'Help me, Macumazahn!' Magepaturned, and before the other man could spear him, leapt straight intothe deep water. He rose. Yes, the brave old fellow rose and struck outfor the other bank, leaving a little line of red behind him.

  "I rushed, or rather sprang and rolled down to the edge of the stream towhere a point of shingle ran out into the water. Along this I clambered,and beyond it up to my middle. Now Magepa was being swept past me. Icaught his outstretched hand and pulled him ashore.

  "'The boy!' he gasped; 'the boy! Is he dead?'

  "I severed the lashings of the mat that had cut right into the oldfellow's shoulders. Inside of it was little Sinala, spluttering outwater, but very evidently alive and unhurt, for presently he set up ayell.

  "'No,' I said, 'he lives, and will live.'

  "'Then all is well, Macumazahn.' (_A pause_.) 'It _was_ a spy in thebush, not a buck. He overheard our talk. The King's slayers came. Gitaheld the door of the hut while I took the child, cut a hole through thestraw with my assegai, and crept out at the back. She was full of spearsbefore she died, but I got away with the boy. Till your Kaffirs foundme I lay hid in the bush, hoping to escape to Natal. Then I ran for theriver, and saw you on the farther bank. _I_ might have got away, butthat child is heavy.' (_A pause_.) 'Give him food, Macumazahn, he mustbe hungry.' (_A pause_.) 'Farewell. That was a good saying of yours--theswift runner is outrun at last. Ah! yet I did not run in vain.'(_Another pause, the last_.) Then he lifted himself upon one arm andwith the other saluted, first the boy Sinala and next me, muttering,'Remember your promise, Macumazahn.'

  "That is how Magepa the Buck died. I never saw anyone carrying weightwho could run quite so well as he," and Quatermain turned his head awayas though the memory of this incident affected him somewhat.

  "What became of the child Sinala?" I asked presently.

  "Oh! I sent him to an institution in Natal, and afterwards was ableto get some of his property back for him. I believe that he is beingtrained as an interpreter."

  THE BLUE CURTAINS

  I

  In his regiment familiarly they called him "Bottles," nobody quite knewwhy. It was, however, rumoured that he had been called "Bottles" atHarrow on account of the shape of his nose. Not that his nose wasparticularly like a bottle, but at the end of it was round and large andthick. In reality, however, the sobriquet was more ancient than that,for it had belonged to the hero of this story from babyhood. Now, whena man has a nickname, it generally implies two things: first, that he isgood-tempered, and, secondly, that he is a good fellow. Bottles, _alias_John George Peritt, of a regiment it is unnecessary to name, amplyjustified both these definitions, for a kindlier-tempered or betterfellow never breathed. But unless a thick round nose, a pair of smalllight-coloured eyes, set under bushy brows, and a large but not badlyshaped mouth can be said to constitute beauty, he was not beautiful.On the other hand, however, he was big and well-formed, and apleasant-mannered if a rather silent companion.

  Many years ago Bottles was in love; all the regiment knew it, he was sovery palpably and completely in love. Over his bed in his tidy quartershung the photograph of a young lady who was known to be _the_ younglady; which, when the regiment, individually and collectively, happenedto see it, left no doubt in its mind as to their comrade's taste. Itwas evident even from that badly-coloured photograph that Miss MadelineSpenser had the makings of a lovely figure and a pair of wonderful eyes.It was said, however, that she had not a sixpence; and as our hero hadbut very few, the married ladies of the battalion used frequently tospeculate how Mr. Peritt would "manage" when it came to matrimony.

  At this date the regiment was quartered in Maritzburg, Natal, but itsterm of foreign service had expired, and it expected to be ordered homeimmediately.

  One morning Bottles had been out buck hunting with the scratch pack keptin those days by the garrison at Maritzburg. The run had been a goodone, and after a seven or eight-mile gallop over the open country theyhad actually killed their buck--a beautiful Oribe. This was a thing thatdid not often happen, and Bottles returned filled with joy and pridewith the buck fastened behind his saddle, for he was whip to the pack.The hounds had met at dawn, and it was nine o'clock or so, when, as hewas riding hot and tired up the shadier side of broad and dusty ChurchStreet, a gun fired at the Fort beyond Government House announced thearrival of the English mail.

  With a beaming smile--for to him the English mail meant one if not twoletters from Madeline, and possibly the glad news of sailing orders--hepushed on to his quarters, tubbed and dressed, and then went down to themess-house for breakfast, expecting to find the letters delivered. Butthe mail was a heavy one, and he had ample time to eat his breakfast,also to sit and smoke a pipe upon the pleasant verandah under the shadeof the bamboos and camellia bushes before the orderly arrived with thebag. Bottles went at once into the room that opened on to the verandaand stood by calmly, not being given to betraying his emotions, whileslowly and clumsily the mess sergeant sorted the letters. At last hegot his packet--it only consisted of some newspapers and a singleletter--and went away back to his seat on the veranda, feeling ratherdisappointed, for he had expected to hear from his only brother as wellas from his lady-love. Having relit his pipe--for he was of a slowand deliberate mind, and it rather enhances a pleasure to defer it alittle--and settled himself in the big chair opposite the camellia bushjust now covered with sealing-wax-like blooms, he opened his letter andread:--

  "My dear George----"

  "Good heavens!" he thought to himself, "what can be the matter? Shealways calls me 'Darling Bottles!'"

  "My dear George," he began again, "I hardly know how to begin thisletter--I can scarcely see the paper for crying, and when I think of youreading it out in that horrid country it makes me cry more than ever.There! I may as well get it out at once, for it does not improve bykeeping--it is all over between you and me, my dear, dear old Bottles."

  "All over!" he gasped to himself.

  "I hardly know how to tell the miserable story," went on the letter,"but as it must be told I suppose I had better begin from the beginning.A month ago I went with my father and my aunt to the Hunt Ball atAtherton, and there I met Sir Alfred Croston, a middle-aged gentleman,who danced with me several times. I did not care about him much, buthe made himself very agreeable
, and when I got home aunt--you know hernasty way--congratulated me on my conquest. Well, next day he cameto call, and papa asked him to stop to dinner, and he took me in, andbefore he went away he told me that he was coming to stop at the GeorgeInn to fish for trout in the lake. After that he came here every day,and whenever I went out walking he always met me, and really was kindand nice. At last one day he asked me to marry him, and I was very angryand told him that I was engaged to a gentleman in the army, who was inSouth Africa. He laughed, and said South Africa was a long way off, andI hated him for it. That evening papa and aunt set on me--you know theyneither of them liked our engagement--and told me that our affair wasperfectly silly, and that I must be mad to refuse such an offer. And soit went on, for he would not take 'no' for an answer; and at last, dear,I had to give in, for they gave me no peace, and papa implored me toconsent for his sake. He said the marriage would be the making of him,and now I suppose I am engaged. Dear, dear George, don't be angry withme, for it is not my fault, and I suppose after all we could not havegot married, for we have so little money. I do love you, but I can'thelp myself. I hope you won't forget me, or marry anybody else--atleast, not just at present--for I cannot bear to think about it. Writeto me and tell me you won't forget me, and that you are not angrywith me. Do you want your letters back? If you burn mine that will do.Good-bye, dear! If you only knew what I suffer! It is all very well totalk like aunt does about settlements and diamonds, but they can't makeup to me for you. Good-bye, dear, I cannot write any more because myhead aches so.--Ever yours,

  "Madeline Spenser."

  When George Peritt, _alias_ Bottles, had finished reading and re-readingthis letter, he folded it up neatly and put it, after his methodicalfashion, into his pocket. Then he sat and stared at the red camelliablooms before him, that somehow looked as indistinct and misty as thoughthey were fifty yards off instead of so many inches.