CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
ENTOMBED.
When John Ames at last returned to consciousness, the first thought totake definite shape was that he was dead. There was a rock ceilingoverhead. He had been dragged into a cave, he decided, a favouriteplace of sepulture for natives of rank. His enemies had accorded himthat distinction. He could not move his limbs. They had been boundround him.
Then there returned in dim confused fashion the events of the day; thesurprise; the visit to Madula's camp; the crafty pursuit; the suddenending of the ground beneath his feet; the plunge through empty air;then--starry void; and remembering it all, the supposed funeralligatures took the form of a blanket, which, wrapped tightly round him,impeded the use of his limbs. He was not dead, only dreaming, sufferingfrom a bad nightmare. The blanket--the rock overhead! What a blessedrelief! All the events, terrible and tragic, he had just gone through,were parts of a dream. Nidia was not left alone in that savagewilderness, but here, within a few yards of him. He was lying acrossthe entrance of her retreat, as usual, that none might imperil her saveby passing over him. Filled with an intense thankfulness, he lay andrevelled in the realisation that it had all been a dream. Still itshould act as a warning one. Never would he be so confiding in theirsecurity again.
The light grew and spread. The grey rock above him became less shadowy,more distinct. Whence the languor that seemed to attend his wakinghours, the drowsy disinclination to move? Yet there it was. Well, hemust combat it; and with this idea he suddenly sat up, only to fall backwith a cry of acute anguish. His head was splitting.
For some time he lay, unable to move, thinking the while whether his cryhad disturbed Nidia. No; she had not moved. At last an idea took holdof his confused brain. Their camping-ground this time was not a cave.It was in the open. Whence, then, this rock--this rock which somehowseemed to weigh upon him like a tombstone? And--Heavens! What was thatover there? A table?
A table! Why, a railway engine would have been no more phenomenal atthat moment. A table! Was he dreaming? No. There it stood; a sturdy,if unpretentious four-legged table, right up against a tolerablyperpendicular rock-wall.
He stared at it--stared wildly. Surely no such homely and commonplaceobject had ever been the motive power for such consternation, suchdespairing, sickening disappointment before. For it conveyed to himthat the events of the previous day had been no dream, but dire reality.Where he now was he had no idea, but wherever it might be, it wascertainly not in the place where he had parted from Nidia and she wouldstill be undergoing all the horrors of utter solitude. Again he triedto leap up; but this time an invisible hand seemed to press him down, anunseen force to calm and hypnotise him, and in the result everythingfaded into far-away dimness. Nothing seemed to matter. Once more hedropped off into a soothing, dreamless slumber.
How long this lasted he could not have told. On awakening, thefrightful brain agony had left him. He could now raise his head withoutfalling back again sick with pain. The first thing he noticed was thatthe place was a rock-chamber of irregular shape; the further wall nearlyperpendicular, the ceiling slanting to the side on which he lay. Astrange roseate light filled the place, proceeding from whence he knewnot. But now he became conscious of a second presence. Standing withinthis light was a human figure. What--who could it be? It was not thatof a native. So much he could see, although the back was towards him.Then it turned. Heavens! though _he_ had not seen it before, therecognition was instantaneous. This was the apparition at their formercamp. The tall figure, the weather-worn clothing, the long white beard,and--the face! Turned full upon him, in all its horror, John Ames felthis flesh creep. The blasting, mesmeric power of the eyes, surchargedwith hate, seemed to freeze the very marrow of his bones. This, then,was petrifying him. This, with its baleful, basilisk stare, was turninghis heart to water. What was it? Man or devil?
There was a spell in the stare. That glance John Ames felt that his owncould not leave. It held him enthralled. At all risks he must breakthe spell. "Where am I?" he exclaimed, astonished at the feebleness ofhis own voice.
"In luck's way this time. Perhaps not," came the reply, in full, deeptones. "What do you think of that, John Ames?"
"You appear to know me; but, I am sorry to say, the advantage is all onyour side. Where have we met before?"
The other's set face relaxed. A ghastly, mirthless laugh proceeded froma scarcely opened mouth. There was that in it which made the listenerstart, such an echo was it of the mocking laugh thrown back at him outof the darkness when challenging that shadowy figure at their formercamp.
"Where have we not met?" came the reply, after a pause. "That would bean easier question to answer."
"Well, at any rate, it is awfully good of you to have taken care of melike this," said John Ames, thinking it advisable to waive the questionof identity for the present. "Did I fall far?"
"So far that, but for a timely tree breaking your fall, you would hardlyhave an unbroken bone within you now."
"But how did I get here? Did you get me here alone?"
"A moment ago you were deciding that curiosity might sometimes be out ofplace. You are quick at changing your mind, John Ames."
The latter felt guilty. This was indeed "thought-reading" with avengeance.
"Yes; but pardon me if it seems to you inquisitive--it is not meant thatway," he said. "The fact is, I am not alone. I have a friend who willbe terribly anxious--in fact, terribly frightened at my absence. Isuppose you are in hiding, like ourselves?" Again that mirthless laugh.
"In hiding? Yes; in hiding. But not like yourselves."
"But will you not join us? I know my way about this sort of countryfairly well, and it is only a question of a little extra care, and weare bound to come through all right."
"Such `little extra care' as you displayed only yesterday, John Ames?Yet an evening or so back you thought my presence hardly likely to provean acquisition."
The cold, sneering tone scarcely tended to allay the confusion felt bythe other at this reminder. This, then, was the apparition seen byNidia, and he had been able to draw near enough to overhear theirconversation with reference to his appearance. The thought wassufficiently uncomfortable. Who could the man be? That he was aneccentricity was self-evident. He went on--
"You were right in saying that your `friend' would be terriblyfrightened. She has gone through such a night as she hopes never tospend again, and her fears are not over, but this time they are verymaterial, and are for herself. There are shapes stealing upon her downthe rocks--dark shapes. Natives? No. Human? No. What then? Beasts.She screams; tries to drive them off. They grow bolder and bolder--and--"
"Heavens alive, man, don't drive me mad!" roared John Ames, whirling upfrom his couch, forgetful alike of aching bones and bruised and shakenframe. "What, is it you see--or know? Are you the devil himself?"
But the face of the seer remained perfectly impassible. Not so much asa finger of his moved. His eyes seemed to open wider, then to close;then to open again, as one awakening from a trance. Their expressionwas that of slight, unperturbed surprise.
"Look here, now," said John Ames, quickly and decidedly. "You havetaken care of me when I was in a bad fix, and most likely saved my life.I am deeply grateful, and hope we shall get to know each: otherproperly. But just now I must not lose a moment in going back to myfriend, and if you won't go with me, I'll ask you to put me into mybearings."
The stranger did not move in his attitude, or relax a muscle.
"You can't go from here now," he said; "nor, in fact, until I allowyou."
"Can't? But I must!" shouted John Ames. "Heavens! I don't see how youcan know all you have been saying; but the bare suggestion that she maybe in danger--all alone and helpless--oh, good God, but it'll drive memad!"
"How I can know? Well, perhaps I can't--perhaps I can. Anyway, there'sone thing you can't do, and that is leave this place without my aid. Ifyou don't
believe me, just take a look round and try."
He waved his hand with a throw-everything-open sort of gesture. Infeverish strides, like those of a newly caged tiger, John Ames quicklyexplored the apartment, likewise another which opened out of it. Hismind fired with Nidia's helplessness and danger, he gave no thought tothe curious nature of this subterranean dwelling; all he thought aboutwas means of egress.
At the further end of the apartment in which he had been lying yawned adeep shaft like that of a disused mine. Air floated up this; clearly,therefore, it gave egress. But the means of descent? He looked aroundand above. No apparatus rewarded his view--not even a single rope. Heexplored the further chamber, which, like the first, was lighted by acurious eye-shaped lamp fixed in a hole in the rock-partition wall.Here too were several smaller oubliette-like shafts. But no means ofexit.
The while, his host--or gaoler--had been standing immovable, as thoughthese investigations and their results had not the faintest interest forhim. John Ames, utterly baffled, gave up the search, and the terribleconviction forced itself upon him that he was shut up in the very heartof the earth with a malevolent lunatic. Yet there was that about theother's whole personality which was not compatible with the lunatictheory; a strong, mesmeric, compelling force, as far removed frominsanity in any known phase as it could possibly be. Power wasproclaimed large in every look, in every utterance.
"Was I right?" he said. "But patience, John Ames; you must be pitifullywrapped up in this--`friend' of yours, to lose your head in thatunwonted fashion. Unwonted--yes. I know you, you see, better than youdo me. Well, I won't try your patience any longer. Had you notinterrupted me it would have been better for you; I was going on to saythat while I saw danger I saw, also, succour--rescue--safety."
"Safety? Rescue?" echoed John Ames, in almost an awed tone, but onethat was full of a great thankfulness and relief. "Ah, well, my awfulanxiety was deserved. Forgive me the interruption."
Even then it did not occur to him, the level-headed, the thinking, thejudicious, that here was a man--a strange one certainly--who had justtold him a cock-and-bull story about events he could not possibly know,with the result of driving him perfectly frantic with anxiety and asense of his own helplessness. Why not? Because the narrative had beenunfolded with a knowledge stamped upon the narrator's countenance thatwas as undeniable as the presence of the narrator himself. Strange tosay, not for a moment did it occur to him to question it.
He looked at the seer; a steadfast, penetrating, earnest glance. Theface was a refined one; handsome, clear-cut, furrowing somewhat with ageand hardness; but it was the face of one who had renounced all--henceits power; of one who, for some reason or other, was a bitter hater ofhis species, yet which as surely bore traces of a great overwhelmingsorrow, capabilities of a vast and selfless love. Who was this strangebeing? What his tragic past? John Ames, thus striving to penetrate it,felt all his repulsion for the other melt away into a warm, indefinablesense of sympathy. Then he replied--
"In using the expression `wrapped up in,' you have used the right one.If harm were to befall her I should feel that life had no more value."
"Then how will you face the--parting of the ways?"
The question chilled upon its hearer. Was it a prophecy?
"The parting of the ways?" he echoed slowly, comprehending the other'smeaning. "Why should there be any parting?"
"Because it is the way of life."
And with the harsh, jeering, mirthless laugh which accompanied thecynicism, the stranger's countenance became once more transformed. Thestare of hate and repulsion came into it again, and he turned away. Butin the mind of his hearer there arose a vision of that last farewell,and he felt reassured--yet not. Coming from any other, he would havelaughed at the utterance as a mere cynical commonplace, but from thisone it impressed him as a dire prophecy.
"There will come a time when you will look back upon these roughwanderings of yours--the two of you--as a dream of Paradise, John Ames.Hourly danger; scarce able to compass the means of existence; unknowncountry swarming with enemies; what a fearful experience it seems!Yet--how you will look back to it, will long for it! Ah, yes, I know;for your experience was once mine."
"Once yours?"
"Once mine." Then, with sudden change of tone and demeanour--"And now,be advised by me, and restore Nature a little. You will find thewherewithal in that chest, for you may need all your strength."
Had it been anybody else, John Ames might have thought it somewhatunhostlike of the other to leave him to do all the foraging for himself,but somehow in this case it seemed all right. He could hardly haveimagined this strange being bustling about over such commonplace work asrummaging out food. So he opened the chest indicated, and found it wellstored with creature comforts. He set out, upon the table which had sostartled him at first, enough for his present wants, and turned to speakto his host. But the latter was no longer there. He looked in theother apartment. That, too, was empty!
Weird and uncanny as this disappearance was, it disconcerted John Amesless than it would have done at first. In was in keeping with the placeand its strange occupant, for now, as he gazed around, he noted that therock in places was covered with strange hieroglyphics. He had seenBushman drawings in the caves of the Drakensberg, executed withwonderful clearness and a considerable amount of rude skill. These,however, seemed the production of a civilised race, and that in the dimages of a remote past, probably the race which was responsible for theancient gold workings whereof the land showed such plentiful remains.At any other time the investigation of these hieroglyphics would haveafforded him a rare interest, at present he had enough to think about.But if his host--or gaoler--chose to disappear into the earth or air atwill it was no concern of his, and he had not as yet found any greatencouragement to curiosity in that quarter. Meanwhile, he set to workto make a hearty breakfast--or dinner--or whatever it might be, for hehad no idea of time, his watch having been smashed in his fall.
Strangely enough, a feeling of complete confidence had succeeded to hisagony of self-reproach and anxiety as to Nidia's safety. Stranger, too,that such should be inspired by the bare word of this marvellous beingwho held him, so far, in his power. Yet there it was, this conviction.It surprised him. It was unaccountable. Yet there it was.
Among other creature comforts he had found in the cupboard was a bottleof whisky. He mixed himself a modest "peg." But somehow the tastebrought back the terrible tragedy in Inglefield's hut, that, perforce,being the last time he had drunk any, and a sort of disgust for thespirit came over him.
So did something else--a sadden and unaccountable drowsiness, to wit.He strove to combat it, but fruitlessly. Returning to his couch, he laydown, and fell into a deep and heavy sleep.
John Ames, Native Commissioner: A Romance of the Matabele Rising Page 23
