Part 28 (2/2)

Claverton knew better than to hesitate, and, rus.h.i.+ng at his adversary, dealt him a violent blow on the leg with the stirrup-iron. Maddened by the pain, Mopela sprang upon him with a wild beast's roar, but Claverton was ready. Dropping the stirrup he clutched the other's wrists, and they struggled like fiends. The athletic savage, twice the Englishman's match for sheer muscular strength, strove with might and main to free the hand which held his a.s.segai; but the other, knowing full well that his very life depended on his not doing so, held firm--firm as iron.

Their breath came in quick, short gasps, and every muscle was distended and rigid. Then the savage, with a hyaena-like howl, opened his great teeth and made a mighty snap at his antagonist's face, but Claverton lowered his head and the other's teeth met in his slouch hat; then, taking advantage of Mopela being off his guard, he drove his right knee with all the force he could muster into the Kafir's stomach. The game was now his own. His gigantic foe staggered back ten or a dozen yards, then fell gasping for breath, and dropping his weapon as he rolled and writhed among the bush below. With a fierce shout, Claverton seized the spear and rushed upon his enemy, but it was too late. Mopela had had as much as he could stomach in more ways than one, and hastened to make himself scarce; moreover, the trampling of approaching hoofs was heard and a horseman appeared, leading Claverton's defaulting steed.

”Hullo! What the very deuce is the row? Is that you, Claverton?”

”It is. Five minutes ago the chances in favour of the same being fact were infinitesimal.”

”Well, you _are_ a cool hand,” began the new arrival, when a shout far above them in the bush interrupted him and drew both their attention.

They looked up and beheld Mopela.

”Gough, have you got a revolver?” asked Claverton in quick, eager tones.

”He's a long way off, but I think I can pink him. No? Haven't you?

I'd give 50 pounds for a single shot at the beast.” Then, raising his voice: ”Aha, Mopela, you dog; whose G.o.d is asleep now, eh? Come down here again,” he went on, jeeringly; ”come down and have another thras.h.i.+ng; I'll give you one--I alone. The other _Baas_ will see fair play. You won't? You're not such a fool as I thought, then. Only, look here, the next time I come across you, wherever it may be, I'll kill you--kill you, by G.o.d. So keep out of my way.”

The savage shook his hand towards the speaker with a menacing gesture.

”Whaow!” he called out. ”The next time we meet Lenzimbi will sing to a different tune. When the land is red with the blood of the _abelungu_ [whites], and their sheep and cattle are in our kraals, Lenzimbi shall yet hang by the heels, and Mopela will, with his own hand, put out his eyes with a red-hot firestick before he is roasted--Haow! Then the warriors of the Amaxosa will have great sport in hunting out the last of the whites from their hiding-places, and all the white men will be dead; but there will be plenty of white women--ha! ha! ha!--plenty of white women,” went on the savage, in his great mocking tones. ”And the dark lily of Seringa Vale,” (jerking his thumb in the direction of that locality), ”when Lenzimbi's body and spirit is burnt up in the slow fire, she and Mopela will--Ha!” He disappeared suddenly, for with a furious oath Claverton plunged into the bush in pursuit; but he might as well have searched for the proverbial needle as for the crafty savage, who simply dodged him in the thick covert, laughing in his sleeve the while. In less than half an hour he returned to his wondering companion.

”Where are you bound for, Gough?”

”Thorman's--I'm thinking of buying that horse of his.”

”All right. I'll go part of the way with you and get back round by the _vij-kraal_ [Note 2]. But let's pick up these carving-knives first.”

He gathered up the three a.s.segais, all well-made weapons with keen blades and long, tapering handles; then, as they mounted and rode off, he told his companion what had happened.

John Gough was a young man of about twenty-three, who had migrated to the colony about a year before in search of employment. This he had found in the capacity of tutor to Naylor's children--four healthy young romps, as disinclined for their books as frontier children usually are.

He was of a quiet and retiring disposition, but a good fellow. For some reason or another he rather disliked Claverton, but was too good-natured to show it; and now, as they rode along in silence--for Claverton had relapsed into a fit of taciturnity--he began to think he had done him an injustice.

”Well, I think I shall turn here,” said that worthy, when they had gone a little way further. ”Gough, I'm going to ask you to do me a favour.”

”What is it?” inquired the other, somewhat surprised.

”To oblige me by not mentioning this little s.h.i.+ndy to any one--will you?”

”Yes, certainly, if you wish it,” answered Gough, rather reluctantly.

He was disappointed as well as surprised; topics of conversation were scarce, and such a jolly row as Claverton had just had would be nuts; even as it was, he had been thinking how he would entertain the Thormans with an account of it, and now it was to be kept dark. Well, Claverton was a queer fellow, but it was his own business. So he gave the required undertaking.

”Thanks; I knew you would. I don't fancy that scoundrel will come near me again. Good-bye.” They shook hands, and went their respective ways.

A few hundred yards further, and a blue smoke reek above the bush betokened a dwelling. In an open s.p.a.ce stood two huts, dome-shaped, and constructed of thatch, and hard by, a thorn enclosure at that moment full of sheep. This was one of the out-stations, where one of the flocks was wont to be kept. A mangy and spindle-shanked cur rushed yapping forth, roused by the tread of the horse's hoofs. A mighty crack of the rider's whip, however, caused it to beat a precipitate retreat, and also had the effect of bringing a head to the small, beehivelike entrance of one of the huts. The head was promptly followed by its owner, who stood up and saluted Claverton.

”Well, Umgiswe, it's some time since any of us have been down here to count, so I'll do so now. Turn them out.”

”Ewa 'nkos,” (yes, chief), replied the Kafir, curiously eyeing the a.s.segais which the other carried; and opening the kraal he threw off his red blanket and began driving out the sheep, while Claverton stood at the gate and counted.

”Eighty-one--eighty-three--eighty-seven--ninety--ninety-two-- ninety-three--six hundred and ninety-three. Why, how's this, Umgiswe?

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