Part 57 (1/2)

”By-the-bye,” said Payne, ”there was a strange n.i.g.g.e.r here this evening, a deuced fine-looking fellow, but an infernal scoundrel, I suspect. He asked if he might sleep at the huts, and I let him.”

”Why did you?”

”Well, you see, it would have done no good to turn him away. If he's up to mischief he'd carry it out anyhow; and if he isn't, well, there's no harm done.”

”H'm. Marshall seems in a bit of a funk. He told me a couple of yarns to-day about fellows whose servants had warned them to clear. I should think that trick's played out, though.”

”Dunno. You'll still find people to believe in it. The n.i.g.g.e.rs, of course, make it pay. Jack, in his capacity of old and faithful servant, warns his Baas. His Baas believes him. Henceforth Jack has a high old time of it, and, provided he is careful in the yarns he invents, may go on to the end of the chapter. For my part, I don't believe in any n.i.g.g.e.r's fidelity. You can't trust one of them.”

”Except my chap, Sam,” said Claverton.

”Ah, that's different. He's away from his own country, you see; and then you and he have chummed it for ever so long in places where he has learnt to depend on you.”

It was a still, clear night, the sky seemed crowded with stars, and the air was warm and balmy for the time of year. Scarce a sound was audible, save that now and again the faintest possible echo of a savage song was borne from some kraal many miles across country. Otherwise there was a stillness that might be felt, and the voices of the two men, subdued as they were, sounded almost loud.

”Hallo! What the deuce is that?” said Payne, suddenly. For there arose a terrific clamour from the dogs at the back of the house. There was a preliminary ”woof” as those vigilant guardians first scented intrusion; then the whole pack dashed off violently, and showing a very decided fixity of purpose, towards an angle of the high quince hedge which bounded the garden--baying savagely.

Both men rose to their feet.

”They've got something there, I'll swear,” said Claverton in a low tone.

”Wonder what.”

”Very likely a prowling n.i.g.g.e.r,” answered Payne. ”We'll just get out our shooting-irons and go and see.”

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER SIX.

THE FIRE TRUMPET.

With weapons c.o.c.ked and ready, and keeping a sharp look-out ahead, our two friends stole quietly and warily along the shadow of the quince hedge. Meanwhile the canine clamour increased tenfold; such a yelling, and growling, and full-voiced baying as never before was heard.

”Why, they've treed something--look there!” whispered Claverton, as they arrived upon the scene of the disturbance. And sure enough in the branches of a small apricot-tree, which grew a little higher than the quince hedge, they could make out the dark figure of a man, clinging there as for dear life, while the dogs were leaping, and snapping, and rolling over upon one another and into the ditch in their frantic efforts to reach him. And, but for this timely refuge, he would have been torn in pieces by the great fierce brutes.

”Come down, whoever you are,” said Payne, speaking in the Kafir language, ”or I'll fire. If you attempt to run away the dogs will soon catch you. Come down.”

They could hear a muttered exclamation or two, and then the unknown replied:

”Keep in the dogs, 'Nkos. I came here to visit you, to tell you some news.”

”All right. Come down. Here, Neptune, Corker, Slow--keep still, you brutes. _Voertsek, Huis! to_!” [be off; home] cried Payne; and the excited hounds reluctantly drew off with many a savage growl.

Then something dropped from the tree, there was a rustle in the quince hedge, and a man stood before them in the darkness. Payne had just time to restrain the dogs, who would have flung themselves upon this sudden apparition there and then.

”Now, then, who are you and what do you want?” he asked.

”'Nkos, you remember me? But I can't talk here, it's cold and I've been frightened, and I am old and weak.”

”Why, it's Mhlanga,” cried Payne, in astonishment. ”But what the devil d'you want with me at this time of night?”

”Hadn't we better take him to the house and give him a tot of grog?”

said Claverton. ”He looks rather shaky.”