Part 86 (2/2)

One was that not a shadow of spoor was seen to lead into it; another, a very natural repugnance to penetrating deep into that gloomy hole. It was nearly dark, and if the fugitive moved at all, it would be at night.

So Nxabahlana and his warriors took up their position on the cliff a little way above the mouth of the cavern, in a spot commanding a considerable view of the moonlit valley, wherein nothing could move without at once attracting their attention, and waited and watched with the steady patience of their kind. This was at length rewarded when they saw the object of their quest emerge, weary and exhausted, from the cavern, walking, so to say, straight into their very jaws. The sequel we have seen.

During the march Claverton noticed with some uneasiness, that the man who had felt the weight of his fist was watching him very narrowly.

Whichever way he looked, this man's shrewd, suspicious glance was upon him, and more than once it seemed to wander to the chief. Could he have overheard? If so, it would add seriously to the difficulties in the way of escape. But he consoled himself with the knowledge that if it was to be effected Nxabahlana would manage it somehow.

And now, as they drew nearer to the critical spot, the sound of voices was heard close by, causing, however, no alarm to the party, and a large body of Kafirs, emerging from the bush, joined them. Of course a halt was called while they exchanged news, and great was the exultation of the new arrivals over the capture of so formidable an enemy as this white man had proved--for his fame had spread among them. They crowded round to look at him as he sat on the ground, some jeering, some threatening, but all, in their heart of hearts, rather respecting the man who sat there absolutely in their power, and yet taking no more notice of them than if they were stones.

”Whaaow!” exclaimed a great mocking voice at his side. ”Whaaow, Lenzimbi! I told you we should meet again. You knocked me down once-- twice. It was your turn then--now it is mine,” and, looking up, he recognised at a glance his old enemy--Mopela.

”Ha--ha! I told you so, didn't I? How do you like that, Lenzimbi--how do you like that?” continued the savage, striking him twice on the head with the shaft of his a.s.segai. ”Yesterday, you--to-day, I. Haow!”

”What has come over the warriors of the Amaxosa that they keep such a cur in their midst?” said Claverton, looking straight before him, and steadily ignoring his persecutor. ”Only a cur bites and worries a helpless man, but if one even looks at a stone he runs away with his tail between his legs, as this cur called Mopela would do if my hands were for a moment free--even as he has done twice already.”

With a yell of rage, and foaming at the mouth, Mopela flourished his a.s.segai within an inch of Claverton's face, but the prisoner never flinched. It seemed that the savage was working himself up to such a pitch that in a moment he would plunge the weapon into the body of his helpless enemy, when his arm was seized in a firm grasp, and Nxabahlana said, coldly:

”Stop, Mopela. You must not kill the prisoner. He belongs to the Great Chief, Sandili.”

”Yes, yes,” chimed in the others, ”he belongs to Sandili; he is not ours!” And favouring Claverton with a frightful glare of disappointed hate, Mopela fell back sullenly among the rest.

”Yes, the white man belongs to Sandili. He is not ours--he is not ours!” repeated the Kafir whose suspicions had been awakened, with a significant glance at his leader's face.

The latter, who, by the way, was Mopela's half-brother, ignored the hint, and gave orders to resume the march.

”Aow!” exclaimed one of the Kafirs, suddenly stopping. ”This is not the way to Sandili.”

”No, no. It isn't?” agreed several of the others.

”It takes us dangerously near the white man's camp,” said the suspicious one, stopping short with a determined air.

”And we might be attacked by a strong patrol,” urged Mopela. ”Senhlu is right.”

A great hubbub now arose. The Kafirs, to a man, objected to pursuing that road any further. It was not safe, they said; they might lose the prisoner, and perhaps all be shot themselves. No. The best plan would be to go straight to head-quarters, and as soon as possible.

Nxabahlana saw that they were determined to have their way. He was only a petty chief, and the great bulk of these men were not his own clansmen; moreover, he was greatly out of favour with Sandili and Matanzima, who would be glad of a pretext to get rid of him. He dared not persevere in his plan; to incur further suspicion would be to court death. So he gave way.

”I intended to have reconnoitred and carried back some news to the Great Chief,” he replied, coldly, and with a sneer. ”But since you are all so afraid of the white men that you dare not venture within three hours'

run of their camp, you can have your way. I shall carry out my scheme alone, while you go back with the prisoner.”

To this plan they one and all objected. It might be that they detected defection in the tone of their leader's voice. He, however, deemed it safer to fall in with their wishes.

”So be it, then,” he said. ”We will all go straight to Sandili.” And the whole party, turning, struck off into the deep wooded fastnesses of the mountains; and the captive's heart sank within him, for he knew that the plan for his deliverance had failed on the verge of its fulfilment, and now every step carried him nearer and nearer to his death. Half an hour ago the flame of life and hope glowed brightly; now the last spark was extinguished in the darkness of a certain and terrible doom.

On they went--on through the dark forest, where the crimson-winged louris flashed across the path, sounding their shrill, cheery whistle, and monkeys skipped away with a chattering noise among the long, tangled trailers and lichens which festooned the boughs of the ma.s.sive yellow-wood trees. Now and then an ominous, stealthy rustle betokened the presence of some great reptile, quietly gliding away among the safe recesses of the thicket; and high above, the harsh, resounding cry of a huge bird of prey floated from a mighty cliff overhanging the line of march. All these things the prisoner noted as a dying man looks at the trivial sights and sounds of earth; for he knew he should never leave this place alive. The clouds had cleared off, and now the sun's rays poured down upon his head like molten fire; fortunately for them the Kafirs had left him his hat, or their captive would have been s.n.a.t.c.hed out of their merciless grasp by a sunstroke, long before he reached the place of torture and death.

At about noon they halted; and one of the Kafirs, advancing a little way ahead, uttered a loud, strange call. It was answered, and, being beckoned to come on, the whole party moved forward and joined him. Then they formed up in a column, and, striking up a war-song, they stepped out, beating time with the handles of their sticks and a.s.segais; those nearest to him, turning every now and then to brandish their weapons in the prisoner's face.

And now they entered an open s.p.a.ce covered with huts--these, however, being of a very temporary order--and a swarm of human beings crowded out to meet them. A few starved-looking dogs rushed forward, yelping, but were promptly driven back with stones; and men, women, and children, stood eagerly watching the return of the warriors, and speculating loudly on the ident.i.ty and probable fate of the captive.

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