In the Whirl of the Rising Part 16

"But you can't," jeered Steele. Then roused to the highest pitch of fury by the other's coolness, he bellowed: "Look here. Can you fight, eh? Can you? Because if so, come on."

Something akin to intense dismay came into Lamont's mind at this development. That this drunken, aggressive idiot should have it in his power to dig not only his own grave--that would have been a good riddance--but all their graves, was a new and startling development in a situation that was already sufficiently complicated. For apart from his horror and repulsion at being perforce a party to a drunken brawl in the bar tent--how was he going to impress Qubani, at the crucial moment, with a bunged-up eye, perchance, or a bleeding nose. He would only look ridiculous, not in the least impressive, and it was of vital importance he should look impressive.

"Yes, I can," he answered shortly, "but I'm not going to--now."

A murmur of disgust arose from among some of the bystanders. Lamont had funked again.

"Then you're a blanked coward," yelled Steele, and the murmurs deepened.

And yet--and yet--there was a look in Lamont's dark face which made some of them pause, for it was not exactly the look of one who was afraid, rather was it that of a man who was trying to restrain himself.

"I'm not going to now," he said shortly, "but I'll accommodate you where and when you like, after the gymkhana's over. We can't start bruising now, with a lot of ladies on the scene. Now, can we?"

The bystanders, thus appealed to, saw the sense of this. Besides, they were not going to be done out of their fun this time. It was only fun adjourned.

"No, no. That's quite right and reasonable. Jim, you can't kick up a row here now. Take it out of him afterwards," were some of the cries that arose.

"He won't be there. He'll scoot."

"Oh no, I won't," answered Lamont. "I'll be there,"--"if any of us are," he added to himself grimly.

He finished his liquor and went outside. There was a lull in the proceedings, and people were moving about and talking, pending the distribution of the prizes.

"Greeting, Qubani. That is good. Last time we talked was 'kwa Zwabeka.'"

"_Ou_! Lamonti is my father," answered the old witch-doctor. Then, having fired off a long string of _sibongo_, he concluded that the sun was very hot, and it was long since he had drunk anything.

"That shall be presently when these are gone," said Lamont. "But first--walk round with me, and I will show you where the horses race.

It is good to see the chief of all _iza.n.u.si_ again."

The old ruffian complied, nothing loth. He was thinking that the more exuberant his friendliness the more completely would he lull all suspicion among these fools of whites. He professed himself profoundly interested in everything explained to him.

"I saw you ride, Lamonti," he said. "_Whau_! but you did pick up the little bits of wood with the long spear. That was great--great. But the other _Inkosi_ was greater."

"Yes, the other was greater, Qubani, but what made me miss that stroke was joy at seeing my father, the greatest of all _iza.n.u.si_ in our midst."

"_Whau_!"

"Mr Lamont, do come and help us with the prizes. They balloted for who should distribute them, and Lucy was chosen. Do come and stand by us and help. They are going to begin now."

"I'm most awfully sorry, Miss Vidal, but I can't just now."

"You won't?" said Clare curtly, for she was not accustomed to be refused.

"I can't," he repeated. "Do believe I have a good reason--and don't direct any attention to me just now. Believe me, a great deal hangs upon it."

"Very well," she said, and left him, marvelling. It must be as he had said--still that he should refuse to do something for her and prefer to talk to this squalid old savage instead--why, it was incomprehensible.

"What is covered up on that waggon, _Nkose_!" said the witch-doctor, pointing to a waggon which stood just inside the fence. Its position, perhaps, directly facing the Ehlatini ridge, suggested an inspiration to Lamont. He answered--

"_Izikwa-kwa_." [Maxim guns.]

"'M--'m! _Izikwa-kwa_?" hummed the other, wholly unable to suppress a considerable start of surprise. Then, recovering himself, he grinned, in bland incredulity.

"_Inkosi_ is joking," he said. "There is no war."

"Nevertheless those are _izikwa-kwa_, loaded and ready to pour forth a storm of bullets for the rest of the day;" and the speaker devoutly prayed that the bar-keeper might not send his boy to get out another supply of soda-water bottles from beneath the sail and thus expose the fraud.

"Come. We will go and see them receive the rewards, those who have won them. But first I would have something to remember the chief of _iza.n.u.si_ by. So sell me that red cap which is on thy head, Qubani,"

producing some silver.

"Now nay, my father, now nay, for the nights are cold and this red cap is warm--ah! ah! warm. See, here is a fine horn snuff-box, be content with that instead, as a gift."

"Here I hold the lives of twelve men--six on each side," answered Lamont, showing him the b.u.t.t of a revolver, in one of his side pockets.

"If I receive not that red cap this instant, the first life it shall spill will be that of the chief of all _iza.n.u.si_."

Qubani grunted, then his hand went slowly to his head. It was a tense, a nerve-racking moment. Would this savage, defying death, hurl the blood-red symbol high in the air, or--

The two were alone together now, the whole a.s.sembly having gathered round the prize tent. Lamont had drawn a revolver.

"Move not, save to hand me that cap," he said.

For a moment the savage hesitated. But the ring of steel pointing straight at his chest, perhaps the awful and fell look on this man's face, from which every drop of blood had vanished, and whose eyes were glittering like those of a wild beast, decided him. His hand came slowly down from his head, and the red cap was in Lamont's left hand.

Yes, it was a tense moment, and in the excitement of it Lamont had all he could do to keep his nerves steady. With a mind characteristically attuned to trifles at such a moment he found his attention partly shared by such. Apart from the crowd a very pretty girl was rating a man, in voluble English with a foreign accent, apparently for having paid too much attention elsewhere during the day. He heard Jim Steele snarling and cursing in the bar tent, and idly wondered if his language would reach ears for which it was not fit. He felt an interest in Orwell's dog, running about in search of its master--in short, a dozen other trivialities raced through his brain. Then a loud cheer broke the spell. The first prize had been distributed.

"This is not the unarmed gathering you would think, Qubani," he said, speaking in quick low tones. "Each man--and there are nearly two hundred of them--has his weapons all ready, and would have them in his hand in far less time than it would take you to run--say from here to Ehlatini."

"_Whou_!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the witch-doctor, bringing his hand to his mouth.

"Moreover, all round Gandela there is laid that which would blow a whole impi into the air did such walk over it. The whites know where it is, but it would be very dangerous for strangers."

"Ha!"

Another cheer went up, as another prize was given away. Incidentally Lamont thought how fortunate he had been in not winning the tent-pegging compet.i.tion, for he could not have received his prize by deputy, and it was still important to keep a close watch on Qubani.

"And now, O great _isa.n.u.si_," he went on, "what would be thy fate did those here know what my _muti_ has told me? No quick and easy death, I fear."

A troubled and anxious look came into the old man's face.

"You are my father, Lamonti, but your talk is dark--very dark. _Ou_!

Yet though I understand it not, I will do all you wish."

"That will be wise. Now we will look at them receiving the rewards.

Come."

The prize tent was at the farther end of the enclosure and facing the Ehlatini ridge, towards which the spectators' backs were, by the position, of necessity turned. But Lamont, as he manoeuvred his prisoner on to the fringe of the crowd, took care that his was not. He noticed, moreover, a thread of smoke arising from the summit of the ridge. Well, there was nothing very extraordinary about that--or--there might have been.

"Throw up thy cap, Qubani," he said pleasantly, as another cheer broke forth and some hats were thrown in the air. "Throw up thy cap, and rejoice with us. Thy white cap."