The White Hand and the Black Part 34

"_Au Nkose_! They knew not that Ugwala had come into it," answered the man, with a somewhat whimsical smile, the inference being intended that had they known of his presence they would not have attempted such a forlorn hope.

"Are you from beyond the river?"

"_E-he, Nkose_."

"Who are leading these?"

The man looked at him, and shook his head. But he made no reply.

Hyland repeated the question.

"I cannot betray my chiefs," was the answer.

"Oh then you'll have your brains blown out," came the savage rejoinder.

But it was not uttered by Hyland. It came from the man whom he had prevented from lighting a pipe. He had drawn a revolver and was pointing it right into the face of the Zulu. But in a moment Hyland's arm flew up, and the pistol, jerked from the other's grasp, spun away into the air.

"I have the promise of Ugwala," said the savage, calmly, showing no sign whatever of trepidation.

"That's quite right," said Prior emphatically. "d.a.m.n it. The fellow's quite right not to give away his chiefs. Hallo--what's up now? Here, sergeant, shove him into the lock-up with leg-irons on. We can't have him escaping just now, anyway."

All possibility of any pursuance of the quarrel on the part of the aggrieved Jenkins was at an end--for the present at any rate. All hands saw that which told that their work was by no means done. They would need all their coolness and energy for the next half hour--after that, things wouldn't much matter either way. The horses were picketed inside, and outside the defences a large enclosure had been hastily constructed of thorn bushes, and into this the trek oxen were driven at night, making quite a respectable herd. Three sides of this kraal were well covered by the fire of the defenders, but the fourth, of course, was not. Losing no time after their first repulse the a.s.sailants had, with incredible rapidity, breached this fence and were driving out the whole herd. But not as spoil--no not yet. For them they had another purpose, and grasping its import the defenders realised what new peril threatened.

Away up the valley the oxen had been driven by a number told off for the purpose, and now they were returning. By this time the animals were becoming uneasy and excited--tossing their heads and throwing up their tails, and bellowing wildly as they ran.

"Here, Prior. Is there any paraffin about, or kerosene?" asked Hyland eagerly. "Because I have an idea. Only--sharp's the word."

"Yes. Come along."

They went into the store and in a second Hyland had got off the head of a paraffin tin. There were some old sacks in the corner. Seizing one of these he quickly deluged it with the liquid. He rolled his eyes around impatiently.

"A pole--Prior, d.a.m.n it! I must have a pole of some sort."

"Here you are," dragging one out from under some rubbish. It was an old pole which had been used for hoisting a flag on occasions of national festivity. Hyland seized a chopper, and having split the thinner end of the pole, inserted the paraffin-soaked sacking in such wise that it should be held gripped within the cleft. Then they went out.

"Now you fellows," he cried. "They're going to drive the oxen bang over us and rush us under cover of them, and I'm going to _split the herd_.

Cover me well when I skip back, but don't shoot wild."

A hurried murmur of applause. It was a feat whose daring was about equalled by the quickness of resource which had devised the plan.

The oxen were coming on now at a canter, about a hundred all told. The impi had thrown out 'horns' so that the terrified animals, beset by a leaping, yelling crowd on either side, had no option other than to rush blindly ahead.

Hyland Thornhill leaped over the breastwork, armed with his impromptu torch. Carefully avoiding the wires, he advanced about fifty yards and lighted it. The oxen were about twice that distance from him--rendered frantic by the yells and whistling of the savages urging them on behind.

The flame roared up the soaked sacking, and as he waved this about, on a level with the eyes of the animals, Hyland fired off a series of appalling yells worthy of the savages themselves. Would his plan succeed? Those watching it seemed turned to stone. The oxen were almost upon him--they could not stop. Then, as he charged them with the flaming ball, they were suddenly seen to split off into two sections, and in wild mad career to dash through those who would have turned them back, galloping away into distance. Almost before the enemy, coming on behind, could take in this feat its daring perpetrator was back within the defences again. A ringing cheer broke forth. It was answered from the other side.

_Usutu_! _'Sutu_!

The roar of the terrible black wave as it rolled forward. It was full daylight now, and the tossing s.h.i.+elds, and broad blades gripped in each right hand were clearly discernible. The war-shout of the late King told that these were largely made up of those from beyond the river.

The defenders had to meet the dreaded Zulu charge.

Would it never be turned? The guns of the defenders grew hot, with the rapidity of the fire. a.s.segais came whizzing over the breastwork--one, striking a man between the shoulders as he lay at his post, literally pinned him to the earth--but no one had time to notice this. That awful raking of the front ranks, combined with a wholesome dread of the barbed wire, whose disastrous effects they had witnessed, had brought the savages to a halt. a.s.segais, however were hurled in showers, killing another man and wounding several. For a moment the fate of the day hung by a hair, but the terrible incessant fire, and that from guns that seemed to need no reloading, was too much. The line wavered, then dropping to the ground, the a.s.sailants crawled away among the gra.s.s and bushes as before.

A sigh of relief that was almost a murmur, escaped the defenders. Grim, haggard-eyed, they looked furtively at each other, and each, in the face of his fellow, saw the reflection of his own. Each and all had been within the Valley of the Shadow. It had seemed not within their power to turn that last charge, but--they had done it. An odd shot or two was fired at long range after the retreating army, and then men found speech, but even then that speech was apt to be a little unsteady.

"I say, Prior!" cried one devil-may-care fellow, who had borne a tiger's share in the fight. "How about 'The Governor of North Carolina'? We must drink Thornhill's health. He saved this blooming camp."

"_Ja-ja_, he did," was the response on all sides.

"Oh d.a.m.n all that for bos.h.!.+" was the half savage, half weary, comment on the part of him named.

There was a laugh--a somewhat nervous laugh--the effect of the strain.

"All right," said Prior. "Elvesdon has some stuff, but we mustn't clean him out of it all, you know. Ugh! These dead devils look rather disgusting," for he was not used to the sight of bloodshed. "We must keep the women from seeing them."

"Master," said a timid voice, on the outskirts of the crowd. "I make good dinner now for all gentlemen?"

There was a roar of laughter and a cheer. The voice had proceeded from Ramasam, Thornhill's Indian cook, who had spent the time of the fight in the kitchen of Elvesdon's house, green with scare.

"Well done, Ramsammy. So you shall," cried Prior.

"Zulu n.i.g.g.e.r all run away now, masters?" queried the Indian. Whereat the roar redoubled--the point of the joke being that the speaker was a very black specimen of a Madra.s.si, some shades darker than the darkest of those he had defined as "Zulu n.i.g.g.e.r."

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

"CAN THE 'ETHIOPIAN' CHANCE HIS SKIN?"

"Well, we've managed to run our necks into a nice tight noose, Thornhill," was Elvesdon's first remark as he realised that they were virtually prisoners in the hands of insurrectionary savages, which meant that their position would grow more and more dangerous every day.

"The next thing is to get them out of it," rejoined Thornhill fighting his pipe, and puffing away calmly as he walked.

"What about the ladies--will they be safe?"

"Oh yes. If they'd wanted them they'd have brought them along with us."

"Sure?"

"Dead cert."

Elvesdon felt immeasurably relieved. Now, more than ever; now that he was separated from her; might never even see her again; he realised what Edala had become to him. She had fascinated him from the very first, and of late had become part of his life. But it would not do to give way to depression. If Thornhill, who knew these people better than he did, had no anxiety about his daughter's ultimate safety, why surely he himself need have none.

"You see, this hasn't come to anything as yet," went on Thornhill, "whatever it's going to do. Now they know that to interfere with white women in any way would be to bring about a general bust-up, which as yet, they're probably not ready for. But likely enough they've got wind that there's an idea of arresting some of the chiefs, and are holding us as sort of hostages. Have you any notion that there's any such idea on foot?"

"I've heard nothing about it officially or in any other capacity. But if such a programme is on the boards we shall get our throats cut if it's carried out. Is that the meaning?"

The other nodded.

"Well Parry," went on Elvesdon, cheerfully, "you wanted to see the war-dance but you didn't bargain for this, eh? I suppose you've read about this sort of situation too."

"Often, sir. But people always manage somehow to get out of it I notice."