A Frontier Mystery Part 23

"As it is I've a notion we shall have to round up our belongings extra tight till we are clear of the country."

"Oh well. Let's make the best of it and sit tight here a week or so longer, Glanton. I'm beginning to enjoy this shooting among rocks.

These klip-springers are such cute little devils. It's more fun shooting them than it used to be markhor, and nothing like the f.a.g."

Falkner was a capital shot with rifle and bird gun alike, and one of his good points was that he was a keen and thorough sportsman. That being the case he had been able to find game up here where one less keen would have given up in disgust, and it was a good thing, if only that it kept him out of mischief.

Jan Boom, the Xosa, was the only one who would hint at any reason for the falling off of our trade, but, as it happened, I was rather prejudiced against him by reason of his affectation of a certain air of superiority over those of his own colour, on the strength of his knowledge of English. In fact I rather disliked him, and therefore of course distrusted him. Subsequently I had reason to alter my opinion with regard to him: but that will keep. Out of Mfutela I could get nothing on the subject. Either he knew nothing or was too "close" to say: and when a native is "close" why it is rather less difficult to make an oyster open by whispering soft nothings to it than to get him to unfold.

One day Falkner and I started off to have a hunt among the krantzes beyond those which walled in the hollow. We took Jan Boom with us, and a couple of young Zulus to show us the short cut. It was a grey and lowering day, gloomy in the extreme, and every now and then a spot of rain showed what we were likely to expect, but Falkner was keen on sport, and I was getting hipped, besides, in those days I cared little enough for weather. We scrambled about all the morning among the rocks, with absolutely no luck whatever, and then I got sick of it, wherefore after we had lunched upon what we had brought with us I proposed to find my way back to the waggons. Falkner of course wanted to keep on, but I pointed out that my defection need cause no drawback to him, for I would leave him the boys and make my way back alone. So we separated and before we had long done so a distant report, some way above, showed that at any rate he was beginning to find sport.

I struck downward, rapidly making use of half obliterated cattle tracks, for the Abaqulusi were largely a mountain tribe, and there were outlying kraals among the heights as well as in the hollows. Following one of these paths I came suddenly upon a steep gorge, falling abruptly to the next slope some distance below.

This gully was in places almost chasm-like in its formation, and was indescribably wild and gloomy in the utter solitude of the grey afternoon. I had just crossed it where the path dipped, when, looking up, there stood a klipspringer gazing at me.

He was an easy hundred yard shot. Slipping from the saddle on the further side from him, I thought to myself that Falkner would not altogether have the crow over me when we got back. But--when I looked again, expecting to take a quick aim, by Jingo! the little beast had disappeared.

This was annoying, for now a disinclination to return empty handed had seized me. Quickly and noiselessly I made my way up to where he had been. It was as I had thought. He had been standing on a sort of pinnacle; and now, as I peered cautiously over, there stood the little buck, less than the first distance below.

He was outlined against the black and shadowed bottom of the gorge, and was gazing away from me. Now I would have him, I decided. In a second my sights were on him full--I didn't take long over aiming in those days--when I lowered the rifle with some precipitation. Right bang in a line with where the klipspringer had been standing--had been, observe, for the slight additional movement on my part had caused him to disappear again--was the form of a man.

It gave me a turn, for with lightning rapidity it flashed through my mind that nothing could have saved him. Then consternation gave way to curiosity. The form though that of a man was not that of a living one.

Down in the shadow of a dark hole, overhung by gloomy rocks, it sprawled in a constrained half upright posture against one of these. It was too far off and the light not good enough to be able to distinguish how it was secured in this position, but it seemed to be facing upward in a dreadful att.i.tude of scared supplication. I would go down and investigate. But before I had taken many steps in pursuance of this resolve I stopped short.

For an idea had occurred to me. The body was that of a native, and it was obvious that life had been extinct for some time. What good purpose could I serve by investigating it further? I was in a savage country in which life was held cheap. The man whoever he might be, had quite likely been executed for some offence; the method of his death being in all probability designed to fit the offence. Clearly therefore it was no concern of mine, and accordingly I decided to forego further investigation. And then, as though to confirm me in the good policy of such decision something happened--something that was sufficiently startling.

A bullet pinged against a stone beside me, sending up a hard splash of splinters and dust, and, confound it, the thing had hit barely a yard from where I was standing.

"Hallo, Falkner!" I hailed, deeming the puff of smoke from among the rocks above and opposite must be his work. "Look out I'm here. D'you hear, man?"

But no answer came, not immediately that is. In a minute however, one did come, and that in the shape of another bullet, which banged up the dust just about the same distance on the other side of me. My first impulse was that Falkner was playing one of his idiotic practical jokes at my expense, but with the idea I seemed to feel sure that it was not Falkner--and that, in short, I had better withdraw from this very uncanny spot.

As I hastened to carry this judicious resolve into practical effect I won't pretend that I felt otherwise than uncomfortable and very much so.

Whoever it was up there could shoot--confound him! an accomplishment rare indeed among the natives of Zululand in those days. Clearly too the exact nicety with which both distances had been judged seemed to point to the fact that both shots had been fired by way of warning.

That I had at any rate accepted such I trusted I had made clear to the giver of it, as I walked--I hoped without undue haste but rapidly--to where I had left my horse.

Nothing further occurred, although until clear of the heights I kept an uncommonly sharp look out. Once clear of them however, the incident left no great impression on my mind. I had unwittingly stumbled across something unusual and had been about to pry into what didn't concern me, and it had been resented. The Abaqulusi were an independent and warlike clan who would be sure to resent such. I had received a hint, and a pretty forcible one, to mind my own business, and I concluded that in future I would mind it, at any rate while in these parts. That was all.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

CONCERNING A LETTER.

Evening was closing in wet and gloomy. The lowering clouds swept along the high ground which shot in the great hollow, causing the cliffs to seem three times their real height in the ghostly murk. Added to this it was raw and cold, which had the effect of causing the inhabitants of the big kraal to hug their firesides. Here and there a form swathed in an ample green blanket might be seen moving from one hut to another, quickly to dive within the same, for your savage is a practical animal, and sees no fun in foregoing any of his comforts when no necessity exists for doing so--and the interior of the huts was warm and dry, and, without, it was neither.

I was alone at the waggons, Falkner not having yet returned. For this I was not sorry, for although Falkner and I had grown accustomed to each other, yet there were times when I could cheerfully accept a holiday from his presence.

Darker and darker it grew. The oxen were driven in and fastened to the trek chain for the night, and the boys, lying snug under the shelter they had rigged up by means of a large sail thrown over the buck waggon, leaving one side between the wheels open, were chatting in their rhythmical deep-voiced hum, and the fire they had built not far from the opening glowing more and more redly as the gloom deepened. Then their talk suddenly ceased, as out of the darkness appeared a tall figure, saluting.

"What have you there?" I said, as the new arrival began fumbling for something in his skin pouch.

"_Incwadi 'Nkose_," he answered.

I own to a thrill of excited expectation very foreign to my normally placid way of taking things, for _incwadi_ is the word for a letter or a token of any kind. I could hardly restrain my eagerness to open the packet carefully sewn up in oilskin, which the man now handed me. Aida Sewin, then, had availed herself of the means of correspondence which I had arranged, but--what if this were not addressed to me after all, but only to Falkner? and at the thought my antic.i.p.ations fell. Still it would be good to hear, anyhow. The rather startling incident of a few hours ago was driven clean from my mind now.

I climbed into the tent waggon and lighted the lantern which hung from the tent, and you may be sure it didn't take me long to unroll the oilskin wrapping. Two letters it contained--one for Falkner and one for myself--the latter in the handwriting I knew, and one that a reader of character from handwriting would a.s.suredly not have reported upon unfavourably. Having once satisfied myself on the point, I believe I was in no hurry to open it. The pleasures of antic.i.p.ation, you see, counted for something with me still.

Then came another phase in the above. I drew from the envelope several sheets rather closely written. Why, this was too much luck. I glanced quickly through them to ascertain that the whole of it was for me, but resolved not to antic.i.p.ate the contents in any way. More than ever was I glad now that Falkner had not returned. I could well do without his somewhat boisterous company for the next half-hour, or even longer.

Then I spread open the sheets before me, and by the somewhat dim light of the waggon lantern began to read.

"Dear Mr Glanton,--I am taking advantage of the arrangement you so thoughtfully made, and only trust this will not miss you during your wanderings. Mother is writing to Falkner at the same time. I hope you have been able to make him useful, and that he has behaved himself generally well. He is a good sort of boy at bottom, but gets far too much spoilt among us all, as you must have observed, though I believe I am the one who spoils him least. At any rate a little roughing it will do him no harm.

"Things are very much as usual. We see a good deal of Mr Kendrew, who comes over when he can and is a great help."--"Oh, the devil he is!"

said I to myself at this point. "Just what I foresaw, confound it!"--"But we miss you very much, and are hoping soon to welcome you back after a thoroughly successful expedition."

This was more comforting, I thought to myself, laying down the letter and conjuring up a recollection of the writer's words, that last evening. She would look forward to my return, she had declared--would be disappointed if I did not go to see them immediately. Confound it, what was the matter with me, that I sat dreaming and building castles in the air? The rain fell upon the canvas of the waggon tent with monotonous drip, and a puff of raw air through the flap of the tied-down sail caused the light of the hanging lantern to flicker--but I was no longer in the gloomy wilds of Northern Zululand, on a rainy, chilly, and altogether abominable evening. I was again in the starlight glow as on that evening, listening to the sweet tones of the writer's voice, and gazing at the beautiful, highbred face.

The letter went on, dealing now with everyday matter, in a bright, natural, chatty style. The Major was in great form and delighted with his garden and its development, thanks to some fine rains. The Scotts had been over to see them a couple of times--and here followed some banter at the expense of that worthy and neighbouring family, the head of which--originally a waggon-maker's journeyman--was, incidentally, addicted to too much grog, when he could get it--which wasn't often. At Major Sewin's he could get it, and became comical, but always harmlessly so. Things on the farm were going well, thanks to Ivondwe, who was worth his weight in gold, and--I could read between the lines--was practically running the place himself. Tyingoza had been over to see them too, and seemed completely to have forgotten Falkner's liberty with regard to his head-ring, for he had been exceedingly pleasant, and, through Ivondwe, had said a great many nice things about me--reading which I felt more than brotherly towards Tyingoza, and made up my mind then and there to present him with something of large and practical value when I should get up my next consignment of trade goods.

This had covered some three sheets, closely written, and there were still quite as many more. Decidedly Miss Sewin was a good correspondent. I had been going through her letter grudgingly, as if the turning of every leaf should bring the end near. The sail was lifted, and Tom's honest black face appeared, to ask some question. I curtly told him to go to the devil, and resumed my reading.

"And now," went on the letter, "I am coming to something that I feel I must tell you, and yet I hardly like to. It seems so ridiculous somehow when one comes to put it down on paper, though if you were here, and we could talk it over, well--it might not. You remember that last evening, and what we were talking about when I asked you if some plan could not be arranged under which I could write to you if I felt that we were in need of your aid or advice? The idea rather originated with yourself if you remember, in your usual kindness and forethought, so that consideration alone emboldens me to write what might otherwise seem to you only fanciful and foolish. You know, too, I am not inclined to indulge in that sort of thing, so you will, I am sure, bear with me.

But I must begin.

"You remember that witch doctor, Ukozi, who came upon us suddenly at the waterhole that same last evening, when my coin was lost? Well, he has taken to coming here a great deal. At first my father used to get angry with him and want to drive him away; you know, quite in the old style, before you taught him--or tried to teach him--that the natives here were not to be driven like our people in India used to be. But Ukozi didn't seem to mind. He would go away chuckling, but the next day sure enough, there he was again. Then father suddenly swung round and seemed to take a fancy to him. He would talk to him by the hour--through Ivondwe interpreting--and when we wondered, would tell us that he was getting Ulcozi to teach him some of the native magic. Of course it seemed to us absurd, but if we said anything of the sort father would get angry, so the only thing was to let him go his own way. But when it came to his going out at night with the witch doctor and coming back at all hours thoroughly done up, why it seemed that the thing was going too far. He has become very mysterious too. Once he let drop that Ukozi was going to tell him all about the waterhole, and the strange thing that we saw there, and then he became more angry still and vowed that he wouldn't be interfered with--that here was a chance of learning something quite out of the common, and he was going to take it whatever happened. Nothing we can say or do seems to weigh with him in the least, and really, if it didn't sound too absurd, I should say that this witch doctor had got him right under his thumb. I asked Ivondwe about it quietly, but he was very nice, and said that the old _Nkose_ was a wise man, yet there were things that his wisdom had not yet reached, and now he would like to learn them--that was all. There was nothing to trouble about. When he had learnt what Ukozi could--or would--teach him--and that was not much--then he would be the same as before. Now, Mr Glanton, you know these people, and I ask you what does it all mean? My father is altogether a changed man--how changed you would be the first to recognise if you could see him. What, too, is the object; for Ukozi, beyond getting something to eat, and tobacco now and then, does not seem to ask for anything by way of payment, and I always thought the native _isa.n.u.si_ was nothing if not acquisitive? But he is always here. For want of a better expression he is getting upon my nerves, and not only upon mine. It seems as if we were somehow being drawn within an influence, and an influence the more weird and inexplicable that it is through an agency that we should traditionally hold as something inferior, and therefore quite absurd to take seriously. I mean a native influence.

"Shall I risk disgracing myself for ever in your eyes by owning that I am getting just a little bit frightened? Yes, frightened--I'm afraid there's no other word for it--and the worst of it is I don't in the least know what I am frightened of. It seems as if a something was hanging over us--a something awful, and from which there is no escape.

You remember it was such a presentiment that made me say what I did the last time you were here, and you rea.s.sured me on the subject of the witch doctor at any rate. As to him, there is another strange circ.u.mstance. Arlo, too, seems to have come under his influence. Arlo who never could be got to take to any native, and now he is more obedient to this Ukozi than to any of us; yet it is the obedience of fear, for he whines and crouches when the witch doctor speaks to him.

Here, you will allow, is a real mystery.

"There are other things I might say, but I think I have said enough.

Again I hope you won't put me down as a weak-minded idiot frightened at her own shadow. This country, you see, is so new and strange to us, and our position is rather lonely; father, too, is ageing a good deal, so there is some excuse if we feel a little--well, nervous, at times. As it is I have put off writing to you until, as I reckon from what you said, your time in Zululand must be nearly up, and then only that you may not delay to come and see us immediately on your return.

"All send kind regards and are looking forward to welcoming you back, but none more so than--

"Yours very sincerely,

"Aida Sewin.

"P.S.--I would rather you didn't mention anything of this to Falkner."