A Frontier Mystery Part 39

"No, not for you, that's understood," he sneered, turning away, for he was still more than a little sore over my success.

"Glanton, I've something devilish rum to tell you."

The speaker was Kendrew. "Come out of the crowd," he went on. "Yes, it just is rum, and it gave me a turn, I can tell you. First of all, that nest of murderers we tumbled into, is bang on the edge of--if not within--my own place. Yes, it is my own place now--beyond a shadow of doubt. For we've unearthed something there."

"You don't mean--" I began, beginning to get an inkling.

He nodded.

"Yes, I do. The furthest of those two poor devils stuck up there against the rock--ugh!--was poor old Hensley--my old uncle."

"Good lord!"

"Yes indeed. I was able to identify him by several things--ugh, but it wasn't a nice job, you understand. But the mystery is not how he couldn't be found at the time, but how the deuce such a neat little devil hole could exist on the place at all, unknown to any of us. Why, you can't get in--or out of it--at all from the top, only through the hole we slipped in by. It's like a false bottom to a box by Jove.

Yes--it's rum how such a place could exist."

I thought so too. So now poor old Hensley's disappearance stood explained; and the explanation was pitiable. He had been beguiled--or forcibly brought--to the h.e.l.l pit of cruelty where these demons performed the dark rites of some secret superst.i.tion, and there horribly done to death by the water torture. When I thought of the one who had been destined to succeed him, and who by the mercy of Providence had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from their fiendish hands just in the nick of time, a sort of "seeing red" feeling came over me, and had they been in my power, I could have ma.s.sacred all four of the prisoners with my own hand.

"Let's see if we can get anything out of them, Kendrew," I said.

"Manvers won't mind."

But Inspector Manvers did mind--at first. Then he agreed. They would be started off for the Police Camp that night; however, as they were here we could talk to them.

We might just as well have saved ourselves the trouble. Ivondwe, who had been kept apart from the others, smiled sweetly and wondered what all the bother was about. He could not imagine why he had been seized and tied up. However that would soon come right. Government was his father, but it had made a mistake. However he, as its child, could not complain even if his father had made a mistake. It would all come right.

The witch doctor simply refused to speak at all, but the young men jeered. One of these I seemed to recognise.

"Surely I have seen thee before?" I said. "Where?"

"_Kwa 'Sipanga_?"

"I remember. Atyisayo is thy name. 'Hot water.' And I warned thee not to get into any more hot water--as the whites say."

He laughed at this--but evilly, and no further word could I get out of either of them.

But if they would reveal nothing there was another who would, and that was Jan Boom. Him I had refrained from questioning until we should be all quiet again.

The police, with the exception of three men, who had been detailed to remain on the spot and keep their eyes and ears open, started off that same evening with their prisoners. Later, Jan Boom came to the house and gave me to understand he had something to tell me. The family had just gone to bed, and Kendrew and I were sitting out on the stoep smoking a last pipe.

"_Nkose_, the time has now come," he said, "to tell you what will sound strange to your ears. I would not tell it before, no, not till the _Amapolise_ had gone. The _Amapolise_ are too fond of asking many questions--foolish questions--asking them, too, as if they thought you were trying to throw sand in their eyes when all the time you are trying to help them. Now is that encouraging to one who would help them?"

I readily admitted that it was not.

"So now, _Nkose_, if you will come forth with me where we shall not be heard--yes, the nephew of Nyamaki may come, too--for my tale is not for all ears, you shall hear it."

We needed no second invitation. As we followed him I could not but call to mind, in deep and thankful contrast, his revelation of two nights ago--made in the same way and on the same spot.

"You will have heard, _Amakosi_," he began, "of the tribe called Amazolo, or the People of the Dew, which flourished in Natal before Tshaka's impis drove the tribes of that land into the mountains or the sea.

"It was out of this tribe that the princ.i.p.al rainmakers came. So sure and successful were they in making rain that they were always in request. Even Tshaka, the Great, came to hear of them, and was never without some of them at his Great Place, Dukuza, but as to these, well-- he was ever sending for a fresh supply. But he, that Elephant, and Dingane after him, protected the Amazolo, so that they became looked up to and respected among all peoples.

"Now Luluzela, the chief of that tribe, was jealous of the first rain-making doctor, Kukuleyo, for it had come to this--that Luluzela was chief of the Amazolo but Kukuleyo was chief of him. So Luluzela waited patiently and watched his chances, for he dare not strike the rain doctor openly because Dingane favoured him, and had anything happened to him would soon have demanded to know the reason why. One day accordingly, knowing some of the mysteries himself, he ordered Kukuleyo to bring rain. The cattle were dying for want of water, and the crops were parched. The people would soon be dying too. But Kukuleyo answered that the moment was not propitious; that anything he did then would anger the _izituta_ instead of propitiating them, and that when the time was right a sacrifice must be offered; not of cattle but of something quite beyond the ordinary. The chief jeered at this, but said the rain doctors might offer any sacrifice they chose."

"'Any sacrifice they chose?'" echoed Kukuleyo with emphasis.

"Yes. Any sacrifice they chose," repeated the chief, angry and sneering. But if rain did not come within a certain time why then Kukuleyo and all those who helped him should suffer the fate which had always been that of impostors.

"Soon after this, clouds began to gather in the heavens, and to spread and fly like vultures when they scent death afar. In a roaring thunder-rush they broke, and the land, all parched and cracked and gaping, ran off the water in floods. There was rejoicing, and yet not, for it had all come too quickly and violently, was.h.i.+ng away and drowning the cattle which it should have restored to life, and covering the cornlands with thick layers of unfruitful sand. The people murmured against Kukuleyo and his rainmakers, the chief waxed fierce, and threatened. But his answer was firm and quiet. 'Lo, I have brought you rain.'

"Still, good followed, for when the worst had pa.s.sed the worst, and the water was run off, the land was green again, and all things grew and thrived and fattened. But--then followed consternation on other grounds. The chief's son, Bacaza, had disappeared.

"He had disappeared, suddenly and in mystery. No trace was left. He might have gone into empty air. At first Luluzela was angry, then alarmed. He sent for Kukuleyo.

"But the rain doctor's face was like rock. What had he to do with the disappearance of people? he said. He was a rainmaker. He was not trained in unfolding mysteries. The chief of the Amazolo had better send for an _isa.n.u.si_ if he wanted this one unfolded.

"And then, _Amakosi_, a discovery was made. Bacaza, the son of the chief was found--what was left of him that is. He was spread out beneath the falling water above a lonely pool, and was so arranged that the constant flow of water falling upon the back of his head and neck, slowly wore him to death. But it took days of awful agony such as no words could tell."

"How do you know that, Jan Boom?" I said, moved to an uneasiness of horror by the vivid way in which the Xosa was telling his story, for his eyes rolled and he pa.s.sed his hand quickly over his face to wipe off the beads of perspiration. Clearly the recollection was a real and a terrible one to him.

"I know it, because I have been through it," he answered. "For a whole night, and part of a day I have been through it. _Hau_! it is not a thing to look back to, _Amakosi_. But let me tell my tale. When Luluzela heard what had been done he sent for Kukuleyo, intending to put him and his rainmakers to a slow and lingering death by fire. But Kukuleyo was no fool. He appeared armed, and with a great force at his back, so that that plan could not be carried out. For some time they looked at each other like two bulls across a kraal fence, then Kukuleyo said:--

"'Did not the chief of the Amazolo bid us offer any sacrifice we pleased, in order to obtain the desired rain?'

"'Eh-he, any sacrifice we pleased,' echoed his followers, clamorously.

"'Why then, have I not taken the chief at his word?' went on Kukuleyo, defiantly. 'Nothing less than his son would satisfy the _izituta_, and his son have we offered. And--has it not rained? Ah! Ah! "Any sacrifice we pleased," was the word,' he went on mockingly. 'The word of the chief.'

"But Luluzela did not wait to hear more. With a roar of rage, he and those that were with him, hurled themselves upon the rainmakers. But these had come prepared, and had a goodly following too, all armed, many who were dissatisfied with Luluzela's rule--where is there a chief without some dissatisfied adherents?--and who had benefited by the rain.

Then there was a great fight, and in it the chief was slain, but Kukuleyo came out without a scratch. This led to other fighting, and the tribe was broken up, some wandering one way, some another. But ever since then the Amazolo have been in request. The scattered remnants thus drifted, but whenever a severe drought occurred some of them were sure to be found. With them they took the tradition of the sacrifice of Luluzela's son."

"But," I said. "Do they sacrifice someone every time rain is wanted?"

"Not every time, _Nkose_. Still it is done, and that to a greater extent than you white people have any idea of. And it would have continued to be done if Ukozi had not conceived the idea of turning to white people for his victims. Hence the disappearance of Nyamaki. This time it was intended to seize Umsindo, but he is a great fighting bull, and would not only have injured others, but would most certainly have got injured himself; and it is essential that the victim who is put through _ukuconsa_ as it is called, shall be entirely uninjured. So they chose the _Inkosikazi_ instead."

"But, Jan Boom," put in Kendrew. "How on earth did they manage, in the case of my uncle, to spirit him away as they did--and leave no trace?"

"That I cannot tell you, _Nkose_. You must get that from Ukozi, if he will tell."

"Here is another thing," I said. "Even if Ukozi belongs to this tribe, Atyisayo and Ivondwe do not. They are of Tyingoza's people."

"That is true, _Nkose_. But the thing is no longer confined to the Amazolo. It has become a close and secret brotherhood, and all may belong. They are called _Abangan 'ema zolweni_, the Comrades--or Brotherhood--of the Dew. And--it is everywhere. You remember what we found in Majendwa's country? Well that was a victim of _ukuconsa_ and it surprised me, because I had not thought the custom had found its way into Zululand."

"And what of the pool here, and the big serpent, and Ukozi feeding it with the kid?" I asked, for I had already told him about this.

"The snake embodies the Water Spirit," he said. "It is customary to feed such with offerings."

"Was there then a snake in the other pool which we found?" I asked, feeling a creepy, shuddering horror run through me at the thought of the indescribably ghastly fate which had hung over my darling and from which we had only just been in time to save her, thanks to the shrewd prompt.i.tude of this staunch fellow, whom I had begun by disliking and mistrusting.