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A Dash from Diamond City, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 26. A Dark Visitor |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. A DARK VISITOR An hour must have passed away, during which neither of the weary bearers of the despatch moved. Then in a low whisper West spoke. "Asleep, Ingle?" "Asleep? No," was whispered back. "I can't close my eyes." "Neither can I." "Why not?" "Over tired and excited, I suppose. All this is so strange too." "What have you been thinking about?" "At first I could only think of the despatch and wonder whether we should get it to Mafeking. Then I began thinking of that black out in the stable and what he said." "About his master wanting his pony saddled?" whispered Ingleborough. "Yes. What did he want his pony saddled for at that time of night?" "How strange!" said Ingleborough. "That's what kept on bothering me!" "Ingle." "Yes." "Do you think that fellow meant treachery?" "I don't know; but I'd believe in any treacherous act on the part of a Boer." "Would he be likely to ride off somewhere to where there is a commando?" "For the sake of getting us taken prisoners or shot?" "Or so as to get possession of our ponies! I saw him examining them as if he liked them." "So did I." There was silence again, and West spoke. "Ingle," he said, "I can't sleep here; the despatch seems to be sticking into me to remind me of my duty. We shall rest better in our saddles than on this wretched bed. What do you say--the free cool air of the veldt, or this stuffy, paraffiny room?" "Let's be off, and at once!" "We will. We can slip out quietly without waking these people, and most likely we are misjudging the man, who has the regular racial hatred of the British." "Perhaps; but we must be careful, for if he heard us going to the shed and meddling with the horses he'd likely enough begin blazing away at us with his rifle." At that moment West clutched his companion's arm, for they heard no sound, but all at once the dark silhouette of a man's head appeared framed in the little back window against a background of starry points which glistened like gold. Ingleborough's hand stole to his rifle, which he grasped, as both held their breath; but he did not attempt to raise it, for the head was thrust inside, and a voice whispered the one word: "Baas." "Yes," said West softly. "What is it, my lad?" "My baas take pony and ride away. Go to fetch fighting Boer to shoot good baas. You and good baas him." "Ah?" said West. "Iss. Jack put saddles on Basuto ponies; put bridles on Basuto ponies. Good baas both come and ride away. Tant' Ann never hear nothing. Sleep all night." "And if we go what will your baas do to you when he comes and finds the ponies gone?" said West. "Bad baas never see me again! Going home to my country to-night." "Ah, that's better!" said Ingleborough. "Here, take the two rifles, and we'll get out here. Jack, my lad, you're a trump, and you shall have five two-shilling pieces for this, to buy new blankets." The Kaffir chuckled and clicked with satisfaction as he stood holding the rifles till Ingleborough slipped out, West pausing to cram the bread cakes and biltong into their satchels, after which he too slipped out, and the trio hurried towards the stables. "How far has your baas to ride to the fighting Boers?" West asked the Kaffir. "Long ride," replied the black. "Many Boers yesterday, many Boers other day, many Boers come in morning with baas." "Then we're all right for a good start," said Ingleborough. "I say, West, you're always taking me into some trap: hadn't I better lead?" "You are leading now," replied West. "How do we know that there are not a dozen of the enemy in the stable?" "What! Oh, nonsense! Come along!" The ponies whinnied as they entered, and the black struck a match and lit a wagon lantern, showing that they were ready bridled and their heads tied up to a rail, while examination proved that the saddles were properly girthed ready for a start. "Here, stop a minute!" said Ingleborough, as the man began to unfasten the reins attached to the ponies' heads. "Here, I promised you five two-shilling pieces," and he counted them out ready in his hand, making the black's eyes sparkle with delight in the lamplight. "Stop," said West sharply; "the poor fellow's losing his place, such as it is, by helping us. I have our expenses money, and I shall give him a sovereign." "Well, he deserves it," said Ingleborough, as West pushed back his companion's hand containing the silver coins with his left, and held out the sovereign, which looked very bright and new in the yellow light shed by the lantern. A sudden change came over the Kaffir's face at once. Instead of the grinning white teeth and twinkling eyes his lips were drawn tightly over his teeth, and a scowl contracted his eyes. "No, no, no," he cried, with child-like petulance, in the Boer-Dutch, sadly mutilated. "No want one. Say five big shillings." "What!" cried West. "Why, this is worth twice as much." "No, no," cried the man angrily. "Want to cheat poor black Kaffir. No, no; Olebo want to help white baas! White baas want cheat poor black Zulu!" "Poor old chap!" said Ingleborough, laughing merrily; "his education has been sadly neglected. Here, Jack--Olebo, or whatever your name is--take the sovereign, and you shall have the five two-shillings pieces as well." "Eh? No cheat Zulu boy?" cried the man doubtingly. "No, all right; catch hold. There, now you can buy many blankets, and may you never be tricked any worse!" "Hah! Yes; buy lot, take home!" And the white teeth were shown again as the coins were gripped fast, including the sovereign, which was held up first to the light. "White shilling? No: yellow farden." "All right; but take it to an honest man, my lad. Now then, untie those reins." The black turned to obey, but stopped short and stood staring away through the open side of the shed for a few moments, with the light shining full upon his face, showing his starting eyes, open mouth, and dilated quivering nostrils. "What's the matter? Can he hear a lion?" whispered West. "Here, stop, stop!" cried Ingleborough. "Finish your job!--We've paid him too well and too soon. He's off to run amok among the brandy and blanket dealers." For the black had darted outside, but in the gloom they saw him suddenly throw himself down and lay one ear to the ground. "Yes, he can hear a lion," grumbled Ingleborough; "but the ponies haven't caught it yet." He had hardly finished speaking before the Kaffir sprang up again and dashed into the shed, where he reached up and dragged something from the rafters which proved to be an elephant-hide shield with three assegais secured to the hand-hold inside. "Baas hold this!" he said excitedly. "Boer coming. Olebo hear horses!" Half throwing the weapons to Ingleborough, who caught them, and leaned them against his side while he examined the charges of his rifle, an action imitated by West, the Kaffir rapidly unfastened the reins, setting the ponies' heads free, and then darted at the lantern, opened the door, and blew out the light. "Now come 'long," he whispered, and taking the ponies' heads he placed himself between them and led them along, stopping the next moment to hold them steady while their riders mounted. "Olebo run 'long with two baas show the way," he said. "Basuto ponies tumble over ostrich pens." "Hah! Good idea!" said West, and, listening now, he fancied he made out the sound of a troop of horse in the distance; but Ingleborough said he could hear nothing yet. Leaving themselves to the guidance of the Kaffir, they found to their surprise that, instead of striking straight off, he led them to the house, and then round to the back, where the little window by whose means he had stolen close to where they lay and given the alarm stood open. "Here, take your shield!" said Ingleborough. "Wait a bit!" replied the black, chuckling. "Hist! You'll have the old vrouw hear." "No," said the black confidently; "fast asleep. Wicked old witch! Throw kettle at Kaffir, hot water burn back! Wait a bit; you see!" Dependent as they were on the man's guidance through the darkness amongst the enclosures, the fugitives left him to himself for a few moments, wondering what he was about to do. They soon knew, for he stopped the ponies close to the little window, left their heads, and went close up, to begin fumbling about his spare garments, whence came the chink of the coins he had just received. "Matches," he said, and West made out that he took a few from the box he held in his hand, and then reached in at the window, chuckling softly. "Ingle," whispered. West, with horror in his voice. "What's the matter?" "Do you know what he's doing?" "Nobbling a couple of the blankets because he isn't going to stay for his wages?" "No; I'm sure he has emptied the match-box on the straw mattress, and is going to burn down the house." "Nonsense!" _Crack_! went a match by way of endorsement of West's words, and the next moment the little flame began to burn inside the Kaffir's hands, lighting up his exulting countenance as he waited till the splint of wood was well alight. "What are you going to do?" said West hoarsely, as he leaned forward and laid his right hand upon the black's shoulder. "Don't shake light out!" was the answer. "Olebo going make big fire, roast Tant' Ann! Big fat witch, soon burn!" As the Kaffir finished he lowered one hand, leaving the match blazing brightly, and he was in the act of leaning in to apply it to the little heap of matches he had placed upon the loose straw mattress, when a sharp snatch at his shoulder jerked him back, and the burning splint dropped to the ground. "Ah-h-ah!" growled the man savagely, and he drew another match across the box he still held. "None of that!" growled Ingleborough sternly. "Wicked old witch!" said the black, in remonstrance. "Burn Olebo! Don't give him enough to eat! No good!" "You come along," cried West. "I can hear the Boers coming fast. Now then, lead the horses clear of the pens!" _ |
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