The Curse of Carne's Hold: A Tale of Adventure

  CHAPTER XI.

  ATTACK ON A WAGGON-TRAIN.

  "Sergeant Blunt, you will take a detachment of fourteen men, ride downto Port Elizabeth, and escort some waggons back here. There will be aparty of native levies to come back with you, so that they, with yourparty, will make a pretty strong force. The dangerous point is, ofcourse, the Addoo Bush. It is, I hear, full of these Kaffir villains.Going down you will pass through it by daylight; and, travelling fast,there is no fear of their interfering with a party like yours. Comingback the Fingoes will let you know of any danger, and I should hardlythink that the natives will venture to attack so strong a party; still,as the waggons will be laden with ammunition, and these fellows alwaysseem in some way or other to know exactly what is going on, you cannotbe too careful."

  "Very well, sir. I will do my best in the matter."

  An hour later Ronald started with the detachment. They travelledrapidly, and reached Port Elizabeth on the third day after starting,without any adventure whatever. The waggons were not ready to start, fora heavy sea was setting in, and the boats could not continue the work ofunloading the ship that had arrived with the ammunition two days before.Ronald, after seeing that the horses were well cared for, the rationsserved out, and the cooking commenced, strolled down to the beach towatch the heavy surf breaking on the shore.

  The encampment of the native levies was on the shore, and a whiteofficer was inspecting their arms when Ronald arrived. He stood for sometime watching the motley group of Fingoes; some of them were inblankets, others in karosses of cow skin, many with feathers stuck intheir hair, all grinning and highly amused at the efforts of theirofficer to get them to stand in regular line, and to hold their musketsat an even slope on their shoulders. Some of their wives were looking onand laughing; others were squatting about by the shelters they haderected, cooking mealies for dinner. The officer, who was quite a youngman, seeing Ronald looking on, said, ruefully:

  "I don't think there is any making soldiers out of these fellows,sergeant."

  "I don't think they would be any the better for it if you could, sir,"Ronald said. "The fellows will fight after their own fashion, and I donot think any amount of drill would improve them in the slightest; infact, it would only puzzle and confuse them to try to teach them ourdiscipline. They must skirmish with the Kaffirs in Kaffir fashion. Whenit comes to regular fighting, it must be done by the troops. All you canexpect of the native levies is that they shall act as our scouts, findout where the enemy are hiding, prevent surprises, and pursue them whenwe have defeated them."

  "Do they not try to drill them up at the front?"

  "Not at all, sir. It would be quite useless to attempt it. So that theyattend on parade in the right number--and their own head man looks afterthat--nothing more is expected of them. They march in a straggling bodyanyhow, and when it comes to fighting, they fight in their own way, anda very useful way it is."

  "Well, I am very glad to hear you say so, sergeant. I have been doingthe best I can to give them some idea of drill; but I have, as you see,failed altogether. I had no orders except to take command of thesefellows, but I supposed I was expected to drill them to some extent;still, if you say they have given it up as hopeless in the front, I neednot bother myself about it."

  "I don't think you need, sir. I can assure you that no attempt is madeto drill them in that way at the front."

  The young officer, with an air of relief, at once dismissed the nativesfrom parade.

  "I am in charge of the party of Rifles going up with you to-morrow, sir,or at least as soon as the waggons are ready for you."

  "Oh, is it you, sergeant? I heard that a detachment of your corps wereto accompany us. I suppose you have just arrived from KingWilliamstown?"

  "I came in about an hour ago, sir, and have just been seeing that themen were comfortable."

  "Did you meet with any Kaffirs on the way down?"

  "We saw no sign of them. We came through the Addoo Bush, which is themost dangerous point, at a trot. Not that there was much chance of theirattacking us. The natives seldom attack unless there is something to begot by it; but we shall have to be careful as we go back. We shall be afairly strong party, but others as strong have been attacked; and thefact of our having ammunition--the thing of all others they want--is, ofcourse, against us."

  "But how will they know that we are carrying ammunition?"

  "From the Hottentots, who keep them informed of everything," Ronaldsaid. "At least, we have no doubt whatever that it is the Hottentots. Ofcourse, the General doesn't think so. If he did, I suppose he would keepthem out of camp; but there is only one opinion in the ranks about it."

  The conversation was interrupted by yells and screams from the natives,and a general rush down to the beach.

  "There is something the matter," the young officer exclaimed; and he andRonald ran down to the edge of the water.

  They soon saw what was the occasion of the alarm among the natives. Someof the women and boys had been down at the edge of the surf, collectingbits of wood, as they were thrown up, for their fires. A boy of somefourteen years of age had seen a larger piece than usual approaching theshore, and just as a wave had borne it in, he made a dash into thewater, eager to be the first to capture the prize. Ignorant, however, ofthe force of the water, he had been instantly swept off his feet by theback rush of the wave. The next roller had carried him some littledistance up, and then borne him out again, and he was now in the midstof the surf. He could swim a little, but was helpless in the midst ofsuch a sea as this. The natives on the beach were in a state of thewildest excitement; the women filled the air with their shrill screams,the men shouted and gesticulated.

  "Nothing can save him," the officer said, shaking his head. Ronaldlooked round; there was no rope lying anywhere on the shore.

  "There's just a chance, I think," he said, throwing off his belt, tunic,and boots. "Make these fellows join hand in hand, sir; I will swim outto him--he's nearly gone now--and bring him in. We shall be rolled overand over, but if the line of men can grab us and prevent theunder-current from carrying us out again, it will be all right."

  The officer was about to remonstrate, but Ronald, seizing the momentwhen a wave had just swept back, rushed in, sprang head foremost intothe great wall of approaching water, and in half a minute later appearedsome distance out. A few vigorous strokes took him to the side of thedrowning boy, whom he seized by his shoulders; then he looked towardsthe shore. The young officer, unable to obtain a hearing from theexcited Fingoes, was using his cane vigorously on their shoulders, andpresently succeeded in getting them to form a line, holding each otherby the hands. He took his place at their head, and then waved his handto Ronald as a sign that he was ready.

  Good swimmer as he was, the latter could not have kept much longerafloat in such a sea; and was obliged to continue to swim from shore toprevent himself from being cast up by each wave which swept under himlike a racehorse, covering him and his now insensible burden. The momenthe saw that the line was formed he pulled the boy to him and grasped himtightly; then he laid himself broadside to the sea, and the next rollerswept him along with resistless force on to the beach. He was rolledover and over like a straw, and just as he felt that the impetus hadabated, and he was again beginning to move seaward, an arm seized him.

  For a few seconds the strain was tremendous, and he thought he would betorn from the friendly grasp; then the pressure of the water diminishedand he felt himself dragged along, and a few seconds later was beyondthe reach of the water. He was soon up on his feet, feeling bruised,shaken, and giddy; the natives, who had yelled with joy as they draggedhim from the water, now burst into wailings as they saw that the boywas, as they thought, dead.

  "Carry him straight up to the fires," Ronald said as soon as herecovered his shaken faculties.

  The order was at once obeyed. As soon as he was laid down, Ronald seizedthe blanket from one of the men's shoulders, and set the natives to rubthe boy's limbs and body vigorously; then he rolled
him in two or threeother blankets, and telling the men to keep on rubbing the feet, beganto carry out the established method for restoring respiration, bydrawing the boy's arms above his head, and then bringing them down andpressing them against his ribs. In a few minutes there was a faint sigh,a little later on an attempt to cough, and then the boy got rid of aquantity of sea water.

  "He will do now," Ronald said. "Keep on rubbing him, and he will be allright in a quarter of an hour." As Ronald rose to his feet a woman threwherself down on her knees beside him, and seizing his hand pressed it toher forehead, pouring out a torrent of words wholly beyond hiscomprehension, for although he had by this time acquired some slightacquaintance with the language, he was unable to follow it when spokenso volubly. He had no doubt whatever that the woman was the boy'smother, and that she was thanking him for having preserved his life. Notless excited was a native who stood beside him.

  "This is their head man," the officer interpreted; "he is the boy'sfather, and says that his life is now yours, and that he is ready togive it at any time. This is a very gallant business, sergeant, and Iwish I had the pluck to have done it myself. I shall, of course, send ina report about your conduct. Now come to my tent. I can let you have ashirt and pair of trousers while yours are being dried."

  "Thank you, sir; they will dry of themselves in a very few minutes. Ifeel cooler and more comfortable than I have done for a long time; tenminutes under this blazing sun will dry them thoroughly."

  It was another two days before the sea subsided sufficiently for thesurf-boats to bring the ammunition to shore, and during that time thechief's wife came several times up to the barracks, each time bringing afowl as a present to Ronald.

  "What does that woman mean, sergeant?" one of the men asked on theoccasion of her second visit. "Has she fallen in love with you? Shetakes a practical way of showing her affection. I shouldn't mind if twoor three of them were to fall in love with me on the same terms."

  Ronald laughed.

  "No, her son got into the water yesterday, and I picked him out, andthis is her way of showing her gratitude."

  "I wonder where she got the fowls from," the trooper said. "I haven'tseen one for sale in the town anywhere."

  "She stole them, of course," another trooper put in, "or at least if shedidn't steal them herself she got some of the others to do it for her.The natives are all thieves, man, woman, and child; they are regularlytrained to it. Sometimes fathers will lay wagers with each other as tothe cleverness of their children; each one backs his boy to stealsomething out of the other's hut first, and in spite of the sharp watchyou may be sure they keep up, it is very seldom the youngsters fail incarrying off something unobserved. It's a disgrace in a native's eyes tobe caught thieving; but there's no disgrace whatever, rather thecontrary, in the act itself. There's only one thing that they are asclever at as thieving, and that is lying. The calmness with which anative will tell a good circumstantial lie is enough to take one'sbreath away."

  Ronald knew enough of the natives to feel that it was probable enoughthat the fowls were stolen; but his sense of morality was notsufficiently keen for him to hurt the woman's feelings by rejecting herofferings.

  "The Kaffirs have proved themselves such an ungrateful set ofscoundrels," he argued to himself, "that it is refreshing to see anexception for once."

  As soon as the ammunition was on shore it was loaded into three waggons,and on the following morning the party started. It was slow work, afterthe rapid pace at which Ronald and his men had come down from KingWilliamstown, and the halting-places were the same as those at which thetroop had encamped on its march up the country five months before.

  The greatest caution was observed in their passage through the greatAddoo Bush, for although this was so far from the main stronghold of thenatives, it was known that there were numbers of Kaffirs hiding there,and several mail carriers had been murdered and waggons attacked. Theparty, however, were too strong to be molested, and passed throughwithout adventure. The same vigilance was observed when crossing overthe sandy flats, and when they passed through Assegai Bush. Oncethrough this, the road was clear to Grahamstown. Here they halted for aday, and then started on the road leading through Peddie to KingWilliamstown. After a march of fifteen miles they halted at the edge ofa wide-spreading bush. They had heard at Grahamstown that a large bodyof Kaffirs were reported to be lying there, and as it was late in theafternoon when they approached it, Ronald advised the young officer incommand of the Fingoes to camp outside and pass through it by daylight.

  "_The greatest caution was observed in their passagethrough the great Addoo Bush._"]

  "There is no making a rush," he said; "we must move slowly on account ofthe waggons, and there will be no evading the Kaffirs. I do not thinkthere is much chance of their attacking such a strong party as we are;but if we are attacked, we can beat them off a great deal better in thedaylight than at night; in the darkness we lose all the advantage of ourbetter weapons. Besides, these fellows can see a great deal better thanwe can in the dark."

  They started as soon as it was light. The Fingoes, who were a hundredstrong, were to skirmish along the road ahead and in the wood on eachflank of the waggons, round which the detachment of Rifles were to keepin a close body, the Fingo women and children walking just ahead of thebullocks. Scarcely a word was spoken after they entered the forest. Thewaggons creaked and groaned, and the sound of the sharp cracks of thedrivers' whips alone broke the silence. The Rifles rode with their armsin readiness for instant use, while the Fingoes flitted in and out amongthe trees like dark shadows. Their blankets and karosses had been handedto the women to carry, and they had oiled their bodies until they shoneagain, a step always taken by the natives when engaged in expeditions inthe bush, with the view of giving more suppleness to the limbs, and alsoof enabling them to glide through the thorny thickets without beingseverely scratched.

  They had got about half-way through the bush without anything being seenof the lurking enemy, when a sudden outburst of firing, mingled withyells and shouts, was heard about a quarter of a mile ahead.

  "The scoundrels are attacking a convoy coming down," Ronald exclaimed.

  "Shall we push on to their aid, sergeant?" the young officer, who wasriding next to Ronald, asked.

  "I cannot leave the waggons," Ronald said; "but if you would take yourmen on, sir, we will be up as soon as we can."

  The officer shouted to his Fingoes, and at a run the natives dashedforward to the scene of the conflict, while Ronald urged the drivers,and his men pricked the bullocks with their swords until they broke intoa lumbering trot.

  In a few minutes they arrived on the scene of action. A number ofwaggons were standing in the road, and round them a fight was going onbetween the Fingoes and greatly superior numbers of Kaffirs. Ronald gavethe word, and his men charged down into the middle of the fight. TheKaffirs did not await their onslaught, but glided away among the trees,the Fingoes following in hot pursuit until recalled by their officer,who feared that their foes might turn upon them when beyond the reach ofthe rifles of the troopers.

  Ronald saw at once as he rode up that although the Fingoes had arrivedin time to save the waggons, they had come too late to be of service tothe majority of the defenders. Some half-dozen men, gathered in a body,were still on their feet, but a score of others lay dead or desperatelywounded by the side of the waggons. As soon as the Fingoes returned andreported the Kaffirs in full flight, Ronald and the troops dismounted tosee what aid they could render. He went up to the group of white men,most of whom were wounded.

  "This is a bad job," one of them said; "but we thought that as therewere about thirty of us, the Kaffirs wouldn't venture to attack us. Wewere all on the alert, but they sprang so suddenly out of the bushesthat half of us were speared before we had time to draw a trigger.

  "What had we better do, sir--go on or go back?" This question wasaddressed to the young officer.

  "I should think that now you have got so far you had better go on," hes
aid. "The Kaffirs are not likely to return for some little time. I willgive you half my Fingoes to escort you on through the wood. Don't youthink that will be the best plan, sergeant?"

  "I think so, sir. I will let you have half my men to go back with them.The rest of us had better stay here until they return. But, first ofall, we will see to these poor fellows. They may not be all dead."

  Most of them, however, were found to be so, the Kaffirs having sprungupon them and cut their throats as soon as they had fallen. Two of themwho had fallen near the group which had maintained the resistance were,however, found to be still living, and these were lifted into thewaggons. Just as the party were going to move on towards the coast, agroan was heard among the bushes by the side of the road. Ronald and twoof the troopers at once proceeded to the spot.

  "Good Heavens!" the former exclaimed, as he leaned over the man who waslying there, "it is Mr. Armstrong."

  He was lifted up and carried into the road. An assegai had passedthrough both legs, and another had transfixed his body near the rightshoulder. The point projected some inches through the back, the shafthaving broken off as he fell. Ronald seized the stump of the spear, andwith the greatest difficulty drew it out from the wound.

  "Cut his things off," he said to the troopers, "and tear up somethingand lightly bandage the wound. I am afraid it is a fatal one." Then hehurried off to the men.

  "Were there not some women in the waggons?" he asked.

  "Yes, there were three of them," the man said; "a girl and two women.The women were the wives of two of the men who have been killed. Thegirl was the daughter of another. I suppose the natives must havecarried them off, for I see no signs of them."

  Ronald uttered an exclamation of horror; he knew the terrible fate ofwomen who fell into the hands of the Kaffirs. He returned to theofficer.

  "What is it, sergeant?" he asked. "Any fresh misfortune?"

  "A young lady, sir, daughter of that poor fellow we have just picked up,and two other women, have been carried off by the natives."

  "Good Heavens!" the young man said, "this is dreadful; they had athousand times better have been shot with their friends. What's to bedone, sergeant?"

  "I don't know," Ronald said, "I can't think yet. At any rate, instead ofwaiting till the party with these waggons come back, I will pushstraight on out of the wood, and will then send the rest of my men backat full gallop to meet you, then you can all come on together. I thinkyou said you would take command of the party going back with thewaggons."

  The two trains were at once set in motion. Ronald's party met with nofurther interruption until they were clear of the bush. As soon as hewas well away from it, he sent back the Rifles to join the other party,and return with them through the forest. He went on for half a milefurther, then halted the waggons and dismounted.

  Mr. Armstrong had been placed in one of the waggons going up thecountry, as they were nearer to a town that way than to Port Elizabeth;besides, Ronald knew that if he recovered consciousness, he would formany reasons prefer being up the country. Ronald walked up and down,restless and excited, meditating what step he had best take, for he wasdetermined that in some way or other he would attempt to rescue MaryArmstrong from the hands of the natives. Presently the head man of theFingoes came up to him, and said, in a mixture of English and his owntongue:

  "My white friend is troubled; can Kreta help him?"

  "I am troubled, terribly troubled, Kreta. One of the white ladies whohas been carried off by the Kaffirs is a friend of mine. I must get herout of their hands."

  Kreta looked grave.

  "Hard thing that, sir. If go into bush get chopped to pieces."

  "I must risk that," Ronald said; "I am going to try and save her,whether it costs me my life or not."

  "Kreta will go with his white friend," the chief said; "white man nogood by himself."

  "Would you, Kreta?" Ronald asked, eagerly. "But no, I have no right totake you into such danger as that. You have a wife and child; I have noone to depend upon me."

  "Kreta would not have a child if it had not been for his white friend,"Kreta said; "if he goes, Kreta will go with him, and will take some ofhis men."

  "You are a good fellow, Kreta," Ronald said, shaking the chief heartilyby the hand. "Now, what's the best way of setting about it?"

  The Fingo thought for some little time, and then asked:

  "Is the white woman young and pretty?"

  "Yes," Ronald replied, rather surprised at the question.

  "Then I think she's safe for a little while. If she old and ugly theytorture her and kill her quick; if she pretty and young, most likelythey send her as present to their big chief; perhaps Macomo, orSandilli, or Kreli, or one of the other great chiefs, whichever tribethey belong to. Can't do nothing to-day; might crawl into the wood; butif find her how can get her out? That's not possible. The best thingwill be this: I will send two of my young men into the bush to try andfind out what they do with her, and where they are going to take her.Then at night we try to cut them off as they go across the country. Ifwe no meet them we go straight to Amatolas to find out the kraal towhich they take her, and then see how to get her off."

  "How many men will you take, Kreta?"

  "Five men," the chief said, holding up one hand; "five enough to creepand crawl. No use to try force; too many Kaffirs. Five men might do;five hundred no good."

  "I think you are right, chief. It must be done by craft if at all."

  "Then I will send off my two young men at once," the chief said. "Theygo a long way round, and enter bush on the other side; then creepthrough the bush and hear Kaffir talk. If Kaffir sees them they thinkthey their own people; but mustn't talk; if they do, Kaffirs noticedifference of tongue. One, two words no noticed, but if talk much findout directly."

  "Then there's nothing for me to do to-night," Ronald said.

  The chief shook his head. "No good till quite dark."

  "In that case I will go on with the convoy as far as Bushman's River,where we halt to-night."

  "Very well," the chief said. "We go on with you there, and then comeback here and meet the young men, who will tell us what they have foundout."

  The chief went away, and Ronald saw him speaking to some of his men.Then two young fellows of about twenty years old laid aside theirblankets, put them and their guns into one of the waggons, and then,after five minutes' conversation with their chief, who was evidentlygiving them minute instructions, went off at a slinging trot across thecountry.

  In less than an hour the party that was escorting the settlers' waggonsthrough the bush, and the mounted men who had gone to meet them,returned together, having seen no sign of the enemy. The waggons wereset in motion, and the march continued. Ronald Mervyn rode up to theofficer of the native levy.

  "I am going, sir, to make what may seem a most extraordinary request,and indeed it is one that is, I think, out of your power to grant; but,if you give your approval, it will to some extent lessen myresponsibility."

  "What is it, sergeant?" the young officer asked, in some surprise.

  "I want when we arrive at the halting-place to hand over the command ofmy detachment to the corporal, and for you to let me go away on my ownaffairs. I want you also to allow your head man, Kreta, and five of hismen, leave of absence."

  The young officer was astonished. "Of course I am in command of theconvoy, and so have authority over you so long as you are with me; butas you received orders direct from your own officers to take yourdetachment down to the coast, and return with the waggons, I am surethat I have no power to grant you leave to go away."

  "No, sir, that's just what I thought; but at the same time, if youreport that, although you were unable to grant me leave, you approved ofmy absence, it will make it much easier for me. Not that it makes anydifference, sir, because I admit frankly that I should go in any case.It is probable that I may be reduced to the ranks; but I don't thinkthat, under the circumstances, they will punish me any more severelythan that."

&nb
sp; "But what are the circumstances, sergeant? I can scarcely imagine anycircumstance that could make me approve of your intention to leave yourcommand on a march like this."

  "I was just going to tell you them, sir, but I may say that I do notthink it at all probable that there will be any further attack on theconvoy. There is no more large bush to pass between this andWilliamstown, and so far as we have heard, no attempt has been madefurther on the road to stop convoys. That poor fellow who is lyingwounded in the waggon is a Mr. Armstrong. He was an officer in theservice when he was a young man, and fought, he told me, at Waterloo.His place is near the spot where I was quartered for two months justbefore the outbreak, and he showed me great kindness, and treated me asa friend. Well, sir, one of the three women who were, as you heard,carried off in the waggons, was Mr. Armstrong's daughter. Now, sir, youknow what her fate will be in the hands of those savages: dishonour,torture, and death. I am going to save her if I can. I don't knowwhether I shall succeed; most likely I shall not. My life is of no greatconsequence to me, and has so far been a failure; but I want to try andrescue her whether it costs me my life or not. Kreta has offered toaccompany me with five of his men. Alone, I should certainly fail, butwith his aid there is a chance of my succeeding."

  "By Jove, you are a brave fellow, sergeant," the young officer said,"and I honour you for the determination you have formed," and waivingmilitary etiquette, he shook Ronald warmly by the hand. "Assuredly Iwill, so far as is in my power, give you leave to go, and will take goodcare that in case you fail, your conduct in thus risking your life shallbe appreciated. How do you mean to set about it?"

  Ronald gave him a sketch of the plan that had been determined upon byhimself and Kreta.

  "Well, I think you have a chance at any rate," the officer said, when heconcluded. "Of course the risk of detection in the midst of the Kaffirswill be tremendous, but still there seems just a chance of your escape.In any case no one can possibly disapprove of your endeavour to savethis young lady from the awful fate that will certainly be hers unlessyou can rescue her. Poor girl! Even though I don't know her, it makes myblood run cold to think of an English lady in the hands of thosesavages. If I were not in command of the convoy, I would gladly go withyou and take my chance."

  As soon as the encampment was reached, Kreta came up to Ronald.

  "Must change clothes," he said, "and go as Kaffir." Ronald nodded hishead, as he had already decided that this step was absolutely necessary.

  "Must paint black," the chief went on; "how do that?"

  "The only way I can see is to powder some burnt wood and mix it with alittle oil."

  "Yes, that do," the chief said.

  "I will be with you in five minutes. I must hand over the command to thecorporal."

  "Corporal James," he said, when he went up to him, "I hand over thecommand of this detachment to you. You are, of course, to keep by thewaggons and protect them to King Williamstown."

  "But where are you going, sergeant?" the corporal asked, in surprise.

  "I have arranged with Mr. Nolan to go away on detached duty for two orthree days. I am going to try to get the unfortunate women who werecarried off this morning out of the hands of the Kaffirs." The corporallooked at him as if he had doubts as to his sanity.

  "I may not succeed," Ronald went on, "but I am going to try. At anyrate, I hand over the command to you. I quite understand that Mr. Nolancannot give me leave, and that I run the risk of punishment for leavingthe convoy; but I have made up my mind to risk that."

  "Well, of course you know best, sergeant; but it seems to me that,punishment or no punishment, there is not much chance of your rejoiningthe corps; it is just throwing away your life going among them savages."

  "I don't think it is as bad as that," Ronald said, "although of coursethere is a risk of it. At any rate, corporal, you can take the convoysafely into King Williamstown. That's your part of the business."

  Ronald then returned to the encampment of the native levies. A number ofsticks were charred and then scraped. There was no oil to be found, butas a substitute the charcoal was mixed with a little cart-grease. Ronaldthen stripped, and was smeared all over with the ointment, which wasthen rubbed into him. Some more powdered charcoal was then sprinkledover him, and this also rubbed until he was a shiny black, the operationaffording great amusement to the Fingoes. Then a sort of petticoat,consisting of strips of hide reaching half-way down to the knee and sewnto a leathern belt, was put round his waist, and his toilet wascomplete.

  Nothing could be done as to his hair, which was already cut quite shortto prevent its forming a receptacle for dust. The Kaffirs have, as arule, scarcely any hair on their heads, and nothing could have madeRonald's head resemble theirs. As, however, the disguise was only meantto pass at night, this did not matter. When all was done, the Fingoesapplauded by clapping their hands and performing a wild dance roundRonald, while the women, who now crowded up, shrieked with laughter.

  The chief walked gravely round him two or three times, and thenpronounced that he would pass muster. A bandolier for cartridges, ofnative make, was slung over his shoulder, and with a rifle in one handand a spear in the other, and two or three necklaces of brass beadsround his neck, Ronald would, at a short distance, pass muster as aKaffir warrior. In order to test his appearance, he strolled across towhere Mr. Nolan was inspecting the serving out of rations.

  "What do you want?" the officer asked. "The allowance for all the menhas been served out already; if you haven't got yours you must speak toKreta about it. I can't go into the question with each of you."

  "Then you think I shall do very well, Mr. Nolan?"

  The officer started.

  "Good Heavens, sergeant, is it you? I had not the slightest conceptionof it. You are certainly admirably disguised, and, except for your hair,you might walk through the streets of Cape Town without any onesuspecting you; but you will never be able to get through the woodsbarefooted."

  "I have been thinking of that myself," Ronald said, "and the only thingI can see is to get them to make me a sort of sandal. Of course itwouldn't do in the daytime, but at night it would not be observed,unless I were to go close to a fire or light of some sort."

  "Yes, that would be the best plan," the officer agreed. "I dare say thewomen can manufacture you something in that way. There is the hide ofthat bullock we killed yesterday, in the front waggon; it was a blackone."

  Ronald cut off a portion of the hide, and went across to the natives andexplained to them what he wanted. Putting his foot on the hide, a piecewas cut off large enough to form the sole of the foot and come up aboutan inch all round; holes were made in this, and it was laced on to thefoot with thin strips of hide. The hair was, of course, outside, andRonald found it by no means uncomfortable.

  "You ride horse," the chief said, "back to bush. I take one fellow withme to bring him back."

  Ronald was pleased at the suggestion, for he was by no means sure how heshould feel after a walk of ten miles in his new foot-gear.