'Tween Snow and Fire: A Tale of the Last Kafir War

  CHAPTER ELEVEN.

  "THE TAIL WAGS THE DOG."

  Eustace had plenty to occupy his thoughts during his homeward ride. Theemphatic warning of the Gaika chief was not to be set aside lightly.That Ncanduku knew more than he chose to say was evident. He had spokenout very plainly for one of his race, who dearly love veiled hints andbeating around the bush. Still there was more behind.

  Especially did the chief's perturbation when Eanswyth was referred tostrike him as ominous to the last degree. Even in war-time there arefew instances of Kafirs seriously maltreating white women, and Eanswythwas well liked by such of her dusky neighbours as she had come incontact with. Yet in the present case so thoroughly hated was herhusband that it was conceivable they might even strike at him throughher.

  Why had Carhayes not fallen in with the armed party instead of himself,thought Eustace bitterly. That would have cut the knot of thedifficulty in a trice. They would not have spared him so readily. Theywere Gcalekas, Hlangani's tribesmen. Hlangani's wound would have beenavenged, and Eanswyth would by this time be free.

  Very fair and peaceful was the aspect of the farm as the last risebrought it full into the horseman's view. The bleating of sheep,mellowed by distance, as the flocks streamed forth white upon the greenof the _veldt_, and the lowing of cattle, floated upon the rich morningair--together with the sound of voices and laughter from the picturesquegroup of native huts where the farm servants dwelt. Doves cooed softly,flitting among the sprays of mimosa fringing the mealie lands; and uponthe surface of the dam there was a shimmer of silver light. All seemedpeaceful--happy--prosperous; yet over all brooded the red cloud of war.

  Eustace felt his pulses quicken and his heart stir as he strained hiseyes upon the house, to catch maybe the flutter of a light dress in theveranda. Many a morning had he thus returned from a ride without somuch as a heartstirring. Yet now it was different. The ice had beenbroken. A new light had been let in--a sweet new light, glowing aroundhis path like a ray of Paradise. They understood each other at last.

  Yet did they? How would she receive him--how greet him after thedisclosure of last night? Would she have thought better of it? For thefirst time in his life he felt his confidence fail him.

  "Hallo, Eustace! Thought you had trekked off somewhere for the day,"growled Carhayes, meeting him in the doorway. "Been looking up some ofyour blanket friends?"

  "Where are you off to yourself, Tom?" was the reply. For the other wasgot up in riding boots and breeches, as if for a journey.

  "To Komgha--I'm going over to lay an information against Nteya. I'llhave the old _schelm_ in the _tronk_ by to-night."

  "Not much to be taken by that, is there? Just come this way a minute,will you? I've heard something you may as well know."

  With a mutter and a growl Carhayes joined him outside. In a few wordsEustace conveyed to him Ncanduku's warning. It was receivedcharacteristically--with a shout of scornful laughter.

  "Gammon, my dear chap. I never funked a nigger yet and I never will.And, I say. You'd better take a ride round presently and look after thesheep. I've been obliged to put on Josane's small boy in Goniwe'splace, and he may not be up to the mark. I daresay I'll be back beforedark."

  "Well, the sheep will have to take their chance, Tom. I'm not going outof call of the homestead while Eanswyth is left here alone."

  "Bosh!" returned Carhayes. "She don't mind. Has she not been leftalone here scores of times? However, do as you like. I must be off."

  They had been walking towards the stable during this conversation.Carhayes led forth his horse, mounted, and rode away. Eustace put uphis, and having cut up a couple of bundles of oat-hay--for they wereshort of hands--took his way to the house.

  He had warned his cousin and his warning had been scouted. He hadstruggled with a temptation not to warn him, but now it came to the samething, and at any rate his own hands were clean. The journey to Komghawas long, and in these times for a man so hated as Tom Carhayes, mightnot be altogether safe, especially towards dusk. Well, he had beenwarned.

  Eustace had purposely taken time over attending to his horse. Even hisstrong nerves needed a little getting in hand before he should meetEanswyth that morning; even his pulses beat quicker as he drew near thehouse. Most men would have been eager to get it over; would haveblundered it over. Not so this one. Not without reason had the Kafirsnicknamed him "Ixeshane"--the Deliberate.

  Eanswyth rose from the table as he entered. Breakfast was over, and TomCarhayes, with characteristic impulsiveness, had started off upon hisjourney with a rush, as we have seen. Thus once more these two werealone together, not amid the romantic witchery of the southern night,but in the full broad light of day.

  Well, and then? Had they not similarly been together alone countlesstimes during the past year? Yes, but now it was different--widelydifferent. The ice had been broken between them.

  Still, one would hardly have suspected it. Eanswyth was perfectly calmand composed. There was a tired look upon the sweet face, and darkcircles under the beautiful eyes as if their owner had slept but little.Otherwise both her tone and manner were free from any trace ofconfusion.

  "I have put your breakfast to the kitchen fire to keep warm, Eustace,"she said. "Well, what adventures have you met with in the _veldt_ thismorning?"

  "First of all, how good of you. Secondly--leaving my adventures inabeyance for the present--did you succeed in getting any rest?"

  He was looking straight at her. There was a latent caress in hisglance--in his tone.

  "Not much," she answered, leaving the room for a moment in order tofetch the hot dish above referred to. "It was a trying sort of a nightfor us all, wasn't it?" she resumed as she returned. "And now Tom mustneeds go rushing off again on a fool's errand."

  "Never mind Tom. A little blood-letting seems good for him rather thanotherwise," said Eustace, with a dash of bitterness. "About yourself.I don't believe you have closed your eyes this night through. If youwon't take care of yourself, other people must do so for you. PresentlyI am going to sling the hammock under the trees and you shall have aright royal siesta."

  His hand had prisoned hers as she stood over him arranging the platesand dishes. A faint colour came into her face, and she made a movementto withdraw it. The attempt, however, was a feeble one.

  "I think we are a pair of very foolish people," she said, with a laughwhose sadness almost conveyed the idea of a sob.

  "Perhaps so," he rejoined, pressing the hand he held to his cheek amoment, ere releasing it. "What would life be worth without itsfoolishness?"

  For a few moments neither spoke. Eanswyth was busying herself arrangingsome of the things in the room, adjusting an ornament here, dusting onethere. Eustace ate his breakfast in silence, tried to, rather, for itseemed to him at times as if he could not eat at all. The attemptseemed to choke him. His thoughts, his feelings, were in a whirl. Herewere they two alone together, with the whole day before them, and yetthere seemed to have arisen something in the nature of a barrier betweenthem.

  A barrier, however, which it would not be difficult to overthrow, hisunerring judgment told him; yet he fought hard with himself not to losehis self-control. He noted the refined grace of every movement as shebusied herself about the room--the thoroughbred poise of the statelyhead, the sheen of light upon the rich hair. All this ought to belongto him--did belong to him. Yet he fought hard with himself, for he readin that brave, beautiful face an appeal, mute but eloquent--an appeal tohim to spare her.

  A rap at the door startled him--startled them both. What if it was someneighbour who had ridden over to pay them a visit, thought Eustace withdismay--some confounded bore who would be likely to remain the best partof the day? But it was only old Josane, the cattle-herd. His masterhad told him to look in presently and ask for some tobacco, which he hadbeen promised.

  "I'll go round to the storeroom and get it for him," said Eanswyth."You go on with your breakfast, Eustace."
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  "No, I'll go. I've done anyhow. Besides, I want to speak to him."

  Followed by the old Kafir, Eustace unlocked the storeroom--a dark, coolchamber forming part of an outbuilding. The carcase of a sheep, freshlykilled that morning, dangled from a beam. Piles of _reims_, emitting asalt, rancid odour--kegs of sheep-dip, huge rolls of Boer tobacco,bundles of yoke-skeys, and a dozen other things requisite to the detailsof farm work were stowed around or disposed on shelves. On one side wasa grindstone and a carpenter's bench. Eustace cut off a liberal lengthfrom one of the rolls of tobacco and gave it to the old Kafir. Then hefilled his own pipe.

  "Josane?"

  "_Nkose_!"

  "You are no fool, Josane. You have lived a good many years, and yourhead is nearly as snow-sprinkled as the summit of the Great Winterbergin the autumn. What do you thing of last night's performance overyonder?"

  The old man's shrewd countenance melted into a slight smile and he shookhis head.

  "The Gaikas are fools," he replied. "They have no quarrel with theEnglish, yet they are clamouring for war. Their country is fertile andwell watered, yet they want to throw it away with both hands. They aremad."

  "Will they fight, Josane?"

  "_Au_! Who can say for certain," said the old man with an expressiveshrug of the shoulders. "Yet, was ever such a thing seen? The dog wagshis tail. But in this case it is the tail that wags the dog."

  "How so, Josane?"

  "The chiefs of the Gaikas do not wish for war. The old men do not wishfor it. But the young men--the boys--are eager for it. The women tauntthem, they say; tell them they have forgotten how to be warriors. Sothe boys and the women clamour for war, and the chiefs and the old mengive way. Thus the tail wags the dog. _Hau_!"

  "And what about the Gcalekas?"

  "The Gcalekas? It is this way, _Nkose_. If you shut up two bulls alonein the same kraal, if you put two scorpions into a mealie stamp, howlong will it be before they fight? So it is with the Gcalekas and theFingoes. The land is not large enough for both. The Gcalekas are readyfor war."

  "And Kreli?"

  "The Great Chief is in one of his red moods," answered Josane, in adifferent tone to that which he had employed when speaking of theGaikas. "He has a powerful witch-doctress. I know her. Was I not`smelt out' by her? Was I not `eaten up' at her `word'? The toad! Theimpostor! The jackal cat! The slimy fish! I know her. Ha!"

  [Eaten up: Idiom for the total sequestration of a person's possessions.]

  The old man's eyes glared and his tone rose to one of fierce excitementat the recollection of his wrongs. Eustace, accustomed to study hisfellow-men, took careful note of the circumstance. Strange thingshappened. It might serve him in good stead one day.

  "The Gcalekas will fight," went on Josane. "Perhaps they are fightingnow. Perhaps the _Baas_ will have some news to bring when he returnsfrom Komgha. The telegraph is quick, but the voice of the bird in theair is quicker," he added with a meaning smile, which convinced hislistener that he knew a great deal more than he chose to say.

  "The fire stick is even now in the thatch," went on the Kafir, after afew more puffs at his pipe. "There is a herald from the Great Chiefamong the Gaika kraals."

  "Hlangani?"

  "Hlangani. The Gaikas are listening to his `word,' and are lighting thewar-fires. If he can obtain the ear of Sandili, his work is done._Whau_, Ixeshane," he went on, slipping into the familiar name in hisexcitement. "You English are very weak people. You ought to arrestMatanzima, and several others, and send a strong Resident to Sandili,who should always keep his ear."

  "We can't do that, Josane. There are wheels within wheels and a powerbehind the throne. Well, we shall see what happens," he went on, risingas a hint to the other to depart.

  He did not choose, for reasons of his own, to ask Josane direct howimminent the danger might be. To do so would be ever so slightly toimpair his own _prestige_. But in his own judgment he decided that thesooner they set their affairs in order against the coming storm thebetter.