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

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  "LOVE SETTLING UNAWARES."

  "Well, old girl, and how have you been getting through the day," wasCarhayes' unceremonious greeting as he slid from his horse. Eustaceturned away his head, and the faintest shadow of contempt flitted acrosshis impassive countenance. Had this glorious creature stood in the samerelationship towards himself he could no more have dreamed of addressingher as "old girl" than he could have of carving his name across thefront of the silver altar which is exhibited once a year in the"Battistero" at Florence.

  "Pretty well, Tom," she answered smilingly. "And you? I hope youhaven't been getting into any more mischief. Has he, Eustace."

  "Well, I have, then," rejoined Carhayes, grimly, for Eustace pretendednot to hear. "What you'd call mischief, I suppose. Now what d'youthink? I caught that _schelm_ Goniwe having a buck-hunt--a buck-hunt,by Jove! right under my very nose; he and three other niggers. They'dgot two dogs, good dogs too, and I couldn't help admiring the way the_schepsels_ put them on by relays, nor yet the fine shot they made atthe buck with a kerrie. Well, I rode up and told them to clear out ofthe light because I intended to shoot their dogs. Would you believe it?they didn't budge. Actually squared up to me."

  "I hope you didn't shoot their dogs," said Eanswyth anxiously.

  "Didn't I! one of 'em, that is. Do you think I'm the man to be bouncedby Jack Kafir? Not much I'm not. I was bound to let daylight throughthe brute, and I did."

  "Through the Kafir?" cried Eanswyth, in horror, turning pale.

  "Through both," answered Carhayes, with a roar of laughter. "Throughboth, by Jove! Ask Eustace. He came up just in time to be in at thedeath. But, don't get scared, old girl. I only `barked' the nigger,and sent the dog to hunt bucks in some other world. I had to do it.Those chaps were four to one, you see, and shied Icerries at me. Theyhad assegais, too."

  "Oh, I don't know what will happen to us one of these days!" she cried,in real distress. "As it is, I am uneasy every time you are out in the_veldt_."

  "You needn't be--no fear. Those chaps know me better than to attemptany tricks. They're all bark--but when it comes to biting they funkoff. That _schelm_ I plugged to-day threatened no end of things; saidI'd better have cut off my right hand first, because it was better tolose one's hand than one's mind--or some such bosh. But do you think Iattach any importance to that? I laughed in the fellow's face and toldhim the next time he fell foul of me he'd likely enough lose his life--and that would be worse still for him."

  Eustace, listening to these remarks, frowned slightly. The selfishcoarseness of his cousin in thus revealing the whole unfortunateepisode, with the sure result of doubling this delicate woman's anxietywhenever she should be left--as she so often was--alone, revolted him.Had he been Carhayes he would have kept his own counsel in the matter.

  "By the way, Tom," said Eanswyth, "Goniwe hasn't brought in his sheepyet, and it's nearly dark."

  "Not, eh?" was the almost shouted reply, accompanied by a vehement andundisguised expletive at the expense of the defaulter. "He's playingHarry--not a doubt about it. I'll make an example of him this time.Rather! Hold on. Where's my thickest _sjambok_?"

  [Sjambok: A whip, made out of a single piece of rhinoceros, or sea-cowhide, tapering at the point. It is generally in the shape of ariding-whip.]

  He dived into the house, and, deaf to his wife's entreaties andexpostulations, armed himself with the formidable rawhide whip inaddition to his gun, and flinging the bridle once more across thehorse's neck, sprang into the saddle.

  "Coming, Eustace?" he cried.

  "No. I think not. The sheep can't be far off, and you can easily bringthem in, even if, as is not unlikely, Goniwe has sloped. Besides, Idon't think we ought to leave Eanswyth all alone."

  With a spluttered exclamation of impatience, Carhayes clapped spurs tohis horse and cantered away down the kloof to recover his sheep andexecute summary vengeance upon their defective herd.

  "Do go after him, Eustace. Don't think about me. I don't in the leastmind being left alone. Do go. You are the only one who can act as acheck upon him, and I fear he will get himself--all of us--into someterrible scrape. I almost hope Goniwe has run away, for if Tom comesacross him in his present humour he will half kill the boy."

  "He won't come across him. On that point you may set your mind quite atease. He will have no opportunity of getting into hot water, and Icertainly shan't think of leaving you alone here to-night for the sakeof salvaging a few sheep more or less. We must make up our minds tolose some, I'm afraid, but the bulk of them will be all right."

  "Still, I wish you'd go," she pursued anxiously. "What if Tom shouldmeet with any Kafirs in the _veldt_ and quarrel with them, as he is sureto do?"

  "He won't meet any. There isn't a chance of it. Look here, Eanswyth;Tom must take care of himself for once. I'm not going to leave youalone here now for the sake of fifty Toms."

  "Why! Have you heard anything fresh?" she queried anxiously, detectinga veiled significance in his words.

  "Certainly not. Nothing at all. Haven't been near Komgha for ten days,and haven't seen anyone since. Now, I'll just take my horse round tothe stable and give him a feed--and be with you in a minute."

  As a matter of fact, there was an _arriere-pensee_ underlying his words.For Eustace had been pondering over Hlangani's strangely worded threat.And it was a strangely worded one. "_You had better have cut off yourright hand... for it is better to lose a hand than one's mind_."Carhayes had dismissed it contemptuously from his thoughts, but EustaceMilne, keen-witted, imaginative, had set to work to puzzle it out. Didthe Gcaleka chief meditate some more subtle and hellish form ofvengeance than the ordinary and commonplace one of mere blood for blood,and, if so, how did he purpose to carry it out? By striking at Carhayesthrough the one who was dearest to him? Surely. The words seemed tobear just this interpretation--and at the bare contemplation of afrightful danger hanging over Eanswyth, cool, even-minded Eustace Milne,felt the blood flow back to his heart. For he loved her.

  Yes, he loved her. This keen-witted, philosophical man of the world wasmadly in love with the beautiful wife of his middle-aged cousin. Heloved her with all the raging abandonment of a strong nature that doesnothing by halves; yet during nearly a year spent beneath the sameroof--nearly a year of easy, pleasant, social intercourse--never by wordor sign had he betrayed his secret--at least, so he imagined.

  But that no such blow should fall while he was alive, he resolved at allhazards. Why had he come there at all, was a question he had beenasking himself for some time past? Why had he stayed, why did he stay?For the latter he hated and despised himself on account of his miserableweakness. But now it seemed that both were answered--that he had beenbrought there for a purpose--to protect _her_ from the fearfulconsequences entailed by the blundering ferocity of him who should havebeen her first protector--to save her from some impending and terriblefate. Surely this was sufficient answer.

  Then a wild thrill set his pulses tingling--a thrill of joy, of fierceexpectation set on foot by a single thought, the intense expectation ofthe gambler who sees fortune brought within his reach by the potentialturn of chances already strong in his favour. They were on the eve ofwar. What might the chances of war not entail? Blind, blundering TomCarhayes running his head, like a bull, at every stone wall--were notthe chances of war increased tenfold _against_ such a man as this? Andthen--and then--?

  No man could be more unfitted to hold possession of such a pricelesstreasure as this--argued the man who did not hold it.

  "Confess, Eanswyth, that you are very glad I didn't take you at yourword and go after Tom," said Eustace, as they were sitting cosily attable.

  "Perhaps I am. I have been getting so dreadfully nervous and lowspirited of late--so different to the strong-minded creature I used tobe," she said with a rueful smile. "I am becoming quite frightened tobe left alone."

  "Are you? Well, I think I can undertake to promise that y
ou shall notbe left alone again. One of us must always make a point of being aroundthe house while the other is away. But look here, Eanswyth; I reallythink you oughtn't to go on staying here at present. Why don't you godown to the Colony and stay in one or other of the towns, or even atthat other farm of Tom's, until things are settled again?"

  "I won't do that. And I'm really not in the least afraid for myself. Idon't believe the Kafirs would harm me."

  "Then why are you nervous at being left alone?" was the very pertinentrejoinder.

  "Not on my own account. It is only that solitude gives me time tothink. I am always imagining Tom coming to frightful grief in some formor other."

  The other did not at once reply. He was balancing a knife meditativelyon the edge of his plate, his fine features a perfect mask ofimpassibility. But in reality his thoughts ran black and bitter. Itwas all "Tom" and "Tom." What the deuce had Tom done to deserve allthis solicitude--and how was it appreciated by its fortunate object?Not a hair's-breadth. Then, as she rose from the table and went out onthe _stoep_ to look out for any sign of the absent one's return, Eustacewas conscious of another turn of the spear in the wound. Why had hearrived on the scene of the fray that morning just in time to intervene?suggested his evil angel. The delay of a few minutes, and...

  "Would it do anything towards persuading you to adopt the more prudentcourse and leave here for a while, if I were to tell you that Josane wasurging that very thing this morning?" said Eustace when she returned.The said Josane was a grizzled old Kafir who held the post ofcattle-herd under the two cousins. He was a Gcaleka, and had fled fromKreli's country some years previously, thereby narrowly escaping one ofthe varied and horrible forms of death by torture habitually meted outto those accused of his hypothetical offence--for he had been "smeltout" by a witch-doctor. He was therefore not likely to throw in his lotwith his own countrymen against his white protectors, by whom he waslooked upon as an intelligent and thoroughly trustworthy man, whichindeed he was.

  "I don't think it would," she answered with a deprecatory smile. "Ishould be ten times more nervous if I were right away, and, as I saidbefore, I don't believe the Kafirs would do me the slightest harm."

  Eustace, though he had every reason to suppose the contrary, saidnothing as he rose from the table and began to fill his pipe. He wasconscious of a wild thrill of delight at her steadfast refusal. Whatwould life be worth here without that presence? Well, come what might,no harm should fall upon her, of that he made mental oath.

  Eanswyth, having superintended the clearing of the table by the twolittle Kafir girls who filled the _role_ rather indifferent handmaidens,joined him on the _stoep_. It was a lovely night; warm and balmy. Thedark vault above was so crowded with stars that they seemed to hang ingolden patches.

  "Shall we walk a little way down the kloof and see if we can meet Tom,"she suggested.

  "A good idea. Just half a minute though. I want to get another pipe."

  He went into his room, slipped a "bull-dog" revolver of heavy calibreinto his pocket, and quickly rejoined her.

  Then as they walked side by side--they two, alone together in thedarkness, alone in the sweet, soft beauty of the Southern night; alone,as it were, outside the very world; in a world apart where none mightintrude; the rich shroud of darkness around them--Eustace began towonder if he were really made of flesh and blood after all. The pent-upforce of his self-contained and concentrated nature was in sore dangerof breaking its barriers, of pouring forth the fires and molten lavaraging within--and to do so would be ruin--utter, endless, irretrievableruin to any hopes which he might have ventured to form.

  He could see every feature of that sweet, patrician face in thestarlight. The even, musical tones of that exquisitely modulated voice,within a yard of his ears, fairly maddened him. The rich, balmy zephyrsof the African night breathed around; the chirrup of the cricket, andnow and again the deep-throated booming croak of a bull-frog from anadjacent _vlei_ emphasising its stillness. Again those wild, ragingfires surged up to the surface. "Eanswyth, I love you--love you--worship you--adore you! Apart from you, life is worse than a blank!Who, what, is the dull, sodden, senseless lout who now stands betweenus? Forget him, darling, and be all heaven and earth to me!" The wordsblazed through his brain in letters of flame. He could hardly feel surehe had not actually uttered them.

  "What is the matter, Eustace? I have asked you a question three times,and you haven't answered me."

  "I really beg your pardon. I--I--suppose I was thinking of somethingelse. Do you mind asking it again?"

  The strange harshness of his voice struck her. It was well for him--well for both of them--that the friendly darkness stood him in such goodstead.

  "I asked you, how far do you think Tom would have to ride before findingthe sheep?"

  "Tom" again! He fairly set his teeth. "Well into the Gaika location,"was the savage reply that rose to his lips. But he checked itunuttered.

  "Oh, not very far," he answered. "You see, sheep are slow-moving brutesand difficult to drive, especially in the dark. He'll turn up soon,never fear."

  "What is that? Look! Listen!" she exclaimed suddenly, laying a handupon his arm.

  The loom of the mountains was blackly visible in the starlight. Away inthe distance, apparently in the very heart of them, there suddenly shownforth a lurid glow. The V-shaped scarp of the slopes stood dully inrelief against the glare, which was as that of a furnace. At the sametime there floated forth upon the night a strange, weird chorus--a wild,long-drawn eerie melody, half chant, half howl, faint and distant, butyet distinct, though many miles away.

  "What can they be up to at the location, Eustace? Can it be that theyhave risen already?" ejaculated Eanswyth, turning pale in the starlight.

  The reddening glare intensified, the fierce, wild cadence shrilledforth, now in dirge-like wail, now in swelling notes of demon-like andmerciless exultation. There was a faint, muffled roar as of distantthunder--a clamour as of fiends holding high revel--and still the wildchorus gathered in volume, hideous in its blood-chilling menace, as itcleft the dark stillness of the night.

  "Oh, let us turn back!" cried Eanswyth. "There is something horriblegoing on to-night. I really am quite frightened now. That hideousnoise! It terrifies me!"

  Well it might. The deep-toned thunder note within the burning heart ofthe volcano is of terrible import, for it portends fire and ruin andwidespread death. There were those who were then sitting on the vergeof a volcano--a mere handful in the midst of a vast, teeming populationof fierce and truculent savages. Well might that weird chorus strikedismay into the hearts of its hearers, for it was the preliminary rumbleof the coming storm--the battle-song of the warlike and now hostileGaika clans.