The Triumph of Hilary Blachland

  CHAPTER SEVEN.

  A LIMED BIRD.

  "Was the trip a success this time, Hilary? And--where's Mr Sybrandt?Didn't he come back with you?"

  "Three questions at once. That's the feminine cross-examiner all over.Well, it was and it wasn't. There was no doing any trade to speak of,and Lo Ben was in a very _snuffy_ mood. I found out a good deal thatwas worth finding out though. Questions two and three. I left Sybrandthalf a day's trek the other side of the Inpembisi river."

  "And do you think there is really any danger of war?" asked Hermia.

  "I think you will be far safer away from here. So you had better go.I'm sending the waggon on to Fort Salisbury to-morrow." And again,without seeming to, his keen observant glance took in Justin's face.

  "But I don't want to go, Hilary, and I won't," was the answer. "I'm notin the least afraid, and should hate the bother of moving just now."

  "Very well, please yourself. But don't blame me if you do get a scare,that's all."

  Heavens! what a cold-blooded devil this was, Justin Spence was thinking.If Hermia belonged to him, _he_ would not treat a question of peril andalarm to her as a matter of no particular importance as this one wasdoing. He would insist upon her removing to a place of safety; and,unable to restrain himself, he said something to that effect. He didnot, however, get much satisfaction. His host turned upon him a blandinscrutable face.

  "Perhaps you're right, Spence. I shouldn't be surprised if you were,"was all the reply he obtained. For Hilary Blachland was not the man toallow other people to interfere in his private affairs.

  "By the way, there are lions round here again," said Hermia. "They weremaking a dreadful noise last night over in the kopjes. They seemed tohave got in among a troop of baboons, and between the lions and thebaboons the row was something appalling."

  "Quite sure they were lions?"

  "Of course they were. Weren't they, Justin?"

  "No sort of mistake about that," was the brisk reply.

  "Well, I think they were lions too," went on Blachland, "because the oneI shot this morning might easily have been coming from this direction."

  "What?" cried Spence. "D'you mean to say you shot a lion this morning?"

  "Yes. Just about daylight. And a fine big chap too."

  "And you never told us anything about it all this time!"

  Blachland smiled. "Well, you see, Spence, it isn't my first, not byseveral. Or possibly I might have ridden up at a hard gallop,flourishing my hat and hooraying," he said good-naturedly.

  But there was a grimness about the very good nature, decided Spence.Here was a man who had just shot a lion, and seem to think no more ofthe feat than if he had merely shot a partridge. He was conscious thathe himself, under the same circumstances would have acted somewhat afterthe manner the other had described.

  "But how did you come upon him?" asked Hermia, eagerly.

  "Just after daylight. Started to ride on ahead of the waggon. Came toa dry drift; horse stuck short, refused to go down. Snake, I thought atfirst; but no. On the opposite side a big lion staring straight at us,not seventy yards away. Slipped from the gee, drew a careful bead, andlet go. Laid him out without a kick, bang through the skull. Quiteclose to the waggon it was too. I left them taking off the skin.There! that's the waggon"--as the distant crack of a whip came throughthe clear morning air. "We'll go and look at it directly."

  "Oh, well done!" cried Hermia; and the wholly approving glance sheturned upon the lion-slayer sent a pang of soreness and jealousy throughJustin Spence. He began to hate Blachland. That infernal assumption ofindifference was really affectation--in short, the most objectionableform of "side."

  Soon, the rumble of heavy wheels drew nearer, and, to the accompanimentof much whip-cracking, and unearthly and discordant yells, without whichit seems impossible to drive a span of oxen, the waggon rolled up. Itwas drawn within the enclosure to be out-spanned.

  "You have got a small load this time," said Hermia, surveying the great,cumbrous, weather-worn vehicle, with its carefully packed cargo, andhung about with pots and kettles and game horns, and every sort ofmiscellaneous article which it was not convenient to stow within. "Ah,there's the skin. Why, yes, Hilary, it is a fine one!"

  The native servants gathered to admire the great mane and mighty pawsthere spread out, and many were the excited ejaculations and commentsthey fired off. The skin, being fresh, was unpleasantly gory--notablythe hole made by the bullet where it had penetrated the skull.

  "What a neat shot!" exclaimed Hermia, an expression of mingledadmiration and disgust upon her face as she bent down to examine thehuge head. Was it a part of her scheme, or the genuine admiration ofevery woman for a feat of physical prowess, that caused her to turn toBlachland with almost a proud, certainly an approving look? If theformer, it served its purpose; for Justin began to feel more jealous andsorer than ever.

  "_Nkose_!"

  Blachland turned. A native stood forth with uplifted hand, hailing him.He had seen this man among his servants, but did not choose torecognise him first.

  "Oh, it is you, Hlangulu?" he said, speaking in Sindabele; which tongueis a groundwork of Zulu overlaid with much Sechuana and Sesutu. "Thatis strange, for since you disappeared from our camp on the Matya'mhlope,on the morning that we went to see the King, I have not set eyes onyou."

  "_Au_!" replied the man, with a half-smile, bringing his hand to hismouth in deprecatory gesture, "that is true, _Nkose_. But the GreatGreat One required me to stand among the ranks of the warriors. Now Iam free once more, I would fain serve _Nkose_ again."

  Blachland looked musingly at him, but did not immediately reply.

  "I would fain serve a white man who can so easily slay a great thinglike that," went on Hlangulu. "Take me, _Nkose_. You will not find meuseless for hunting, and I know of that as to which _Nkose_ would liketo know."

  Blachland did not start at these last words, which were spoken withmeaning, but he would have if his nerves had not long since beenschooled to great self-control.

  For, remembering the subject under discussion the last time he had seenthis man, whom they had all suspected of eavesdropping,--being moreover,accustomed to native ways of talking "dark," he had no doubt whatever asto the meaning intended to be conveyed.

  "Sit still a while, Hlangulu," he said. "I am not sure I have notservants enough. Yet it may be that I can do with another for huntingpurposes. I will think about it. Here!"--and he handed him a stick oftobacco.

  "You are my father, _Nkose_," replied the Matabele, holding forth hisjoined hands to receive it. Then he stepped back.

  "Who is he, and what does he want, Hilary?" said Hermia, who had hardlyunderstood a word of this colloquy; and the same held good of Spence.

  "Oh, he's a chap we had at Bulawayo. Wants to be taken on here. Ithink I'll take him."

  "I don't much like the look of him," pursued Hermia, doubtfully.

  "I should hang him on sight, if I were the jury empanelled to try him,"declared Spence.

  But for all the notice he took of them, Blachland might as well not haveheard these remarks, for he busied himself giving directions to his"boys," relating to the preparation of the lion's skin, and a dozenother matters. Leaving him to this, the other two strolled back to thehouse.

  "I'm going home directly, Hermia," said Spence, with a bitter emphasison the word "home." "I rather think I'm the third who constitutes acrowd."

  "How can you talk like that, after--" And she broke off suddenly.

  "Still, I think I'll go, darling. But--are you really going away--toSalisbury?"

  "No. But you've got too speaking a face, Justin dear. Why on earth didyou look so dismal and blank when he said that?"

  "Because I couldn't help it, I suppose."

  "But you've got to help it. See here now, Justin, I can't keep you inleading-strings. You are such a great baby, you have no control overyourself. You're quite big enough, and--"

  "Ugly en
ough? Yes, go on."

  "No, the other thing--only I'm spoiling you too much, and making youabominably conceited. Now come in, and give me just one little kissbefore you start, and then I think you really had better go."

  "Promise me you won't go away without letting me know," he urged, whenthe above-named process--which, by the way, was not of such verydiminutive proportions as she had suggested--had been completed.Outside, Blachland's voice directing the native servants was plainlyaudible.

  "Yes, I promise. Now, go and say good-bye, and get your horse. No, not`one more.' Do be a little prudent."

  "Eh? Want to saddle up, Spence?" said Blachland, as Justin went over towhere he was occupied. "All right. I say, though, excuse me; I reallyam rather busy. Come along, and we'll get out your horse. Have a drinkbefore you start."

  "Thanks awfully, Blachland, I've just had one. Good-bye, old chap,don't bother to come to the stable. Good-bye."

  The other took a side glance at his retreating guest.

  "He's flurried," he said to himself. "These callow cubs don't know howto play the game. They do give it away so--give it away with bothhands."

  Then he went on tranquilly with what he was doing. He did not even goto the gate to see Spence off. He simply took him at his word. Insocial matters, Hilary Blachland was given to taking people at theirword. If they didn't know their own minds, not being infants orimbeciles, that wasn't his affair.

  Then his thoughts were diverted into another channel, and this waseffected by the sight of Hlangulu. The Matabele was standing around,lending a hand here or there whenever he saw an opportunity. For somereason of his own he seemed anxious to be kept on there. That he wouldbe of no use at all as a farm servant was obvious, equally so that hehad no ambition to fill that _role_. The rather mysterious words he haduttered could refer to but one thing; namely, the exceedingly dangerousand apparently utterly profitless scheme talked over by the camp fire onthe Matya'mhlope, and which there could be no doubt whatever but that hehad overheard. That being so, was not Blachland indeed in this man'spower?

  Turning it over in his mind, Blachland could see two sides to thesituation. Either Hlangulu designed to render him a service, and,incidentally, one much greater to himself--or his intent was whollysinister, to set a trap for him to wit. He looked at Hlangulu. TheMatabele's aspect was not prepossessing. It was that of a tall, gauntnative, with a sinister cast of countenance, never entirely free fromsomething of a scowl,--in fact, an evil and untrustworthy rascal ifappearances counted for anything at all. He tried to think whether hehad ever given this man cause to harbour a grudge against him, and couldrecall nothing of the kind; but he did remember that Hlangulu was aclever and skilful hunter. Perhaps, after all, he had really gained theman's respect, and, to a certain extent, his attachment. He would keephim, at any rate for a while, but--would watch him narrowly.

  "Hlangulu," he called. "Go now and hurry on the herd of trade cattle.It should have been done before this."

  "_Nkose_!"

  And with this one word of salute the man started on his errand, notasking where the object thereof was to be found, where it had been lastseen or anything. All of which was not lost upon Blachland. Decidedlyhe would keep Hlangulu, he told himself.