BY VELDT
AND KOPJE
BY W. a SCULLY
ALVMNVS BOOK FVND
s
a
BY VELDT AND KOPJE
NEW SIX-SHILLING NOVELS
Crown 8vo, Cloth
THE CRIMSON AZALEAS. By H. de
Vere Stacpoole.
THE RED SPHINX. By Edward U.
Valentine and S. Eccleston Harper.
THE FOUR PHILANTHROPISTS. By
Edgar Jepson.
ME AND MYN. By S. R. Crockett.
THE QUEEN OF A DAY. By J. S.
Fletcher.
THE SOUL OF A PRIEST. By the
Duke Litta.
London : T. FISHER UNWIN
BY VELDT AND KOPJE
BY
WILLIAM CHARLES SCULLY
Author of
"Kaffir Stories," "Between Sun and Sand," etc.
LONDON
T. FISHER UNWIN
ADELPHI TERRACE
1907
[A a rights reserved^
TO
Lieutenant-General
SIR WILLIAM FRANCIS BUTLER
This Book is Inscribed
{Ecciesiastes, vii. 5)
3S7:J93
CONTENTS
PAGE
Voices of Africa _ - - - - xi
The Lepers ------ ^
The Writing on the Rock - - - 27
Tommy's Evil Genius - - - - 39
The Wisdom of the Serpent - - - 5^
Rainmaking ------ ^7
The Gratitude of a Savage - - - 79
Mr Bloxam's Choice - - - - 93
A Case for Psychical Research - - - 145
Chicken Wings - - - " - 167
Afar in the Desert - - - - ^93
By the Waters of Marah - - - - 217
The Hunter of the Didima - - - 253
A Forgotten Expedition - - - - 269
Kaffir Music - - - - - 285
IX
VOICES OF AFRICA
Africa
Sphinx among continents, — the Nations strive
To guess my ancient riddle ; Greece essayed —
She drooped to death ; upon me Rome set gyve —
She sank in her own bonds. The Persian laid
His life down 'mid my deserts. For a day
I smiled on each, then tore them for my play.
The Sahara
The ghosts of buried cities scale the air
When Day wakes my mirage. The lion keeps
My iron hills. The bones of men lie bare
Where my thirst-sickle its rich harvest reaps.
Time, like a little child, amid my sands
Builds and unbuilds with feeble, listless hands.
Egypt
The gods who dwell 'mid equatorial snows
Bade Nilus cleave the waste, and I awoke.
A giant, robed in mystery, I arose ;
The young world listened, breathless, when I spoke.
My Sphinx Time's sister is ; her brood lies hid
Where dream the dead 'neath rock and pyramid,
zi
xii By Veldt and Kopje
Carthage
Sidon sent forth her sons, her sons sent Tyre ;
The Desert's daughters bore a mighty race.
The God whose brazen hands sloped to the fire
Reared o'er me the red terror of his face.
Rome, vengeful, trod me to the dust, and strowed
With salt the site where once my powers abode.
Alexandria
The godlike Alexander wav'd his sword ;
Beneath its spell rose palace, mart and school,
No gold so precious as my lightest word ;
My logos still the Faith of Man doth rule.
Greek, Roman and Barbarian, East and West,
Drank lore like milk from my most bounteous
breast.
Mount Atlas
Time haled the great Globe from my aching back
And hung it 'mid the stars. Content I rest,
The ocean's murmured music at my feet,
The foldless flocks of cloudland round my crest.
Pan walks with Faunus through my dreaming
woods.
And Dryads pace my leafy solitudes.
Voices of Africa xiii
RUWENZORI
A diadem of changeless snow lies light
Upon my regal head ; my locks I shake,
And, straightway, living waters take their flight.
The iron bonds of Ancient Drought to break.
A virgin, new-unveiled, I stand alone ;
^ons will pass, but none unclasp my zone.
The Lakes
Hand seeking hand, a peerless sisterhood.
We watched for dawn through dark of murd'rous years
Our sky-pure fringes mired with human blood,
Our rain-sweet wavelets salt with human tears.
Our tideless glasses gleam resplendently
High o'er the rockings of the restless sea.
The Congo
Through jungles spawned from fever-drunken sod
Where, sleeplessly, the foul man-hunters hide.
The bitter lees from God's dread wine-press trod
By desperate feet, drain down my tepid tide.
Leviathan there wallows in his wrath ;
There range the hordes of mighty Behemoth.
xiv By Veldt and Kopje
The Zambezi
The spoils the sky had of the world-wide main
I bear, new-gathered from ten thousand rills
To where the thund'rous gates my steps enchain,
Clogged with the wastage of a million hills.
Thence, breaking forth in triumph, full and free,
I render back my booty to the sea.
Zimbabwe
I housed the brood of Carthage ; they the earth
Deep rifled for its treasure. On me fell
The hand of Doom. No rumour speaks my birth,
No legend shrines my death. My citadel
Glares at the cold fane of my obscene god.
O'er which the feet of ancient ruin trod.
The Southern Deserts
The wayward Spring, in dalliance afar,
Forgets us for long seasons, till the sky
Weeps for our burning woe ; then, star on star,
Rich blossoms from our glowing dunes arise.
Thirst, with his legioned agonies, still stands
Warding the barren empire of our sands.
Voices of Africa xv
The Black Peoples
God smote us with an itch to dip our hands
In one another's blood. Our long travail
The ages hearken to. The ocean sands
Than we are not more myriad. Men hale
Us forth in chains o'er every moaning sea
Foul with the trails of Man's iniquity.
KiMBERLEY
I sprang from 'neath the desert sand, and cast
A double-handed shower of living gems
r the world's astonished visage. In my vast
Black, echoing chasm, whence the bright diadems
Of half Earth's thrones are furnish'd, I can hear
The lost souls wander, wailing, far and near.
Johannesburg
A maenad seated on a golden throne ;
My plaything is a nation's destiny ;
My feet are clay, my bosom is a stone ;
The princes of the Earth are fain of me,
But, stark, before the splendour of my gates.
The grim Boer, leaning on his rifle, waits.
xvi By Veldt and Kopje
The White Commonwealths
To-morrow unregarded, clean effaced
The lesson of unhallowed yesterday,
We rail against each other ; interlaced
Albeit are our fortunes. So we stray,
Blind to the lurid writing on the wall.
Deaf to the words Fate's warning lips let fall.
(1899)
BY VELDT AND KOPJE
THE LEPERS
"All the days wherein the plague shall be in him he shall be
defiled ; he is unclean : he shall dwell alone ; without the camp
shall his habitation be." — Leviticus xiii. 46.
I
The Magistrate sat in his office, deep in thought.
Before him, on his desk, lay a pile of documents of
foolscap size — clinical reports as to some forty odd
natives in the district, who had been cursed by God
with the most bitter of all curses — the disease of
leprosy. The Magistrate noted that the documents
were livid white in colour — a variation from the
orthodox blue of the ordinary printed form, and
even this trivial circumstance seemed to have an
unpleasant significance.
It was a month since the receipt of the circular
from the Government, directing that the long-
dormant " Leprosv Repression Act " be put in force,
and the District Surgeon had, in the interval, been
busy riding from kraal to kraal in these locations
where the disease existed, obtaining the voluminous
data required in each individual case. This data
2 By Veldt and Kopje
had now been transferred to the fateful livid forms,
the imposing pile of which the Magistrate was
regarding with troubled eyes.
In response to a touch upon the bell a smart-
looking native constable entered the room, and a
message sent through him brought Galada, sergeant
of -the native police, and four of his men, who stood
before the desk in an attentive line. After the
Magistrate's order had been explained to them,
Galada and his men left the room, went to where
their horses stood, ready saddled, and rode forth
respectively in five different directions. The sun
was shining brightly. The season was early summer,
but a light, refreshing breeze was making glad the
land. The previous day had been hot, but a short
thunderstorm at sunset had cleared the atmosphere
and lowered the temperature, so the morning was
sweet, as only a South African morning can be when
cool, sea-born wind and gently ardent sunbeams
flatter and caress.
Galada, the sergeant, took his course along the
footpath which leads over the bush-covered '' Black-
water" Ridge. To his right arose, in precipitous
terraces, the noble mass of the Umgano Mountain.
The valleys were full of long lush grass, on which
the sleek-limbed kine were greedily browsing. The
long-tailed finches lilted over the reeds in anxious
pursuit of their short-tailed, and therefore more
nimble, mates ; the crested lories called hoarsely
from the mysterious depths of the jungle.
As the Sergeant reached the higher slopes of the
ridge, the late flowers of retreating spring became
The Lepers 3
more and more plentiful. The pink shields cluster-
ing around the orchid stems were full of struggling
bees half-smothered in yellow pollen, while over
each golden mass of mountain-broom a small cloud
of butterflies hovered. Around the towering crags
wheeled the chanting falcons, whose wild cries
seemed to voice the very spirit of the mountain
wilderness.
But Galada had neither eye nor ear for these
things ; his thoughts were almost wholly engrossed
by the "beer-drink" which he knew was that day
being held at the kraal of Headman Rolobele — an
hour's ride away — among the foot-hills of the
Drakensberg Range. He knew that there he would
find all the headmen to whom he had to convey the
Magistrate's message, as well as other good company,
and an excellent brew of beer. Thus would be
afforded a most fortunate opportunity of combining
business and pleasure.
When Galada arrived at his destination he found
the " beer-drink" in full swing. The men were all
sitting in a circle before the main entrance to the
cattle kraal, which was half-surrounded by a crescent
of beehive-shaped huts. In the centre stood several
immense earthenware pots full of the pink liquor,
while several smaller pots, each with a cleft-calabash
spoon floating in it, were circulating among the
guests. Galada removed the saddle from his horse,
let the animal loose to join the horses of the other
visitors — which were being herded by a couple of
boys. Then, after greeting the giver of the feast, he
joined the circle of drinkers.
4 By Veldt and Kopje
But the Sergeant was far too sensible a man to
allow pleasure to interfere with duty to his own
disadvantage, so after quenching his immediate
thirst by emptying one of the largest of the second-
ary pots, he drew Rolobele and the other headmen
aside for the purpose of communicating to them the
Magistrate's message, while all were yet in a state
of sobriety.
" This, then, is the word of Government," said
he. " The people who have * the sickness ' (the
Kaffirs have no name for the disease of leprosy) are
to be gathered together at Izolo. From there they
will be sent on in wagons to Emjanyana, where
they will henceforth dwell. The Magistrate tells
me to warn you that this word is a word which
must be listened to and obeyed."
The four headmen looked at each other in
silence for awhile. Then Rolobele spoke —
" Yes, we knew of the coming of the word and
we will obey. With the old men and women there
will be no difficulty, but with the young men — the
son of Makanda, for instance— he will be a difficult
bull to drive into the Emjanyana kraal."
" What ! Makanda's son, Mangele," exclaimed
Galada in a tone of surprise ; " he that I saw among
the drinkers ; has he got it } "
"Oh, yes," replied Rolobele. "The doctor
was here last week and found ' the sickness ' in his
hand and his knee. But you knew, surely, that his
mother died of it three years ago."
Across the heavy features of the youngest of the
headmen — a man named Xaba— the ghost of a smile
The Lepers 5
seemed to flit. Xaba had quite recently been
appointed to the headmanship in succession to his
father. There was enmity and jealousy between
him and Mangele. Both had been paying their
addresses to the same girl, and the suit of Mangele
had prospered. He had, as a matter of fact, already
paid more than one instalment of the *' lobola " '
cattle, and the wedding was expected to take place
within a few months.
After giving full instructions as to the collection
of the unfortunate sufferers, Galada, accompanied
by the others, returned to the beer-feast with a clear
conscience. After removing his uniform to prevent
its getting soiled, he borrowed a blanket from
Rolobele and gave himself up to enjoyment.
Mangele was the "great son " of his father, who
was so old and infirm that he slept away his days
and took no further interest in life. When the
weather was cold he lay all day long on his mat next
to the fireplace in his hut — a little boy being always
on duty to prevent the fire either going out or
setting the old man's mat or blanket alight. In
mild weather he lay outside in the open. When
the sun stung he sought the shady side of the hut,
and groaned grievously when the pursuing sunbeams
forced him to shift his quarters.
Makanda was a rich man, and, as the greater
portion of his riches belonged to his " great house,"
such would, consequently, fall to Mangele. The
latter had many half-brothers who were older than
^ The dowry paid by the bridegroom to the bride's father
after the manner of the ancient Spartans.
6 By Veldt and Kopje
himself, but, his mother having been the " great
wife," he took precedence of the rest of the family.
A few years previously Mangele s mother, who
had been afflicted with leprosy for many years, died
miserably. Mangele, when little more than a boy,
had quarrelled with his father and run away from
home, meaning to return no more. He wandered
far and near — sometimes working at the docks at
Cape Town or East London — sometimes at the gold
or diamond mines. The love of home is always
very deep in the Kaffir, and Mangele came to find
the longing to return to his father's kraal so strong,
that he could no longer withstand it. For some
months previously he had suffered from a feeling of
painful weakness in his left hand and wrist, which
had made it difficult for him to use pick or shovel.
Upon his return Mangele found that his mother
had died recently, and that his father had become
very feeble in mind and body. But the old man
welcomed him with open arms. Makanda had been
badly treated by his other sons, who, after the
fashion in such cases, had begun to despoil him of
his property in the most barefaced manner. Soon
after his "great son's " return old Makanda form-
ally abdicated the headship of the family in his
favour and thenceforth spent most of his days and
all his nights in peaceful, dreamless slumber. •
Mangele's hand became weaker and weaker.
He found that he could not exert it in the least
degree without suffering dull, gnawing pain for days
afterward. Then the hand began to swell and the
knuckles became distorted. Shortly after this a
The Lepers 7
weakness, followed by a swelling, appeared in the
left knee.
A cloud seemed to settle down upon his face,
and his features gradually took on that strange,
pathetic, and by no means repellent, look which one
so often sees in strongly marked cases of tubercular
leprosy before the frightful disfiguring stage has set
in. This look distinctly suggests the face of a lion
in repose. In strongly marked cases the resemblance
cannot fail to strike the most careless observer.
There is nothing in it suggestive of ferocity, but
rather of a deep, dignified, and sombre sadness, with
a touch of that sublimity which belongs to every-
thing that appalls.
Mangele knew well that he was smitten with
the incurable disease of which his mother had died.
He became solitary in his habits and would some-
times sit on a stone outside his hut the whole night
through. And the sombre, leonine look deepened
upon his face with the passing of the months.
At first Mangele had, as is usual in such cases
among the Kaffirs, put down his own as well as his
mother's illness to the malevolence of an enemy,
and believed that if he could counteract the spell
woven against him, he would recover his health, but
he no lono-er deceived himself on this score. The
Kaffirs are, as a rule, utterly ignorant of Nature's
laws as such affect the human body, but Mangele
was intelligent to a degree far above the average of
his race. Moreover, his sojourn among the Euro-
peans had given him enlightenment. Recently the
dire significance of his situation had struck him to
8 By Veldt and Kopje
the heart. Now and then he would appear among
his fellows at a " beer-drink *' or other function,
but as a rule he remained at home and brooded in
solitude over his doom.
A Kaffir '' beer-drink '' is a very curious and dis-
tinctive feature of South African native life. One
peculiarity of the *' beer-drink" is that the drinkers
pass through several definite stages corresponding
with the amount of their potations. In the earlier
the utmost good-humour prevails. Soon, however,
comes a period of boasting which, if different clans
are represented at the gathering, shortly changes
into one electric with possibilities of strife, for vaunt-
ing leads to irritation, recrimination, and eventual
blows.
A fierce quarrel may arise from something utterly
trivial ; any two men present who dislike each other
never being at a loss for a casus hellu The mere
mention of an old garden dispute, or a lawsuit of
half a century back between the respective grand-
fathers of two men who have reached the critical
point, is quite enough to set the sticks whirling.
Indeed, beer seems to act like a kind of sympathetic
ink in bringing every ancient and half-obliterated
grievance to the surface.
After the quarrelsome stage succeeds one of
torpor, and from this the revellers arise with appetites
which only meat, and plenty of it, can assuage.
Then, unless the giver of the feast be rich and liberal
enough to kill for his guests, the flocks and herds of
the stock-owners in the vicinity are apt to suffer.
The stage of boasting had been reached when
The Lepers 9
Galada and the headmen returned to the banquet.
On different sides men were declaiming loudly of
the wealth and greatness of their relations, ancestral
and contemporary — several talking at the same time.
Galada's eye at once sought out Mangele, the son of
Makanda, who had just been mentioned to him as
being a leper. Mangele was a most splendid specimen
of manhood. As he lay naked on his blanket in the
bright sunshine, his splendid torso and muscular
limbs seemed to be the very embodiment of health
and reposeful strength. Looking more closely,
however, the Sergeant was able to notice the signs of
the disease which had been mentioned by Rolobele.
Superficially, all that was wrong with the knee was a
slight thickening on the outside — so slight, indeed,
that Galada would certainly never have noticed
the thing had his attention not been drawn to it.
Mangele's left hand was, however, distinctly swollen
and distorted. He kept it concealed as much as
possible, hiding it under a fold of the blanket he lay
upon.
Mangele's voice was not heard among those of
the boasters. He lay silent and abstracted, slightly
apart from the others, drinking deeply and ap-
parently taking no notice of the Babel around him.
For an instant he looked up as Xaba joined the
circle, and the glances of these two seemed to flash
at each other like spears. Then Mangele took
another long draught of beer and bent his head
lower than before.
" We of the Radebe," shouted 'Mzondo, a fierce-
looking savage, who had a heavy ivory armlet above
10 By Veldt and Kopje
his left elbow, " hau — there are none like us ; we
are the black cattle of the pastures. My father was
a bull with a strong neck and I am his calf. Look
at our sticks in a fight — look how the strangers
come to seek our daughters in marriage. Wau —
but we are a race of chiefs — a great people."
" We of the Amahlubi," shouted one 'Mbulawa,
" were never tillers of the fields of the Amagcaleka,
nor were our daughters taken as concubines by the
sons of Hintza. We v/ere bulls when the Radebe
were oxen."
At this reference to the captivity of the Radebe,
half a century previously, all present of that clan
leaped to their feet and seized their sticks. Rolo-
bele, however, managed to restore tranquillity.
The majority of those present were Hlubis. The
headman rebuked 'Mbulawa for his rudeness. Then,
in the course of a long and eloquent speech, he
adroitly led the thoughts of his guests to an episode
in which both clans had equally covered themselves
with glory. Thus was the anger appeased and the
danger of a breach of the peace averted for the
moment.
Xaba, who had for some time been drinking
heavily in silence, began to dispute with one Fodo
over the merits of some old family quarrel which
had been settled many years previously. The
sombre eye of Mangele followed every gesture
of his enemy. Fodo was a small man, and Xaba,
who in spite of his size was rather cowardly, began
to address him in most insulting terms. Suddenly
Mangele sprang to his feet, seized his sticks, and
The Lepers n
strode across the circle toward the bully. Xaba
drew back before his assailant, while a number of
Mangele's friends threw themselves in his course
and prevented him from reaching his enemy.
Under the Territorial Law, the giver of a beer-
party is responsible for any breach of the peace that
may occur at it. This circumstance, and the fact of
the Sergeant's presence, impelled Rolobele to strain
every nerve to prevent fighting. After some diffi-
culty the two furious men were forced away in
different directions ; they, all the time, shouting
insult and defiance at each other. At length Xaba
called out —
" You — bull with the water in your bones — your
days are over. To-morrow you will be tied up with
the sick oxen at Emjanyana. If you do not believe
me, ask Galada. Good-bye ; I am now going to see
Nosembe."
Mangele at once ceased from shouting and
struggling, and allowed himself to be led away
without resistance. His head was bent, and his
heavy, leonine features set themselves into a sombre,
tragic mask, out of which his eyes seemed to blaze.
II
On the day after the transmission of the Magis-
trate's message the different headmen concerned
went round among their respective locations and
warned the lepers to assemble at a certain spot near
Izolo in ten days' time. Mangele received the
message in silence. His relations, who hated him
12 By Veldt and Kopje
for having prevented their spoliation of old Mak-
anda, were delighted at the prospect of getting rid
of him, but they wisely refrained from expressing
their feelings on the subject in his presence.
Nosembe and Mangele were attached to each
other in a manner somewhat rare among the un-
civilised natives. She was the handsomest girl in
the neighbourhood, and several other men besides
Xaba had wished to marry her. She had never sus-
pected for a moment that her lover was suffering
from the dread, nameless disease that filled the
bones with water, and when in the course of the
next few days it came to be whispered that Mangele
was one of those who had to go into confinement at
Emjanyana, she laughed at the report. Later, Xaba
spoice of it to her and she spat at him in her fury at
the insult. When, however, she heard her father
and brothers discussing the question of the return
of the dowry cattle, she knew that the rumour was
true, and her whole soul revolted at the injustice.
Mangele was the strongest and handsomest man in
the neighbourhood — why should he be locked up
like a criminal because he happened to have a sore
place upon his hand ? She at once made up her
mind that if her lover had to go, she would follow
him into captivity.
Three days Nosemb^ waited in the hope that
Mangele would visit her, but she waited in vain ; so,
on the fourth night, she arose from her mat after all
the others had gone to sleep, crept out of the hut,
and sped along the pathway which led over the
divide beyond which his kraal was situated.
/ The Lepers 13
The night was sultry and the sky was brightly
starlit as Nosembe glided between the patches of
scrub which dappled the hillside at the back of the
kraal. She knew the hut which Mangele occupied
by himself ; all she feared was that the dogs might
give the alarm and some of the people come out and
see her. As she crouched behind a bush the dogs
suddenly set up a chorus of barking and rushed
down the hillside on the opposite side of the kraal
in pursuit of a supposed enemy. Here was her
chance ; she sprang up and ran swiftly down the
slope to Mangele's hut.
Mangele was sitting on a stone in front of the
doorway, in an attitude expressive of the deepest
dejection. His head was bowed upon the arms
which rested upon his bent knees, and the corner
of his blanket was drawn over it as though he could
not bear even the light of the gentle stars. He
heard Nosembe's footstep, and lifted his sombre
face. For a few seconds the two regarded each
other silently ; then the girl flung herself to the
ground at the man's feet and broke into a passion
of tears.
Mangele lifted Nosembe from where she lay and
clasped her closely to him. Her sobs ceased, but it
was long before either spake a word. The girl was
the first to break the silence.
" It is not true that you have to go to Em-
janyana."
"It is true.''
" But you are not sick," she rejoined, passion-
ately. "You are stronger than other men. And
14 By Veldt and Kopje
you have done no wrong. How, then, can they put
you in prison ? "
" I am sick," he replied, in a heart-broken voice ;
" my bones are filling with water. It is right that
1 go away. I am a dead man."
" Then I will go with you."
"No, that cannot be," he replied, in a voice
broken by emotion ; " no woman can go to Em-
janyana unless she have 'the sickness'; and then
the men and women have to dwell apart."
''Moimamo^' she wailed. "You cannot leave
nie — your child quickens even now. You have paid
the dowry and I am your wife. I will sit at the
gate at Emjanyana until they let me in."
Day was almost breaking when Mangele led
Nosembe back into the scrub to the footpath by
which she had come. They bade each other fare-
well, after arranging to meet on the following night
in the same way.
Nosembe had not gone very far before she met
her father and two of her brothers, who, when they
had discovered her absence, guessed where she had
gone to and started out to seek for her. She met
their railing and reproaches with the utmost com-
posure. However, when night again came she found
herself so carefully guarded that escape was im-
possible, so she was unable to keep the appointment
with her lover.
Mangele waited the whole night through, hoping
against hope that she would come. He correctly
guessed the cause of her absence. When day broke
he took his sticks and went forth to carry out a
The Lepers 15
design he had formed in the course of his long
vigil.
During the next forty-eight hours he personally
visited every one of the lepers belonging to his clan
in the district, and arranged with them to meet a
day later in the vicinity of the Residency.
In the morning, just after the Magistrate had
reached his office, he received a message asking him
to meet the lepers under a certain tree, where, by
tacit understanding, they had been accustomed to
assemble on the rare occasions when they required
to communicate direct with the authorities. Soon
afterward he walked to the spot, which was situated
in a kloof about three hundred yards distant.
There they sat, twenty-four in number. Ten
of them were women. All, with the exception of
Mangele, were old. What an awful spectacle they
afforded, these four-and -twenty human creatures ; all
save one crushed almost out of human semblance by
the wheels of the chariot of pitiless, unregarding
Nature. There, against the lovely background of
graceful fern and fragrant clematis, beneath the
twinkling, poplar-like leaves of the spreading
erethryna-tree — through which the blue sky smiled
— were huddled these poor sufferers without hope
of relief, guiltless vessels marred by the mysterious
hand of The Great Potter. Twisted limb and
crumbling stump, visages from which the gracious
human lines had been obliterated by a slow, fell
process more awful than the snake's fang or the
lightning's stroke.
Over what remained of nearly every countenance
i6 By Veldt and Kopje
seemed to hover a suggestion of that strange, leonine
look which was so strongly marked in the case of
Mangele ; and to the Magistrate it seemed as if this
were the only relief from a horror almost too
absolute to look upon for long and keep his senses.
It was as though what Schopenhauer called "the
genius of the genus" had arisen from the depths of
being to protest mutely against this piteous desecra-
tion of its temple by unregarding Nature and iron-
visaged Fate. It was the very sublimation of tragic
pathos, in the presence of which pity seemed to die
of its own intensity.
All but Mangele sat upon the ground and en-
deavoured to hide, so far as possible, their worst
individual disfigurements, but he stood forth as
though proudly conscious of his almost perfect
symmetry, and met the Magistrate's sympathetic
glance with his sombre, lion-like gaze. Then, after
the usual salutations, Mangele began his speech.
As is usual with natives to whom oratory is an
inborn art, his delivery was excellent and full of
dignity.
"We, men and women who are dead, though
living, come to our Father, the Government, to ask
for a little thing.
'' God, whom the White Man has taught us to
know, smote us with this sickness which has filled
our bones with water for marrow, and caused our
quick flesh to rot slowly, like dead wood. We
acknowledge that it is only right we should be
separated from other men, so that we may not give
the disease to those who are clean, but we cannot
The Lepers 17
dwell apart from our kindred, our cattle and the
fields wherein our fathers saw the corn growing
when they were little children — therefore we wish
to die now, this day. Then will the sickness die
with us, and our Father, the Government, will not
be put to any further trouble on our account.
"What we ask of the White Chief, our Magis-
trate, is this : that he now, before the sun has begun
to fall, send hither his policemen with rifles, and bid
them shoot us skilfully so that we may suffer little
pain."
Then turning to his companions, who had heard
him in silence, he added —
'' My brothers and sisters — children of my Father
— tell our Chief if I have spoken the right word."
An eager murmur of assent followed.
" Yes, our Chief, he has spoken the one word
which is in all our hearts : kill us here, but send us
not to dwell apart from our homes and our kindred."
It was some little time before the Magistrate was
able to command his feelings sufficiently to admit of
his speaking. When they saw that he was about
to reply, his miserable hearers leant forward with
every appearance of the keenest interest. In his
heart- he knew that what the poor creatures asked
for was for them the best. His compassion was so
deep that he could have slain them with his own
hand.
*'The word you have spoken," he said, "has
gone through my heart like the bullet you have
asked for. What can I say for your comfort ? Go,
my poor brothers and sisters whom God has afflicted
B
i8 By Veldt and Kopje
so sorely. In the place to which your Father, the
Government, is sending you, neither hunger nor
cold will afflict you ; you will have many friends
and your days will be passed in peace. The thing
you ask for I may not give, for the Law allows it
not. My heart will be with you in your exile."
Then a wail of anguished protest went up from
the miserable crowd —
" Law — what have we to do with the Law — we
who are dead already ? We cannot dwell in a
strange place. Kill us and put us under the ground
on which we have lived our lives. Send the police-
men with the rifles to us here at this spot — we will
not shrink."
After the Magistrate had withdrawn, the poor
creatures continued their lamentations for some
time. Then they seemed to fall into a condition of
apathy. Mangele sat silently apart, with the corner
of his blanket drawn over his head. This, of late,
had become his habitual attitude. Eventually he
arose and called for attention —
" Listen, O brothers and sisters of the sickness ;
the thing which the Magistrate may not do on account
of the Law we may yet do for ourselves. . . . To-
morrow night at sundown let us meet at the Wizard's
Rock. There we may die as painlessly as by a rifle.
To-day and to-morrow let us look our last upon our
kindred, our cattle, and the land our fathers dwelt in.
To-morrow night we will go down with the sun.
The Lepers 19
III
The Wizard's Rock derives its name from the cir-
cumstance that in the old days — before the advent
of civilised government — it was the place of execution
of those hapless creatures who were condemned for
the supposed practice of witchcraft.
Before the rule of the European in South Africa
there was, among the natives, a strong recrudescence
from time to time of the lamentable belief that the
land was full of malevolent wizards and witches, who
spent most of their time in weaving deadly spells
against man and beast. The consequences were
terrible ; men and women were put to death upon
the flimsiest suspicion ; torture of the most horrible
kind was freely resorted to, and the wildest confession
wrung from the agonised lips of some was taken as
absolute confirmation of the most preposterous
apprehensions.
Not more than thirty years ago many a dolorous
procession wended its way up to this jutting peak,
from the base of which, hundreds of feet below, a
slope, covered with noble forest, fell away to a deep
and rapid river. The doomed wretch would be
blindfolded and placed, standing, at the edge of the
precipice. Then the executioner would deal him a
smashing blow on the side of the head with a heavily
knobbed stick, and thus hurl him into the abyss.
Among the broken rocks below, the curious
may, even at this late day, find fragments of human
bones. The place has an evil reputation ; no
native boy cares to go near it ; no bribe would in-
20 By Veldt and Kopje
duce one to visit it alone. Now and then a few ot
the bolder spirits, finding themselves in the forest,
make an excursion to the foot of the great rock,
but they steal along breathlessly from tree to tree
and from stone to stone, taking cover at each and
listening fearfully lest the restless *' imishologu " —
the spirits of the wicked ones who have died
violently — should be unseasonably awake. Then
the fall of a dead bough, the rush of a troop of
monkeys through the branches, the slightest un-
familiar echo from the beetling crag, will send them
flying toward the open in speechless terror, with
ashen-grey faces and staring eyes. Afterward they
will boast loudly to their friends of the bravery
evinced in the visit, omitting, of course, all reference
to the invariable panic.
The day following the assembling of the lepers
at the Magistracy died splendidly. To seaward the
milk-white thunderclouds which marked the track
of the monsoon towered into the deep azure, and
when the sun began to sink behind the great
mountain range to westward, every stately vapour-
turret took on a changing glory, while in the inky
vaults between incessant lightnings played.
Since early in the afternoon the poor lepers had
been laboriously ascending the mountain by the
different footpaths. Many were hardly able to
hobble, but these were assisted by others whose legs
were not so badly affected. Mangele bore upon his
broad back an old man whose feet had completely
crumbled away. Leaving this poor creature at the
summit, he returned and helped the weaker among
The Lepers 21
the others to ascend. The sun was still some little
distance above the horizon when the last of the
self-doomed band sank panting at the edge of the
cliff. Of the four-and-twenty who had come to the
Residency to interview the Magistrate, twenty had
assembled at the Rock. The others, three women
and a man, had felt their courage fail them, so had
decided to accept their less violent, though dreaded,
fate and go to Emjanyana.
'Mpofu, the oldest of the men, dragged his
shapeless frame to a stone, against which he leant,
supporting himself by his stick at the same time.
He trembled violently and made several attempts
before he succeeded in speaking. Then his voice
came in a husky quaver. The others turned
toward him with an air of expectancy.
"It is,'* he said, "a long time since I last stood
on this spot. I was then hardly a man ; Hintza
was Chief. We came here to look upon the killing
of Gungubele, who was ' smelt out * for having be-
witched his elder brother. I leant my head over
the edge of the rock and listened for the thud of his
body as it struck the stones, far down. I thought
the wind had borne it away, but at length it struck
me like a club. Many seasons have since passed,
but that sound has ever since been in my ears.
And now — when my body falls " —
A shudder passed through the crouching
creatures ; one or two of the women began to
whimper and a few near the verge drew back with
looks of terror. Mangele sprang to his feet.
" What is this ? " he cried in an angry voice ;
22 By Veldt and Kopje
" has 'the sickness ' filled your heart as well as your
bones with water, O 'Mpofu, my father? Is yours
the voice that calls dogs thirsty for death back from
the fountain ? Was it not your word that made me
the leader of this army of dead men who are yet
alive — and will you now turn them back on the day
of battle? Shame on you. Listen to me, oh, my
brothers, and not to this old man whose heart
shrinks because of a sound he heard on a day before
we were born. I am young, and death is more bitter
to the young than to the old. My kraal is full of
cattle ; the dowry has been paid for my bride, yet I
stand here to-day and am not afraid to die. Listen
now to a new word in a strange tongue, but a word
which you nevertheless may understand if you will :
" For a long time I have known that my sickness
was like your own — the sickness that no doctor can
cure. Through the long nights, when others slept,
I have sat alone under the stars, and the voices of
the darkness have taught me many things. Now,
the greatest and strangest of these things was this :
that I loved you who have suffered through your
long lives what I am but beginning to suffer, and it
is out of that love that I have brought you here
to-day to put an end to your pain. Out of the
darkness came another strange word — a word which
has taught me how to die, to die with my eyes open ;
but I could not bear to die and leave you helpless in
the pain you have endured so long. All this is the
wisdom which I have learned from those voices of
which the darkness is full.'*
When Mangele ceased speaking his hearers broke
The Lepers 23
out into loud wailing. One of the women crept
shrinkingly to the verge of the precipice, glanced
over the edge, and drew back with a shriek. Then
she covered her face with her blanket and lay upon
the ground, grovelling. The others, who had silently
watched her, broke into renewed and terror-stricken
wails as she drew back. Mangele once more began
to speak, a note of thunder in his voice ; all at once
shrank into silence.
" This will I do for the sake of the love I bear
you, and for that ye know not your own minds, nor
what is good for you ; this will I do because my
heart is strong where yours is weak : I will hurl you
one by one over the rock and then follow you myself.
Look your last upon the sun, oh my brothers and
sisters whom I love, for you are about to die."
At this the wretched creatures grovelled about
Mangele's feet, beseeching him to spare their lives.
They would, they said, go to Emjanyana and live
peacefully like cattle in the kraal of their father, the
Government. Their hearts were full of water ; they
were old and weak. They would not have minded
death by shooting, at the Residency, but this was an
evil place which bore a bad name from the most
ancient days. The House of Death was cold and
the road to it, over the steep cliff and the sharp stone
beneath, painful. Even though they were sick they
still could feel the warmth of the sun. If he loved
them, let Mangele leave them until Death came of
his own accord and sought them out.
Mangele stood with bent head in the middle of
the prostrate crowd and listened to their piteous
24 By Veldt and Kopje
pleadings. When at length he lifted his face a
change had come over it — a wistful, transfiguring
gentleness had taken the place of the look of stern
indignation it had borne when he last spoke. Silenc-
ing the wailing creatures with a gesture, he said :
" Peace, peace ; your words have made me weak.
Live, then, since you fear to die."
Mangele stepped from among the crouching
throng and took his stand on the very verge of the
cliff. The sun was just about to disappear ; its last
level beams swept across the world and seemed to
search out and reveal every noble curve and graceful
line in the ebon limbs and trunk of the splendidly
proportioned man who was about to destroy his
beauty to save it from loathsome decay — they lit the
noble face and head until these took on a sublime
look of leonine anguish and the sombre eyes seemed
to glare a tremendous indictment against Nature and
Fate.
" Farewell, brothers and sisters who have not been
taught how to die. Tell the girl Nosembe that my
thoughts were of her as I sped to the sharp rocks."
As he spoke the last word Mangele sprang back-
ward over the cliff. Old 'Mpofu and a woman shut
their eyes and bent their heads sideways toward the
verge. A few seconds afterward a heavy thud from
below smote on the ears of all. A low groan broke
from their lips —
A sound of approaching footsteps and laboured
breathing was heard, and just afterward a tall young
woman stepped in among the huddled throng. It
was Nosembe, who, having heard a rumour of the
The Lepers 23
impending tragedy, hastened to join the man she
loved and die with him.
*' Ho, ye who are here," she said, after her eye
had swept around the circle, " how is it then that
your leader has not come ? But there is his
blanket and his stick ; speak ; where is Mangele, my
lover?"
No one dared to answer ; all sank their faces to
the earth.
" Ha ! " Nosembe cried, " I see the truth ye dare
not speak — he is dead and ye are not ashamed to be
alive. . . . He waits for me. ... I take him his
unborn child."
Then, with a long, shrill call upon her lover's
name, Nosembe leaped into the abyss.
Shortly after these events, on a day that was a
dream of beauty, a couple of wagons drawn by long
teams of oxen crossed the Lunda Divide by the road
to Emjanyana. In the wagons were seated those
of the lepers who were unable to walk. Hobbling
after them came the rest, a dreary band, their heads
bent, their whole appearance suggestive of stolid and
hopeless misery. None attempted to turn back.
They had attained the calm of consent.
When the top of the divide was reached the
drivers called a halt for the purpose of breathing the
oxen. The poor lepers gazed back long and lovingly
at the valleys wherein they had dwelt all their lives
and which they never more would see.
No tear was shed ; not a word was spoken ; not
a sigh or a groan broke the silence. The police
26 By Veldt and Kopje
who formed the escort had dismounted for a space
at the side of the road.
After a few minutes Sergeant Galada signed to
the drivers to proceed, and the wagons rumbled
heavily down the slope. The lepers sat on the
ground, still gazing backward, and seemingly uncon-
scious that the wagons had gone forward.
Then the policemen came up and gently — very
gently — urged the exiled and disinherited creatures
to continue their journey.
THE WRITING ON THE ROCK
A FEW years ago I happened to be detained for
several weeks in a somewhat remote village in the
Cape Colony. Having very little to do I availed
myself of an invitation received from a certain Boer
named Jacobus van der Merwe — to visit his farm
for the purpose of shooting.
The farm, " Honey Krantz," was about twenty
miles away ; it lay in the midst of the grandest
mountain scenery. The only road was a very
rugged one along the course of a devious gorge,
with frequent crossings of a brawling stream. Each
of the many sharp turns was marked by an immense
rock-buttress, hundreds of feet in height. The
mountainous sides of the gorge were thickly strewn
with mighty boulders, whilst here and there wide
moraines extended from summit to base.
I at once became very much interested in the
members of the household. My host was about forty-
five years of age and, even for a Boer, extremely
stout. In fact he was obliged to excuse himself, on
the score of his size, from accompanying me to the
hunting-grounds, which lay so high that reaching
them involved considerable and steep climbing.
Accordingly, an alert-looking Hottentot was assigned
to me as after-rider and guide. This " boy " knew
every corner of the great mountain mass and was
27
28 By Veldt and Kopje
thoroughly familiar with the haunts and habits of
the game.
Mrs van der Merwe was almost as stout as her
husband, who was also her cousin. It was, however,
evident that when young she must have possessed
great beauty. The house was full of children ;
these were of all ages and they strongly resembled
each other in appearance. All were blue-eyed,
flaxen-haired and rosy-cheeked. There was one
grown-up daughter — Gertrude — a girl of eighteen.
She only lacked animation to be a most beautiful
woman. Her dead-gold hair lay in a dense mass
upon her shoulders ; her calm, deep eyes of a most
tender blue were set beneath a broad, smooth, white
brow ; her teeth were dazzlingly white and her face
pure oval in shape.
It was just after sundown when I arrived at the
homestead. Supper over, I was invited to visit
Sarel van der Merwe — the old, blind grandfather —
who had not left his room for many years. I found
him sitting in a very large home-made chair, with
his feet upon a wooden stool containing a pan of
charcoal. His bulk was huge ; in fact, he was,
probably, the biggest man I had ever seen. He had
a long white beard and a mass of silvery hair. On
a table, within reach of his hand, were several pipes
and a large tobacco-pouch — the latter made out of a
portion of the stomach of a sheep, brayed. Close
to his feet a diminutive Hottentot crouched upon a
sheep-skin. The face of this creature was old-
looking and monkey-like. His duties were to
attend to the old man's needs ; more especially to
The Writing on the Rock 29
hold a burning coal, when required, to the often-
replenished pipe. This he did with a skill evidently-
born of long practice — picking up the glowing
lumps in his naked fingers with the utmost
unconcern.
The room was comfortably furnished ; almost
everything in it appeared to be home-made. There
were no blankets on the bed, their place being taken
by karosses made of the skins of the fat-tailed
sheep. Unlike the other rooms, this one had no
ceiling, the thatch being visible between the rafters.
Upon the rafters lay a coffin, evidently, from its
size, built to accommodate old Sard's prospective
mortal remnants.
1 grasped the old man's outstretched hand. He
retained mine for a few seconds, feeling first the
palm, then the back and lastly the fingers carefully
over. 1 looked the while into his eyes ; these were
clear and blue and gave no suggestion of blindness.
" You work your brain too much and your body
too little," said he, dropping my hand. '^Your
mind travels without rest on an endless road."
I was somewhat startled ; it was so unexpected
and at the same time so tersely true.
*' It is clear," I replied, "that you do not need
eyes to see. My brain is busy turning out barren
thoughts, like a mill grinding sawdust."
" When young, one runs after thoughts ; but
when you grow old the thoughts will come and wait,
like servants, until you wish to use them."
" My thoughts are less like servants than like
dogs hunting me to death," I replied.
30 By Veldt and Kopje
"A dog will obey if he be trained ; if you do
not train him he will bite you,"
" Yes, I can see that. But if you have let them
grow big without using the whip — what then ? "
" Watch and pray ; call the Lord to your help
and He will deliver you. When I was young I
rioted in my pride ; I called my strength my own
and told God I could do without His help. Then
He struck me with blindness, and I repented. For
a season the thoughts I had bred tore at my soul,
but I slew them after bitter combat. Now others
of a different kind have taken their place."
It was amazing to find such philosophy in one of
a class usually supposed to be both ignorant and
illiterate. Here was one who had solved the Great
Enigma, who was at peace with himself, who
apparently thought strongly and with originality,
and who, although stricken with a misfortune that
might well bring despair, was probably happier than
nineteen-twentieths of his fellow-creatures. There
was no trace of self-righteousness about the man.
The unmistakable seal of peace was upon him.
" If I could feel as you do," I replied, '* I should
not care whether I lived or died ; I should know no
fear. Can you not teach me how to put the house
of my mind in order and to train my dogs? "
" That none can teach but yourself — your own
soul — and then only when God touches you with
His finger."
Shortly afterwards the family assembled for
worship in the old man's room. He recited one of
the Psalms and then offered up a prayer. His
The Writing on the Rock 31
language was very simple, but it breathed the most
fervent Christianity. The servants of the household
were present. Then, after bidding old Sarel '^ Good-
night," all left the room but his son and the little
Hottentot. These remained to assist him to
bed.
It was evidently the practice of the household to
retire early, so I went to my room at once. It was
large and lofty. The snowy linen upon the great
feather-bed looked tempting, and I felt a deep sense
of satisfaction in sinking into the downy abyss.
My window looked out upon the valley ; through
the wide-open casement I could see the black rampart
of mountain crested with twinkling stars. Here, if
anywhere, one could realise —
"The silence that is in the starry sky,
And sleep that is among the lonely hills."
Shortly after daylight a most delicious cup of
coffee was brought to my bedside ; it was keen
enjoyment just to lie and inhale the aroma, but the
aroma was nothing to the taste.
Soon a weak shaft of sunlight touched the wall
above my head, so I sprang up and went to the open
window. The beauty of the scene was incomparable.
To the southward arose the stark, rugged mountain
mass which formed the culmination of the range —
its topmost crags touched with gold ; all else was
clothed in a diaphanous purple veil ; every hollow
was brimming with mystery. Here and there a faint
wreath of mist clung like departing sleep to the eye-
lids of the mountain. As I looked, the sun climbed
32 By Veldt and Kopje
through a gap, and straightway the lesser summits
grew golden.
Not a breath of the slightest breeze disturbed the
sacred stillness. The only sound was the faint
murmur from the distant stream foaming over the
grey boulders at the bottom of the valley. From
the stream the hillside sloped steeply up, dotted
thickly with dark green trees. But an undercurrent
of very real sadness jflowed through all this beauty.
I could not forget the blind man in the next room ;
did he ever recall this scene — which he must often
have gazed upon — and repine ? Although his peace
seemed to be as deep and changeless as the vault of
the blue sky, the memory must, surely, often strain
his heart-strings.
I leant upon the window-sill and looked to the
right. There I saw Gertrude standing, her dead-
gold hair unbound, her pure, calm visage bathed in
the sunlight. She appeared to gaze at the sun as
unconcernedly as an eagle might have done. She
afforded the one touch necessary to complete the
harmony of the scene.
After an early breakfast I took my rifle and,
accompanied by the Hottentot guide, went forth in
search of game. The mountain was so steep that our
ponies could only ascend by scarping, zigzag fashion.
It took nearly two hours to reach the central plateau
lying between the two highest summits of the range.
From here the view was superb ; billow after
billow seemed to surge away in every direction —
each crested with a fringe of cliff like the foam of a
breaking wave. Every now and then a faint cloud-
The Writing on the Rock 33
wreath would form around one or other of the higner
crags, then float away to leeward like a tress, until
dissolved by the sunshine.
Having shot a couple of rheboks, I felt dis-
inclined for further slaughter, so laid myself down
among the late mountain flowers and basked in the
light. The heat was deliciously tempered by a
steadily-streaming breeze. Thus were spent several
hours.
It was only when the sun had sunk considerably
in to the afternoon that I regretfully began to think
of returning to the homestead. The ponies were
grazing a short distance away, so after telling my
after-rider to replace the saddles, load up the game
and make his way homeward by the nearest available
course, I took a bee-line on foot for the farmhouse.
My course led across the head of a gorge, the
sides of which were steep, grassy slopes, interspersed
with patches of moraine. Here and there immense
angular fragments of stone — which had, ages back,
slid down from the crowning cliffs — protruded from
the earth. Passing one of these, something peculiar in
its appearance caught my eye, so I approached more
closely. Upon its flat face the following inscription
had been roughly cut : —
"HIER WORDT EEN ZONDENAAR
BEKEERD."
Having thought much of old Sarel during the
day, I involuntarily connected him with the strange
inscription — "Here a sinner became converted."
The letters were deeply carved into the stone, and
c
34 By Veldt and Kopje
the way the dents were overgrown with lichen showed
that the carving had taken place many years ago.
Somehow the legend seemed quite congruous ; if a
special revelation ever came from the Divine to the
human, what place could be more appropriate for its
happening than this — the undefiled heart of the
everlasting hills, where the hand of man had as yet
wrought no desecration ? Like Moses before the
Burning Bush, I felt as though standing upon holy
ground.
I reached the homestead just as dusk was setting
in. After supper I again went to pay my respects to
old Sarel. He greeted me with cheerfulness- —
" Well, they say no Englishman can shoot, yet I
hear you killed two bucks to-day."
" Yes," I replied, " I killed two bucks, and I
almost wish I had not done so. It seemed to be a
sin to shed blood in such a place and on such a day."
Old Sarel turned his mild, inquiring, blind eyes
upon me, but made no reply. We sat and smoked
in silence for a while.
" Can you tell me anything about an inscription
I saw upon a rock to-day — ' Here a sinner became
converted ' ? "
''Yes," he replied, after a pause, "I am the
sinner. My son cut the words upon the stone at
my wish."
I held silence, so he shortly afterwards asked —
'' Would you like me to tell you of what
happened ? "
''Yes, I should be most grateful."
" I was born on this farm," he said ; " my father
The Writing on the Rock 35
was one of the first to take up land about here.
When a young man, hunting was my passion. I
made friends with the wild Bushmen who then dwelt
on the mountain, and they used to drive the game
for me. I built a hut near the spring just below the
summit, and there I sometimes stayed for weeks
together.
" I was proud of my eyesight and my skill with
the rifle. I did not care f^or the society of others ;
I neglected my wife and children ; I neither feared
God nor regarded man. The mountain I looked
Upon as my home. Living so near the sky makes
one different to others. The sins of the Flesh lose
their breath and cannot climb so high, but those of
the Spirit beset you sorely. You will remember that
Satan tempted the Lord on the top of a high mountain.
''One day in summer, about forty years ago, I
was riding across the head of the kloof where the
stone stands whereon you read those words to-day.
A thunderstorm was sweeping down from the north-
west, but I took no heed, for I had never known
fear of lightning nor anything else. The Bushmen
were driving on a troop of elands, and I expected
them to cross the saddle at the head of the kloof; so
I left the horse concealed in a hollow and took my
stand, with the rifle on my arm, at the foot of the
rock.
'' Soon the elands appeared ; they ran for a short
distance down the kloof, then halted just opposite
where I was standing. One great bull stood apart
from the others. As I lifted my rifle to take aim a
flash leaped out of the cloud and struck the ground
36 By Veldt and Kopje
close to where the bull was standing, igniting the
grass. The animal sprang back in terror. I fired —
and it rolled over, dead.
" Then I laughed aloud and shouted that my aim
was more true than that of the Almighty. An in-
stant afterwards the heavens opened and flame
enveloped me like a sheet. I fell, senseless, to the
ground.
" When I recovered I thought night had fallen.
I could smell that my clothing was scorched, but I
felt no hurt. The rain had ceased and I was con-
scious of a sensation of warmth. I still thought it
was night, but night blacker than I had ever known.
After a while I stood up and groped about in terror,
for I now imagined that the end of the world had
come and that the sun had been quenched. Then I
heard a bird singing : I still wondered ; but when I
heard the Bushmen calling to me from the other side
of the kloof, where the dead eland lay, the truth
struck me in all its terror : I was blind.
"I shrieked and blasphemed as I staggered
about. I found my gun and tried to shoot myself,
but the lightning had twisted it as you might twist
a handful of straw. The Bushmen led me down to
the homestead.
"Afterwards, I spent many days and nights in
hell, but the day arrived when my pride lay broken
in the dust, and I came to acknowledge that God's
Angel was sitting on that thundercloud, charged to
save my soul."
That night I lay long awake, thinking of old
Sard's tale. I had a very clear recollection of the
The Writing on the Rock 37
inscribed stone and its surroundings, so tried to
picture the tremendous episode of forty years back.
The sultry summer day ; the white thundercloud
curdling into shape upon the hot north-western
horizon and towering into the ether, until its spread-
ing tentacles seemed to seize the world in a mighty
grip. Later, the low muttering of thunder, pulsing
from the monster's baleful heart, and the thin streak
of fire darting out far in advance of the rain and
igniting the dry grass. Then the blasphemous jest
of the strong man proud of his skill. Lastly, the
thunderbolt winged to smite but not to slay, touch-
ing not so much as a hair of the head of the defiant
human atom, but crushing the gun in his hand as
though it were a reed, and filling his eyes with such
excess of light that nothing less vivid could stir their
sense for evermore.
TOMMY'S EVIL GENIUS
"Greater love hath no man than this." — S. John xv. 13.
His name was Danster. His age might have been
anything between fifteen and forty-five. His cheek-
bones were high, and his eyes oblique like those of
a Mongohan. Scattered unevenly over his bullet-
shaped skull were thin tufts of wool, each culminat-
ing in a minute, solid pellet. His only clothing
was a noisome sheep-skin kaross which had formerly
belonged to a great - grandfather — long since
deceased.
Danster was a Hottentot — or rather what is
called by that indefinite term at the Cape. In his
much-mixed blood that of the Bushman evidently
preponderated. An anthropologist would have
valued his skull, which seemed to epitomise the
results of a criminal ancestry extending through
many generations.
Tommy, surnamed Winwood, was very different.
He was a blonde, blue-eyed, yellow-haired lad of
eight years of age, somewhat slight and undersized,
but agile and capable of endurance when under the
stimulus of excitement. Five children had nested
in the Winwood nursery, but only Tommy survived.
The others had all succumbed to congenital delicacy
before reaching the age of seven. With Tommy
the Winwoods had come to South Africa in the
39
40 By Veldt and Kopje
early eighties, and had taken a farm near the coast
in one of the eastern districts of the Cape Colony.
Mr Winwood was a nervous, retiring man of
literary tastes. Having enough money to live
upon, his farming was hardly a serious pursuit. In
fact he left the management of the place almost
solely in the hands of a somewhat dour but con-
scientious Boer, who managed to run the concern at
a profit.
Mrs Winwood suffered from extreme delicacy.
She was an accomplished musician, but the climate
had sapped her energy to such an extent that when
the weather was warm she hardly ever touched the
piano. When the days were cool, she often played
for six or seven hours a day, and thus seriously
overtaxed her strength. Both she and her husband
were moody and morbid. Although much attached
to each other, their life was a series of misunder-
standings.
It may be imagined what a lonely life poor
Tommy led. He received three hours' instruction
every day — two from his father and one from his
mother. His nursery was full of toys, but the very
number and variety of these had rendered them
valueless as a resource. The homestead stood on
the steep south slope of a valley through which a
stream ran between fringes of timber rooted in rich,
fern-bearing soil, and commanded a grand view of
interspersed forest and grassy slopes. But, unfor-
tunately, snakes abounded, so poor Tommy was
restricted to the cleared area immediately surround-
ing the house. So his face took on that expression
Tommy's Evil Genius 4^
of pathos which haunts the looks of children
debarred from the companionship of their kind.
When the tempter appeared Tommy fell an easy
prey. Danster was a calf-herd. He, too, felt
lonely. His avocations kept him in the vicinity of
the homestead, so he soon found an opportunity of
making friends with the lonely child. The intimacy
grew, unnoticed by Tommy's parents, and was for
some time tacitly acquiesced in. However, one
day Mrs Winwood came upon the two sitting
behind the big water - tank, and found Danster
engaged in extracting the eyes of a living bird with
a mimosa thorn, while Tommy looked on, fascin-
ated. Danster was thereupon severely flogged by
the overseer, under Mr Winwood's supervision, and
earnestly warned never to show his ill-favoured face
near the homestead again.
Tommy was a thoroughly truthful child. When
questioned he freely admitted that the removal of
the bird's eyes was the last of a long series of
hideous vivisectional experiments at which he had
assisted, and which had been organised for his
delectation. Like most highly-strung people, Mr and
Mrs Winwood were morbidly sensitive to physical
suffering, either in themselves or in other sentient
beings. The keenness of their distress may there-
fore be imagined. Horrible though the thing was,
they took far too serious a view of it. In fact, they
imagined that their child's character had been
irreparably ruined.
Tommy had not realised how attached he was to
the disreputable Danster until after the separation.
42 By Veldt and Kopje
One night, about a week after the dreadful discovery,
Tommy confessed to his mother that he loved
Danster very much indeed. Soon he began to mope
visibly. His father and mother were horribly
annoyed at the turn things had taken. They always
referred to Danster as their son's evil genius.
Something had to be done, so it was decided to
employ a governess. In due course a highly certifi-
cated lady came to undertake the regeneration of
Tommy's morals as well as the development of his
mind. She had much erudition, but little sympathy,
so Tommy and she were antipathetic towards each
other from the very start, and the starved heart of
the lonely child went out more and more towards
the banished Danster.
Drought had lain heavily on the land for many
months. The season was autumn. During early
spring copious rains had fallen, but throughout
sultry January and blistering February the heavens
had been as brass and the wind as the blast from a
furnace. The grass which had sprung up rank and
luxuriant withered again, and now the farm, which
was much under-stocked, lay like a clay potsherd
covered with tinder.
One afternoon the sun smote the earth with more
than usual fury. Away to the westward irregular
fragments of thundercloud, which seemed incapable
of cohering sufficiently to produce a storm, coquetted
with the quivering mountain-tops. Ever and anon
irregular gusts from the eastward would trail over
glowing hill and gasping vale with a sound as
though the tortured earth were sobbing an appeal to
Tommy's Evil Genius 43
the skies for the withheld mercy of rain. It was
one of those days on which the beast seeks, gasping,
for a cool lair, and the bird pants with half out-
stretched wings, deep in the densest foliage.
Mr and Mrs Winwood had collapsed completely ;
the governess retired to her darkened room ; the
servants had disappeared. Tommy only was awake.
He tried all sorts of devices for passing the time,
but the walls of his comparatively cool room became
an irksome prison as the afternoon wore on ; so he
opened the glass door quietly, to avoid wakening
his father in the next room, and stepped quietly on
to the back stoep. Here he was in the shade. The
air had taken on that suspicion of coolness which,
in seasons of drought, nearly always tempers the
afternoon.
Tommy leant upon the verandah rail, and the
wind, as it stirred his yellow locks, seemed to be
charged with some odour that stimulated his languid
pulses. He sniffed at it wonderingly ; what did it
remind him of? Then he suddenly knew, and his
cheek crimsoned with a guilty flush : it was the
smell of Danster's kaross, its grosser elements sub-
dued by distance, which assailed his nostrils.
Tommy cast his eyes around, and they fell upon
an object which sent the blood coursing wildly through
his veins. There, emerging from a bush only a few
yards away, was the bullet-shaped head and Mon-
golian face of the Hottentot, his eyes filled with
appeal and his wide mouth distended into a white-
toothed smile. Tommy gazed spellbound, and the
evil genius cautiously held out at arm's length a stick
44 By Veldt and Kopje
from which a small water-tortoise hung by one
tortured leg. After this had been dangled for a few
seconds it was withdrawn and then the nest of a loxia
was held forth. The loxia suspends its nest from
boughs overhanging dark, forest-nurtured pools, and
the nest has a long, woven tube, cunningly devised
for the purpose of keeping out snakes, lizards and
other enemies that prey upon the eggs and young of
wild birds. Tommy had often gazed at these works
of woven art as they hung from the whip-like acacia
boughs, and had longed to possess one. A vision
of the cool forest grot where he had seen them sway-
ing in the wind arose in his mind. Duty was for-
gotten in an instant ; Nature, like a long-banished
king, came back and claimed his own. An old hat
belonging to his father hung upon a nail close at
hand. Hurriedly placing this upon his head he
tripped down the steps into the garden and followed
the beckoning tempter.
Tommy hurried after his evil genius along the
pathway which led through the orchard down to the
bottom of the valley. In passing, Danster skilfully
snatched a supply of half-ripe peaches from the
laden trees, and hid the loot in a fold of his
odoriferous kaross. This grated on Tommy's sense
of honour ; his conscience lifted his head. To
salve it, he mentally resolved not to eat any of the
fruit.
They climbed over the orchard fence and pressed
through the rustling Tambookie grass, which filled the
air with its sharp, sweet scent. Then they reached
the strip of forest at the bottom of the valley. From
Tommy's Evil Genius 45
the heart of its charmed mystery stole the delightful
murmur of falling water.
Just where the pathway crossed the stream was a
rocky ledge over which a thin gush of crystal water
trembled down through the air and, smiting a
boulder, resolved itself into fine spray. A vagrant
sunbeam pierced this, and the miracle of a tiny rain-
bow hung over the pool. This is a phenomenon
only seen in severe droughts, and when the sunlight
smites through a gap in the greenery at a certain
angle. The impressionable Tommy become intoxi-
cated with delight ; the smell of Danster's kaross,
which had always offended his sensitive nose, was
forgotten. The evil genius became a wood-god and
Tommy his humble votary.
The wind, heated once more to furnace pitch,
moaned threateningly along the hillside, but here all
was cool, grateful and quiet. The unrufRed water
slept beneath the shadowing trees from which, ever
and anon, sounded the peevish twitter of drowsy
birds. A large iguana slowly dragged its scaly length
over the stones, pausing now and then to snap at an
insect, which it swallowed, gulping solemnly. A
flash of vivid blue seemed to fill the gloom — a king-
fisher skimmed out of the darkness across the surface
of the pool and perched on a stone. Quick as thought
Danster flung his short, knobbed stick with unerring
aim, and the bird fell, mangled, its bright plumage
scattered over the surface of the crystal pool. This
broke the spell. Grasping the dead bird in his hand.
Tommy followed his evil genius across the stream and
through the fringe of woodland on the other side.
46 By Veldt and Kopje
Now came the main effort of the enterprise ; the
steep, grassy hillside had to be climbed. Beyond,
high up, stood the enchanted forest in the depth of
which the red-winged, green-crested lories flitted
with noiseless undulations from tree to tree or waked
strident echoes with their hoarse-throated calls.
There the satyrs of the South — the black-faced, green-
backed monkeys — tore swinging along from bough
to bough, scattering leaves, flowers and berries from
sheer love of mischief. There the great woodland
butterflies flitted like ghosts through the nether gloom
or circled like fairies around the tree-tops. From
there the raucous barking of the rutting bush-bucks
sounded at midnight across the valley. There were
hidden wonders — untold, transcendent — stinging
imagination into ecstasy.
The hillside had once been covered with forest,
but the timber had, on the lower slopes, disappeared
under the blighting hand of man. Now the high,
waving Tambookie grass lay thick upon it, and
through this the path wound and zigzagged aim-
lessly, after the manner of South African footways.
A stream had once flowed down the decline, but being
no longer nurtured by the growth of timber, had
shrunk to an underground trickle, the course of
which was here and there marked by a funnel-shaped
opening filled with bracken. Here a careful ear
might discover the musical tinkle of semi-subter-
ranean water.
Tommy became very tired, but pushed bravely
on, following the lead of his evil genius. The air
became hotter and hotter. A few belated cloudlets,
Tommy's Evil Genius 47
very high up, sailed slowly against the wind. From
some of these a few heavy gouts of rain occasionally
fell, only to be immediately evaporated by the glow-
ing earth. Now and then a remote metallic clashing
of thunder could be heard. A sudden and furious
succession of gusts sprang up and joined in a mad
whirl from eastward. This covered the hillside with
dust, and sent leaves and twigs flying over the billows
of the swaying grass.
Tommy looked longingly at the dense forest,
which now lay but a couple of hundred yards ahead.
The wind blewhis hair bewilderingly into his eyes ; the
hot, acrid dust filled his throat. His legs trembled
under him, but he still struggled bravely on. His
evil genius stood between him and the worst of the
gusts, and the unsavoury kaross proved an acceptable
shield against the stinging missiles with which the air
was filled.
At length a lull — but the wind was only pausing
to gain strength for a burst of wilder fury. Then a
dense cloud of dust and detritus arose to windward
and advanced with a strident moan.
A small, solid-looking cloud hung above them,
shaped like a pear. From this a thin blade of white
lightning flickered down and ignited the grass to
windward, just in front of the advancing tempest.
Immediately the dustcloud closed down on the
ignited spot ; in an instant the hillside was a hell of
roaring, whirling, leaping flame.
Danster did not hesitate for an instant. Drop-
ping the tortoise, the loxia's nest and the stolen fruit,
he seized Tommy by the hand and dragged him
48 By Veldt and Kopje
swiftly back down the hillside towards the last of the
subterranean openings they had passed. It was a
race for life with the springing, vaulting flame, which
was hurled onward by the wind in immense flakes,
pausing for the fraction of a minute here and there
as though to gain strength for the next leap. Soon
it became apparent that the fire must win. Then a
hissing tongue of flame darted out and cut the fugi-
tives off from their goal.
Without pausing for an instant Danster denuded
himself of his kaross, v/rapped Tommy in it, and,
picking him up, dashed naked into the fire with a
wild yell, hurling himself and his burthen into the
gulf beyond. They sank together into the burning
mass of bracken, Tommy beneath and his evil genius
above. Then the world went out for Tommy in a
wild turmoil of heat, smoke, suffocation and crackling
explosions.
The first thing that struck Tommy's awakening
senses was a strong smell of burnt leather. He was
lying in a mass of slimy ooze. After a violent
struggle he sat up, his head piercing the charred
kaross, which had been his shield against the devour-
ing fire. He looked around him with smarting eyes.
The sides of the depression inwhich he lay were jet-
black, with here and there a thin whorl of smoke
eddying upwards. The strong, amber-tinted sun-
shine dazzled him. Close by he noticed a pair of
yellow, pain-shot eyes, with brown vertical slits. A
wild cat with all its fur scorched off was painfully
crawling out of the water. He felt a movement at
his feet ; a half-scorched snake was loosely coiled about
Tommy's Evil Genius 49
his ankles. He turned to look behind him, wonder-
ing where Danster was. . . . But what was that
blackened, shrivelled, crackling mass contorted so
horribly beside him among the charred stumps of the
fern ? Alas ! it was the body of his evil genius, who
had died in agony that Tommy might live.
Tommy staggered to his feet. Not so much as
a hair of his yellow head had been touched by the
iire. He climbed out of the hollow and fled down
the blackened hillside, still holding the dead king-
fisher in his hand.
D
THE WISDOM OF THE
SERPENT
In the good old days in Southern Africa distinction of
any kind on the part of a Kaffir was a decided sub-
jective disadvantage. Any man among the southern
Bantu tribes possessing to a remarkable degree such
attributes as strength, valour in war, or skill in the
hunting field, or who distinguished himself by any
especially notable deed, was liable to be waylaid by
the myrmidons of his chief and expeditiously killed.
His sicull would then be taken to the principal of
the Royal College of Witch-doctors, who would
fill it with a potion and give the gruesome cup to
be quaffed by the head of the tribe just before dawn
next morning at the gate of the calf-pen. It was
held that the chief would thus acquire in a simple,
easy, and expeditious manner the much envied
qualities of the distinguished deceased.
Occasionally portions of such physical organs as
were supposed to have been specially concerned in
the distinguished man's supremacy in his particular
line would be pounded up with the ashes of magical
roots to form an ingredient of the potion. Like the
phrenologist, who thought to localise certain faculties
under various bumps upon the human skull, the
Kaffir doctor inferred that different organs of the
human body were respectively the seats of different
51
52 By Veldt and Kopje
mental qualities, and, further, that it was pos-
sible to assimilate the latter through the digestive
apparatus.
When the late Kreli, chief of the Gcaleka tribe,
was a young man, he was thought to be somewhat
dull and lacking in power of initiative, so a great
council of the tribe was held to decide as to what
should be done to improve the chiefs understanding
and sharpen his wits generally. After long and
anxious deliberation the council decided that the
best way to endow Kreli with the missing qualities
was to cause him to drink a potion out of the skull
of one of the councillors — an old man of great parts
who had been an ornament to the tribal senate since
long before the death of Hintza, Kreli's father. The
proposition was carried by acclamation, there being
only one dissentient. Certain rites had, however, to
precede the killing, and during the celebration of these
the distinguished possessor of the coveted skull
managed to make his escape across the colonial
boundary.
The elders, no doubt shocked at the want of
patriotism displayed by their colleague, once more
met, and it was then decided as an alternative to remove
the first phalanx of the little finger of the young chief's
left hand. That the operation had the desired effect
there can be no doubt, for Kreli became astute in peace
and valiant in war — facts which the British and
Colonial Governments ascertained to their joint cost
on several subsequent occasions. Since the date of
that momentous operation every youth of the Gcaleka
tribe has, on reaching a certain age, been similarly
The Wisdom of the Serpent 53
mutilated, and several other tribes have adopted the
same custom.
Half a century ago, more or less, a certain trader
named John Flood had developed a flourishing busi-
ness in the present district of 'Mqanduli, then, as now,
the territory occupied by the Bomvana tribe. Flood
was a man of keen business instincts. He had, at a
time when no one else dreamt of doing such a thing,
established a trading station in the very heart of in-
dependent Kaffirland. There being no competition
of any kind, the surrounding tribes were solely de-
pendent upon him for their supply of civilised goods,
for the general use of which they rapidly acquired a
taste. It was desperately hard work conveying the
merchandise from Cape Colony through a very rugged
and absolutely roadless country, but the large profit
made quite justified the expenditure of labour and
money. Beads, brass wire, iron hoes, and blankets
were the principal lines in which this trader dealt.
In exchange he obtained large herds of cattle, which
he periodically despatched to the colonial markets.
The trading station consisted of three large huts
of native make, one of which was used as a shop,
the others being respectively the trader's sleeping
apartment and kitchen. Flood had, of course, a
native wife — a girl named Nolai, daughter of a petty
chief in the vicinity. I regret to have to record that
his domestic conditions were not quite satisfactory.
Nolai happened to prefer a certain young man of her
own race, who had wooed her in the days of her
spinsterhood, but had been too poor to pay the
number of cattle which her astute father had required
54 By Veldt and Kopje
as dowry. Twice during the first year of her married
life had Nolai absconded from the dwelling of her
spouse, only, however, to be ignominiously brought
back by her brothers. Had they failed in this duty
a return of the dowry cattle would have been claimed
by the deserted husband. Flood, as a matter of fact,
would have much preferred the cattle to the uncon-
genial Nolai, but, apparently, her relations shared in
this preference. He had serious thoughts of taking
another and, as he hoped, more suitable wife. This,
no doubt, he would have done had it not been for
the python.
The trading station was situated near the boundary
of the Gcaleka territory, the chief of which, Kreli,
exercised suzerainty over and imposed tribute upon
the chief of the Bomvanas. In the vicinity of the
station was a large, dense forest full of noble timber
and swarming with wild beasts.
Among the natives of those days certain animals
were looked upon as Royal game, and the chiefs were
as strict in enforcing their rights in this respect as
ever was William the Conqueror or the Plantagenets.
Each tribe had its special laws relating to this privilege,
and some of these laws were very peculiar. Of course,
different tribes selected different animals for this dis-
tinction, but among the Gcalekas and the various
clans which acknowledged Kreli as their head,
" Munyu," the python, was regarded as being more
than ordinarily the special game of the paramount
chief. As a matter of fact, pythons seldom ventured
so far south as Gcalekaland, and it was probably the
fact of their extreme rarity which accounted for these
The Wisdom of the Serpent 55
creatures being so jealously reserved for the use of
the highest in the land.
The gall is well known by witch-doctors to be
the seat of fierceness in all animals. Matiwame, chief
of the destroying horde of Fetcani, drank the gall of
every chief he slew, with the view of increasing that
very liberal endowment of ferocity which nature had
given him. Moreover, the gall of snakes is supposed
not alone to endow the drinker thereof with ophidian
rancour and malice, but to give immunity from the
effects of snake-bite.
The wisdom of the serpent is proverbial among
all the sons of Ham. Upon several grounds, there-
fore, a potion made of the gall of the King of Snakes
is a thing much to be desired by any chief.
Should the chief have been fortunate enough to
succeed in killing a python he would use the skull
of the creature as a cup out of which to drink the
potion. Nevertheless, the chief was by no means
sorry if someone else, allowing his passion for sport
to overcome his regard for the law, did the killing ;
but in such a case he would cause the courageous
sportsman to be killed as well for the purpose of
obtaining his skull and gall. The two galls would
then be mixed together, divided, and quaffed in equal
parts out of the respective skulls of the python and
the python's slayer.
The advantages of this arrangement must, of
course, be obvious. At the expense of probably not
more inconvenience than the average Briton under-
goes in crossing from Dover to Calais when on his
annual holiday, the chief would imbibe the wisdom,
56 By Veldt and Kopje
the subtlety and the ferocity of the serpent, as well
as the prowess of the mighty man who had conquered
it. What, indeed, could be simpler or more satis-
factory.
One fateful day in middle spring the trader
happened to be riding along the edge of the big
forest, looking for a horse which had strayed. He
carried his double-barrelled gun, for guinea-fowl
abounded, and he was desirous of shooting a couple
for his supper. Suddenly his pony swerved wildly
to one side with a violent snort, and John Flood
measured his length upon the ground. The pony
galloped homeward mad with fright.
The trader rose to his feet, recovered his gun and
looked quickly in the direction of the spot from
which his pony had recoiled in such terror. There
he saw an immense python climbing sinuously and
with deliberation into a large thorn-tree. The snake
was so intent upon a monkey which sat, fascinated
and rigid, in the upper branches, that it appeared to
take no notice of the man. It was a monster, and
had evidently quite recently sloughed its skin after
the long winter's sleep, for its scales gleamed
gloriously in the brilliant afternoon sunshine. Rhyth-
mic muscular tremors ran up and down its coiling
length, bringing the vivid brown, green, and golden
patterns into changing prominence.
Flood, who was not wanting in either courage
or coolness, watched his opportunity, and poured a
charge of shot into the python's neck, just behind
the head, at point-blank range. Then the monstrous
creature crushed the branches of the tree like a wisp
The Wisdom of the Serpent 57
in its death agony during one appalling minute, and
the monkey, relieved from its fascination, made off
into the forest with voluble chatterings, in which, no
doubt, miscellaneously profane monkey language was
mingled with uncomplimentary remarks about ophi-
dians in general and pythons in particular.
John Flood, exceedingly stiff from the effects of
his fall, obtained assistance and dragged his quarry
home in triumph. The shop happened at the time
to be surrounded by customers waiting patiently for
the return of the proprietor. Through the medium
of these the half of Bomvanaland was apprised of the
doughty deed within a few hours. Among others who
heard the important news was the head witch-doctor
of the Bomvana chief, who at once sought an audience
with his master. The chief was a young man who
had as yet found no opportunity of distinguishing
himself.
A council was at once called hurriedly together.
The deliberations of this body were short but decisive.
Within half an hour a strong body of armed men
were on their wav to the trader's, with strict orders
to seize the carcase of the python at all costs and con-
vey it to the *' Great Place." The witch-doctor, clad
in the varied and alarming insignia of his office, acted
as leader.
John Flood was extremely proud of his achieve-
ment, and Nolai thought far more of her husband
than ever before. He had done a notable deed ; one
which would be talked of at all the kraals in the land
for years to come, and she would shine with reflected
glory. She had been planning another and more
58 By Veldt and Kopje
determined effort to break the galling conjugal yoke,
but under this new development she determined to
postpone action. Her lover, brave as he no doubt
was, had never killed a python — nor could she hope
he was likely ever to do so. She glanced at the
gleaming coils of the dead monster, and shuddered
with mingled terror and enjoyment — a complex
sensation well known to the feminine bosom, no
matter what be its colour. The cold, dead, lidless
eyes fascinated her almost as much as they had the
monkey. There is a widespread belief among natives
to the effect that women often have snakes as their
lovers. Nolai wondered how any woman could love
such a terrific creature. All the same, she made up
her mind that should she ever bear a son she would
call his name " Munyu."
The party from the " Great Place " was overtaken
by night before it reached the trader's. The witch-
doctor, who stalked majestically in front, found it
necessary to call a halt every now and then for the
purpose of letting off his excitement by violent
dancing, during which the bones and bladders which
were festooned all over him made an appalling rattle,
and by loud yellings. The party found the trader
engaged in skinning the snake by the light of a fire
in front of his shop, and in the presence of a large
number of spectators. The witch-doctor ordered the
proceedings at once to stop, and then seized hold of
the python's tail. A wild wrangle ensued. The
rest of the party, who rather liked the trader, stood '
aside whilst he and the witch-doctor engaged in a
sort of tug-of-war, in the course of which — Flood
The Wisdom of the Serpent 59
being by far the stronger man of the two — the witch-
doctor was hauled ignominiously around the premises.
The trader, rendered mettlesome by his exploit,
absolutely refused to give the carcase up, so the
witch-doctor called upon his companions, in terms
of their allegiance to the chief, to assist him. A
compromise was eventually arrived at. Flood only
valued the skin, whereas the witch-doctor knew that
the parts most valuable for magical purposes were the
head and the gall. Moreover, he did not quite know
if the terms of his commission included the killing
of the trader in the event of a refusal on his part to
give up the prey, especially as the trader was known
to be more or less of a favourite with the powerful
Gcaleka chief. It took until nearly midnight to
settle the difficulty, and then the witch-doctor
marched off in somewhat qualified triumph with the
python's head in his skin wallet and the gall-bladder
tied securely at the end of a small stick, which he
held carefully before him at arm's length. The
Bomvana chief, although he grumbled somewhat at
not getting the complete carcase, was, on the whole,
fairly well satisfied.
After making his report the witch-doctor at once
went to work upon his magical rites, and he worked
with such effect that he was able to administer the
gall of the python, in its skull, to his august master
next morning. The function took place, with all due
solemnity, before daybreak, at the gate of the calf-
pen. History does not record whether the potion
acted as an emetic or not, but it may be safely
assumed that the chief made an exceedingly wry face.
6o By Veldt and Kopje
But this by no means closed the incident. Kreli,
the Bomvana chiet's suzerain, came to hear of the
slaying of the serpent, and his indignation waxed
great when the seizure of the skull and gall by his
vassal was reported to him. The head of the Royal
College of Gcaleka Witch-doctors worked upon the
chief's feelings to such an extent that his indignation
grew to fury. How, he asked, in a wrathful message,
could his vassal dare to infringe upon the Royal pre-
rogative in such an unheard-of manner ? The
message followed with a demand for immediate sur-
render of the skull, and ended with a threat of war
in the event of non-compliance. It was, in fact, an
ultimatum.
The ideas of the Bomvana chief on the subject
of suzerainty were probably as different from those
of Kreli as President Kruger's were from those of
Mr Chamberlain, but he wisely refrained from argu-
ing the point. In a penitent and conciliatory message
he apologised for what had occurred, and expressed
deep regret that, quite outside his orders on the
subject, the python's skull had been burnt into
powder for medicinal purposes by his witch-doctor.
A portion of the powder — all, in fact, that was
left — he begged leave to send to his suzerain in the
horn of a bushbuck, and he could only hope, loyally,
that the same would turn out as efficacious as such
medicine was generally supposed to be. This powder
had, on the approach of Kreli's party becoming
known, been prepared from the bones of a crow
knocked over for the purpose by one of the boys at
the kraal with his stick.
The Wisdom of the Serpent 6i
Kreli was by no means taken in by the bushbuck
horn and its contents. His indignation at being
tricked was boundless, and the only thing which pre-
vented him from sending an army into Bomvanaland
to " eat up " the chief was the fact that he was in
daily expectation of a declaration of war on the part
of Umtirara, chief of the Tembu tribe. But the
matter was far too important to be allowed to drop,
so he called a great council of the '' Izibonda " (lit.
" poles," such as those which support the roof of a
hut) or elders, as well as the numerous petty chiefs
who owned his sway and basked in the reflection of
his power.
A few days afterwards the great council met at
Kreli's *' Great Place," the exact spot of assembly
being the " inkundhla," or gate of the big cattle en-
closure. One by one the grey-headed peers arrived,
each with a face of extreme gravity, as suited the
momentous occasion. Deliberative assemblies of this
class are much enjoyed by natives, especially by those
who have passed the age of exuberant physical vitality.
They give opportunity for the exercise of those
faculties of oratory and argument which the Kaffir
possesses to such a remarkable degree.
The matter had now assumed national importance.
That the paramount chief should have been tricked
out of so favourable an opportunity for adding to
his wisdom, his subtlety and his fierceness, particu-
larly at the time when he was on the eve of going
to war with another powerful potentate, was un-
fortunate and inopportune in the last degree. It
was subversive to the dignity of the tribe which
62 By Veldt and Kopje
proudly derived its name from the mighty Gcaleka ;
it was revolutionary, socialistic, or whatever the
current equivalents of these terms happened to be.
Why, if such a thing came to be talked of among
the surrounding clans, not alone would it bring the
Gcaleka nation into contempt, but Kreli would pro-
bably lose allies in his coming struggle with the
Tembus. Something, clearly, must be done — but
what ?
The councillors deliberated for three days with-
out coming to a decision, and it was then that the
principal witch-doctor showed a way out of the con-
dition of dead-lock. In the middle of a wild babel,
in which everyone was shouting his opinion as he
could, this great man arose to his feet and discarded
his kaross. Then he aimed a glance of scathing
contempt at the war-doctor, with whom he had been
bickering considerably throughout the meeting. A
hush at once fell upon the assembly as he spoke —
"O chief and councillors of the Gcaleka nation,
we are all agreed that the matter of the python can-
not be allowed to rest, but we have been unable to
agree as to what action should be taken. Hear, then,
my words, and let the chief say if they be not words
of wisdom.
" I am, as you all know, not a fighting man ; my
wars are with the secret evil-doer, so I cannot give
an opinion as to your decision to refrain from ' eat-
ing up ' the Bomvana chief But this thought comes
to me : we have all heard the words of the war-
doctor. Now, if those words be true, what is the
ground for your hesitation ? Did he not say that
The Wisdom of the Serpent 63
after the warriors had been sprinkled with the boil-
ing root-broth, and had sprung through the magic
smoke, they would become so terrible that a hundred
of the enemy would flee from one of them ? But
let that pass. The chief has decided in his sagacity
— or, perhaps, owing to your advice — which his
father, the great Hintza, urged him to follow in
important matters, that he will not make the pvthon
an occasion of war at the present time.
'' It is not for me, a servant, to question the
decisions of my chief, or to ask how it is, in view of
the promises of the war-doctor, that you hesitate
from advising that the warriors be at once led to
victory. But it is my duty to reveal what was told
to me in a vision. Know, then, that ' Munyu,'
which was slain by Folodi, the European, was a
messenger sent by the ' Imishologu ' ' to convey
tokens of their favour to Kreli, and that if the
qualities of the serpent be wholly lost to our chief,
the 'Imishologu ' will turn their faces from us in the
hour of danger.
"As to this" — here he produced the bushbuck
horn sent by the Bomvana chief, and scornfully
scattered its contents upon the ground, after which he
hurled the horn away over the heads of his hearers.
"What, then, must be done?" he continued.
" Why, this : If the chief cannot obtain the skull
and gall of ' Munyu,' there is nothing to prevent
him getting the skull and gall of ' Munyu's ' slayer.
The European has vanquished the snake, therefore
is he greater than the snake. Bring unto me this
* Ancestral spirits.
64 By Veldt and Kopje
man's head and gall, and I will prepare a draught for
Kreli which will make him so wise and subtle that
you will all be as children before him, and so fierce
that the warriors of Umtirara will flee from before
his face."
The witch-doctor resumed his seat amid guttural
murmurs of approval, and the councillors, glad to
have such an easy way indicated out of a thorny
situation, adopted his proposal on the spot. Nothing
now remained to be done but to organise a killing
party and despatch it to the residence of the unsus-
pecting trader.
The witch-doctor pronounced the current state
of the moon to be propitious, so messengers were at
once sent to warn a sufficient number of men from
the surrounding kraals for immediate duty.
It is usually and mistakenly considered that
Kaffirs are absolutely deficient in gratitude. If such
were the case John Flood would have come to a
sudden end, most probably, since his skull was re-
quired intact, by strangling with a thong. But there
happened to be present at the council a man whom
the trader had once successfully treated for a serious
illness after the native doctors had pronounced his
case to be hopeless. In the middle of the night
Flood was awakened by a tap at the door of his
sleeping hut. Without opening the door he asked
who it was that wanted him.
"It is I, Fanti. Open the door."
Flood at once admitted the man, who, immedi-
ately upon entering, blew out the candle which the
trader held in his hand.
The Wisdom of the Serpent 65
" Folodi," he said, in an agitated whisper, " put
the saddle on your best horse, and get to the other
side of the Kei River as soon as you can."
"Why — what have I done P " queried the
astonished trader.
"It is the matter of the python which you killed,
and of which the Bomvana chief drank the gall.
Kreli is going to war, and he means to have your
skull and to drink j<?^r gall out of it on the day the
army is doctored. You are now a very great man
because you slew * Munyu,' and the chief wants your
greatness for himself."
" But Kreli is my friend," said Flood, with a
considerable tremor in his voice, *'and I am not one
of his own men to kill at his pleasure. I never
heard of such a thing in my life — I — I" —
" Folodij" interrupted Fanti in a tone which
carried conviction, " the men are now on the way to
kill you, led by the witch-doctor. Go or stay as
you please, but I have told you the truth, and I can
wait no longer to risk having my neck twisted."
As he spoke the last words Fanti glided out of
the hut, and vanished like a ghost. John Flood
knew the customs of the natives better, I fear, than
he knew his prayers, so he stood not upon the order
of his going. He pulled down the bars of the kraal
entrance so as to let the cattle go free. After this
he hurriedly put on his best suit of clothes, and
took down his trusty double-barrelled gun and its
appurtenances from where they hung to the wattled
roof. Then he saddled his best pony.
He took a last look at the goods upon his shelves,
E
66 By Veldt and Kopje
The stock had recently been added to ; it was very
hard to have to abandon it.
He did not awaken Nolai, who slept in the
kitchen. He knew that her father would take her
home, and that the law of the land required that she
should be comfortably maintained until she again
married, out of the dowry cattle. He was glad there
were no children to complicate matters.
After he had mounted his pony, John Flood sat
for a moment and gazed with emotion upon the
spot where he had spent several contented years.
Just as he was about to start he bethought himself
of the python's skin. He had carefully dried it,
and it lay in a coil upon one of the shelves in the
shop. That, at all events, he determined they should
not have, so he dismounted, re-entered the hut, and
fetched the trophy, which he tied with a thong to
the side of his saddle. Then he turned and rode
sadly, though swiftly, away.
Flood knew every inch of the country, so he
had no difficulty in reaching the Colonial boundary.
His first halt was made at a forest which he reached
shortly before daybreak, and in which he mournfully
spent the long summer's day. The only thing which
consoled him in his tribulations was the thought that
he had managed to remove the skin of the python
out of the reach of Kreli and the witch-doctors.
In spite of the fact that he kept this skin till the
day of his death, which happened at a ripe old age,
John Flood, ever after his flight, disliked pythons
probably as much as the monkey whose life he was
unfortunate enough to be instrumental in saving.
RAINMAKING
I.
Drought had weighed heavily upon Pondoland for
many weary months, and when more than half of
what was usually ploughing season had passed,
leaving the ground as stone to ploughshare and pick,
the people began to groan at the prospect of having
to do without beer ; for the millet, from which it is
brewed, having no leaf-sheath to protect the grain
(such as covers the maize-cob), if sown late often is
ruined by an early frost. When, however, a month
afterwards, the weather was still dry and hotter than
ever, they realised that even the maize crop was in
serious danger. Then the women followed the men
about with wailings, saying that they and their chil-
dren would perish. The men bent anxious eyes upon
the hollow-flanked cattle that wandered about lowing
with hunger and stumbling among the stones on the
scorched hillsides, often falling to rise no more.
A deputation representing the Pondo chiefs,
headmen and men of influence appeared before
Umquikela, the paramount Chief at Qaukeni, his
" Great Place," and besought him to send for
Umgwadhla, the great tribal " inyanga ya'mvula," or
"rain doctor," and order him to make rain. A
somewhat similar step had been taken more than a
month before, but without the desired result. Much
67
68 By Veldt and Kopje
indignation was consequently feltagainst Umgwadhla,
who was, as a matter of fact, generally blamed for
the deplorable condition of the country.
Umgwadhla was looked upon as very expert in
his particular line of business ; he had hitherto given
the greatest satisfaction. Since his appointment in
succession to Kokodolo, who had been " smelt out "
and killed for obvious neglect of duty just before
the break-up of the last great drought, ten years
previously, the spring rains had not until now failed
in Pondoland. Moreover, no hut around which he
had inserted the "isibonda ze'zula," or lightning
pegs," had ever been damaged in the heaviest thun-
derstorm. As a matter of fact, Umgwadhla was
looked upon as a veritable '* Prince of the Power of
the Air."
Umquikela was, as usual, very drunk when the
deputation arrived. His councillors, however, re-
cognising the seriousness of the extent to which
popular feeling was moved, kept all traders and
others likely to supply him with liquor away from
his hut for twenty-four hours. Consequently the
Chief was, next day, quite capable of transacting
State business. He heard what his lieges had to
say, approved of their suggestions, issued the neces-
sary orders, and then returned to his cups with a
clear conscience.
A message was accordingly sent to Umgwadhla
notifying him that the "guba," or "rain-dance,"
would be held on a certain day, and that his presence
at the function was required. Tfiis notification was
accompanied by a very significant message to the
Rainmaking 69
effect that if the function were a failure he would be
held responsible. Word was circulated among the
people, in terms of which they had to appear at the
"Great Place" on the day in question, armed, and
each bringing a contribution of "imitombo," or
millet, which, after having been allowed to germinate
partially under the influence of damp, has been dried
and ground to fine powder. It is from this, after it
has been boiled and fermented, that the liquor known
as *' Kaffir beer " is made.
Umgwadhla fell into the deepest dismay ; mind-
ful as he was of the fate which had, under similar
circumstances, overtaken a long line of predecessors.
He could not help feeling that the length of his
tether had now probably been reached. A drought
protracted to a certain degree invariably had caused
the " smelling out" and shameful death of whatever
" rain doctor ''* happened to be in office at the time,
and, as droughts invariably do come to an end event-
ually, the fact of rain falling soon after the immola-
tion of an unsuccessful practitioner had raised the
irresistible presumption that each of these had, by
the malicious use of magical arts, deflected the rain-
clouds from their proper course.
There was no sign of the weather's breaking.
The red soil, especially along the footpaths, was
cracking into fissures ; the fibre of the herbage was
giving way and leaf and blade were turning into
dust. In the minor watercourses the water began
to run more freely. This is an unexplained pheno-
menon which invariably accompanies severe South
African droughts. It is probably due to pressure
70 By Veldt and Kopje
upon the underground reservoirs, caused by local
shrinkage of the earth's surface.
Umgwadhla day by day turned an apprehensive
eye to the westward, the quarter from which thunder-
storms might be expected, but the sky remained as
brass. A steady, scorching wind arose every fore-
noon, blew all day, and sank with the sun. So long
as this continued, Umgwadhla, who was in his way
genuinely weather-wise, knew there was no chance of
the weather breaking. He shuddered with dread
day and night. He saw by the demeanour of those
he came in contact with that all held him in detesta-
tion, and he continually suffered from the foretaste
of a cruel death. Through the instrumentality
of a few trusted friends he sent a number of his
cattle out of Pondoland, but these he knew he
would have great difficulty in recovering — even in
the unlikely event of his managing to make his
escape.
The day appointed for the " rain-dance " drew
near with terrible rapidity, and at length arrived. At
early morn the " ukuqusha," or driving in of the
cattle at a run from every kraal for miles around to
the *' Great Place," began. When all the oxen had
been collected the Chief selected one from his own
herd for slaughter, and every petty chief, headman,
and " umninizi," or head of a kraal, selected one of
those driven in by him, for the same purpose. All
doomed oxen were kraaled together, and then the
important ceremony of doctoring the Chief
began.
Umgwadhla had arrived secretly during the
Rainmaking 71
previous night, with his stock of roots, herbs, and
other medicines, and from these he proceeded to
concoct the " isihlambiso," or magico-medicinal wash.
He broke up the roots and herbs and placed them in
a large earthen pot nearly full of water. Then he
got a three-pronged stick about eighteen inches in
length, and placing the pronged end in the mixture
he twirled the stick rapidly between his palms until
the liquid frothed and seethed over the edge of the
pot. Then he notified the Chief that the medicine
was ready.
The Chief, accompanied by his " isicaka se
'nkosi," or "medicine boy," now stalked majestically
forward. The "medicine boy," lifted the pot and
carried it slowly into the large kraal, out of which
the cattle had now been driven, the Chief followinof,
naked and with stately steps. Upon reaching the
centre of the kraal the Chief crouched slightly
forward, and the "medicine boy" lifted the pot
and poured a liberal quantity of the contents
over his shoulders. The " rain - doctor " and
the Chief smeared this all over the body of the
latter, and rubbed it in with the palms of their
hands.
After this the pot, containing what remained of
the mixture, was carried back to the Chiefs hut,
there to be kept until the end of the ensuing feast,
when the washing process would be repeated, and
any balance of the liquid then remaining would be
spilt in the middle of the cattle kraal.
The grand ceremonial dance, known as " uku-
guba," then began. The men, with faces painted
72 By Veldt and Kopje
red, danced in a row in front of the women, who
sat on the ground clapping their hands rhyth-
mically and singing a song full of monotonous
repetition. This song related to feuds, fights, and
the greatness and prowess of ancestral chiefs, but
contained no reference to rain or to anything super-
natural.
When the song and the dance were over the
"rain-doctor" announced that on the fifth day
following, thunderclouds would arise in the north-
western sky in the afternoon, and that heavy rain
would immediately follow.
Then the oxen were slaughtered and the feasting
began. Under the influence of their excitement the
people fully believed that the promises of the " rain-
doctor " would be fulfilled. The beer flowed like
water, and the meat, although rather poor in condi-
tion, was satisfying — a Native is never particular
about the quality of beef. Many fights took place,
many skulls were cracked — some fatally, and, taking
it all round, the function was a grand success ; that
is, of course, if we leave out of sight the main object
of the gathering, which, however, had been totally
forgotten for the time being.
Four days were spent in feasting, and on the
morning of the fifth the people dispersed to their
homes and began at once to get ready their picks
and hoes against the combing rain. But the skies
were still like lurid brass, and the sun as a pitiless,
consuming fire.
Rainmaking 73
II
On the afternoon of the third day after the feast
Umgwadhla went quietly home. He was now
almost in despair. He had, under the heaviest
pressure, committed himself definitely to the pro-
duction of rain at a given hour on a specified day,
trusting to his luck to redeem the promise. The
day was now terribly close. Twice more had the
sun to go down in wrath and twice to rise in fury —
and then — before it sank again ? He now knew, by
the absence of signs of its approach, that the rain
would not come on the day he had named. The
evening of the fourth day came, and the sun went
down a bar of rusty, red smoke, the result of inland
grass-fires. Then the cool stars came out, twinkling
mockery at the shuddering earth and the unhappy
wizard, who felt as though the woes of the suffering
land were heaped upon his head.
Umgwadhla's hut was situated close to the edge
of the Umsingizi Forest. This hut was his official
residence, where he dwelt in retirement when en-
gaged in practising the mysteries of his profession.
He had carried home a large lump of meat from the
feast. Part of this he cooked, but he found it quite
impossible to eat. He sat all night on a rock a few
yards distant from the hut, watching the hollow,
light-punctured shell of night winding over him with
horrible rapidity. Then the dawn flushed over the
sea, and he realised that the dreaded day had arrived
without the slightest prospect of rain. Already, in
anticipation, he felt the choking strain of the thong
74 By Veldt and Kopje
by which his feet would be bound to his neck, pre-
paratory to his being flung to drown in the nearest
deep river-pool.
The sun, although only just risen, smote hotter
than ever through the sultry drought haze undis-
turbed by a breath of wind. Umgwadhla could
stand it no longer ; he determined to fly for his life.
This he had been thinking of doing for some days
past, but he knew that such a course would mean
social suicide and the loss of his wealth and influence ;
that he would henceforth be an alien and a wanderer
over the face of an unfriendly land. It was not that
life seemed to him sweet under such circumstances,
but that death after the manner of a strangled puppy
flung into the water by mischievous boys was too
bitter to face ; so he seized a spear and a club, and
plunged into the depths of Umsingizi. The only
food he carried was a small skin bag of boiled corn
which, during the oppressive hours of the previous
night, he had prepared without admitting to himself
for what purpose.
The scorching day dragged on to noon, and the
people began to bend anxious glances towards the
north-west. The sun began to sink, but, except for
thin wisps of smoke from distant grass-fires, the
pitiless sky was void. The sun sank into a long,
low bank of orange-coloured haze, and then hope
departed from the wretched people.
Before daylight next morning the hut of Um-
gwadhla was surrounded by the killing party sent by
Umquikela to seize and slay the wizard who had
worked the ruin of his nation ; but the bird had
Rainmaking 75
flown. Umgwadhla was already on the Natal side
of the Umtamvuna River, making his way in the
direction of the Baca and Hlangweni Locations in
the Umzimkulu District.
A week afterwards the rain came in exactly the
manner predicted by Umgwadhla. Early in the
afternoon a great crudded cloud of snowy whiteness
towered high over the north-western mountains, and
then, drawing other clouds in its train and on its
flanks, swept over Pondoland in the teeth of a raging
gale.' Then with lightnings and thunderings the
long-sealed fountains of the sky burst open, and every
kloof and donga became a roaring river. Umgwadhla
was cursed with fervour and fury throughout the
length and breadth of the land. He, the wicked
sorcerer, had kept the clouds away by means of his
evil arts ; now, directly he had taken his departure,
the rain-bearers, no longer bridled, had hurried
down with their life-oriving stores. On the first
clear day another "rain-doctor" came before the
Chief and claimed to have, by means of his potent
incantations, counteracted the evil spells cast by
Umgwadhla. This man was looked upon as the
saviour of his tribe. Umquikela killed a large ox in
his honour, and sent him home with gifts of value.
Umgwadhla had been only two days at Um-
zimkulu when the rain, which happened to be general,
fell. He felt that the rain-spirits, in whose service
his life had been spent, had treated him very unfairly.
Why could not the rain have fallen a week sooner ?
^ In South Africa thunderstorms almost invariably advance
against the wind,
76 By Veldt and Kopje
He hated to think of the future ; the contrast between
the wealthy and influential position he had hitherto
enjoyed, and an obscure and poverty-stricken exist-
ence as an alien suspected of the deadliest of all
crimes, among the Amabaca and Hlangweni, which
now awaited him, was painful in the extreme. Soon,
however, a bright idea struck him, and, being a man
of considerable force and character, this he determined
to carry into effect. He knew that the course he
resolved upon involved large risks, but these he felt
it worth while to take. As soon as ever the weather
cleared he started on a return journey to Qaukeni.
Early one morning a few days later Umgwadhla,
accompanied by a few influential friends, whom he
had taken into his confidence, appeared before Um-
quikela, who happened just then to be moderately
sober. The Chief was giving audience before the
gate of his cattle-kraal to a number of visitors.
Umgwadhla strode boldly among the people assem-
bled, who maintained an ominous silence, and saluted
his master. Before anyone had time to recover from
the astonishment felt at his temerity in thus, as it
were, putting his head into the lion's mouth, the
*' rain-doctor " spake —
''O Chief, I greet you on thus coming to claim
my reward for having caused the rain to fall over the
length and breadth of the vast territory that owns
your sway.
" Rumour has told me that during my absence, in
obedience to orders from the * imishologu ' (ancestral
spirits), evil men have said that by spells did I pre-
vent the rain from falling, and that only when I
Rainmaking ^^
was no longer in the land to work evil, were the
clouds able to revisit Pondoland.
*' Hear now the truth, O Chief, and judge :
" On the night before the day on which I declared
that rain should fall, the ' imishologu' revealed to
me in a vision a dreadful secret. There dwells, I
was told, a powerful wizard in the land of the
Ambaca, who, by means of his medicines, drives
back the rain-clouds when these are called up by the
spells of your servant. This is done in revenge for
that your illustrious father Faku slew Ncapayi, the
Great Chief of the Ambaca, in battle. Seek, said
the * imishologu/ the root of a certain plant that
grows in the depths of the forest ; eat of it, and then
go forth without fear to the Baca country. Find
there the hut of the wizard; before it stands a high
milkwood-tree and bound in the branches thereof is
the skull of a baboon with the dried tail of a fish in
its teeth, facing the land that is ruled by 'the young
locust.' ^ Remove the skull, and within a day the
rivers of Umquikela will be roaring to the sea.
" Here, O Chief, is the baboon's skull." (Here
Umgwadhla produced the article from under his
kaross.) "Touch it not for fear of evil ; ye who
have not been doctored against poison ; more
especially touch not the fish's tail, which has been
soaked in very direful medicines by the Baca
Magician."
Umgwadhla was reinstated in all his honours,
powers, and privileges, and his influence became
very much greater than it had previously been. A
^The word " Umquikela " means "young locust."
78 By Veldt and Kopje
song was composed in his honour by the most celebrated
of the tribal bards, and sung at a great feast held at
the " Great Place " to celebrate the breaking up
of the drought. He lived long and amassed much
wealth, and he never again failed to produce rain at
the due season. His supplanter retired into ob-
scurity, but this did not save him from an evil fate.
When Umgwadhla died, in extreme old age, the
supplanter was " smelt out " and put to death on
suspicion of having bewitched him. The unhappy
pretender was taken to the top of the Taba'nkulu
Mountain and placed standing, blindfolded, on the
crest of the " Wizard's Rock " — a high cliff just to
the left of the footpath leading to*' Flagstaff" where
it crosses the top of the mountain. The executioner
then struck him with a heavy club on the side of the
head, and he fell among the rocks at the foot of the
krantz. His bones, mingled with those of many
others, may yet be seen by the curious.
Rainmaking is a profitable profession, but it takes
a man of genius to carry it on successfully.
THE GRATITUDE OF A SAVAGE
The crescent moon had just sunk, but the stars
shone brightly down through the limpid lens of the
African night. Nomandewu sat on a flat stone,
moaning and talking to herself. She was a tall,
gaunt Kaffir woman of about thirty years of age.
Three weeks previously, little Nolala, her only child,
had accidentally met her death. Ever since, Noman-
dewu had been distraught with grief.
The spot where the bereaved mother sat was
surrounded by a low, broken wall of sods, which
formed a circle of about fifteen feet in diameter.
This was all remaining of the hut in which she and
her husband had lived. At his death, some two
years previously, the hut, in accordance with Native
custom, had been burnt to the ground.
Just after the death of her husband Nomandewu
obtained employment as cook in the household of
John Westbrook, a cattle-farmer whose herds grazed
in one of those deep valleys which cleave the base
of the Great Winterberg Mountain. Mrs West-
brook had a little daughter of the same age as
Nolala, and the two children used to play together,
day by day. A low rustic seat, formed of a portion
of a tree-trunk sunk into the ground in an upright
position, stood outside the verandah of the home-
stead, under a spreading oak. ... In this little
Lucy would sit, Nolala squatting before her on the
79
8o By Veldt and Kopje
ground like a small Buddhist idol cut in ebony.
Thus the children would play, for hours at a time,
some game of their own invention. In it hand-
claps, names of people and shrieks of laughter
seemed to be the principal features.
This was the manner of Nolala's death : one
morning Mrs Westbrook went into the dairy to
attend to the cream. The children followed, as was
usual, in expectation of getting thick milk. The
cream had to be put into a large earthenware jar
which was kept upon a high shelf. Mrs Westbrook
was in the act of lifting the vessel from its place when
a large tarantula, which sprawled on the stopper, ran
down her arm. She had a special dread of these
creatures, with which the house was infested. In
her terror she let the jar slip through her paralysed
hands, and it crashed down upon the upturned face
of little Nolala, who was standing next to her. The
child fell to the floor with her neck broken.
Nomandewu became frantic with grief. Taking
the body in her arms she rushed into the forest.
It was several days before she reappeared, and then
she could not be induced to reveal how the body had
been disposed of. She did not resume her service,
but went to live with her brother in the location
formed by the farm-servants' huts, on the other side
of the valley.
Mrs Westbrook was sorely distressed at the
catastrophe. She tried hard to interview the
bereaved mother, but Nomandewu stalked off with
a terrible expression upon her face, whenever her
mistress approached.
The Gratitude of a Savage 8i
One of the farm servants was a herd named
Dumani, a nephew of Nomandewu. Dumani had
once been accused of stealing a fowl from his master's
hen-roost, but little Lucy established his innocence.
She had happened to see one of the other servants
prowling near the scene of the theft, very early in the
morning. This man's hut was searched and the
feathers of the stolen fowl were found concealed
under the ashes of his fireplace.
Kaffirs are supposed by the superficial to be
utterly devoid of gratitude. As a matter of fact
they are just as grateful for good offices as are any
other race, but their gratitude is seldom expressed
in words, or, if expressed at all, is unintelligible to
those who do not understand the Kaffir nature.
Now, Dumani was so grateful to little Lucy that he
would have died for her, upon due occasion, without
the slightest hesitation. Being, however, a mere
savage Kaffir, he displayed not the slightest manifes-
tation of his feelings, which were, therefore, quite
unsuspected by anyone.
It was this unsuspected quality of gratitude
which prompted this taciturn Kaffir lad of sixteen to
follow Nomandewu night after night upon her
rambles, to crawl like a snake up to the low wall
behind which it was her habit to sit beneath the
silent stars, and to lie there for hours with ear
strained to catch the least syllable of her incoherent
mutterings. During these long vigils, when all the
others on the farm were fast asleep, it would seem to
Dumani as though he and the weird woman were
the only two beings left in the wide world. Here
82 By Veldt and Kopje
lay the only reality for him ; all else had dissolved
into wavering shadows.
Immediately after Nokia's death, Dumani, by no
process which he could have explained, divined that
Lucy was in danger, and the idea grew until it ab-
sorbed his whole mind. Yet, with the secretiveness
of his race he never hinted of his suspicions to a living
soul. As a matter of fact, outside his own instincts
he had absolutely no evidence to go upon. Never-
theless he felt no doubts ; his suspicions, vague at
first, had gradually crystallised into certainty. He
watched, waited, and held his peace.
The intense, silent and unsleeping scrutiny of the
Kaffir lad was not unobserved by Nomandewu, who,
accordingly, felt uneasy in his presence and continu-
ally endeavoured to avoid him. But although she
could not help noticing that he had her under obser-
vation by day, she had no idea that he followed her
at night.
Dumani, in his master's estimation had fallen from
grace. Until lately he had been a model cattle-herd ;
now he was often found asleep under a bush whilst
his cattle trespassed among the crops or strayed away
over the infinite expanse of the hills. For such mis-
demeanours he had been beaten several times ; his
dismissal, even, had been threatened. Then he grew
thin and haggard, and avoided his friends. The
members of his family became uneasy and held
anxious consultations over his unsatisfactory state.
Eventually they came to the conclusion that he was
undergoing the preliminary mental and moral dis-
turbances incidental to the "twasa,'' or spiritual
The Gratitude of a Savage 83
change which comes over those who possess the voca-
tion for witch-doctorship. This caused Dumani to
be treated with considerable respect, as one to whom
a great future was possible.
One morning Dumani noticed Nomandewu steal-
ing away to the forest with an axe in her hand.
After driving his cattle to their usual pasture he
followed. The forest filled the upper section of the
valley, which was bounded by a sheer wall of perpen-
dicular cliff, shaped like a horse-shoe, over which a
stream foamed down. The lad stole softly up the
watercourse, pausing every now and then to listen.
At length his keen ear caught a rhythmic beat of dis-
tant chopping, and he crept carefully in the direction
of the source of the sound. Steadily and regularly,
without pause or intermission, the strokes went on.
He came within sight of the chopper. It was
Nomandewu. Stripped to the v/aist, to give her
arms free play, the woman relentlessly plied her task.
As she swung the heavy axe with her thin, sinewy
arms, the sweat poured from her in streams. She
was engaged in felling a young ironwood tree, the
stem of which was about fifteen inches in diameter.
Dumani, concealed in a patch of bracken, lay and
washed her at his ease. As she stood her back was
towards him, but in the delivery of each stroke she
made a half-turn from the axis of her hips, and he
was thus enabled to catch glimpses of her face. It
was dull and haggard ; her sunken eyes had the cold
glitter one sees in the glance of an angry snake.
The wood was intensely hard, but the woman had
been some considerable time at her task, so before
84 By Veldt and Kopje
very long the tree fell crashing to the ground. Then
for a few seconds she stood panting and regarded the
result of her work. After this she secreted the axe,
picked up her blanket, and went off in the direction
of her home. She passed so close to Dumani that
he might have touched her by stretching forth his
hand. As soon as he had lost the sound of her foot-
steps Dumani hastened away to collect his scattered
cattle.
Next morning Nomandewu again returned to the
forest, and once more the Kaffir lad followed her.
As he drew near the spot where the tree had been
felled the sound of the steady, rhythmic falling of the
axe smote anew upon his ear. Stealing into his
hiding-place of the previous day, Dumani resumed
his observations. He found that the branches had
all been chopped off just above where they spread
out from the top of the clean bole, and that the bole
itself was being cut through about three feet below
the axis from which the branches spread. After she
had severed the trunk Nomandewu lifted the upper
portion into a perpendicular position, propped it to
prevent it falling, and regarded it intently. Dumani
was at once struck by the resemblance it bore to the
rustic seat at the homestead. Mindful of a thrashing
he had received on the previous day, on account of
his cattle having strayed, he hurried away, leaving
Nomandewu absorbed in the contemplation of her
handiwork.
A few days subsequently Nomandewu surprised
everybody by appearing at the homestead and asking
to be re-employed, Mrs Westbrook, much relieved,
The Gratitude of a Savage 85
reinstated her at once as cook. Nomandewu had
always been taciturn : now she developed an unsus-
pected vein of friendliness. She had always been an
excellent servant : now she performed her duties
with increased skill and diligence. Her mistress,
although still bitterly grieved at what had taken place,
congratulated herself upon the unfortunate incident
being, as she imagined, finally closed. She treated
Nomandewu with great consideration and, this among
other tokens of favour, presented her with a black
dress. Nomandewu, who had lived at a Mission
Station, understood the significance of this gift and
appeared to be appropriately grateful.
Dumani continually puzzled his brain over the
scenes he had witnessed in the forest, and still kept
up his scrutiny. He knew that Nomandewu had
not again gone to the spot where she had felled the
tree, so for some time he did not think it worth his
while to revisit it either. She seemed to be uneasy
in his presence. Often when he appeared in the
kitchen she would drive him forth with scoldings ;
on other occasions she would treat him with friendli-
ness and share with him choice portions of her food.
But Dumani's alert instincts detected a certain
spuriousness in these demonstrations.
About ten days after Nomandewu returned to
her service, Dumani, impelled by the cravings of
his absorbing curiosity, went again to the scene of
his espionage in the forest. He found, to his further
mystification, that the portion of the tree which
resembled a rustic seat had been removed. After
diligent search he managed to discover a trail leading
86 By Veldt and Kopje
up towards the horse-shoe cliff, which was nearly
half a mile away from the spot. Weighted by the
heavy log the woman's footsteps had here and there
sunk deeply into the soil. He followed the trail
until he reached a moraine which was piled against
the base of the precipice. In the interstices of this
stunted trees grew, and just where it touched the
cliff the latter was pierced by a small cavern.
Dumani, no longer attempting to trace the footsteps,
climbed over the rugged jumble of rocks and made
straight for the cavern. In it he found the missing
log. A hole had been sunk in the clay floor, and in
this the shaft had been firmly fixed. A rustic seat,
bearing a most remarkable resemblance to the one at
the homestead, had thus been formed.
After one glance over the interior of the cave,
Dumani hurried away. The significance of his dis-
covery flashed upon him : the chair could only be
meant for Lucy ; to this lonely spot the weird woman
meant to bring her, and, as Dumani was firmly con-
vinced, to bring her alive. This, then, was to be the
scene of Nomandewu's revenge ; to this dark corner
of the silent forest was little Lucy to be brought,
here to expiate in some dreadful fashion the mis-
chance of her playmate's death.
The discovery came as a great relief to the over-
wrought mind of the Kaffir lad. He now had some-
thing definite to go upon ; it was no longer a case of
mere blind groping for hidden motives. The issue
was clear : he and Nomandewu had to grip together
in a life-and-death struggle, Lucy's preservation being
the reward of his victory, her destruction the penalty
The Gratitude of a Savage 87
of his defeat. Nevertheless, in his unaccountable,
savage way, Dumani kept his own counsel — never
bethinking him that a word he could so easily speak
would remove the terrible danger hanging over the
head — to save a single hair of which he would un-
hesitatingly have died.
Everyone outside the sphere of his strategy
became unreal to the absorbed mind of the Kaffir
lad, whose faculties, in his intense abstraction, became
preternaturally keen. He felt that up to a certain
point he could interpret theworkingsof Nomandewu's
mind as clearly as though she spake aloud her every
thought in his hearing. He now knew, with absolute
certainty, that she was only waiting for the first
favourable opportunity to carry out her design, what-
ever it might be, against little Lucy, and that such an
opportunity could only be occasioned by his absence.
The opportunity soon came. One evening
Dumani received an order to start next morning,
with some cattle which had been sold, for a farm
situated a long day's journey away. He left before
daylight ; at breakfast-time both Lucy and Noman-
dewu were found to be missing.
Early rising was the habit of all at the farm.
Lucy had last been seen, shortly after sunrise, in the
orchard. This extended from near the house to
within a few yards of the narrow strip of bush fring-
ing the stream at the bottom of the valley, and which
wound continuously with the course of the stream
and connected the various patches of forest with which
the valley was so richly furnished.
No rain had fallen for some time past, so at first
88 By Veldt and Kopje
no spoor could be found. Every soul on the farm
turned out and joined in the search. In the course
of the day help came from the surrounding farms.
Old Gezwindt, a Hottentot celebrated all over th«
countryside for his skill as a spoor-tracker, was sent
for. It was not long before he discovered a fresh
barefoot trail leading down the stream, and conse-
quently in a direction opposite to that of the forest
at the foot of the horse-shoe cliff. The trail led
straight towards another forest, known to be very
rough and impenetrable, which lay about two miles
from the homestead. The footprints ceased at a
ridge of rocks about half a mile from where the first
trace had been found. Nevertheless, the indication
was sufficient to turn the attention of the searchers
wholly to the lower forest.
The day wore on without any fresh discovery
being made. By nightfall every nook and corner of
the lower forest had been explored, and then the
searchers sadly withdrew to wait for the light of
another day. The parents of the lost child were
almost frantic with anxiety and grief.
Dumani lost no time on his journey. The day
was cool, so he was able to drive the cattle swiftly.
He arrived at his destination just before sundown,
delivered the cattle, and, without resting at all, started
on his return journey. His course lay across a broken,
undulating country. Downhill he used the long,
swinging trot by means of which the Kaffir can cover
distances which fill the European with astonishment ;
uphill he slowly crept, husbanding his failing strength.
The Gratitude of a Savage 89
The feeling of expectant dread which filled
Dumani's mind buoyed him up and spurred his
lagging paces. He had most unwillingly obeyed his
master's orders to leave the farm, and thus give
Nomandewu the opportunity he knew she was wait-
ing for. The night was moonless, but the Kaffir boy
could have found his course blindfold. The whisper-
ing trees seemed full of messages calling him to hurry
on and help. Without stopping, he munched from
time to time a handful of the boiled maize which he
carried in his skin bag. He rested for a few seconds
at each of the many streams he crossed, and took a
deep draught of water.
The short summer night was just about to merge
into dawn when Dumani, weary almost unto death,
reached the top of the last ridge. From here the
homestead was visible ; lights shone from the
windows ; when he drew nearer he could see the
doors standing open and a number of people
grouped outside, anxiously scanning the east.
Dumani dropped in his tracks behind a stone and
crouched, thinking, for a few seconds. He required
no further corroboration of his fears ; he knew that
the thing he had so long dreaded and expected had
happened.
Under the influence of that exaltation which is
sometimes the result of severe mental strain, the
mind of man is capable of strange feats. Dumani's
tense savage soul divined the catastrophe in a flash ;
his faculties rushed to the correct conclusion as in-
evitably as steel-filings rush to a magnet brought
close to them. The cave — to get there as soon as
90 By Veldt and Kopje
possible — to find Lucy there, alive or dead. Divest-
ing himself of every vestige of clothing, Dumani
the savage grasped his stick and crawled along the
ground, as though he were a criminal escaping from
the scene of his crime, until he was out of sight of
the house. Then he sprang up, ran to the edge of
the forest, and plunged in among the trees.
Every trace of his fatigue had vanished, but the
thicket was dense and thorny, so his progress was
slow and painful. Dawn was shimmering in the
east, but night still lurked unsmitten beneath the
boskage. More than once he fell headlong, tripped
up by the treacherous '^ monkey-ropes " of which the
forest was full. The cruel thorns scarred him until
he was covered with blood.
As daylight grew his progress became somewhat
easier ; now he could avoid bruising himself against
the tree-trunks and the lichen-covered rocks. Soon
the woods became vocal with the morning songs of
the birds ; the guttural calls of the questing monkeys
seemed to sound from every tree-top. At length he
struck the footpath he had been seeking, and which
wound up the slope towards the horse-shoe cliff.
Then he reached the tumbled pile of boulders
bounding the moraine ; his goal was now close at
hand.
A great dread clutched at his throbbing heart —
what sight of horror might not the cavern contain ?
For a minute he surrendered himself to an appre-
hension of the direst contingency, and a wild throb
of almost delight thrilled him as he anticipated the
vengeance he would wreak upon the murderer ; he
The Gratitude of a Savage 91
would track her through the world until his hungry
hands could tear her limb from limb.
As he ascended the moraine the trees grew sparser
and sparser, until at length he caught a glimpse of
the crest of the cliff, rosy in the first sunbeam.
The glow filled his heart with hope and he hurried
forward with renewed strength.
He stopped short and dropped into concealment
behind a boulder. There, among the trees, immedi-
ately before the cave, stood the erect, rigid figure of
Nomandewu — the head bent forward and the open
hands pendent. But how still she was ; she did not
seem even to breathe. Dumani stared ; he felt no
fear, yet he recognised that it would be only a
measure of common prudence to wait until he had
recovered his wind before advancing to the attack.
A rustle of leaves whispered around him, ; the upper
boughs of the trees began gently to sway ; the figure
turned slowly until it faced him. Then Dumani
sprang to his feet and rushed forward, for he saw
that Nomandewu was dead. She was hanging from
a bough by a rope made out of the shreds of a torn
blanket.
Dumani climbed to the mouth of the cave. As
he surmounted the level of the floor he closed his
eyes and bent his head for an instant, dreading that
which he might next see. Then he lifted his head
and looked. Little Lucy, fast asleep and apparently
quite unhurt, was before him, tied securely within
the spreading arms of the white-ironwood log.
Dumani lay upon the ground for a space, his
pulses faint from reaction, his breath coming in
92 By Veldt and Kopje
husky sobs. He arose, climbed out of the cave,
untied the swaying horror from the tree and flung
it out of sight into a deep cleft. Then he returned
and released the child. She was dazed with fright,
but she soon recovered and clung, sobbing, to her
rescuer. Just in front of the log was a small mound
of earth. This, it was afterwards found, was the
grave of Nolala.
Dumani carried Lucy homewards through the
forest and restored her to her distracted parents.
Soon a gun-shot — the signal that the child had been
found — rang through the valley, and the searchers
hurried back to the homestead.
Dumani, after an enormous meal of meat, lay
down in his hut and slept for nearly forty-eight
hours. Then he quietly resumed his herding of
cattle. He still kept his own counsel ; in fact it
was not until after his marriage, several years sub-
sequently, that he revealed how he came to save
little Lucy from a horrible death. He married an
extremely well-favoured damsel who dwelt at the
location upon the adjoining farm, and his master
contributed liberally towards the dowry. His wife
drew the story from him bit by bit. She was too
proud of her husband's achievement to keep it to
herself.
MR BLOXAM'S CHOICE
I.
"The best-laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft agley."
One summer evening in the early fifties, three
wagons, each drawn by a team of twelve oxen,
might have been seen descending the Zuurberg
Pass, on the road leading from Grahamstown to
Port Elizabeth. The heavy thumping of the
lumbering, springless vehicles and the wild yellings
of the uncouth names of the individual members of
the teams — without which no self-respecting wagon-
driver feels that he does his duty to his responsible
post — no doubt scared the bushbucks and the
monkeys for miles along the bush-covered range.
Each turn-out had a festive appearance ; the
vehicles were newly-painted, the "tents "were of
the whitest canvas, and a stick, surmounted by the
tail of an ox, was fixed vertically to each front yoke.
Even the Hottentot drivers and leaders showed
signs of the prevailing smartness, for their clothes
had evidently been recently washed and their hats
and veldschoens were new.
The wagons were nearly empty. In fact, with
the exception of one, each contained nothing but a
provision chest, a portmanteau and some bedding.
The exception contained, in addition, two gentlemen
in their shirt-sleeves. Walking dejectedly some
few yards behind it, was another gentleman,
93
94 By Veldt and Kopje
similarly denuded. It could be seen at a glance
that all were ministers of the Gospel.
The pedestrian was the youngest of the three.
He was a man of about thirty, with a somewhat
tall and slight, but well-knit figure. His dark,
handsome, clean-shaven face wore an expression of
mingled sadness, apprehension and discontent. Of
the two in the wagon the elder was apparently over
forty- five. His smooth, red face had a jovial
expression. The expanse of his forehead carried
more than a suggestion of approaching baldness.
With a figure short and rotund, his whole appear-
ance was suggestive of the flesh-pots of Egypt.
His companion, who looked five or six years
younger, was a spare-built man of middle height.
He had thin lips, light-brown hair, steel-blue eyes
and a reticent expression. He sat upright and
gravely regarded the stout gentleman, who, com-
fortably propped by pillows, gave vent to the
highest spirits and enlivened the situation by a
succession of frivolous remarks and occasional
snatches of song.
These clerics belonged to a religious body which
has done much useful work among both Europeans
and natives in South Africa. Severally bachelors,
they were now on their way to Algoa Bay with the
intention of forthwith entering into the bonds of
holy matrimony — for the ship bearing the three
ladies who had agreed to share their respective
hearths and homes had, after a prosperous voyage,
reached port.
It will, of course, be understood that the parties
Mr Bloxam's Choice 95
to these alliances were absolute strangers one to
another. Half a century ago the daughters of the
land suitable as helpmeets to men in the position of
ministers were scarce, and it was not uncommon for
several ministers to request their particular Mission
Society to select and send out to them suitable
partners. All the parties had to sign an undertaking
to the effect that they, individually, would conform
to certain regulations governing the apportionment.
Judged from a purely sentimental standpoint, the
system may have had its disadvantages ; there is,
however, reason to believe that the results were, as
a rule, satisfactory. It was not so popular with the
younger as with the older men. It may well be
imagined that the former would have preferred
doing their own love-making to having it done for
them by the Mission Board ; but the principal
reason was that upon the arrival of each batch of
brides seniority carried the privilege of first selec-
tion, and thus the youngest and prettiest girls were
apt to fall to the older men, and the younger a man
was the more danger there was of his being obliged
to wed some elderly lady of comparatively unpre-
possessing appearance. This was the reason of the
perturbation noticeable in the rather handsome face
of the Reverend Mark Wardley, the young man
walking behind the waggon. He knew that, being
junior of the three, he would have last choice — or
rather no choice at all, for he would have to
content himself with the lady deemed least attractive
by his companions. There was, however, a special
reason in this particular instance why the youn2;est
96 By Veldt and Kopje
of the three postulants at Hymen's shrine should
feel the disadvantages of his position.
Similar conditions, no doubt, accounted for the
exceedingly complacent and even radiant look which
the rubicund countenance of the Reverend Peter
Bloxam wore. He knew that as the eldest of the
party he would have first pick, and he revelled in
anticipation accordingly. Both he and Mr Wardley
had been confidently informed, through letters
received by the previous mail, that one of the three
ladies selected was a girl of extremely well-favoured
appearance ; and the friends who wrote on the
subject gave to each respectively a very warm
inventory of her charms. Little was known of her
antecedents, but this did not matter ; the responsible
position of a minister's wife was the mould in which
her character would be formed — if it required
formation — and each was quite prepared to take
whatever risks there were in the matter. She was
the orphan daughter of a minister who had died in
India, and she had been reared and educated at the
expense and under the supervision of the Mission
Society.
Mr Bloxam smiled to himself as he thought of
how he had cheated old Time, and chuckled with
the liveliest satisfaction over the fact that he was no
longer a young man. He was, as a matter of fact,
very much in love with the girl he had never seen,
or rather with the ideal he had formed from the
written description. Exactly the same might be
said of Mr Wardley.
The third postulant, the Reverend Samuel
Mr Bloxam's Choice 97
Winterton, appeared to take things very coolly. If
he derived satisfaction from the fact that the right
of second selection from the little flock of ewe lambs
was his, such was more sober than enthusiastic.
Ardour, except for the Kingdom of Heaven, had
been left entirely out of his composition, and he
was very much wrapped up in a somewhat narrow
religion.
Mr Bloxam and Mr Wardley laboured at reclaim-
ing the heathen, and dwelt at country mission
stations ; Mr Winterton had spiritual charge of a
mixed congregation, and dwelt in a small country
village in Lower Albany, which, as everybody ought
to know, is inhabited by the descendants of the
British settlers of 1820.
It was sundown when the drivers called a halt at a
grassy glade on the bank of a clear stream which
was fringed with mimosa and acacia trees. Here
the teams were ''out-spanned" and turned out to
graze. Soon a fire was lit, mutton chops were grilled,
tea was brewed, and the three lovers made a frugal
repast. The only talkative one of the party was
Mr Bloxam, whose tongue continually tingled with
ponderous jocoseness that had a strongly Scriptural
flavour. He rallied Mr Wardley on his subdued
manner and his bad appetite. Mr Winterton came
in for a share in the chaff as well, but the shafts
seemed to fall dead from the armour of his imper-
turbability. Mr Wardley, on the other hand,
distinctly winced at every thrust, so there was far
more fun to be got out of him.
" Come, Brother Wardley," said Mr Bloxam ;
G
gS By Veldt and Kopje
'' a contented mind is, I know, a continual feast, but
it does not do to travel on — that is, by itself. It
will never do for you to arrive looking hungry.
You must try and look your best, man. Eh,
Winterton ? "
Mr Winterton's mouth was too full to admit
of his answering. Mr Wardley smiled uneasily, and
helped himself to a chop, which he bravely attempted
to eat.
" Just think of these three Roses'of Sharon bloom-
ing for us, and soon to be transplanted to our homes,"
said Mr Bloxam, unctuously. " Wardley is, I am
afraid, thinking of the thorns already. If, however,
he had studied the botany of Scripture he would
have known that Roses of Sharon have no thorns."
*' I trust their ages may be suitable to ours," said
Mr Wardley in a nervous voice. "It is so impor-
tant in marriage that husband and wife be not too
different in this respect."
''Scripture does not bear you out, brother," said
Mr Bloxam in a positive tone. '' Take the case of
Ruth and Boaz, for instance ; and we must not for-
get King David's having taken Abishag the Shuna-
mite to comfort him in his old age."
"You could hardly call Abishag the wife of
David," interjected Mr Winterton, whose knowledge
of Scripture was precise.
" Quite so, quite so," said Mr Bloxam, airily,
*' yet she comforted him in his old age. The princi-
pal functions of the wife of a minister of the Gospel
lie in assisting her husband in his duties and comfort-
ing him when the powers of evil seem temporarily
Mr Bloxam's Choice 99
to prevail against his efforts. Now, a young woman,
if she have the necessary dispositions, may be able to
perform such duties effectively at the side of a man
even considerably her senior."
" But," said Mr Wardley, with a touch of heat,
*' a young man also requires a helpmeet and a com-
forter, and surely one who" —
" Quite so, quite so ; and you will get one, my
brother. The hand of Providence directs us in these
things, and we must pray for its guidance at this
important juncture of our lives. As the eldest and
most experienced I shall have the responsibility of
making first selection. Although I continually pray
for guidance, I feel the responsibility a great
burthen."
"If it weighs so heavily, why not let it rest on
the shoulders of a younger man ? " said Mr Winter-
ton, who possessed a hitherto unsuspected sense of
humour. " I have no doubt Wardley will feel equal
to sustaining it."
" I a — fear that would hardly do," replied Mr
Bloxam, as Mr Wardley looked up with a rather
sickly smile. " You see, this practice of throwing
the responsibility of first choice upon the senior is,
no doubt, ordained for some wise purpose."
" In the sixth chapter of the First Book of
Chronicles," said Mr Winterton, with a steely twinkle
in his eye, ''we read how certain cities were appor-
tioned to the priests and Levites by lot. Now, it
struck me that in a case of this kind, where the
guidance of" —
" Brother Winterton," said Mr Bloxam, severely,
100 By Veldt and Kopje
" when a practice such as this has, so to speak, been
' made an ordinance in Israel,' no minister should
dare to think himself justified in departing from it.
I shall certainly follow the course laid down by wiser
men than myself. In making the choice I shall be
guided by the light which I have prayed may be
vouchsafed to me, and if by means of that light I see
unmistakable signs of a — that is, if I, as it were, see
the finger of Providence pointing out any particular
lady as the one most suitable as a partner, I shall not
allow such a trivial consideration as mere youth on
her part to deter me from following the path of duty."
At this Mr Wardley set down on the ground his
plate with the hardly-tasted chop and gazed into
indefinite distance with an extremely doleful ex-
pression. Mr Winterton went on eating his supper
with a countenance of inscrutable gravity.
Soon after supper the two elder men laid them-
selves down to sleep — Mr Bloxam to dream of the
black eyes, the rosy lips, and the girlish graces which,
he fondly hoped, were going to turn the near-
approaching winter of his years into a halcyon spring.
Mr Winterton was neither delighted nor disturbed
by dreams. He had a good conscience, an excellent
digestion, and Nature had not blessed or cursed him
with an imagination. Mr Wardley climbed the steep
side of the hill at the base of which the wagons were
outspanned, for a short distance, and then sat down
on a stone and gazed at the thrilling sky, from which
the veil of haze was now withdrawn. His heart was
heavy with foreboding, and the same eyes, lips, and
youthful, feminine graces which gilded the visions
Mr Bloxam's Choice loi
of Mr Bloxam brought him the pains of Tantalus.
He sat thus until the mocking, sentimental promise
of the unarisen moon filled all the west, and then
he fled back to the wagons to try and escape from
the burthen of his thoughts.
At next morning's dawn the sleepers were aroused,
and the oxen stepped forward with the unladen
wagons lightly as though treading the flowery path
of Love.
II
Five days previous to the opening of this story the
Reverend Josiah Wiseman, with Louisa, his wife,
stepped down from the parsonage on "The Hill,"
to the jetty at Port Elizabeth, immediately after the
good ship Silver Linings of Leith, cast anchor in the
roadstead, and engaged the services of a boatman to
convey them to the vessel. The day was fine and
the sea was smooth, or else Mrs Wiseman would
never have trusted herself even on this, the fringe of
the great waters. She was one of those motherly
parties who never become old in heart or feeling,
and consequently never cease to take an interest in
the love-affairs of their acquaintances. Neither the
forty-eight years of her life nor her massive bulk had
tamed her sprightliness or dimmed her merry eye.
She had looked more or less the same for the past
twenty years ; even her increase of size had been so
gradual that, however striking her portly presence
may have been to strangers, her husband and her
intimate acquaintances did not notice it as being
102 By Veldt and Kopje
anything remarkable. She had come gently down
the hill of Time like a snowball rolling down a
gradual slope and continually gathering accretions
without altering much in general appearance. Her
only child, a girl, had died in its infancy many years
previously, and the unexpended motherhood of her
nature seemed to expand and envelop every girl in
love, or about to marry, in its sympathetic folds. She
had come out in her youth under circumstances
similar to those of the three ladies sent out as brides
for the ministers whose acquaintance we have made,
and who were passengers by the Silver Lining,
These damsels were to be her guests until their
marriage, and she was now on her way to welcome
them.
As the boat drew near the vessel's side, the
bright, pretty face of a young girl, who was gazing
intently at the shore, might have been seen above
the rail. She had very large, dark eyes, brown wavy
hair, rosy cheeks, and a mouth like a rosebud in a
hurry to blossom. Add to the foregoing a stature
rather below the middle height, a neatly turned figure
and remarkably pretty feet and hands, and you have
a fairly recognisable portrait of Miss Stella Mason,
the delineation of whose charms had already im-
pressed the middle-aged but inflammable heart of
the Reverend Peter Bloxam and filled the sentimental
bosom of the Reverend Mark Wardley with hopeless
woe.
Sitting together under an awning aft of the com-
panion hatch were two austere-looking damsels of
yncertain age, who, in spite of considerable diversity
Mr Bloxam's Choice 103
of appearance, might have been taken for sisters, so
much did they resemble each other in dress, deport-
ment and expression. Each had a book of a highly
moral tone lying open upon her discreet lap, and was
reading therein in ostentatious disregard of what
minds less absorbed by the higher spheres of morality
would have considered the interesting prospect
afforded by this, the first glimpse of the land which
was to be their future home. They had, as a matter
of fact, already taken a good look at the shore from
their cabin windows ; but now the abiding abstract
principles that governed their circumspect lives again
claimed iheir attention to the exclusion of unim-
portant detail.
They both wore dresses of brown linsey, buttoned
very high at the throat, and black straw hats innocent
of all but the very simplest of trimming. Their
white, rather bony hands were skirted by immaculate
cuffs. The elder of the two. Miss Lavinia Simpson,
had light-brown hair, brushed smoothly back from a
high forehead, and her longish upper lip protruded
over a somewhat receding chin. Her face was pale
and narrow, and she wore spectacles over eyes of an
indeterminate hue. Her companion, Miss Matilda
Whitmore, had hair of a darker shade of brown, and
wide, light-blue eyes. Her face was broad and her
cheek-bones rather high. The thin lips of her
pursed mouth strongly suggested a potatoes, prunes,
and prism training. These ladies seemed to exhale
an atmosphere of uncompromising and aggressive
virtue.
Mr Wiseman ascended the companion ladder and
104 By Veldt and Kopje
introduced himself. Mrs Wiseman's courage failed
her at the prospect of an ascent, so she remained in
the boat, where the three strangers were duly pre-
sented to her, after being handed over by the
captain's wife. The boat then returned to the
shore, and the party climbed the hill to the hospit-
able threshold of the Parsonage.
It soon became apparent that Miss Mason had
been, so to say, sent to Coventry by the other two,
for they kept a marked physical and moral distance
from her. Mrs Wiseman from the first felt drawn
towards the young girl, and the friendly expression
of this impulse was at once resented by the others,
who stiffened up and formed themselves into a de-
fensive alliance, which suggested possibilities of
becoming offensive as w»ll.
The fair Stella, however, did not appear to be
chilled in the slightest degree by the cold shoulders
turned towards her by her companions on the road
to Hymen's shrine, for she chatted in the friendliest
manner with Mr and Mrs Wiseman, made herself
quite at home at the Parsonage, and appeared to turn
up her pretty little nose at the proper airs of the
others. These, as a matter of fact, had been highly
scandalised at what they considered a flirtation
between her and the second mate of the Silver
Linings and even gone the length of remonstrating
with her on the subject of her frivolity. The
second mate was a muscular young Scotsman named
Donald Ramsay ; with him Stella had struck up a
perfectly innocent friendship, but the severe virtue
of Lavinia and Matilda had received such shocks
Mr Bloxam's Choice 105
from what they imagined to be the real state of
affairs, that it became like erected porcupine quills
whenever she approached. Mrs Wiseman soon saw
what the true drift of things was, so she lodged the
two elder ladies in one room and put Stella by her-
self in another.
The post for Grahamstown was timed to leave
next morning, so Mr Wiseman retired to his study
and wrote to the three expectant ones, informing
them of the arrival of the Silver Lining with her
precious freight, after a prosperous voyage.
• • . . • .
After the ladies had retired to their respective
chambers kind Mrs Wiseman wrapped herself in a
loose dressing - gown of heroic proportions, and
wandered forth in search of gossip. She first tapped
lightly at the door of the room occupied by Lavinia
and Matilda. She heard a whispered colloquy going
on inside, but there was no response to her knock.
Then she turned the handle, with the idea of open-
ing the door and thus saving her guests the trouble
of getting up, in case they were already in bed. She
found, however, that the key had been turned in
the lock, so she stole thankfully away to Stella's
room. A faint " Come in," uttered in a voice that
strongly suggested tears, reached her through the
panel, and she entered, to find the girl, whose previ-
ous manner had been as that of one without a single
care, flung on the bed, with her face buried in the
pillow, and sobbing as though her heart were break-
ing. The motherly sympathy of the women went
out to the desolate girl, and she folded her to a
io6 By Veldt and Kopje
breast where loving kindness and bulk were in pro-
portions of like vastness.
The girl told all her troubles and fears. Her
story was a sad one. An orphan, and educated at
the expense of the Mission Society, she had chosen
the alternative of coming to South Africa and marry-
ing a man she had never seen or heard of in pre-
ference to undertaking teaching work, which she
not alone hated, but was quite unfit for. She had
suddenly made up her mind to this course, to supply
the place of one of the Lavinia-Matilda sisterhood,
who was to have come, but who was prevented from
doing so by illness. Alone with her thoughts, amid
the silence of the sea, Stella had come bitterly to
regret the step she had unthinkingly taken. Lavinia
and Matilda had disliked her from the first, and
excluded her from their improving companionship.
When she made friends with the young Scotsman,
who made her his confidante in respect of an ardent
mutual attachment between himself and a girl he had
left behind him, they had made cruel remarks on the
subject, which had the effect of making her practi-
cally drop their acquaintance. Kind Mrs Wiseman
did her best to comfort this belated little sunbird,
who had absorbed some of the sombreness of the
plumage of the too-highly domesticated fowls whose
cage she had shared during the past three months,
and then retired to her room, where she woke her
husband up for the purpose of making him listen to
Stella's history.
Next morning she heard Lavinia — in a voice
evidently meant to be overheard — congratulating
Mr Bloxam's Choice 107
Matilda upon the fact that they had locked their
door before retiring to rest, and thus prevented the
entrance of an intruder. " One can never feel quite
safe, you know, in savage countries.''
As the week which had to elapse between the
arrival of the nymphs and that of the swains drew
to a close, Mrs Wiseman found herself m.ore and
more drawn towards Stella, but unable to approach
nearer to anything like friendliness with the other
two. Her relations with Stella no doubt formed a
bar to anything of the kind. Consequently, these
patterns of propriety of the very properest type con-
tinued to cultivate each other's society to a point of
exclusiveness that verged upon rudeness.
As her regard for Stella grew, Mrs Wiseman
began to think more and more of the girl's future.
She was well acquainted with the three ministers,
and having had experience of the working of the
system under which these marriages were arranged,
she had no difficulty in forecasting Stella's connubial
destiny. She was absolutely certain that the Reverend
Peter Bloxam would see the finger of Providence
clearly indicating Stella as his fore-ordained bride,
and she sighed at the incongruous prospect. As to
young W^ardley, well, he and Stella would have suited
each other excellently well ; but she knew by experi-
ence that one might as well expect children to pass
by a rosy-cheeked apple for the sake of a turnip as
to think that the two seniors would prefer the unim-
peachable but mature qualities of either Lavinia or
Matilda to the beauty and sweetness of Stella. Mrs
Wiseman herself had come out from England as a
io8 By Veldt and Kopje
pretty, fresh young girl, and had been promptly and
unhesitatingly recognised as his Providence-selected
bride by a man who was almost old enough to be
her father. On the same occasion a certain young
minister (the youngest of the batch) and she had
looked at each other with eyes full of mournful
sympathy that was closely akin to love — she from
the side of her old, grizzled bridegroom, and he from
that of his antique bride, who had fallen to him as
the youngest of the party by a process of elimination
of the others by his seniors, under Providential
direction. In her case, however, things had, in a
measure come right ; her husband and the other
clergyman's wife had, after four years, died within
a few months of each other, and when, about a year
subsequently, the widow and the widower met, they
found that the mournful element in their looks had
given place to one of hopeful anticipation, which was
duly realised a few months afterwards in a happy
marriage. The odds were, of course, very much
against such a fortunate combination happening in
the case of Stella and young Wardley. She sighed
more and more as the time for the arrival of the
three suitors drew nigh, and the gloom of her
thoughts seemed to communicate itself to all the
others, so much so that the Parsonage took on the
air of a house from which funerals rather than wed-
dings were expected.
It was the evening before the expected arrival of
the bridegrooms. The brides had retired to their
rooms, and Mrs Wiseman went upstairs to have her
usual chat with Stella. They had hitherto by tacit
Mr Bloxam's Choice 109
consent avoided discussion of the approaching events
except in the most general terms.
'' My dear," said Mrs Wiseman, after a pause in
the conversation, " suppose you and I have a chat
about those who are expected to arrive to-morrow ;
I know them all, so can tell you what each one is
like. Do you realise that in two days you will be
engaged, and that in three you will be married ? "
** Yes," replied Stella ; *' I am not likely to forget
it. I shall be glad to hear what my future husband
is like."
''Well, if I must tell the truth, I think it is a
great shame the way they manage these things — I
mean their giving the oldest man first choice."
" Are a — any of them very old } "
" Well, there is Mr Bloxam ; he is the eldest.
To speak quite candidly, he must be at least forty-
six. My dear, it's a shame of me to talk like this,
for you cannot help yourself, and I knovj you'll have
to marry him, and I think it's a great shame. If it
had been young Wardley, now " —
''A — is Mr Wardley young.? "
*' Yes. My dear, you and Wardley would suit
each other just beautifully. He is not so very young
either ; he must be nearly thirty, but I have known
him ever since he first came out — quite a boy. He
has a temper, but his wife could manage him perfectly
if she weren't a fool or old enough to be his mother."
" I wonder," said Stella, after a reflective pause,
" why Mr Wardley — you say he is good-looking } "
" He's handsome^ my dear."
" I wonder why he didn't try and like some girl
no By Veldt and Kopje
out here, instead of letting them pick one out for
him at home ; especially as he has last choice, or
rather has to take the one neither of the others want."
" All pique, my dear. Young Wardley did like a
girl, a nasty little cat, who flirted with him and threw
him over, and has been sorry enough for it ever
since. Just after they quarrelled he met old Bloxam
and Winterton, who could not get out wives until
a third minister wanted one. They persuaded him
to put his name to a paper asking to have one sent
out to him as well, and he foolishly did so without
considering. I know he has regretted it ever since.
I told him he was a fool just after he had done it.'*
" Does he a — care for the other girl still .^ "
" Not he ; he never really cared for her a bit.
Dear me ! when I think of his being tied to one of
those stiff, proper old tabbies I feel quite wretched.
I know who it will be ; just see if it isn't Lavinia,
with the lip and the spectacles. Winterton is by no
means a fool, and you may be sure he will leave her
alone. I don't say there's much choice between
them, because, my dear, leaving you to one side, this
is just the commonest lot they have ever sent out ;
but I'm sure no man would marry that old thing
unless he had to. Now, Matilda — what's her name ^
Whit more, eh.f* — she'd not be so bad if you could
fatten her up and shake her a bit, and get her right
away from that Lavinia, whom I simply can't bear."
" How will they — when will they tell us — I mean,
how will it all be arranged ? "
" Oh, quite simply ; there won't be much beat-
ing about the bush, I can assure you. You and
Mr Bloxam's Choice m
Lavinia and Matilda will all sit in the drawing-
room, and the three will be brought in and intro-
duced to you. Then you will be left to look at each
other like a lot of stuffed parrots ; none of you —
not even old Bloxam — will be able to talk a bit.
Then to-morrow night an extra long prayer will be
given that Providence may guide you all to choose
wisely. Stuff and nonsense ! as Fve often told Joe.
As if Providence would always give the youngest and
prettiest wives to the old men and the old and ugly
ones to young fellows like Wardley ! "
''What is Mr Bloxam like? I suppose I ought
to know, as it appears I am going to marry him,"
said Stella, losing the drift of her previous question.
" Fat, fussy, and over forty-five, my dear ; that
is what I should call him. He doesn't pray for quite
as long as Winterton, but he eats a lot, and I'm sure
he'd be fussy in the house. But 1 don't want you
to hate me by-and-by in case you should happen to
get fond of him, which isn't likely ; so I shan't tell
you another word. You'll see him quite soon enough,
in all conscience."
Mrs Wiseman bade the girl an affectionate
" Good-night," and then retired to her room. She
found, however, that she could not sleep ; she was
weighted by the burthen of painful anticipation.
She had long been fond of Mr Wardlev in a motherly
way, and during the past week she had learned to
love Stella. She seemed to live once more through
her bitter experience of long ago, and a like blight
had now to fall upon these two in the morning of
their life. She felt certain that the hearts of Stella
112 By Veldt and Kopje
and Wardley would rush to each other, impelled by
strong forces of both attraction and repulsion, and
be damaged in the collision.
When she retired for the night her husband was
fast asleep, and as he was a very heavy sleeper she
had no fear of disturbing him. The sight of him
serenely slumbering irritated her so that she longed
to shake him. She blew out the candle, but visions
of the sanguine face and the stout figure of Mr
Bloxam — the former wearing an expression of smug
satisfaction and proprietorship ; and the frightened,
half-desperate, and wholly disgusted look of Stella,
as she submitted to the caresses of her elderly lover,
haunted her with a persistence that became agonis-
ing ; so she lit the candle once more. Then another
aspect of the case flashed balefully across her mind,
and she sat up in bed, clasping her hands convulsively
to her face. What had she not been doing, wicked
woman that she was ? Had she not taken the very
course calculated to make the burthen of the poor
girl unbearable ? Had she not set the girl's wander-
ing thoughts flowing in the very direction which
should have been avoided — namely, those of dislike
to Mr Bloxam and love for Mr Wardley ; and would
not the torrents of emotion to which she would be
the prey during the next two days cut channels so
deep that the stream of her life would never again
flow out of them ? What could she now do to repair
the mischief wrought by her thoughtlessness ? She
sat for a long time with her hands pressed to her face
and the hot tears streaming through her trembling
fingers. What could she do — what — what ? She
Mr Bloxam's Choice 113
got up from her bed and began pacing the room with
quick, nervous steps. Her tears had now ceased,
and her brow was contracted in a deep travail of
thought. All at once she turned sharply round,
hurried to the side of the bed, and began violently
shaking her sleeping husband.
"Wake up ! Wake up, Joe," she said in a loud
voice.
Mr Wiseman was not easy to waken, but the
energy of his wife's attack brought him to a sitting
posture on the side of the bed in a very few seconds.
''Goodness gracious, my dear! what has hap-
pened ? Is the house on fire ? " He was now wide
awake and really startled.
''The house isn't on fire, Joe ; don't be a fool,
but wake up. I want to talk to you about something
very important."
"Yes, my dear ; I'm wide awake, but a — won't
the subject keep until to-morrow ?"
" No, it won't keep two minutes. Now, mind,
I'm in earnest, so don't aggravate me."
" Very well, my dear, what do you want to talk
to me about .^" said he, trying to suppress a yawn.
" I just want to talk to you about Providence."
Mr Wiseman turned his eyes sharply to his wife*s
face. " I think, my dear, that if you were to lie
down, perhaps, you might feel better. Shall I get
you a few drops of sal volatile ? "
" Look here, Joe. If you want to make me just
mad you will go on like that. I'm not sick, and
I'm not dreaming, and you'll hear what I have to
say if I have to make you sit here all night. I want
H
114 By Veldt and Kopje
you to tell me, on your word as a man and a
minister, whether you think that Providence made
old Mr Lobbins choose me as his wife and selected
Miss Perkins for you to marry ? "
" Well, my dear, it's rather an important " —
" Now, Joe, ril have a direct answer, or else you
don't get to sleep again to-night. Did Providence
specially ordain it?"
" Well, my dear, Providence at least permitted it,
that is quite certain."
" Permitted fiddlesticks ! Doesn't Providence in
the same way permit of getting drunk, and steaHng,
and — and — doing all sorts of wicked things ?"
" Quite true, my dear ; it is all very mysterious.
We can never hope to understand why evil is per-
mitted, but we must not forget that, together with
permitting evil, Providence provides the remedy.
Even I, in my humble sphere of ministration, must
look upon myself as an instrument provided by
Providence to correct the evil I see around me.
That is the great mercy, that next to the evil lies the
means by which it may be counteracted."
'* Joe, you are a dear old man, and you have
made it quite clear to me about Providence. Now,
look here, I want you to make me one promise, and
when you have done so you may go to sleep as soon
as ever you like."
"Well, my dear, you know that as an honest
man I cannot make a promise blindly ; it might bind
me to something which my conscience" —
" It is not to do anything, but just to do nothing
at all, that I want you to promise," interrupted his
Mr Bloxam's Choice 115
wife. " For the next two days I want you simply to
take no notice of anything out of the common that
happens, and in any case not to interfere without
coming to see me first.'*
"Well, my dear, I think I can safely promise
that. But look here, can you not tell me what this
means ? "
" It means just this — and you can go and call it
out in the streets to-morrow if you like — that I am
not going to let old Bloxam snap up Stella Mason,
nor am I going to see young Wardley hooked by
Lavinia. Now, it's no use looking at me like that
or saying another word, for I've quite made up my
mind about it. I cannot tell you how I am going
to manage, and if I could I would not, because you
would 'look ' it out even if you did not tell it. All
you have to do is to keep quite quiet, take no notice
of anything that happens, and come tome if you feel
uneasy. Now you may kiss me, and then go to
sleep."
After a few seconds she said in a softer voice.
"Joe."
'' Yes, my dear."
'* Supposing someone had helped us long ago,
don't you think it would have saved Providence a
great deal of trouble ? "
'' How so, my dear } "
'' Well, you see, two people had to die before we
could be happy, and even then we had lost four years
of our life. Joe, I am determined that Bloxam shall
not get Stella, even if I have to come into the church
and forbid the marriage when you ask whether
ii6 By Veldt and Kopje
anyone knows of any just cause, so you had better
help me."
" Well, my dear, I have given my word not to
interfere ; I don't see how I can help in any way.
Surely you don't want me to speak to Bloxam ? "
" Not I. Fancy trying to get Bloxam to disobey
the finger of Providence when it points to a pretty
girl like Stella, just ready, as he thinks, to drop into
his big mouth like a ripe plum. No, I may want your
help, but I shall try and do without it. But if 1 do
ask you to do anything, you had better just do it."
Ill
Next day an air of hushed expectancy seemed to
envelop the Parsonage. Stella complained of a
headache ; she certainly looked rather pale, and her
eyes had an unnatural brightness. Lavinia and
Matilda appeared in garb which, although still
severely simple, was more in accordance with current
fashions than had hitherto been their rule. At break-
fast they thawed just a little towards their hostess,
and the glances they shot from time to time in Stella's
direction was rather less acid than usual. Break^st
over, they retired to the drawing-room, after edch
had selected a book of most portentously moral tone
from the well-stocked shelves of the Reverend Josiah.
Here they sat together on the sofa like a statued
group of the cardinal virtues, with Charity left out.
It was early in the afternoon when a whisper to
the effect that the three suitors had arrived thrilled
through the house. The wagons were outspanned in
Mr Bloxam's Choice 117
an open space about three hundred yards away, and
thither the Reverend Josiah hastened with a hearty
welcome. The Parsonage was not equal to accom-
modating the three gentlemen, but they were expected
to take their meals there although sleeping at the
waggons, alongside which a tent was pitched.
The varied emotions swaying the three men were
apparent in their faces and their demeanour as they
accompanied Mr Wiseman to the Parsonage. Mr
Bloxam's delighted anticipations shone out of his
face, and his feet seemed to tread upon air. Mr
Winterton appeared to be more impressed by the
gravity of the situation than by its other aspects.
His mouth was set in a hard line, his face was pale,
and the pupils of his eyes were, contracted to the size
of pinpoints. Mr Wardley looked haggard, his feet
shuffled as he walked, and the throbbing of his heart
filled his ears with thunder. Mr Wiseman tried to
be friendly, and made one or two attempts in the
direction of jocularity, but his wife weighed heavily
on him, and he felt crushed as though with the
weight of an impending catastrophe.
The three brides-elect were sitting in the drawing-
room with Mrs Wiseman when the party arrived.
Stella had retired into a corner, where she sat in the
shadow. When the door opened she saw the un-
mistakable face of Mr Bloxam radiant in the fore,
and the pale, dejected visage of Mr W^ardley, who
was taller than either of his companions, bringing
up the rear. After the formal introduction, some
attempts were made at conversation, in the middle
of which Mr and Mrs Wiseman, as was expected of
ii8 By Veldt and Kopje
them, left the room. Then Mr Bloxam came to the
front in his role of man of the world. His self-
confidence had for the moment given way under the
stress of his emotions, but now he was his own
Bloxam again, and skilfully piloted the company
over the troubled sea of restraint in which they had
been drifting to a haven of disembarrassment. His
conversation was mainly directed towards the two
elder ladies, but he now and then addressed a remark
to Stella, who maintained her seat in the corner.
She and Mr Wardley exchanged one or two fleeting
glances, each of which was followed by a painful
blush. Mr Winterton, from the first, directed
furtive attentions towards Matilda, and once, when
the discreet cheek of that damsel flushed faintly under
a glance of more than usually intent scrutiny, he
turned a fiery red, coughed nervously, and looked
away in confusion.
At the tea-table, afterwards, Mr Bloxam still
took the conversational lead. Mrs Wiseman was
sweetness personified, and ably seconded Mr Bloxam's
eflbrts to keep the ball rolling. Stella sat silent and
demure, and both Lavinia and Matilda gave evidence
of the superiority of their minds by making discreet
comments from time to time. Mr Wardley com-
plained of a headache, and looked really ill. He
and Stella had been placed at opposite corners, with
the whole length of the table between them, and they
now and then exchanged glances — brief as lightning-
flashes, and as destructive to their peace of mind.
When the ladies retired to the drawing-room,
Wardley followed Mrs Wiseman to the passage,
Mr Bloxam's Choice 119
and begged her to excuse him for the rest of the
evening, as he felt too ill to remain. She accom-
panied him to the door, bade him good-night with
a friendly pressure of the hand, and told him to keep
up his spirits, as things might not be so bad as they
appeared.
Mr Wardley returned to the wagons, and flung
himself upon his bed in bitter agony of mind. Stella
transcended all he had dreamt of her ; and the first
glance from her clear brown eyes had been to his
heart like a match set to an inflammable pile. He
loved her utterly and suddenly, and he at the same
time realised how hopeless was his chance of winning
her.
The counterpart of Wardley's love for Stella was
an utter loathing of the idea of marriage with either
of the others. His mind w^as made up ; he would
refuse to carry out the compact. He knew that this
would cost him his position in the ministry, and the
thought caused him acute and remorseful pain, for
he believed thoroughly in the genuineness of his
calling ; but he felt that marriage with one of these
women would, under his present dispositions, be a
crime more deadly than any other he could commit.
He was quite clear as to the course which he had
to pursue ; he would wait until Stella had been
formally appropriated by Mr Bloxam, and then steal
quietly away to some spot where he could hide his
shame and grief, leavingr a brief letter for Mr Wise-
man, with some sort of an explanation of his conduct.
In the meantime the course of events at the
Parsonage ran smoothly. Mr Bloxam was not very
120 By Veldt and Kopje
successful in his efforts to become confidential with
Stella, who clung to Mrs Wiseman like a frightened
child, and could not be enticed from her side. He
was very gallant with Miss Lavinia, but guardedly
so ; and he carefully abstained from giving her any
grounds for inferring that his attentions were based
on anything more than mere civility. Mr Winterton
and Miss Matilda made great strides in their in-
timacy ; they got into a corner quite early in the
evening, and remained there playing solitaire. To-
wards the end they had quite a gamesome little
scuffle over the last marble but one, when the chaste
Matilda archly attempted to cheat in the most bare-
faced and obvious manner. The rest of the company
left them quite undisturbed, and, in fact, rather
ostentatiously ignored them. The only one who
took the least notice of their sedate flirtation was
Stella, who shot glances of fearful curiosity into their
corner now and then, and thought with dismay that
she and Mr Bloxam would most probably soon be
similarly situated.
At length the hour for prayers struck, and all
moved into the dining-room. As the senior stranger,
Mr Bloxam was called upon to give an exhortation,
and, in complying, he did justice to the occasion.
He had all the texts of Scripture that deal with
marriage at his tongue's tip, and he painted the
moral advantages of that holy estate with such fervour
and fluency that the thought crossed Stella's mind
that he must be a widower in disguise, and she
wondered whether this would not be a valid excuse
for her refusing to marry him, as the three had been
Mr Bloxam's Choice 121
represented as bachelors in the first instance. Then
she smiled to herself at the foolishness of her imagin-
ings, and again surrendered to the feeling of numibing
despair which had been creeping over her.
After the discourse came a short, fervent, and
very explicit prayer for the special interposition of
Providence at the present very important juncture,
at the end of which Mrs Wiseman's enunciation of
the " Amen " was heard so loudly and distinctly
above the other voices, that her husband started
violently and looked round at her in obvious
alarm.
In bidding Stella "good-night," Mr Bloxam put
so much expression into his voice, and so much
unction into the pressure of his hand, that the girl
had to clench her teeth hard to keep from screaming.
Mr Winterton and Matilda developed their idyll
over the solitaire board to the very end of the even-
ing. After prayers she fetched the board from the
drawing-room for the purpose of showing him a
puzzle she had learnt from a lady friend who was
champion solitaire player of the village she lived in,
and this engrossed them until the moment of de-
parture. It was then that Mr Bloxam indulged in
his first piece of badinage. He said to Stella, with
something which looked atrociously like a wink, and
in a voice that all could hear, that he supposed Brother
Winterton was making the most of what remained
of his "solitaire" condition, and he added with an
inflection of tenderness in his voice, that this condi-
tion was now nearly at an end for all of them.
Brother Winterton hung his head shamefacedly,
122 By Veldt and Kopje
Matilda was covered with becoming confusion, and
Stella winced as though struck with a whip.
On the way back to the wagons the two ardent
swains paused for a few minutes' conversation beneath
the glowing stars. " Would it be amiss if I were to
ask whether you feel your inclinations being guided
in any particular direction ?" asked Mr Bloxam.
"Since you inquire, I will tell you that Miss
Whitmore is the one towards whom I feel attracted,"
replied Mr Winterton, without hesitation.
After a pause, which gave the idea that he waited
to be questioned, Mr Bloxam said in a nervous
tone : —
"Since you have given me your confidence,
Winterton, I will tell you that some influence, such
as I have never before experienced, seems to draw
me towards Miss Mason. In these matters we must
believe that we are guided through our inclinations,
and I have determined not to be disobedient to the
pleasing monition. I shall propose for Miss Mason's
hand to-morrow.''
'' What a pity Wardley is indisposed," said Mr
Winterton, after a moment's pause. " I hope he
recognises his fore-ordained helpmeet in Miss
Simpson, as we do in the ladies of our choice."
'' I think Miss Simpson will suit Wardley admir-
ably," said Mr Bloxam, quickly ; " he is just the
man who ought to marry one older than himself.
You see how delicate he is, and it is meet that his
wife be one whose age and experience fits her to take
care of him."
" Ye-e-s," replied Mr Winterton.
Mr Bloxam's Choice 123
"J think," rejoined Mr Bloxam, "that as Ward-
ley is unwell to-night we had better not excite him
by discussing these important subjects in his hearing."
*' I quite agree with you," replied Mr Winterton.
• • • • •
When Mrs Wiseman went to bid Stella " good-
night " she found the girl sobbing on her pillow as
if her heart were breaking.
" Cheer up, my deary," said the kind woman ;
" things may not be as bad as you think. Look
here, I want you to-morrow to do exactly as I tell
you to, and ask no questions. Will you promise to
do so ? "
" Yes," whispered Stella through her sobs.
" Very well, then. To-morrow morning, first
thing, you are to write a note to that young man
you made friends with on board ship asking him to
come up and take lunch with us."
Stella nodded.
" When the reply comes you are to look hurriedly
at the letter, put it into your pocket without open-
ing it, and leave the room."
Stella again nodded.
"You are to return in a few minutes, and sit
down again without saying a word about the letter."
Stella again nodded. She was now drying her
tears, and the look on her face was decidedly less
woebegone than it had been a few moments
previously.
" Now, look here," said Mrs Wiseman, " keep
up your spirits ; I will get you and young Wardley
out of this if I possibly can. You have just got to
124 By Veldt and Kopje
do exactly what I tell you. I am very glad that he
is sick and out of the way just now. Good-night,
my deary ; keep your spirits up, and all will come
right, or else my name isn't Louisa Wiseman."
IV
Next morning Mrs Wiseman rose very early and
went downstairs to her husband's study, where she
locked herself in for about half an hour. She then
went and sought for Stella, whom she found sitting
in her room dressed. She sent her down to the
study, telling her to write the letter inviting young
Ramsay to lunch, warning her at the same time not
to mention the fact of the invitation to anyone. The
invitation Mrs Wiseman enclosed to the local agent
for the Silver Linings who happened to be a friend of
hers, asking him as a particular favour to send it out
by a special messenger to the vessel, and to transmit
any reply that might come under cover to herself
personally.
At breakfast-time Mr Wardley was reported to
be still very unwell ; however, as he distinctly refused
to see a doctor, no alarm was felt on his account. It
was, of course, felt that his absence caused a hitch in
the otherwise harmonious proceedings. After break-
fast Mrs Wiseman went up to the wagons to see
him, and returned with the report that, although he
was undoubtedly ill and quite unable to appear at
present, he would most probably be sufficiently re-
covered to put in an appearance in the course of the
afternoon. When Mrs Wiseman made this announce-
Mr Bloxam's Choice 125
ment, her husband looked extremely uneasy, and
after a few moments got up and hurriedly left the
room. Both Mr Bloxam and Mr Winterton looked
at Lavinia with expressions of commiseration, whilst
she maintained a demeanour which suggested subdued
tenderness and resignation.
The Parsonage grounds were rich with trees, and
thus afforded suitable localities for amatory dalliance.
In its bosky recesses many a clerical swain had sported
with his x\maryllis in the shade, and thither the
ardent Winterton led his coy Matilda soon after
breakfast, and elicited, after becoming hesitancy, her
blushing acceptance of his hand and heart. When
he attempted to seal the compact with an embrace,
she disengaged herself with a twittering little scream
from his unaccustomed arms and fled. Her confusion,
however^ was such that she did not run towards the
house, but into a thick shrubbery which lay in quite
another direction. Thither Mr Winterton followed
without a moment's hesitation, and the twittering
scream was repeated, but in a rather fainter tone.
However, Matilda must have forgiven her lover
whatever liberties he may have taken, for when they
returned together to the house not very long after-
wards they both looked extremely happy, and were
apparently the best of friends.
Stella kept close to Mrs Wiseman, and a great
deal of unsuccessful diplomacy was exercised by Mr
Bloxam with the object of obtaining a tete-a-tete with
the object of his growing passion. At length a reply
to Stella's letter arrived from Mr Ramsay. It had
been, as arranged, sent in a cover addressed to Mrs
126 By Veldt and Kopje
Wiseman. She at once took it to her husband, who
was sitting, a prey to great nervousness, in his study.
^* Joe," she said in a tone that admitted of neither
contradiction nor argument, " in five minutes exactly
you are to send the servant with that letter to Miss
Mason in the drawing-room."
She then hurried from the room^ without giving
him time to reply, and went to where poor Stella was
awaiting her in a fever of trembling suspense. She
took the girl's arm and hurried her to the drawing-
room, where the enamoured Bloxam was sitting,
apparently absorbed in the perusal of a book which
he was holding upside down. When close to the
door, she whispered hurriedly to the girl —
" Remember what I told you to do when the
letter comes. After you have returned we will all
three go to the summer-house in the garden. Do
you understand ? "
*' Yes," whispered Stella.
" Now, you must attend particularly to what I
tell you. When we have been in the summer-house
for a few minutes I will stand up and leave ; just
afterwards I will call to you, and you must follow
me at once, without looking after you or picking
up anything you may see lying about. Do you
understand ? "
Stella answered with a hasty nod, and the two
then entered the drawing-room.
''What do you say to a walk in the garden under
this young lady's guidance ? " asked Mrs Wiseman,
with an arch glance at Mr Bloxam.
"Certainly — I shall be delighted."
Mr Bloxam's Choice 127
"Very well, I shall leave you to entertain each
other. I must now see about doing something for
poor Mr Wardley. I feel so sorry on account of his
being in trouble just now."
At this moment a knock was heard at the door,
and a servant entered with a letter for Stella. She
took it with looks of extreme confusion, and, with-
out even asking to be excused, stood up at once, and
ran from the room. Mrs Wiseman looked after her
with a smile, and then turned a beaming face on Mr
Bloxam, who seemed puzzled and uneasy. After a
couple of minutes, Stella returned, and Mrs Wise-
man then stood up at once.
''Now, Stella, if you have quite finished reading
that very interesting letter, we will take Mr Bloxam
to the summer-house, where I shall formally hand
him over to you t© entertain. Come along."
They sauntered down the garden-walk, Mrs
Wiseman and Stella walking arm-in-arm in front,
and Mr Bloxam, a prey to delighted anticipation and
vague uneasiness, following closely. Ever since
the episode of the letter a sense of insecurity had
weighed on him, and he felt like one walking over
ground where pitfalls were imminent. They reached
the summer-house. It was an arbour covered with
trailing Banksia roses, and into the tender gloom of
which the light trickled through tangled greenery.
They entered ; Mrs Wiseman and Stella sat down
together on a rustic bench, and Mr Bloxam, after a
moment's hesitation, took a seat next to Stella.
" Now," said Mrs Wiseman, with an arch inflec-
tion in her voice, " I will leave you two to entertain
128 By Veldt and Kopje
each other. I have to see about my housekeeping,
you know. But I daresay you will not miss me
very much."
With that she stood up and walked away in a
manner marvellously light and springy for one of her
weight. As she disappeared she threw back a nod
over her shoulder with what Mr Bloxam took to be
a friendly and sympathetic smile.
Poor Stella sat staring rigidly before her, con-
vulsively grasping the woodwork of the rustic seat,
and wondering as to what terrifying development
things were now about to take. The moment was
one of the few in Mr Bloxam's life in which he
experienced the sensation of bashfulness. He tried
hard to think of some effective way of opening the
conversation, but the field of rhetoric which he had
assiduously cultivated was struck suddenly with
blight, and yielded him never a flower at his need.
Stella strained her expectant ears to catch Mrs
Wiseman's voice. Mr Bloxam cleared his nervous
throat for the third time, and Stella knew, although
she could not see them, that his lips were forming
to the speech she so much dreaded. Then the
longed-for diversion came ; a step was heard on the
gravelled walk outside, and, after a judiciously loud
** Ahem ! " Mrs Wiseman appeared in the doorway.
Stella looked up at her with eyes full of helpless
appeal. Mr Bloxam was still the prey to bashful-
ness.
" It is really too tiresome ; but I find I must ask
you to excuse Stella for just a few minutes, Mr
Bloxam. Now, don't be cross ; she will be back
Mr Bloxam's Choice 129
just now. Mind," shaking her finger at him, "you
are not to move out of the summer-house until she
returns."
Stella joined Mrs Wiseman at the door and
accompanied her to the house. Mr Bloxam was, as
a matter of fact, extremely glad of the interruption,
for he felt he could now collect his thoughts, and
thus by the time Stella returned he would be in a
position to express his passion in terms of appro-
priate eloquence. He closed his eyes and leant back
in the rustic seat. The ferment in his bosom was,
however, too great to admit of his remaining quiet
for long, so he stood up and began to pace to and
fro.
But what was that lying on the seat from which
Stella had just risen ? It appeared to be a letter
which must have fallen out of her pocket as she
stood up. It was folded into a square of about two
inches, and the writing was evidently that of a man.
He would put it into his pocket and return it to her
when she came back. Just then the fact of Stella's
having received a letter in the drawing-room, and
the suspiciously confused manner in which she had
thereafter left the apartment, loomed up before his
mind in ugly prominence. He had been extremely
curious about that letter. Who could it have been
from ? Perhaps from some fellow - passenger.
Well, she would be his wife to-morrow (rapturous
thought), so there could be no objection to his
knowing all about her correspondence. After the
usual manner of elderly husbands of young wives,
he had strong views as to the advantages of absolute
130 By Veldt and Kopje
confidence between spouses. He would not mind
her reading every letter he had written or received
during the past twenty years. Well, she would be
back in a few minutes, so he must waste no time if
he really meant to gratify what was only a reasonable
curiosity, Pshaw ! it was but a trifle, after all.
Why make such a pother about it ? He sat down,
opened the sheet carefully, so as to be able to refold
it in exactly the same manner, and began to read
(the document had no date) —
" My Dearest, — I am very, very sorry that I cannot
come and see you to-day, but I am hard at work, and I
cannot get leave. Please, like a dear little girl, meet me
again in the arbour. I will be there to-night at the same
hour. Be sure and leave the gate open. It is very cruel of
you to insist on my giving up the few letters of yours I
have. Don't vou remember that you promised to write to
me every month as long as you live? Ah ! if we could
only live through these happy months again !
" Yours, lovingly, D. R.
" P.S. — Don't forget the garden gate."
As Mr Bloxam read, beads of perspiration
gathered on his forehead, and the veins of his temples
became like knotted cords. He read the incriminat-
ing missive two or three times, and on each perusal
the revelation seemed to become more and more
atrocious. The face of Stella became hateful to him.
"D. R.'' Who was *'D. R." .? Some fellow on
board ship, no doubt. To think that she — to whom
he had so narrowly escaped being linked for life —
was one who could make guilty appointments with
a lover just on the verge of her entrance into the
Mr Bloxam's Choice 131
holy estate of matrimony with a minister of the
Gospel. Why, the very spot where he was sitting
was polluted by their guilty caresses ! No wonder
the abandoned creature had looked perturbed. He
would go and denounce her to Mr Wiseman without
further delay. Crushing the letter in his indignant
hand, he left the summer-house and hurried up the
garden path. Mr Wiseman, however, he could not
find. He felt he must speak to someone. Mr
Winterton and Matilda had gone to the shore to
gather shells. Mrs Wiseman was nowhere to be
seen. After pausing in the passage, he entered the
drawing-room, and there found Lavinia deeply en-
grossed in an improving book. He seized a chair
hurriedly, drew it close to her, and sat down.
" Miss Simpson," he said, in a voice broken by
excitement, *' may I ask you a few questions in the
strictest confidence ^''
''Certainly, Mr Bloxam," said Lavinia with
alacrity.
^' Miss Simpson, did you notice anything re-
markable in the behaviour of Miss Mason on the
voyage ? "
" Well, Mr Bloxam,'* said Lavinia, with an
appearance of reluctance, " I should not have said
anything about it if you had not asked me the ques-
tion ; but I certainly did notice conduct on Miss
Mason's part which I very much disapproved of."
*' Might I ask you to be explicit on this point P ''
'' Well, what both Miss Whitmore and I objected
to in Miss Mason's conduct was the way in which
she used to — I do not even like to use the word —
132 By Veldt and Kopje
but * flirt ' — with one of the officers of the ship. In
fact, we thought it our duty to remonstrate with her
on the subject ; but what we said did no good.'*
" Might I ask the name of this officer ? "
" Certainly. His name was Mr Donald Ramsay."
" Thank you, Miss Simpson."
Mr Bloxam leant back in. his chair, the prey to
conflicting thoughts and tumultuous emotions. He
rapidly reviewed the situation. His house was
furnished ; he had, on the eve of his departure,
addressed a meeting of his congregation and an-
nounced that he was about to take upon his shoulders
the responsibilities of the married state. A welcome
was, he knew, being prepared for his bride. The
Sabbath-school children had arranged to present her
with an address, which had already been drafted by
the schoolmaster of the Mission. The very invita-
tions to a tea-meeting on a large scale had been
issued. He could never face the ordeal of returning
without a wife. Stella had been conclusively proved
to be a vessel of abominable things ; Matilda, owing
to his foolish precipitancy in surrendering his right
of pre-emption, had been annexed by Mr Winterton.
Lavinia only remained. He would endow Lavinia
with his belated affections.
" Miss Simpson " (he found that now he had not
the least difficulty in expressing himself fluently),
" it has been made clear to my heart that Providence
has ordained that you should be a helpmeet unto
me. Do you think you could confidently place
your life and happiness in my keeping? "
Lavinia thought she could.
Mr Bloxam*s Choice 133
Mrs Wiseman hurried Stella up to the house from
the arbour, and took her straight to her bedroom.
Stella submitted without the least question. Mrs
Wiseman gently forced her down on the bed, with
her face turned to the wall, spread a light counter-
pane over her, told her in a whisper to lie quite still,
patted her affectionately on the shoulder, and left
the room. Then she hurried along the passage to
Lavinia's room, which she found empty. She then
went to the drawing-room, and peeped in. There
sat Lavinia — so absorbed in the improving book,
that she did not even notice the intrusion of her
hostess upon her moral researches. Mrs Wiseman
then hurried to her own bedroom, locked the door
on the inside, and took a seat at a window over-
looking the path leading from the house to the
arbour. Here she sat, like a portly spider behind
a web of white lace curtain, which effectually con-
cealed her from view from the outside.
Before she had waited very long she saw Mr
Bloxam hurrying past her to the house. His lips
were white, and were pressed firmly together ; his
eyes glinted with baleful light ; thunder lurked
among the wrinkles of his brow. She heard his
stamping footsteps lead to the study of Mr Wise-
man, who, however, had been carefully got rid of
for the whole forenoon by a stroke of Machiavellian
diplomacy. She trembled with excitement, and felt
her heart sink with an anxiety which was not all
painful. The deep-laid plot she had woven had
134 By Veldt and Kopje
been so far successful, and now events had only to
develop one stage farther upon their natural course
for her efforts to be crowned with complete triumph.
Things had reached a most critical stage, and much
depended upon whether Mr Bloxam left the home
in dudgeon to seek for Mr Wiseman or went into
the drawing-room where Lavinia was sitting, engaged
in the perfecting of her superior mind. Mrs Wiseman
recognised the danger of Mr Bloxam's first seeing
her husband, whose ridiculous conscientiousness
might possibly lead to complications ; but her know-
ledge of the clerical variety of human nature told
her with no uncertain voice that, once in the draw-
ing-room, his doom would be sealed. She heard
him falter in the passage, and her heart rose to her
throat in a lump. Then she heard the sound of his
footsteps leading in the desired direction, and just
afterwards, the well-known creak caused by the
closing of the drawing-room door smote on her
delighted ear. She gave a gasping sigh of relief,
stood up, and, regardless of the continued stability
of the building, executed a ponderous war-dance
around the room.
After she had thus relieved her overwrought
feelings, Mrs Wiseman opened the door and stepped
quietly down the passage to the dining-room, where
she took her seat within sight of the closed drawing-
room door. Here she sat like a fowler watching a
net in which valuable prey is just in the act of en-
tangling itself. After a short interval the door
opened, and Mr Bloxam emerged with Lavinia lean-
ing on his arm. Lavinia's face wore an expression
Mr Bloxam's Choice 135
of discreet satisfaction, but Mr Bloxam looked by no
means so rapturous.
Mrs Wiseman advanced towards the couple with
a smile in which it would be hard to tell whether
amiability or innocence was the more conspicuous.
"Oh, Mr Bloxam," she sweetly said, "Stella
asked me to excuse her to you ; the poor child felt
suddenly faint, and had to go to her room and lie
down."
Mr Bloxam regarded her with an intent look of
instinctive suspicion, which, however, glanced off
abashed from the guilelessness of her mien. Then
he said, in measured and unenthusiastic tone —
" We await your congratulations ; Miss Simpson
has consented to be my wife."
Mrs Wiseman's felicitations were ardent exceed-
ingly. She even went the length of kissing the coy
Lavinia on her chaste lips. Just then she was so
delighted at the complete success of her scheme that
she would not have minded kissing Mr Bloxam him-
self. She watched the newly-engaged couple saunter
down the garden and disappear into the shrubbery
that had veiled the initial transports of Mr Winter-
ton and Matilda. Then she hurried to the room
where Stella was lying on her bed a prey to the
deepest misery, clasped that dejected damsel to her
motherly bosom, and told the good news in disjointed
words. Stella broke into a springtide shower of
happy tears, and clung to her preserver from the
matrimonial toils of Bloxam, the ogre, like a nestling
child. Mrs Wiseman, after kissing the girl affection-
ately, and telling her to remain quietly where she
136 By Veldt and Kopje
was, left the room. She immediately wrote a note
to Mr Wardley, telling him of the blissful turn
which events had taken, and recommending him as
well to keep out of the way for the present. This
note she despatched to the wagons by a servant.
, Soon Mr Wiseman, accompanied by Mr Winter-
ton and Matilda, whom he had met on the road home,
arrived. They each and all expressed the liveliest
astonishment at the news. Mr Wiseman, in par-
ticular, looked perturbed, and the looks he bent on
the smiling face of his wife were full of pathetic
perplexity. Then the couple who formed the sub-
ject of discussion arrived from the garden. Lavinia
at once darted to her room so as to conceal her blushes,
and Mr Bloxam immediately requested the other two
gentlemen to accompany him to the study for the
purpose of discussing a matter of most serious im-
portance. Matilda hastened to congratulate Lavinia,
and Mrs Wiseman, with a certain amount of trepida-
tion noticeable in her mien, went off to prepare for
luncheon.
Mrs Wiseman was nervously preparing a salad
in the pantry when she received a message requesting
her immediate presence in the study. After the
victorious climax to her insidious machinations a
reaction had set in, and she now felt distinctly un-
comfortable. When she entered the study she found
her husband at his desk, with a Rhadamanthine
expression on his usually serene face. Mr Winterton
was sitting at his left hand, looking like the assessor
of a Nonconformist Holy Office, and Mr Bloxam
was standing before the two in the attitude and with
Mr Bloxam's Choice 137
the expression as of a stout, middle-aged accusing
angel. Before Rhadamanthus was outspread the
incriminating letter. A solemn silence reigned in the
chamber, and the partially drawn curtain caused an
appropriate gloom. Under the stress of the situation
Mrs Wiseman completely regained her self-possession,
and her look of guilelessness clothed her like an
armour of proof. Mr Winterton arose and politely
handed her a chair.
" Louisa," said Mr Wiseman, in a Rhadamanthine
tone, " Mr Bloxam has brought a very unpleasant
matter to our notice — a matter which, I regret to say,
seriously affects the character of one who is our
guest, but who is, I fear, not a fit inmate for any
Christian household."
"Dear me," said Mrs Wiseman, ''what a dread-
ful thing ; but whoever can it be ? "
" I regret to have to tell you that the person I
refer to is Miss Mason."
" What ! Stella ? Surely not ! "
*'I regret, Louisa, to have to say that there can
be no doubt on the subject."
" Dear me ; I am sorry. I have got so fond of
the girl. Is there no mistake ^ Whatever has she
done ^ "
" I regret, Louisa, that no possibility of there
being any mistake in the matter exists. It appears,
to take events in their proper sequence, that both
Miss Simpson and Miss Whitmore noticed signs of
most reprehensible frivolity in Miss Mason's con-
duct on the voyage, and their sense of duty even
compelled them to take the unpleasant step of re-
138 By Veldt and Kopje
monstrating with her for encouraging the attentions
of a certain Mr Ramsay, one of the officers of the
ship. This morning Mr Bloxam found a letter
which had evidently been dropped by Miss Mason,
and which, there can be no reasonable doubt, was
written to her by this Ramsay. It is a document
which, under the circumstances, reveals an amount
of depravity absolutely shocking, and we must all,
and especially Mr Bloxam, be humbly thankful to
Providence that the true character of this whited
sepulchre, who is so fair externally, has been re-
vealed in time. I have now to request you to bring
the shameless girl here, so that she may be confronted
with the proof of her guilt."
" What a dreadful thing ! " said Mrs Wiseman,
in a bated tone ; '' I will fetch her at once. May I
have a look at the letter ? "
*' Here is the letter, Louisa ; it is hardly fit for
the perusal of any lady ; but you are a minister's
wife, and have reached an age at which one may
have knowledge of this class of evil without suffering
moral damage."
Mrs Wiseman gave a perceptible sniff at the
reference to her age.
Her husband lifted the letter by one of its corners
between the reluctant tips of a defilement-fearing
finger and thumb, and passed it across the table to
her. She received it in the same manner, and held
it almost at arm's length.
*' Oh ! " she said with a start of surprise, " how
could you suspect the poor girl of having anything
to do with a thing like this? Why, I picked this
Mr Bloxam's Choice 139
letter up in the street this morning when I was
returning from my visit to Mr Wardley. I meant
to have shown it to you ; I must have dropped it
out of my pocket in the summer-house."
"But," said the careful Mr Winterton, "may
not the note after all have been intended for Miss
Mason. The initials correspond with those of Mr
Ramsay, and we are told that their conduct on the
voyage was very suspicious."
" Stuff and nonsense!" replied Mrs Wiseman.
" Stella told me all about young Ramsay, who is
engaged to a girl in Scotland. Besides, the letter is
not in his handwriting. I got Stella to write him a
note asking him to come to luncheon to-day, and
here is his reply ; you can see that the writing is
quite different.*'
Mr Bloxam gave a gasp of relief when Stella's
innocence was established, but he suddenly re-
membered Lavinia, and a look of such abject misery
came into his face that Mrs Wiseman felt a twinge
of regret at the success of her plan. Mr Wiseman
collapsed into abject helplessness ; he felt he had
been a party to some dark plot, and his wife became,
for the moment, terrible to him. She, however,
relieved the tension of the situation by saying —
" You have all been guilty of a cruel injustice to
poor Stella, and the least atonement you can make is
to say nothing whatever about this business to any-
one. It would cause Mr Wardley, besides, great
annoyance if he were to hear that she had been sus-
pected in this manner. Let us try to forget all about
it. Luncheon will be ready in a few minutes."
140 By Veldt and Kopje
In the course of the afternoon Stella, although
still rather pallid and extremely nervous, discovered
that she felt well enough to come to the drawing-
room, and it was at about the same time that Mr
Wardley found himself sufficiently recovered to walk
down to the Parsonage. He also looked pale, and
there was an alarming brightness about his eye.
Mrs Wiseman ushered him into the drawing-room
in which Stella was sitting alone, closed the door on
him, and mounted guard at the passage.
After a reasonable interval Mrs Wiseman, who
had been sadly neglecting her housekeeping duties
whilst following the dark and devious paths of
intrigue, tapped at the door. Mr Wardley arose,
drew Stella's arm within his own, and advanced to
meet the good conspirator. The faces of the lovers
shone with such radiant happiness that any twinges
of remorse she felt with reference to the part she
had played disappeared for ever. She wept for very
joy of sympathy, and rejoiced as Jael did after her
treacherous undoing of Sisera, at the laying of the
foundation-stone of this edifice of happiness which
had been hewn from the quarries of circumstance by
her own reprehensible hands.
It is not necessary to refer to subsequent events
otherwise than in the most general terms, with the
exception of a conversation which took place on the
night of the day upon which all these important
occurrences took place. By the time Mrs Wiseman
felt justified in resting from her labours incidental
to preparing for the triple wedding which was to be
solemnised on the following day, the night was
Mr Bloxam's Choice 141
somewhat far spent. Then she had to go and enjoy
a final gush over Stella, and take a hurried survey
of that enraptured damsel's wardrobe, which, so
great had been the general preoccupation during
the past week, she had not even given a passing
thought to. What with one thing and another, it
was midnight before she retired to her bedroom.
One circumstance may possibly have weighed with
her in indulging herself in such a long dawdle in
Stella's room — namely, that she was just a little bit
afraid of a tete-a-tete with her husband, and she
wanted to give him ample opportunity of going to
sleep before she joined him. However, when she
entered the room, she found him wide awake and
looking like Rhadamanthus in an extremly bad
temper.
" My goodness, Joe, are you still awake ? "
" Yes, Louisa ; and so will you be until I hear a
full explanation of the events of to-day."
" Very well, Joe ; where shall I begin ? Pray do
not forget that you assisted me in bringing about
what happened after I told you what I was working
for."
Mr Wiseman groaned heavily in spirit. This
fact, which his wife so flippantly reminded him of,
had been rankling all day in his hitherto blameless
conscience like a torturing thorn. The other thing
that caused him acute misery was the suspicion that
his wife had told him a falsehood.
"Louisa, you said you picked up that letter in
the street. Was that statement true ? "
'* Of course it was." She answered him with
142 By Veldt and Kopje
indignant asperity. *' May I inquire if you suspect
me of telling a lie ? "
" Louisa, do you know how the letter came to be
in the street before you picked it up ? "
*' Of course I do. I dropped it there myself."
Mr Wiseman groaned heavily in body and turned
his face to the wall. He now realised for the first
time that there is a feminine code of ethics which is
radically different in some important respects from
the masculine, and he recognised the hopelessness of
further discussion.
' Next day the triple wedding was duly solemnised
by the Reverend Josiah, and the three couples
departed in their several wagons for their respective
homes. There is good ground for believing that as
marriages go, these unions resulted in a highly satis-
factory average of happiness.
The Prince and Princess, of course, sailed down
the flowing stream of their days in a shallop with a
fortunate keel, drawn by a sail which was ever arched
to the balmy breath of happy gales. Mr Winterton
and Matilda lived for a satisfactory number of years,
and were continually discovering new and admirable
qualities in each other. Their many good works
are still bearing fruit in the little village in which
they dwelt ; and the gorgeous hues of the smoking-
caps and slippers with which the industrious and
devoted Matilda used to clothe the upper and nether
extremities of her spouse are still vivid in the
memories of the older inhabitants.
It is only doing Mr Bloxam justice to say that
Mr Bloxam's Choice 143
he came out of his painful ordeal like a gentleman.
From the ruins of the fabric of anticipated bliss, in
which he had fondly dreamt of dwelling by the side
of the beauteous Stella, he built what proved to be a
durable tenement of unpretentious design, in which
he and Lavinia lived for many days in sober comfort.
His sufferings at first were extremely bitter, and it
is high praise of his manliness to say that he con-
cealed their existence from his wife. Had he but
known it, his life with Lavinia was far more satis-
factory than it could possibly have been with Stella.
It has been said that Mrs Bloxam found her husband's
temper very trying during the first few years of their
married life, but that things mended in this respect
as time went on, and that the esteem which these
two learned to feel for each other made the autumn
of their united life like unto a calm, rich-skied
Indian summer.
A CASE FOR PSYCHICAL
RESEARCH
I
" We are such stuff as dreams are made of."
Once upon a time it was my hap to dwell in a certain
town in the Eastern Province of Cape Colony, which
will not be recognised under the name of Hilston.
With a population of about a thousand Europeans,
it bore a strong resemblance to several other com-
munities in the same province. It contained the
usual disproportionate number of churches and
liquor-shops, the usual utter absence of anything
like Christianity as a rule of life — or, in fact, as any-
thing but a mere form — the usual number of persons
whose only occupation appeared to be that of killing
time, and the usual intellectual dry-rot and deadly
dulness. The morning market was the great rendez-
vous for the gossips. Here, around the butter- and
vegetable - laden tables would the neighbouring
farmers and their town cronies foregather every
week-day morning ; here they would swop mild and
superannuated jokes, rank tobacco, scandalous tales,
and insinuations more or less damaging to their
neighbours' characters.
Being engaged upon special duty, and living in
daily expectation of having to move on to new
official pastures, I had taken up my abode at a small
hotel near the outskirts, my choice of a sojourning
K 145
146 By Veldt and Kopje
place being determined by the comparative nocturnal
quiet of the vicinity. Here I dwelt in moderate
comfort tempered by accidents which it is needless
to specify.
By far the most interesting feature of Hilston,
to me at least, was old Isaac, the septuagenarian
billiard-marker at the hotel where I lodged and
boarded. Isaac (it may be premised that he had,
once upon a time, possessed a surname, although all
trace of it was lost) had a phenomenally bad temper
and an exceedingly bitter tongue. Being badly
hump-backed, he was only about three feet nine in
height. Twenty-eight years previously he had drifted
as a tramp to Hilston, whence no one knew, and
had been employed as a stable-hand by the then pro-
prietor of the hotel. Eight years after this the
establishment changed hands, and Isaac was taken
over with the other fixtures. The new proprietor,
a young man with a little capital at his command,
built a billiard-room and imported a brand new and
first-class table. Isaac, to his great satisfaction, was
appointed marker, and he at once experienced what
was probably the one great passion of his life, for he
fell violently in love with his charge. It was said
that he had been more than once watched through
the window, when alone in the room, rubbing his
cheek softly over the new, silky, green cloth, and
that he was wont to stand for an hour at a time,
when no players were about, gently passing his hand
over the sides and fondling the cushions.
When I made the acquaintance of the table and
its custodian, they looked equally the worse for wear.
A Case for Psychical Research 147
The original cloth was still doing duty, but was
patched and darned in nearly a dozen places. In
spite of the shabby attire, however, Isaac still loved
his mistress with ardour and constancy. The pro-
prietor informed me confidentially that he would
long since have invested in a new cloth and cushions
but for the strenuous way in which the old man
opposed any suggestion towards a change. He still
slept, as he had done for twenty years, rolled up in
an old rug on one of the lumpy benches provided
for the use of spectators, and no matter how late the
habitual loafers, who practically lived in the room, or
the gilded youth of the town, who now and then
gambled mildly over the clicking ivories, kept up
their threepenny black pool, he carefully dusted
down his darling^ and covered her with a drab
holland cloth before retiring to rest on his narrow
and uneven couch.
In South African towns of the Hilston class
there are neither clubs, theatres nor music-halls.
The billiard-room is, therefore, the only place of
general resort for relaxation, and in it you will meet
the local male inhabitant, or the greater part of him,
in his most interesting — that is to say in his most
natural — mood. Here he is relaxed and uncon-
strained ; here he joins with his fellows in a brother-
hood which, although temporary, is often renewed ;
here the tobacco-smoke cloud unites those who
create it in a common humanity, and even seems to
inspire those who breathe it with a common human
soul. Many of the associations of the billiard-room
are, no doubt, unedifying ; but so long as man re-
148 By Veldt and Kopje
mains a gregarious animal, so long will he seek out
some spot in which to meet his fellows without
restraint. In my individual case the billiard-room
was the only place in the hotel suitable for smoking
in ; consequently I spent a great deal of time in it,
especially in the evenings.
In the very early stage of our acquaintanceship
I won old Isaac's heart by remonstrating with a
semi-intoxicated player for allowing burning tobacco
to fall from his pipe upon the cloth. Soon after I
got an inkling of the old man's affection for his
charge I began, for the sake of amusement, to play
up to it ; then the evident genuineness of the feel-
ing gained my involuntary respect, and I could not
avoid being struck by the pathos of the situation.
As our acquaintance grew, Isaac became more and
more confidential, and I was astonished at the critical
faculty displayed in his caustic comments upon the
different frequenters of the billiard-room. He had
the faculty of ticking people off in a terse phrase
of epigrammatic force and inevitable application.
Being more or less of a butt for cheap witticisms on
the part of those among whom his daily life was
thrown, Isaac cordially disliked nine people out of
every ten whom he knew. One of the favourite
diversions of the gilded youth was to abuse the
table in the old marker's hearing, and to compare
its capabilities unfavourably with those of the rival
hotel up the street. This Isaac would stand for
a time, but when the limit of endurance had
been reached, he would break into a withering storm
of profane invective such as I have never heard
A Case for Psychical Research 149
equalled. His power of venting ingenious and fan-
tastic scurrility on these occasions might have
rivalled that of Thersites, the ''deformed and
scurrilous Grecian.''
Over and over again has he told me the history
of each individual tear in the cloth. Two of the
worst of these had been perpetrated nearly ten years'
previously, and, although the perpetrators were still
constant frequenters of the room, Isaac had never
from the dates of their respective delinquencies
spoken a word to either of them. When one of
these persons lost a game and thus had to pay for
the use of the table, Isaac would silently hold out a
claw-like hand for the money, and no matter how
brutal the chaff to which he might be subjected, he
could never be provoked to retort.
One morning, after I had been for about two
months a resident at the hotel, I entered the billiard-
room, and there found Isaac sitting on the bench and
weeping bitterly. His head was bowed upon his
hands, and his poor twisted frame shook to the
violence of his sobs. A large parcel lay next to
him ; one end of this had been opened and a new
cloth thus revealed. It was quite clear what had
happened : the evil and much-dreaded day had
arrived ; the old cloth was about to be discarded and
another substituted. As a matter of fact the pro-
prietor of the rival table up the street had invested
in a new cloth and cushions, and consequently was
drawing away custom in an alarming manner. Isaac's
master had at length put his foot down, and Isaac's
darling was to be re-clothed and re-cushioned. This
150 By Veldt and Kopje
Isaac regarded more or less as Mr Ruskin would
regard draping the "Venus deMedicis"in a velveteen
polonaise.
" Vd rather they took off my skin and put new
calves to my legs," he said between his sobs. '' If I
only knowed where to get gunpowder I'd blow the
two of us up."
I tried to reason with him, but he turned and
withered me, in company with the proprietor and
everyone else he could think of, in a blast of ana-
thema that would have made a pope of the Middle
Ages weep with envy, so I beat a hasty retreat.
Later in the day Isaac was reported to be very
ill. Next morning I found him crouched on his
face among pillows in a comfortable little room
which formed a lean-to at the side of the stable.
He was breathing stertorously and evidently had not
long to live. When I addressed him he looked up
at me with pain-shot eyes, but appeared to be unable
to reply. Sounds of tacking could be heard com-
ing from the direction of the billiard-room ; the
old cloth was being removed and the new one fixed
in its place. A man named Scarren was sitting at
the bedside ; every now and then he puffed strong
tobacco-smoke into the sick man's face. This,
Scarren explained in a whisper, was done at Isaac's
request. I noticed that when Scarren, during the
conversation with me, allowed a longer interval than
usual to elapse without puffing, Isaac became very
uneasy.
Isaac died during the night. I forget exactly
how the doctor who attended him described his
A Case for Psychical Research 151
malady, but judging from the length of the name it
must have been something as uncommon as deadly.
My private, unprofessional opinion was that the poor
old man had died of a broken heart. Strange, that
for the commonest of all diseases there should be no
medical name — to say nothing of a cure.
Next day old Isaac's body was carried to its
resting-place in the pretty little cemetery, in the
beautifying of which the inhabitants of Hilston spent
a lot of money, which would have been far better
devoted to sanitation, the same being very badly
needed. Scarren, two of the regular votaries at the
billiard-room and myself were the only mourners.
Before the body was placed in the coffin I had, with
the consent of the proprietor, laid the old cloth,
neatly folded, where the worn-out body would rest
upon it. The editor of the local paper heard of this
circumstance and took me roundly to task for what
he called my "heartless practical joke at the expense
of a dead man." I had, just previously, been the
means of having a heavy reduction effected in his
bill for some Government printing, the details of
which proved, upon examination, to be as untrust-
worthy as his leading articles.
Scarren was installed as marker in old Isaac's
place. He was an old, shrivelled-up man of few
words but many pipes, of the worst tobacco I have
ever inhaled the smoke of. Scarren and Isaac had
been great cronies, although the one had been as
loquacious as the other was silent. However, in
spite of his reserve there was a twinkle in Scarren^s
eye which suggested latent humorous possibilities.
152 By Veldt and Kopje
He had been a hanger-on at the hotel for several
years, making a precarious living by doing odd jobs.
The occupation he loved most was fishing, especially
for eels. As a rule, before you had conversed V7ith
him for five minutes upon any subject whatever, he
would produce from his pocket what had once been
a fish-hook, which ought to have been capable of
holding a moderately-sized shark, but which was
now a straight bar of iron with a barb at one end.
The straightening-out had, he said, been efl^ected in
the following manner : One night he had hooked
an enormous eel. Finding his strength unequal to
landing the prey he tied the line to an adjacent
thorn-tree, which swayed violently to the monster's
frantic tugs. All at once the stress on the line
ceased and Scarren thought it had broken ; but no,
it was the hook that had given way, for when he
drew it out of the water it was no longer a hook
but a straight bar. The date of this episode was
long before I made Scarren*s acquaintance. I was
informed upon unimpeachable authority that the
original, actual hook of the adventure had been
stolen many years previously by some practical
joker. Scarren, however, said not a word of his
loss, but next day he was seen, when telling the
story to a stranger, to produce another and a larger
straightened hook from his pocket for the purpose
of illustrating his narrative. Shortly afterwards the
second hook was stolen, but was replaced by yet a
larger one. This process had been several times
repeated, with the result that the alleged hook of the
adventure grew until quite a startling size was
A Case for Psychical Research 153
reached. The size to which Scarren's hook will
have attained in, say, ten years, if Scarren lives so
long, might be an interesting subject for specu-
lation.
II
About a month before old Isaac's death a certain
man whom I will call Chimer came to stay at the
hotel. He had been sent as the representative of
a firm of Port Elizabeth merchants to assist in wind-
ing up the affairs of a local trader who had come to
financial grief. Chimer's room was next to mine ;
thus we got into the habit of finishing our evenings
together.
Nearly every man has a fad, and this man's fad
was spiritualism. He was a firm believer in ghosts
and astral bodies, and the prophets of his cult were
A. P. Sinnett and Madame Blavatski. He did his
best to make a convert of me, but in spite of a close
perusal of some very striking literature on the sub-
ject from the pens of men of splendid ability and
great scientific attainments, I remained conscienti-
ously unconvinced. Like the late George Augustus
Sala, although I could conceive the possibility of the
ghost of a man revisiting the scenes of his lifetime,
I found it impossible to believe in the ghost of his
garments, and who ever heard of an undraped
apparition ? The detailed account given by one
eminent scientist as to how he was in the habit of
materialising an attractive young female spirit named
" Katie King," with whom he was on terms of strik-
154 By Veldt and Kopje
ing intimacy, seemed not alone an insult to the
human understanding but a melancholy instance of
the weaknesses of the strong, of which history is
full. Chimer was said to be a most successful
medium, but he failed signally to produce any
"manifestations" on the occasions when he attempted
to convince me by means of demonstration. In dis-
cussing spiritualism he never used the first person
singular, but always spoke of what " we " believe,
what *' we " have done, etc.
On the second evening after old Isaac's death I
dined at the house of a friend ; it was about half-
past ten o'clock when I returned to the hotel. I
was surprised to find the usual habitues of the
billiard-room sitting in the dining-room. The only
one who looked cheerful was Chimer ; all the others
appeared to be absolutely terror-stricken, their faces
gleaming pallid under the sickly rays of a debilitated
paraffin lamp. From time to time they glanced
uneasily over their shuddering shoulders, and
they all puffed with nervous fury at their respective
pipes.
It was a queer collection of specimens of the
genus Homo that I saw. There was Woods, who
had not missed an evening in the billiard-room
(excepting Sundays, when he invariably went to
church) for many years. He was in the habit of
beating his wife and starving his children ; no one
had the least idea as to what the source of his income
was, but he always had money for liquor, for billiards
and for putting in the plate. There was Shawe,
champion liar of the town ; he apparently lived on
A Case for Psychical Research 155
Cape and tobacco-smoke, and he played a fair
game of billiards except when sober. There was
Loots, the Dutchman, who never drank at his own
expense or played a game of billiards that there was
the slightest chance of his losing. Dan Menzies,
the Scotch tailor, who had all the instincts of a gentle-
man, as well as many of the potential elements of
greatness, in spite of the fact of his being an almost
hopeless sot. Brooke Crofton, who had been dis-
missed from his regiment during the Soudan campaign
for disobedience of orders given during an action, or,
as others put it, for cowardice. He was now, and
had been for several years, trying to drink himself
to death on an allowance made him for that purpose
by his wife, who lived in England and had money
of her own. Most of the others were young clerks
and assistants in stores. Chimer looked up and
caught my eye. In his there was a triumphant
gleam.
The proprietor, whose face was the palest of the
lot, soon revealed the gruesome cause of the terror
which brooded over the gathering. A few hours
previously they had all been sitting in the billiard-
room, watching the course of a game, the first plaved
on the table since the fixing of the new cloth and
cushions, which had only been completed during the
afternoon. On the top of a little cupboard which
stood in the corner, and in which spare balls, chalk,
sandpaper and other billiard requisites were kept,
had been placed the mahogany triangle-frame which
is used for fixing the balls in position in the game of
pyramid pool. Lying in the triangle were the
156 By Veldt and Kopje
fifteen pyramid balls. Woods and Crofton were the
players. It was noticed that the lamps were in very
bad trim and gave a most wretched light. (Shawe
declared fervently that he had noticed a distinctly
blue tinge in the flame ; two of the clerks present
corroborated this when appealed to).
All at once the triangle was seen to fly violently
from the top of the cupboard^ whilst the fifteen ivory
balls crashed down on the floor and rolled with loud
clatterings in difl^erent directions. The triangle-
frame, out of which the balls had dropped, seemed
as if propelled by an unseen power almost out of the
window, close to which it, too, fell to the floor with
an appalling noise. The effect on the spectators
was terrific ; Woods, Crofton and one of the clerks
fainted dead away, and the others rushed from the
room with wild yells.
As the moving incident was being related to me,
Scarren, who happened not to have witnessed it, was
engaged in quenching the lights and generally putting
the room in order. The Fingo waiter was in un-
willing attendance ; for Scarren had, naturally
enough, demurred at entering the room alone, and
none of those who had been present when the fear-
some occurrence took place would consent to
accompany him.
After some very straight hints from the pro-
prietor the haggard band departed in a body to
see each other home. The last man was not to be
envied.
A Case for Psychical Research 157
III
Whilst on the way to my room for the purpose of
retiring I noticed Chimer sitting on his bed. I
entered his room. He was smoking his pipe, and
his face wore a look of exultant satisfaction. I could
hardly be surprised.
" Weil ?" said he.
*'Well?" replied I.
'* I should like to know how you account for
what occurred to-night."
''At present I cannot account for it. Can
you.''
" Yes, but I fear your prejudices would not allow
of your admitting my explanation."
"You think, of course, that the spirit of old
Isaac sent these balls rolling about the room."
" Certainly, I do."
"But if," said I, with the vain rashness of
superior knowledge, " as you admit, a spirit gives
neither chemical or dynamic evidence of its presence,
how can it act physically upon inert bodies? "
" My dear fellow, as I have often told you, we
do not for a moment pretend to be able to give an
exhaustive explanation of phenomena of this class.
We simply say that in incidents such as this, where
what are called ' natural ' causes are eliminated from
the field of consideration by the fact of their absence,
it is reasonable to fall back on what is called the
' supernatural.' As I have been careful to explain to
you more than once, this may be a branch of the
natural, and may be recognised some day as a legiti-
158 By Veldt and Kopje
mate subject for scientific research by those who now
treat us with derision."
"But are you justified in eliminating all possible
natural causes in the present instance ? "
" Certainly — you heard the account given ; this
was corroborated by all who were present. There
was no one near the cupboard, the triangle was seen,
in direct opposition to the law of gravitation, to fly
through the air impelled by some force which could
not, according to any scientific hypothesis, have had
a natural origin."
"But, assuming the elimination of all natural
possibilities — which is rather a large order — does it
not seem shockingly inconsistent with all our ideas
on the subject of death, which lends a certain dignity
that we instinctively recognise even to the passing
away of the life of a puppy, to believe that the spirits
of a large number of men who, in essentials were
very much the same in their lifetime as we are, have
found nothing better to do in ' the vasty halls of
death,' than to remain at the beck and call of a lot of
(very often) silly persons and, when so bidden, to
make tables dance, rap out unmeaning nonsense, or
else to scare tipplers from a billiard-room by rolling
balls about the floor."
" The world of the flesh is full of inconsistencies "
my philosopher explained ; '' why not, therefore, the
world of the spirits ? What we think of that phase
of the question is this, namely : that spirits on the
lower planes — which are those concerned in so-called
manifestations — are the ones which cannot sever
themselves from the environment their bodies were
A Case for Psychical Research 159
accustomed to. As there are different degrees of
development among animals, of which man is the
head, so there are among spirits. Thus some of the
latter may be as the lower animals of the spirit-
kingdom, and may indulge, as there is good reason for
believing that they do, in spiritual monkey-tricks."
Knowing that Chimerand old Isaac had detested
each other, I felt it would have been of no use my
attempting the rehabilitation of the old man's ghost
from the suspicion of being a spiritual monkey in
the gloomy groves of Hades.
"Good-night, Chimer ; I can only repeat the argu-
ment which Hume used against miracles. Idonot think
that Isaac had anything to do with to-night's scare."
And so, with the complacent dogmatism of the
sceptic, I turned on my heel. The reader, no doubt,
is of the opinion I expressed, but let him await the
sequel.
Chimer nodded to me with an expression of pity-
ing superiority. I went to bed and fell asleep almost
immediately, for me a very unusual circumstance. I
had a strange and vivid dream. I seemed to be
wandering through a shadowy grove ; all at once I
saw a dejected-looking monkey which took great
pains to conceal its face. It was sitting under a
tree, to which its tail was tied. Moved by a sym-
pathetic impulse, I approached and untied the knot ;
then I gently removed the paws from the downcast
visage, with the view of offering consolation. The
poor creature looked up diffidently and I recognised
the features of Chimer.
After this I wandered on and on, until I found
i6o By Veldt and Kopje
myself on the verge of the smiling Elysian fields,
which seemed to stretch away to infinity in fertile
beauty. Under a tree which was laden with many-
hued spherical fruit of about the size of billiard-balls,
lay old Isaac, fast asleep, and with a smile of supreme
peace upon his worn face. He was wrapped in the
old billiard-cloth which I had caused to be placed in
his coffin.
IV
Another month went past. In a few days my
somewhat wearying stay at Hilston would draw to a
close. Chimer had returned to Port Elizabeth,
whence he had written to tell me of a remarkable
manifestation which had taken place under his
mediumship, in the course of which he had actually
communicated with Isaac's spirit. Isaac said that
he had caused the manifestation in the billiard-room,
but that he did not mean to do the like again. After
this, he had obstinately refused to answer any more
questions. This, Chimer considered, proved that
Isaac dead was more or less of the same disobliging
nature as Isaac had been living — a strong collateral
evidence of the genuineness of both his messages from
the unseen. However, so far as manifestations were
concerned, Isaac had hitherto kept his word, for the
harmony of the billiard-room had not again been
disturbed. The episode of the triangle and the
scattered balls was almost forgotten, and the muddy
trickle of belated life around the renovated table had
long since resumed its normal course.
A Case for Psychical Research i6i
I had, all along, been keenly anxious to unravel
the mystery of the locomotive triangle and the crash-
ing balls, but hitherto all my efforts had been vain.
I had from the beginning suspected Scarren of having
had a hand in the business, and had over and over
again attempted to draw him out on the subject. He,
however, with much adroitness, had invariably turned
the conversation to the topic of eel-fishing. How-
ever, the suspicion that Scarren could explain the
matter if he only would, grew on me day by day, and
I determined to make a desperate assault upon the
citadel of his reserve before leaving Hilston. I had
accidentally found out that whenever I fixed him
with my eye, Scarren became very uneasy and en-
deavoured to escape. After this discovery I ceased
to question him, but whenever I could manage to do
so, I fixed him with a steady stare. Each successive
time this happened he squirmed more and more until,
at length, he got to avoiding me by means of the
most obvious and awkward shifts.
At length — it was two days before my intended
departure — I caught him alone in the billiard-room,
where I had seen him enter with a paraffin can for
the purpose of replenishing the lamps. I followed
him, shut the door behind me, walked slowly to
where he stood in the corner fumbling at a lamp
with feverish and ostentatious activity, and stood
behind him, relentless as Fate. First of all he pre-
tended to be unaware of my presence, then he gave a
hurried and startled glance over his shoulder.
"Scarren," said I, ''you might as well own up.
How did you manage it ? "
i62 By Veldt and Kopje
He tried to bolt incontinently, but I got between
him and the door.
'' Don't be a fool," I said reassuringly. '' I don't
want to get you into a row ; if you own up freely, I
won't say a word to anyone/'
" Well, sir, I'll have to tell you, but for God's
sake don't give me away. It isn't that I am afraid
of getting the sack — although that, of course, would
ollow ; but I've a reason for keeping it dark which
you'd never guess, and which I can't tell you."
" Scarren," I rejoined with solemn severity,
" you'll have to tell me all about it, mind that. I
shall not stick to my promise if you keep a single
word back. Speak up at once, or else look out."
He went quietly to the doorway and looked out
to see that no one was listening. Then he carefully
closed the door, after which he returned on tiptoe
to the corner where I was standing with a stern visage
but a triumphant heart.
^' It was old Isaac, right enough" —
" Scarren," I exclaimed with indignation, " don't
try that on with me."
"Wait a bit, sir, don't speak so loud. Let me
tell you from the beginning, and then you'll under-
stand. About half an hour before you came, on
the day that Isaac died, I was sitting smoking at
him, and all at once he seemed to get much better.
" 'Scarren,' says he in quite a strong voice, * I'll
never hear the cock crow no more ; I'll die before
lock-up time.'
<< < Why, Isaac,' says I, 'you look as if you was
quite your own self again. I believe you'll be
A Case for Psychical Research 163
singin' out the game again the day after to-
morrow.'
" While we was talking we could hear the noise
of the new cloth being nailed down. Isaac knew
well enough what was going on and it made him
angry.
"'No,' says he, quite raspy, ' I'll sing out no
more games. Twenty years I've brushed her
down, and they won't let me die before rippin' of
her up.'
" Then he lay a long time silent, and I could see
he was thinking hard about something. All at once
he grips my hand —
'' ' Scarren,' says he, ' do you believe in ghosts ? '
" First of all I was going to say no ; then I
thought that if I said so it might annoy him after
he was dead, and he might come and show me I was
mistaken.
'' ' Yes, Isaac,' says I ; * I've not seen any myself,
but still I believes in them.'
" ' All right,' says he ; * I'm going to give you my
last dying will and testament by word of mouth,
which you've got to carry out or be haunted by me
whenever the Devil leaves the gate ajar for as much
as five minutes.'
" ' Well, Isaac,' says I, ' what is it that you want
me to do ? '
" ' On the first night,' says he, ^ when they plays
on the new cloth and with them new cushions, which
I know will be twice too strong for a table of her
age, I want you to give them a fright and make
them think that I've come back.'
i64 By Veldt and Kopje
*' ' Yes, Isaac, says 1^' ' Fm quite willing to oblige,
but how do you want me to do it ? "
" ' That I leave to you,' says he ; * there's lots of
ways. You can let the rack fall down, or set the
balls rolling about, or put gun-caps atop of the
lamps. Only, mind this — you've got to make them
jump, and think it's me that's done it ; if you don't,
I'll make you do the jumping.'
"Well, after Isaac was underground I set to
thinking how I was to carry out his last will and
testament, and I got fairly puzzled. There was lots
of ways of making them jump, but I would be dead
sure to be found out, and then, not alone would I
lose my billet, but I'd always think that Isaac was
not satisfied, and might come to tell me so, for
Isaac was always a man of his word. Then I went
to rummage in an old box of his, which he'd said I
might have as a keepsake. I came, across in it some
fine brass wire, like what he'd used for mending
cues that- got their butts split. All at once an idea
came, and I'm quite sure that Isaac put it into my
read. So that evening, before I lit the lamps, I tied
the one end of the wire, which was that fine you
couldn't hardly see it, to the triangle which lay, full
of balls, on the cupboard. The other end I passed
along the wall and out through the window where
the sash gapes ; there I just whipped it round a nail.
Then I lit the lamps and sat waiting for the room to
fill up. When I thought there were enough in, I
sneaked out, pretending that I was going to get my
supper. After a bit I just gave the wire a tug, and
then bolted round the corner."
A Case for Psychical Research 165
Scarren's excitement had waxed during the
narrative. From force of habit he had taken the
straightened-out fish-hook from his pocket, and
with it he had punctuated his sentences. I remained
silent and lost in thought — marvelling at the forti-
tude of old Isaac and wishing I knew how to attain
to a philosophy such as enabled its possessor to
enjoy a prospective and post-mortem practical joke
upon his death-bed.
" It was a regular three-star, double-barrelled
eighteen-carat scare," said Scarren, after a pause —
'' and I know for as good a fact that old Isaac
enjoyed it well."
" What makes you think that .^ "
" Well, on the same night I had such a curious
dream. I saw Isaac, as plain as ever you like, sitting
under a tree full of red and yeller apples. He was
wrapped in the cloth we put in his coffin, and was
laughing fit to split hisself."
I gave an involuntary start, for my dream of the
same night flashed across my mind. After making
the most solemn promises not to reveal the tale —
except under certain improbable eventualities which,
strangely enough, have since become actual — I bade
farewell to old Scarren and walked away thinking,
for the first time, that there might, after all, be
something true in Chimer's creed,
CHICKEN WINGS
"A chiel's amang ye takin' notes,
And, faith, he'll prent it." — Burns.
I
It was by a mere coincidence that Raymond Benson
and John Allister, who were both bound for
Rossdale, met in the train running from Cape Town
to the eastern frontier of the Cape Colony. Ross-
dale is a large mission institution situate in one of
what are known as the Native Territories. It is
liberally endowed by the United Presbyterian
Church of Scotland, and has for its object the
evangelisation and education of Bantu natives.
Benson, a Cape Colonist by birth, had obtained
through the Cape Education Department the
appointment of second teacher at the Institution ;
Allister had just arrived from Scotland, and had
been selected by the Central Mission Board as
book-keeper and general accountant. As he had
acquired a fair amount of medical knowledge — he
had^ as a matter of fact, only been prevented by
financial misfortune from finishing his courses at the
University of Edinburgh and qualifying as a
physician — he was also expected to practise the
healing art among the residents at the Mission.
Benson possessed a good constitution and a keen
167
i68 By Veldt and Kopje
sense of humour. He was a clean-built man of
middle height and dark complexion, with features of
a slightly Jewish cast. His object in going to
Rossdale was the acquirement of the Bantu language
spoken in the vicinity. Moreover, he had no
intention of staying more than a short time should
the life there prove uncongenial.
Allister was a big, raw-boned Scotsman with a
strong, clean-shaven face. His usual expression was
extremely morbid, but now and then a very sweet
smile would light up his rugged features. His speech
had always a strong Scotch twang, and he occasionally
— especially when excited — broke into the very
broadest Doric.
Benson and Allister became very good friends
during the course of the journey. From the railway
terminus they travelled for a couple of days and
nights in the post-cart, which delivered them at a
village some twenty miles from their destination.
At this village a trap from Rossdale, driven by a
Kaffir who was quite ignorant of any but his mother-
tongue, met them.
Allister, like Benson, had no missionary zeal.
In fact he was absolutely without religious convictions
of any kind, a circumstance which he had carefully
concealed from the Mission Board. A weakness of
the chest had rendered it highly advisable that he
should leave Scotland for a year or two and seek
some warmer clime. But his intention was to return
to Scotland as soon as he should have saved enough
money to admit of a continuance of his studies.
A fine autumn evening was drawing to its golden
Chicken Wings 169
close when the rickety cart bearing the two strangers
descended the hillside at the foot of which Rossdale
lay. The vehicle, far too light for its springs, had
shaken the inmates cruelly ; nevertheless they had
been able to extract a good deal of enjoyment from
the incidents of the journey. Their course lay through
an undulating, grassy country thickly dotted over
with little villages composed of beehive-shaped huts,
among which numbers of naked children were play-
ing. Every now and then they passed groups of
men and women. The former had lost much of their
picturesqueness owing to being dressed mainly in
shoddy European clothing, but each carried at least
one long, strong stick, and stalked along with a look
of dignified disdain. The women were all draped in
ochre-coloured blankets, fastened under the arm-pits
and reaching to below the knee. But they held
themselves erect and walked with a gait duchesses
might have envied.
The Institution was an important one and em-
ployed a large staff. The Industrial Arts were im-
portant items in the curriculum. It lay more or less
in the centre of a hollow about a mile in circumfer-
ence. The buildings were massive and extensive.
Around them lay a large plantation of blue-gum and
oak trees, with here and there patches of orchard.
On every side the landscape showed gently-swelling
hills of inconspicuous height, thickly dotted with
groups of huts. Herds of cattle browsed contentedly
on the rich grass. The gracious autumn gloaming
shed a soft radiance over the settlement. It looked
like a spot consecrated to civilisation and peace — an
170 By Veldt and Kopje
oasis in the desert ot savagery. Benson drew a deep
breath of satisfaction ; something seemed to whisper
to him that life here might include compensations
other than humorous ones. He communicated this
thought to his companion, who, however, cynically
replied to the effect that appearances were apt to be
deceitful.
The vehicle drew up in front of the large central
building, one wing of which was used as a dormitory
for the boys, the other as quarters by most of the
European staff. A neat-looking native servant-maid
received the strangers and conducted them to their
rooms upstairs. Soon afterwards, the ringing of a
very discordant bell sounded through the premises.
Benson and Allister then descended to the refectory,
where, they had been informed, tea would be served.
Large tables were ranged across the room, and at
these the native boys, each with a plate and a large
tin mug before him, were seated. A small table in
one of the corners was reserved for the Europeans ;
at this Mr Duncan Mactavish, the boarding-master,
Miss Mellish, the matron, and Miss Angus, the
assistant matron, were seated. Benson and Allister,
upon introducing themselves, were greeted with a
reserve which, on the part of any but Scotch people,
would hardly have been civil.
Mr Mactavish was a tall, dark, dour-looking man
of about forty-five. Miss Mellish was stout, light-
haired, pallid, and severe-looking. Miss Angus was
a little, dark, withered-visaged woman ; she had a
nervous habit of winking her eyes continually when
spoken to or when speaking. When Miss Mellish
Chicken Wings 171
made a remark, as she seldom did, her mouth closed
immediately afterwards with a kind of snap. Mr
Mactavish being a bachelor, these ladies attended to
the domestic arrangements of this branch of the
Institution, under his supervision. They considered
him a very great man indeed ; he considered them
women of discrimination.
A hymn was sung, a prayer was said (extempore)
and a very lengthy blessing invoked upon the food ;
then all sat down to supper. The two strangers
seemed to be looked upon with a certain amount
of suspicion. Mr Mactavish applied himself with
systematic diligence to the food and did not utter a
word until his robust appetite had been assuaged.
Benson and Allister were too hungry to mind the
lack of conversation.
'' I'm thinkin' it's a fine drive ye'll have had,''
said Mr Mactavish, after having subjected Allister to
long and intent scrutiny.
''MiddlinV' was the laconic response.
"Ye'll be new to yer wark, mebbe," resumed
Mactavish, addressing Benson.
*' Not quite/' he replied ; '* I have spent the last
three years teaching in Cape Town.'"
'' Ah, but that's anither thing ; ye'll have lots to
learn o' oor methods here."
"I believe I came rather to teach than to learn,"
replied Benson, gently.
Three indignant pairs of eyes focussed themselves
upon the speaker, who, however, looked blandly
unconscious of giving offence. Mr Mactavish turned
once more to Allister —
172 By Veldt and Kopje
" Ye '11 have some skill as a physeecian, I'm told."
" It depends upon what's wrang wi' ye," replied
Allister, with imperturbability. "I can pull teeth
fine, and I've learnt to shoe a horse."
This seemed to strike Mr Mactavish with
momentary helplessness. However, after a pause,
he returned to the attack —
** I suppose ye found the roads awfu' ; that's ane
o' the things we've to put up wi' here — havin' oor
bones mashed when we travel. But a sense o' duty's
a graund thing to gie ye patience."
Allister remained silent, so Benson replied —
" Yes, we got a bit bumped. The road is cer-
tainly not a credit to whoever is responsible for
keeping it in order. That last drift, after you
descend the hill beyond the trees, is a proper bone-
shaker."
Mr Mactavish glared. He happened to be re-
sponsible for the state of this particular drift, and he
looked upon certain repairs recently there effected
as a triumph of engineering skill.
At the conclusion of supper, Mr Mactavish, with
an attempt at geniality, invited the strangers to ac-
company him to the residence of the Principal of
the Institution, the Rev. Mr Campbell. The visitors
were ushered into a sitting-room which was furnished
and decorated with exceedingly good taste. Mr
Campbell was a widower, and childless. His niece,
Jeanie, a girl of nineteen, kept house for him.
Benson felt a certain mild curiosity as to what Jeanie
Campbell was like. She had been described to him
as being a remarkably pretty girl.
Chicken Wings 173
Mr Mactavish sat nervously on the edge of a
chair which was slightly higher than the others and
gazed intently at the closed door. Benson and
AUister examined the engravings with which the
walls were decorated. Suddenly and noiselessly the
door opened and Jeanie entered with smiling face
and outstretched hand.
" How do you do, Mr Mactavish — and you
are Mr Benson, I'm sure. Oh, there is no need to
introduce us. And Mr Allister, welcome to Ross-
dale. I knew you had both arrived, and was most
anxious to see you. How good of you to come
over at once."
Benson for once found the reality transcend the
ideal he had formed. Jeanie was remarkably pretty.
She had a beautiful figure, with nearly perfect hands
and feet. Her eyes were steel-grey, bright with
vitality and full of expression ; her hair was dark,
plentiful and wavy. As is usual in the case of South
African girls, her colouring was somewhat wanting
in tone, but her skin was smooth and clear and her
lips red and tempting. Her mobile face seemed to
be constantly changing its expression.
Mr Mactavish shifted his feet, cleared his throat
and behaved generally like a nervous schoolboy.
He more than once struggled to speak but found
the effort beyond his strength. All this amused
Benson and Allister vastly. It could be seen at a
glance that the elderly boarding-master was in love
with the girl, and Benson was fairly dazzled by the
possibilities of amusement which the situation
promised. He looked at Jeanie and happened to
174 By Veldt and Kopje
intercept a lightning-like glance from her. She
could see that Benson had rightly gauged the situa-
tion and a double flash of sympathetic electricity
passed between them.
" I'm hoping Miss Jeanie, that your tea-meetin'
at the Girls' School was a successful one," said Mr
Mactavish. This remark suggested, as it were, the
mouse brought forth by the mountain, it was so
utterly trivial as compared with the labour and
trepidation which preceded it.
'' Oh," answered Jeanie, lightly, *' it was not
either more or less dissipated than usual. Do you
like tea-meetings, Mr Benson ? "
" It depends, of course, upon who one meets and
who pours out the tea. Don't you think so, Mr
Mactavish? "
" Oor tea-meetin's have a purpose " ; said Mr
Mactavish, severely ; '' they are a feature in oor
method o' educatin' and civilisin' the natives."
" In Scotland they're talkin' o' suppressin' tea-
meetin's by statute," said Allister, with a look at
Jeanie, " they gie such occasions for ungodly gossip
amang the weemen."
" Oor tea's flavoured wi' the sugar o' Christian
charity and the milk o' human kindness," retorted
Mr Mactavish, sternly.
Just then the door again opened and Mr
Campbell, the Principal, entered. He was a big,
red-bearded man with bushy eyebrows. Jeanie very
prettily introduced the strangers to him, and he
soon was deep in conversation with Allister, who
knew several of his friends in Scotland.
Chicken Wings 175
Benson crossed the room and took a low seat
close to Jeanie. Mr Mactavish evidently regarded
this proceeding with disapproval, for he turned his
chair slightly, so as to get the girl and her companion
out of the range of his vision, and took an appar-
ently absorbing interest in the conversation of the
others.
"You are a Colonist, are you not?'* asked the
girl.
'*Yes," replied Benson, "I hope you don't
object."
" Object ? I should think not. Good gracious !
If they had sent two more Scotsmen here I should
have run away and become an hospital nurse or a" —
"Were you going to say 'barmaid'.'^" asked
Benson, sinking his voice.
" How — how did you know? " gasped the girl.
" Sympathetic intuition, I suppose. But why
do you object to Scotsmen ? I thought you were
Scotch yourself."
" Mr Benson, if you ever dare to say such a
thing again, we shall quarrel. Because you were
born in South Africa are you a Hottentot ? I
happened to be born in Scotland, but you can hardly
blame me for a thing that happened when I was so
very young ; I was only a year old when I came
away. No, I am a Cape Colonist ; I have breathed
Cape air and eaten Cape food ever since I was a
baby. In fact, I'm just Cape from head to foot."
"I'm very glad to be able to sympathise with
you, for I happen to be very fond of the Cape my-
self, but just now will you satisfy a perhaps im-
176 By Veldt and Kopje
pertinent curiosity by telling me why you object so
much to Scotch people ? "
" You will know, without being told, before you
have been here many months. One does not object
to leg of mutton, or even pumpkin on the table now
and then. But suppose you were to be fed, say, on
pumpkin for breakfast, dinner and supper, including
entrees and dessert, every day for several years,
you'd long for a change of diet, would you not ? "
" Yes, I suppose so.''
''Scotch people are very good indeed, 'unco'
guid ' in fact — and no one would dispute the fact did
they not carry inscriptions of their virtues printed
all over them in large letters. And then — the way
they run down everything South African. What
puzzles me is, why they ever left their own superior
country. I'm sure we could manage our own affairs
well enough without them."
"Well, for my part," replied Benson, "I have
liked most of the Scotch people I have met. I must,
at the same time, own it to be evident that when the
individual prayed ' Lord, gi'e us a guid conceit o'
oorsels,' not alone must the prayer have been liter-
ally granted, but it must have been put up on behalf
of the whole nation."
On the way homeward Benson tried to draw Mr
Mactavish into conversation, but without success.
Allister was unwontedly silent. He had, as he said,
been '' takin' notes."
As a matter of fact, the boarding-master was not
at all pleased at the evident pleasure Jeanie had
shown in Benson's society. Mr Mactavish was badly
Chicken Wings i77
in love ; he scented untoward complications. For a
long time he had been hovering on the brink of a
proposal, and, although Jeanie had never given him
the least encouragement, his "guid conceit" made
him as sanguine of acceptance as ever was the Laird
o' Cockpen.
Mr Mactavish was the senior member of the
Institution staff — so far as length of service went.
He had seen Principals come and Principals go, but
since the birth of the Institution there had been but
one boarding-master, and his name was Mactavish.
Consequently, he had come to regard the fortunes
of the establishment as being bound up with his own
personality. As a matter of fact none of the various
Principals had ever properly asserted himself ; each
had tacitly acquiesced in the dour boarding-master's
assumption that he was the pivot upon which the
whole organisation revolved.
He now determined upon making both Benson
and Allister feel the full weight of his authority.
Benson he would tackle first.
" Ye^l begin your wark i' the mornin','' said he
to Benson as they separated for the night.
"Oh, we'll see. Perhaps I'll take a day off
and look around the place before putting on the
collar."
" We're no idlers here ; you'll hae plenty o' time
to look around after school hours."
Benson had to bite his lip to prevent himself
from telling Mr Mactavish with emphasis to m.ind
his own business. But he was not an ill-natured
fellow, and, having gauged the boarding-master's
M
178 By Veldt and Kopje
feelings towards Jeanie correctly, had no difficulty
in ascribing this churlishness to its true source.
After all, Benson took over his class next day.
The teacher whose place he was taking was anxious
to leave at once, and could only do so on condition of
Benson's foregoing his "day off." Mr Mactavish
quite mistakenly took the circumstance as indicating
submission to his authority.
The class numbered some forty boys, their ages
ranging between eleven and fifteen years. Benson
was agreeably surprised at the tone of the school.
The lads were fairly intelligent, and discipline had
been well kept up. But he noticed that the names,
rather than the sense of things taught, were retained,
that memory was quite out of proportion to under-
standing. However, the boys were evidently anxious
to learn, and the schoolroom was lofty, commodious
and well lighted. Benson felt as though he were
going to enjoy his work.
At noon he went over to his room ; he met
Allister on the way.
" I've been takin' a walk round," said the latter,
" and have had a long talk wi' Maclean, the carpenter.
He's just burstin' wi' gall an' general information.
Losh ! but doesn't he hate Mactavish."
"Well, let me have some information without
the gall. I want to know as much as possible about
these people."
" Man, but we'll have lots o' fun. It appears
that Mactavish is in love wi' young Jeanie, and both
Miss Mellish and Miss Angus are in love with Mac-
tavish. But these are trifles. The main thing is
Chicken Wings 179
that the place has been groanin' under Mactavish's
tyranny for ever so long ; all is ripe for a revolu-
tion. Losh! but it's a Christian community."
" Well," replied Benson, " I, for one, will not
join in any revolution. I have my own work
to do ; I'll take care no one interferes with that.
But I mean to lead a quiet life if they will let
me.
" I'm thinkin' ye'll have to tak' sides. 'Whoso
is not wi' us is against us ' is a very philosophical
text. Are ye goin' to fish ? "
" Fish ? Rather ; it's my favourite sport. But
where ^ I've not heard of any river about here."
" I was meanin' in the Apostolic sense — ' fishers
o' men/ you know."
" Oh, that's quite out of my line. Vm a peda-
gogue, not a missionary."
" Well, ye'll have to cast a line at the prayer-
meetin' here. If ye don't, Mactavish '11 gie ye
drumsticks. It appears they have fowls for dinner
five days a week regularly — sometimes oftener. It's
the rule that if ye don't fish ye'll never get a wing,
but if ye cast a good long line wi' a takin' text for
bait, not alone will ye get a wing, but sometimes a
piece of liver as well."
" Oh, nonsense ; the carpenter has been pulling
your leg."
"All right ; just wait an' ye'll see."
Just then the dinner-bell sounded, and the two
friends descended to the refectory together. The
only meat on the table was a pair of boiled fowls.
Mr Mactavish, with great deliberation and a skill
i8o By Veldt and Kopje
born of long practice, dismembered them. Then he
paused as though to rest after his exertions.
" Ye'll be comin' to oor prayer-meetin' this
evenin' .f^ " he said, addressing Benson.
"I don't know that I shall."
"But we've counted on a discoorse from ye, and
I've told Mr Campbell that ye'll tak' your turn
to-night."
" Very good of you, I'm sure," replied Benson,
nettled, " but I know what I've engaged to do, and
holding prayer-meetings is not included. You had no
authority to tell Mr Campbell anything of the kind."
"Well, Mr Allister, we'll just have to ca' your
services into requisition."
"Ye'll find me in the office frae nine till five
every day. Outside that time I'll do no wark, unless
ye want me to pull a tooth or compound a pouder.
In these cases I'll oblige at any hour of the four-an'-
twenty."
Mr Mactavish uttered, with alarming intonation,
a sound which cannot be expressed by the whole
twenty-six-fold force of the alphabet, but which used
to be expressed as " humph ! " Then he proceeded to
divide the members of the fowls. One of these had
been rather more debilitated than the other. The
inferior drumsticks were, after the ladies had been
helped, duly apportioned to Benson and Allister,
respectively. Benson looked up and caught Allister's
eye which was bent on him with great gravity. Then
his sense of humour overcame the schoolmaster and
he fell into an absolutely uncontrollable fit of laughter.
All proceedings stopped. Miss Mellish glared
Chicken Wings i8i
indignantly at the delinquent ; Miss Angus gasped
and winked her eyes with hysterical vigour. Allister's
face expressed nothing but sombre surprise ; the
boarding-master turned purple with inarticulate fury.
The contagion of Benson's laughter spread to the
boys ; within a few seconds the forms rocked with
mirth. Then Mr Mactavish leaped up, seized the
smallest boy on the nearest form and dragged him
out of the room. Benson, who had regained com-
mand of himself under stress of the tragic situation,
noticed that the ejected boy had given little or no
cause for complaint.
Dinner over, Benson went to his room, threw
himself on the bed, and laughed so violently that the
room shook. AUister came in, lit his pipe, and re-
garded his distressed friend with inscrutable gravity.
"Well," he said, "was I not right? "
" Oh yes," replied Benson, between paroxysms,
" but I think I'll roll under the table and die if such
a thing happens again."
" I don't despair o' oor gettin' wings, and even
an occasional liver, although we don't fish," said
Allister, after a contemplative pause.
"Leg, wing or liver, for mercy's sake don't look
at me again as you did to-day. I hate putting my-
self in the wrong, and my performance was very dis-
creditable."
"An interestin' fact I ascertained from Maclean
was that Mactavish suffers from severe gout periodi-
cally, and that the malady only yields to treatment
wi' colchicum," said Allister, with a suspiciously
innocent expression.
i82 By Veldt and Kopje
II
Next day Benson and Allister received a note apiece
from Jeanie, asking them to come over to the Girls'
School in the afternoon and take tea.
On arrival they were ushered into a prim little
parlour. This soon became filled to overflowing
with guests. Here they met, for the first time, Mr
Drew, the senior teacher of the theology section,
and his wife. Mr Drew was short, stout, dark and
wide-awake-looking. He appeared to be under the
influence of his wife, who was evidently much older
than he. She was a woman of large frame, with
hollow cheeks and light-red hair. Her face and
eyes were pale ; her voice suggested pulmonary
delicacy.
The three ladies having charge of the female de-
partment of the Institution acted jointly as hostesses.
Miss Meiklejohn, the eldest, was a tall, angular
Scotswoman with a strong, intellectual face. She
spoke with measured deliberation and was evidently
unaccustomed to having her authority questioned.
Miss Struben was short and exceedingly stout. She
had a depressed and disappointed look, and whenever
she made a remark, glanced apprehensively at Miss
Meiklejohn to see how it would be taken. These
two had been for many years members of the In-
stitution staffs ; they regarded Mr Mactavish with
the utmost reverence. Apart from their work they
had one object only in life, and that was to see a
match between the boarding-master and Miss Mellish.
They had noted and deplored the Great Man's weak-
Chicken Wings 183
ness for Jeanie. However, as they looked upon this
untoward circumstance as due to her siren wiles, they
regarded the aberration with pity rather than blame.
Miss Robertson, the junior teacher, had only
recently been imported from Scotland. A comely
girl with rosy cheeks, bright brown eyes and a
generous figure, she gave one the idea that she
longed for a different life and that she felt as irksome
the perpetually revolving treadmill of ultra propriety
that Fate compelled her to climb. In fact she struck
Benson as having a healthy spice of the World, the
Flesh and the Devil under her coil of abundant
hair.
Jeanie was the only one of the ladies who ap-
peared to be at ease ; she laughed and chatted gaily,
while the others only interjected formal remarks now
and then. Allister felt drawn towards little Miss
Robertson ; the suppressed vitality in her brown
eyes aroused his interest and sympathy. With some
difficulty he made his way across the crowded room
to where she was sitting.
" You and I are among the latest arrivals, I
believe," he said pleasantly.
" So we are, but I have been through my ordeal,
so am only a spectator to-day."
" Might one ask what you mean? "
" Don't you know that this is a state function,
got up to welcome you and Mr Benson ? "
" Indeed I did not. Oh, the guilefulness of
women ! — and Miss Jeanie called it a simple tea-
party."
" Well, you had better begin preparing your
i84 By Veldt and Kopje
speech. I had to make one. Mind and be careful
to make a good first impression."
Just then the ominous sound of Mr Mactavish
clearing his throat was heard, and an apprehensive
silence fell upon the assemblage. Jeanie looked at
Benson with unutterable mischief in her eyes. Then
the voice of the boarding-master began in measured,
lugubrious tones —
" Leddies and gentlemen, — fellow-warkers i' the
vineyard, we have met to-day to welcome two who
have just put hands to the plough which runs in oor
furrows o' grace. One o' them comes frae the land
we left — most o' us many years ago — to dwell in this
clime o' savagery and spend oor lives in reclaimin'
the heathen frae his barbarism. We know what we
have done in the past ; we know how hard oor
labour was at first ; but we must be thankful that
strength was given tae enable us tae break the hard,
virgin sod, and thus make the wark lighter for those
who come after.
" We will humbly trust that oor friends will duly
appreciate the enorrmous responsibilities restin' upon
them as missioners, an' that they will assist in keepin'
this little community what it is — ' a light tae lighten
the Gentiles,' and a continual example tae the heathen
o' the true Christian life.
'' One o' the things we most firrmly endeavour
tae cultivate is a true earnestness o' purpose in a'
branches o' oor wark, and the consequent avoidance
o' freevolity o' a' sorts. Oor little warld has its laws
and salutary customs, and tae these a' must conforrm.
As to what these are, I, as senior member o' the
Chicken Wings 185
Institution staff, will be glad to gie information.
Mr Allister and Mr Benson, in the unavoidable
absence o' cor respected Principal, I bid ye a hearty
welcome."
Allister flatly refused to respond, so Benson
arose and made a few appropriate remarks. Soon
afterwards the meeting broke up. Jeanie and Benson
met at the door and walked on together.
"Are you not ashamed of yourself? " he asked,
*' for getting us down to that function under false
pretences."
" I am, rather ; but I knew that if Mr Allister
had had any inkling as to what was going to happen,
he would not have come. But all my dissimulation
was thrown away, for he did not make a speech after
all. But do tell me what you think of us ^ "
" Well, my dominant feeling is one of hopeless
inability to live up to your ideals. You see, I am
not in any way cut out for a missionary. Moreover,
I could not conscientiously recommend any self-
respecting Gentile to light his candle at my lamp."
'' Oh, so far as that goes, Mr Mactavish's lamp
is so overflowing with oil, and shines so vividly that
we might all quench ours without putting the Gentile
public to any inconvenience. But I am keen on
hearing original impressions ; do oblige by telling
yours."
*' It is quite clear you have not even guessed at
the magnitude of my limitations. Nothing, as a
rule, strikes my imagination unless it be funny.
And I have not yet got sufficient * atmosphere,' as
the artists say, to enable me to appreciate properly
i86 By Veldt and Kopje
the local humour. Truly, the pursuit of the
humorous is my only serious occupation."
"You are a disappointing man. Now, I am as
fond of running other people's impressions to earth
as you are of hunting jokes. You must have ac-
quired some impressions ; do communicate them."
" Well, the thing which strikes me as most
remarkable about these people is the utter absence
of anything like friendliness towards each other, or,
in fact, towards anyone."
" Ah, but when you have been here as long as 1,
you will look upon this afternoon as an oasis in a
desert of unfriendly days. Why, most of these
people hardly speak to each other when they meet,
unless it be at a function such as this. There is, of
course, one exception ; outside the church on Sunday
morning they all shake hands and smile sweetly.
But from Monday to Saturday, when not at work,
they glower and spend all their time brooding over
imaginary slights and each other's shortcomings."
" But, under such conditions, how on earth does
the place hold together. What is the cement ? "
"That was a great puzzle to me at first ; how-
ever, now that I have become accustomed to the
place, all seems natural enough. The fact is, these
people cannot be judged by the standard of any
others. Most of them have risen from a much lower
social plane and in the rising have acquired an ex-
aggerated idea of their own individual importance.
Each one is continually polishing up his dignity as
though it were a little tin plate and resenting
imaginary specks of rust. Then they all run in so
Chicken Wings 187
many small grooves, and each groove appears to the
one who runs in it to be the most important one in
the world. The curious thing is that they are all
conscientiously devoted to the missionary cause.
They certainly do their work well."
" I suppose they all think they are Christians in
the fullest sense of the term .^"
" Rather ! — well, you heard Mr Mactavish to-day.
But you ought to hear them at the prayer-meetings.
And many of them know their Bibles nearly by heart.
It is all very curious. I used to talk to uncle about
these things, but he got angry. I once suggested,
after a very bad general quarrel, that he should make
them all come to our house and there kiss and make
friends."
" Surely, Mr Mactavish fell in with that
proposal."^"
" I said I made the suggestion to my uncle, not
to Mr Mactavish."
" Well, if you want to give the plan a chance of
success, propose it next time to Mr Mactavish."
" Well, since you are so interested, I make you
a present of the notion. Of course, I do not come
into the scheme ; I have fallen out with no one.
You might point out that they would only be follow-
ing the example of the early Christians."
" The pioneers of a new evangel should always
practise what they preach."
" Very well, you be the pioneer. You can preach
to Mr Mactavish and practise on Miss Mellish and
Miss Angus. But I must now go in. I hope we
will have many more long talks. Lest you should
i88 By Veldt and Kopje
become conceited, I will tell you that the great
dread of my life is lest I should acquire a Scotch
accent, so I value your speech highly as a corrective."
" It has become available only just in time. I
would not, for the world, say that your accent is
Scotch, but you must excuse my saying that now and
then there is just a little suggestion of, one might
say, finely-ground oatmeal, in your otherwise irre-
proachable speech. Yes, I think you cannot do
better than cultivate my acquaintance as much as
possible."
Jeanie, after flashing a look of indignation at
Benson, darted into the house.
Ill
Life at the Institution was void of all but the most
trivial incident. Miss Mellish began to thaw slightly
towards Benson. This was soon attributed by the
astute Allister to its true cause : gratitude to the
schoolmaster for having attracted Jeanie. Miss
Mellish was, of course, fully persuaded that the
latter was a designing minx, who had deliberately
set her cap at Mr Mactavish. He was no longer
actively aggressive, but had remained implacable in
so far as the drumstick question was concerned.
Two months after their arrival neither Benson nor
Allister had tasted wing, breast or liver of the many
birds at whose autopsies they had been present.
Benson often joined Jeanie in her walks, for the
purpose, as he said, of safeguarding the purity of
her accent.
Chicken Wings 189
At length the day arrived when Mr Mactavish's
place at the dinner-table was vacant. He was re-
ported as being very ill with gout. A messenger
was sent with speed to the Residency for Dr Jenkin,
the District Surgeon, but that practitioner was found
to be suffering from incipient delirium tremens.
Then Allister was called in.
That evening Allister came to Benson's room,
where he sat down and gravely lit his pipe.
" Well, how is Mr Mactavish : " asked Benson.
'* His physical malady is subsidin' but I fear his
mental condition is no that o' a professin'
Christian."
" Well, I'm glad the old chap is better. I've
always heard that gout affected the temper."
" It does, awfully. Ye'll be glad to hear
that the chicken question has been satisfactorily
settled."
" What do you mean ? "
" I may as well begin at the beginnin' and tell ye
all about it. Of course, you know Mactavish did
not send for me until he'd found out that Jenkin was
so fou' he didn't know colchicum from prussic acid.
Well, I went to see the old man. He was sittin'
wi' his left fut wrapped up and restin' on a chair,
lookin', well, if he'd only had twa horns and a tail
Auld Nick wud have just capered wi' envy."
" * I'm concerned to see ye sae oot o' sorts,
Mr Mactavish,' said I, seempathetically.
''*Ah, mon,' says he, 'I feel like Dauvid in
the fowerty-ninth Psalm when I think o' that swillin'
swine of a Jenkin. I didna want to trouble ye.
190 By Veldt and Kopje
Mr Allister, knowin' how hard ye work, but I juist
had to Hae ye brocht the colchicum wi' ye ? '
** ' Wark never stands in the way o' my helpin' a
suiFerin' fellow-creature,' said I, * and I can seem-
pathise wi' ye fine just now, for I'm in a bad way
myself. The wame o' me's just tied into knots wi'
the indigestion.' Here I gied a groan.
" ' Hoots, mon,' says he wi' a screech, ' indiges-
tion's nae mair to be compared wi' gout than a midge
is wi' a mad dog. Gie me the colchicum.'
^' ' Mr Mactavish,' said I, ' ye've evidently no
idea how I suffer. Not alone is my wame tied into
knots, but sufferin' has seriously affected my memory.
Will ye believe me when I tell ye that I cannot for
the life o' me remember where I put the jar o'
colchicum ? '
" With that he sat straight up and stared at me
for a bit ; then he fell back wi' a squeal, for a twinge
just made him feel as if his big toe were bein' twisted
off.
" ' I'm no sure', said I, after a while, * but that
if I could see some prospect o' my indigestion gettin'
better, I might concentrate my mind sufficiently to
remember where the colchicum is.'
" ' What do ye mean ? '' he asked.
"'Mr Mactavish," said I most impressively,
'when Peter saw the sheet descendin' wi' a' the
beasts an' birds in it — well, I'd stake every scruple
o' colchicum I ever saw that every fowl had twa wings
and a liver ; but since I've been eatin' at your table
not a wing o' the many chickens ye ha' carved has
ever fluttered either to me or to Benson, and although
Chicken Wings 191
yeVe helped me to many a gizzard, ye've never given
me a liver, even by mistake. It's the lang, weary
course o' femoral muscle that is underminin' my
constitution. For many, many weeks those drum-
sticks ye're so generous of, have been beatin' the
Deil's tattoo on my sufferin' ribs."
*'He lay for a long time wi' his eyes closed.
Then he said, quite humbly —
" ' Mr Allister, ye're a hard mon ; — but gin ye let
bygones be bygones, I'll help ye to the liver wing
o' every fowl I carve for the next ten years.'
"'A wing each to Benson and me when there's
two chickens on the table, and one liver in three
between us. These are the conditions, Mr Mac-
tavish.'
" ' It's my duty to submit when despitefully
used,' he replied ; * gi'e me the colchicum.'
" Wi' that my memory came back quite suddenly,
and I remembered that the colchicum was in my
pocket. I gave him a liberal dose."
Two days later Mr Mactavish reappeared at
table. The principal item of the banquet was, as
usual, a pair of boiled chickens. The boarding-
master was better than his word. Benson and
Allister each got a liver wing. After a pause of
indecision the carver helped Miss Mellish to one and
Miss Angus to the other of the remaining wings.
Then, with a sigh, and the mien of a suffering saint,
he placed a drumstick upon his own plate.
He ate his dinner with an expression of proud
resignation suggestive of Pope Alexander VI. washing
192 By Veldt and Kopje
the feet of the poor. Benson nearly repeated his
former reprehensible conduct ; he managed, however,
to avoid disgracing himself, but narrowly escaped
apoplexy in the process.
Next Sunday, Mr Campbell happening to be absent
on clerical duty, Mr Mactavish held service in his
place. As an extra lesson he read the 22nd Psalm.
When he reached the text " they gaped at me with
their mouths as a raving and a roaring lion," he
looked straight at Benson and Allister, who were
sitting together.
It only remains to be recorded that Mr Mactavish
adhered with strictness to the terms of the compact
into which he was forced by the guileful Allister.
AFAR IN THE DESERT
This is the story of a boy and a girl who met in a
South African wilderness under strange circum-
stances more than thirty years ago. The girl was
desert-bred ; her feet had never trodden those paths
of convention which, in the aggregate, are called
civilisation. A chance medley of unusual happenings
drove the boy forth from the haunts of men, but the
absorbing spell of the wild fell upon him, and to him
the "call of the wild" was ever afterwards an im-
perative command.
It is a love-story ; but Love revealed the shining
wonder of his face to these two for less than one
fleeting day, the while Death hid close behind him.
Some of that which is here related is true.
I
The boy went down to the lower camp from his
lonely tent, that was pitched on one of the terraces
near the head of the Pilgrim's Rest Valley, for the
purpose of buying his meagre supplies for the
following week, for it was Saturday afternoon.
Night was falling when he started homeward, and it
was dark when he reached Slater's Claim and the Big
Rock. Just there he stumbled over a man who was
N 193
194 By Veldt and Kopje
lying, sleeping the sleep of intoxication, across the
path.
" The Boy '' — he was known from one end of
the creek to the other by that designation — struck a
match and examined the man's face. He recognised
it at once as being that of Dan the Reefer, a gigantic
yellow-bearded Californian — the camp's most cele-
brated prospector. Next to the sleeper lay a new
blanket tied up in a neat bundle.
A cold wind was searching down from the frost-
dusted peaks which stood, lofty and clean-cut, against
the early winter's sky ; so the boy untied the bundle,
and, after placing the head of the man in a comfort-
able position, spread the blanket over him and tucked
it in. In doing this his hand touched a leather
pouch. After considering the risk he was running,
the boy opened the pouch and found that it contained
about ten ounces of gold in a chamois leather bag.
He transferred the bag to his pocket and went
home.
Next morning the boy went down to the Reefer's
tent and handed over what he had taken charge of.
The Reefer was profanely thankful.
"I'll do you a good turn for this," said he,
" me if I don't."
" Take me out prospecting with you," said the
boy at a venture.
" Can you hold a rifle straight ? "
"Yes ; but I haven't got one."
" Oh, that's all right ; I have. You'll kill meat
and I'll strike a reef that'll make our fortunes."
Here was a piece of luck ; the very thing he had
Afar In the Desert 195
longed for hopelessly was thrust upon him. To go
prospecting with the Reefer was an honour sought
by many.
" Let's see," said the Reefer, " this is Sunday ;
sleep here Wednesday night and we'll start Thurs-
day."
So the boy packed up his few belongings, stored
them in the tent of a friend, and put in an appearance
at the Reefer's tent at the appointed time. The
Reefer was not at home, but he turned up, more or
less drunk, in the middle of the night.
All preparations had been made ; a month's
" tucker " for two had been provided. This included
flour, tea, a little sugar and salt, and a few simple
remedies for use in the event of sickness. The goods
were scientifically packed in two "swags" — that of
the Reefer weighing about ninety pounds and that of
the boy about thirty. The Reefer carried a pick, a
shovel and a pan, in which the limits of combined
efficiency and lightness had been reached ; the boy a
lifting-block, Westley-Richards rifle and a hundred
cartridges. Each took, besides, a water-bottle, a
cooking " billy," a blanket, a spare flannel shirt and
two pairs of thick woollen socks.
Their course led down the valley of the Blyde
River, through the loveliest imaginable scenery.
Down and down the valley seemed to sink among the
convoluted mountains that are so rich in forest, crag
and sounding waterfall. After crossing a divide the
deserted site of the village of Ohrigstad was passed.
Here was the scene of a tragedy. The township had
flourished, the land was fertile, the surrounding
196 By Veldt and Kopje
a hunters' paradise. All went well for a time ; then
came fever ; within a few weeks all the settlers went
down. The majority died ; the survivors were
rescued and removed to a healthier locality, where
they founded the town of Lydenburg. In blue-books
published years afterwards, the abandonment of
Ohrigstad was erroneously attributed to fear of the
Bapedi — natives located in a neighbouring mountain
range.
The Reefer was a silent man, who was obsessed
by one idea — the finding of gold where none had
previously been found. The one and only thing
which gave him pleasure was to make a *' strike."
But the discovery once declared and made the object
of a " rush," the thing immediately lost its charm.
Then he would sell out, usually for far less than the
value of his claim, and once more follow the rainbow.
This man's life had literally been spent on the pro-
specting trail. He had made several rich strikes of
gold, not alone in Africa, but in America — North and
South. In those days the Klondyke was unknown,
but the Reefer had trailed to what he called "the head
waters of the Arctic," and had found rich gold in the
Yukon district, from which he was driven back by
the pitiless cold. He knew every creek and placer
in the alluvial fields of California.
The boy was nineteen years of age, but did not
look it. He was lithe, small-boned and tall, with fair
hair, blue eyes and a face that gained him the good
graces of some women. Thrown on the world when
quite a child, he had known phases of sin and suffer-
ing not usually experienced by the young. It was a
Afar in the Desert 197
strain of idealism and an inherent passionate love of
nature that enabled him to save his soul alive. In
his ear the voice of the wilderness was ever sounding.
Whenever he managed to save enough money to buy
sufficient supplies, he would wander away into the
vague, unknown country lying east and north of the
fields, in search of gold, hunting and adventure.
The first he never found.
Down and down still sank the valley towards its
junction with the Olifant — studded throughout its
enchanting length with dark green patches of virgin
forest, strung like emeralds upon the chain of a crystal
stream. The summer rains had been heavy, so every
ravine cleaving the hills on either side was vocal with
impetuous water. The wild creatures gazed at them
from the high ledges or crashed unseen through the
underwood at their approach. The chanting call of
the brown falcons wheeling among the crags sounded
like a trumpet bidding them go forward into the un-
known, where dwelt fortune and romance.
They camped each night under trees centuries old.
How the leaping flames lit up the groined boughs
spreading from hoar-ancient trunks, revealing depths
of mysterious shadow in the greenery ! When the
flames died down, how the restful darkness closed in,
full of rich suggestion ! These nights were so full of
rapture that the boy could hardly sleep : it seemed a
sin to waste such hours in unconsciousness. Often
the dawn would find him watching and praying with
that best kind of prayer — the uplifting of the heart to
the plane of nature's most exalted harmonies. Then
he would sink into an hour's dreamless slumber, to be
igS By Veldt and Kopje
awakened by a shove from the Reefer's friendly foot,
and to find a steaming pannikin of tea ready at the
side of his couch.
II
The sound of a violin in one of the gorges of the
Olifant's River valley seemed very incongruous in-
deed. The source of the music was hidden behind
some large trees. Beyond these stood a tent-wagon.
On the box sat a tall, dark, bearded man plying the
bow industriously, the music being a reel played in
very quick time. His clothing was of brayed skin ;
his muscular arms were bare to the elbow. An im-
mense lion-skin lay drying, the fleshy side being
uppermost, upon the " tent " of the wagon. The
black hair of the mane was protruding over the back
of the tent, and the tufted tail dangled close to the
face of the musician. At the side of the wagon was
a small '' lean-to " of coarse calico. Meat, in various
stages of the process of drying, hung festooned among
the trees.
The musician laid down his instrument, leaped
lightly from the wagon and advanced with out-
stretched hand.
" Welcome, welcome," he said, speaking in Dutch ;
" put down your bundles and rest. Look what your
uncle has shot." Here he pointed to the lion-skin.
" You fellows are after gold, I suppose ; but what has
a hunter to do with gold ? Come and drink coffee.
Anna, is there any coffee ready ? "
The concluding words were addressed to a girl
Afar in the Desert 199
who, followed shyly by a small boy, emerged from
the lean-to and silently shook hands with the
strangers. She appeared to be about eighteen years
old. Her oval, slightly freckled face had beauty of
a distinctive type. Her eyes were dark and had an
expression of sadness. Health glowed through and
enriched her skin. But the glory of this girl was
her hair ; its wealth of bronzed auburn, thick and
waved, was full of changing lights. She was dressed
partly in male attire.
Somehow this did not seem incongruous to the
boy. He was by disposition unconventional to a
degree. His eyes appraised the girl admiringly ; the
shapely figure was almost too sturdy for grace, but
it had the strength his lacked. Nature, who always
schemes for the mating of contrasts, made these two
goodly and desirable in each other's eyes.
The boy's appraising glances followed the girl as
she went to the tail-board of the wagon and busied
herself with the coffee arrangem.ents. The play of
her strong, full arm was good to watch ; the inartistic
veldschoen could not hide the symmetry of her feet.
A loose, blouse-like garment of linen permitted
glimpses of a neck strong and fine, and dazzlingly
white below the area of sunburn.
The coffee was a pleasant variant from tea — the
prospector's only prepared beverage. They sat on
the sward and talked. The Reefer had no Dutch, so
the boy acted as interpreter. The owner of the
wagon was a Boer named Dirk Fourie. He had a
farm in the Lydenburg district, but spent most of his
time in the hunting-field. Fourie was a widower
200 By Veldt and Kopje
with three children. Accompanied by these and an
old Hottentot he had undertaken this trip, intending
to reach the low country in the vicinity of the nether
reaches of the Letaba River. But he found that the
rains had there fallen late, so, dreading fever, decided
to remain for a time in the valley of the Olifant.
To avoid risk of " bush-sickness " he had sent the
oxen back to the farm in charge of his elder son and
the Hottentot, with orders that they were to be
brought back after six weeks had passed.
Fourie's manner was characterised by a kind of
yearning friendliness ; the advent of the strangers
seemed to afford him very sincere pleasure. He
neither knew nor cared anything about gold, so the
Reefer soon found the conversation irksome and
wandered off to examine the formation. The boy
just then cared for nothing so much as hunting, so
he and Fourie sat and discussed game and the slay-
ing thereof. The lion-skin was pulled down and
admired. A graphic account of the downfall of the
great marauder was given. It appeared that Fourie's
father had been killed by a lion, so the Boer carried
on a lifelong vendetta against the whole lion species.
The death had been amply revenged, for twenty-two
of these animals had fallen to the long-barrelled roer
which hung in the wagon, and nine to a more modern
rifle — a Westley-Richards musket — just then stand-
ing against the wheel.
Fourie went back to his violin. His repertoire
seemed to consist solely of reels, all of the very
liveliest kind. The boy and the girl gravitated to-
wards each other. But conversation was difficult ;
Afar in the Desert 201
they were full of embarrassment. They wandered
together for a short distance along the hillside. He
told her of his life on the gold and diamond fields
and of those far-off towns she had heard rumours of.
The ocean and the great ships were to her the most
wonderful of all things. Had such not been men-
tioned in the Bible, she would not have believed their
existence possible. She had been taught to read, but
the Bible was her only book. With her large,
lustrous eyes fixed on the boy's face she listened,
gravely interested, to all he told her.
Of herself and her experiences the girl could
hardly be induced to say a word. Her ignorance of
the world beyond the farm and the scenes of her
father's different hunting trips was almost fathomless.
They returned to the wagon, and soon afterwards
the Reefer arrived, carrying a haversack full of
quartz.
" I think we'll stay and see what's to be found
about here," he said.
Next morning the Reefer disappeared on his end-
less quest of the rainbow. Fourie and the boy went
for a tramp after game. The somewhat vague and
unpractical mien of the Boer disappeared when on
the hunting spoor ; he became cool, alert and capable.
The lore of the wilderness was to him as an open book.
The boy had somewhat prided himself on his skill as
a hunter, but he soon saw that compared with Fourie
he was the merest novice. Signs and tokens invisible
to him before were pointed out and deduced from
unerringly. Fourie was generous, giving his com-
panion opportunity after opportunity to lay low koo-
202 By Veldt and Kopje
doo, sable and tsessabi. The spoil was handed over
to the "Balala'' — *' the people who are dead" —
wretched outlaws or waifs of annihilated clans, who
wandered, weaponless and without clothing, over the
veldt. As a rule they lived on roots, grubs, snakes
and other unspeakable things. Like wine-flies when
one opens a bottle of wine, the Balala would suddenly
materiaHse from the void whenever meat was in evi-
dence. They would be given the bulk of the carcase
for their own use, and told to convey the choicer
portions, with the skin, to the camp. This they
never failed honestly to do.
The abject submissiveness of these people was
pathetic in the extreme ; it must have been the result
of a terrible course of hopeless suffering. They never
spoke unless first addressed ; then they answered in
low-toned monosyllables. A weird deftness and in-
telligence characterised all they did. At the camp
they would silently set down whatever had been given
into their charge, and as silently vanish. As an in-
stance of their honesty it may be mentioned that once,
when the boy lost his hunting-knife, it was found by
the Balala and returned to him. It was sticking in
the ground, close to his head, when he awoke one
morning. And what a priceless possession the imple-
ment would have been to the finder !
Evidences of a once-teeming human population
abounded over the whole countryside, which was
covered with groups of low, circular stone walls, in-
dicating where thousands of kraals once stood. But
the exterminating raids of Tshaka had swept it bare.
Now its only human dwellers were a few creatures so
Afar in the Desert 203
wretched and so reduced that the very beasts of prey
were said to despise them.
Thus passed many halcyon days. The boy had
now become almost a member of the little family to
whose hearth in the wilderness he had drifted through
so strange a chance. The Reefer was hardly in
evidence ; he had struck a small leader which bore
gold, and was endeavouring, with infinite pains, to trace
this to its connection with the parent reef. The spot
where he was working was about half-an-hour's walk
distant. Thitherhewent every morningearly ; thence
he returned at dusk every evening. When hot on
the scent of gold the Reefer was not a man to be lightly
interfered with. He had made it clear to the boy
from the beginning that his help was not required, or
even desired, except towards filling the pot with meat.
Thus the two had little or no intercourse.
The boy was more and more struck by the individu-
ality of his new friends ; they were so utterly unlike
any others of their class that he had foregathered with.
As the intimacy grew, Fourie told more of the details
of his history. It appeared he was not quite orthodox
in his religious views, and had had in consequence a
serious quarrel with the pastor of his church. This
had happened years back. One result was that Fourie
was under a kind of ban among his own people. His
wife had shared his views. The children, or at all
events the two elder ones, having natural strength of
character, and being cut off from intercourse with
other young humans, developed on lines of their own.
Fourie had strains of idealism and even of philo-
sophy. He loved his violin, but his musical ambition
204 By Veldt and Kopje
never, alas ! soared beyond reels. Like a child in
everything appertaining to social mankind, this Boer
was almost supernaturally wise in interpreting the
laws governing forest, field and sky. He had a
naturally kind heart and a deep love for nature.
Thus he only killed ordinary game when meat was
required. Solitude and the despiteful usage of his
fellow-men had not soured his disposition. His only
foe was the lion ; and the lion, which he pursued
constantly and implacably, he met and vanquished in
fair, open encounter.
As time passed, the girl and the boy became more
unconstrained towards each other. The girl had much
innate refinement, and was very intelligent. Between
her and the boy there was little articulate speech ; the
silence of the wilderness had invaded their souls.
When the wilderness unveils the fulness of its beauty
to a human being speech becomes largely superfluous.
For although the wilderness is full of clear indications,
it is mostly inarticulate, and those who dwell there
must interpret its dumb alphabet or perish. Between
these two human creatures signs gradually took the
place of words ; glances became eloquent ; a gesture
often conveyed more than a sentence.
The girl could hold a rifle straighter than most
men ; her frame was tireless ; she could endure
hunger and thirst without wilting. She had often
been her father's hunting companion. When Fourie
now planned a more than usually extended expedition
she decided to take part in it.
The Boer absolutely lusted after lions to slay, but
no spoor was to be found anywhere within a day's
Afar in the Desert 205
walk of the camp. However, away down near the
junction of the Olifant and the Letaba was a locality
which he had previously visited with satisfactory re-
sults. So thither it was decided to go. The Reefer
remained behind, with him Fourie's little son.
So one still, cool morning, when a transparent haze
filled the valley and hung like the shadow of a dream
over the forested plains that stretch from the foot of
the mighty mountains to the far-off Lebomba, the
boy, the girl and the Boer started on their adventure.
Their course led along the southern bank of the
Olifant. The mountains were soon left behind, and
then, on the plains, the boy — for the first time in his
life — saw large game in true profusion. All day long
as they advanced could be seen the varied population
of the wild melting before them into the gloom ; for
the forest, although continuous, was not dense except
in the immediate vicinity of the river. Thus the eye
could range for a couple of hundred yards on every
side.
Owing to the late local rains the pasturage was
good, so all the game from the surrounding arid
spaces had flocked in. Occasionally the landscape
resembled a kaleidoscope, so dense and varied were
the manifestations of animal life. Buffaloes would
hurtle through the undergrowth, swerving to avoid
the tree-trunks with the agility of cats. A black
rhinoceros, its wicked-looking head low near the
ground, would dash fiercely away, its horn dividing
the tangled brushwood after the manner of the cut-
water of a boat. Families of wild pigs, their tufted
tails held straight up, trotted off with swift quaintness.
2o6 By Veldt and Kopje
Herds of gentle giraffes, disturbed at their browsing
on the high branches, swayed out of sight, their long
necks undulating from side to side. Quaggas, sleep-
ing in the glades, sprang up at their sentinel's
warning stamp, and fled, waking thunders with
their hoofs. Fierce-eyed gnus swiftly ambled away.
Antelopes, from the harte-beeste, big, awkward and
ungainly, to the little russet impala, the very
embodiment of sylvan grace, crowded the ever-
opening vistas.
All day long they tramped without firing a shot,
for ammunition had to be husbanded. Just before
camping at sundown the boy shot a tsessabi, the flesh
of which is among the very best the wilderness
affords. To their astonishment several of the Balala
appeared on the scene. One of these was a little,
elderly man who appeared to be a sort of leader, and
who seemed to have attached himself to the boy.
They camped on the river-bank amid scenery
more lovely than any pen could describe. The clear
stream, eddying and whirling among great grey
rocks, was nearly three hundred yards wide. Groves
of splendid trees, dark green and luxuriant, lay in an
almost continuous chain along the water's edge, only
separated from each other by little spaces of green
sward. On one of these they camped. Across the
river a long, even wall of sheer cliff hung like a
rampart over the flood. It was about a hundred
feet high. Along its summit giant trees were sil-
houetted against the sky ; masses of variegated
creeper fell like cataracts over its face.
Afar in the Desert 207
111
Day passed swiftly after day, each like a cup full to
the brim of joy. The hunters went to sleep soon
after dusk, leaving the tending of the fire in the
hands of the Balala. Every morning in the grey
dawn the girl would steal away to bathe in one of
the secluded reaches of the river. The boy would
watch for her going and then set about preparing
coffee. This would be ready by the time she re-
turned, with her waved, glossy hair drying on her
shoulders and the brightness of the morning shining
from her face. Then he would go to bathe and the
girl would prepare breakfast.
Silence, more eloquent than speech, enmeshed
these two more and more in mutual comprehension.
An idea took root and grew in the mind of the boy
that he had found the environment best suited to
him ; that a life spent in this teeming wilderness,
with the girl at his side, would be good. What part
had he in civilisation — in that society of conventional
men and women which had lured him on, almost to
his ruin, and flung him contemptuously aside when
he ceased to amuse ^
Before being an agriculturist, man was a hunter.
This explains the circumstance that for many the
hunting instinct — the lust to kill for the sake of
killing — when once indulged in becomes so haunting
and dominant that all other pursuits pall. Atavism
is a curious and an awful thing ; an influence may
rise through the dark detritus of inconceivably
remote time, take our lives in its shadowy hands,
2o8 By Veldt and Kopje
and shape them to strange ends. Under the spell
of the wild, the boy reverted to the stage of primeval
man.
Here, then, was his paradise. Why not, there-
fore, take this deep-bosomed Eve to mate, and enter
into his inheritance. But at this stage was it love
that he felt for her ? He was not sure. She attracted
him strongly, but there was also an occasional feeling
of shght repulsion. He had always been moody
and changeable. Little, undefinable contraventions
on her part of that code of conventionality which he
affected to despise, but which is always ineradicable
in those whose childhood has passed in a refined
home, jarred on his sensibilities.
The present — yes — but what of the future?
The girl was innocent and modest. A spice of
coquetry in her would have completed his subjuga-
tion ; but she was absolutely direct and natural.
The forces of love held all the approaches to his
heart ; the outworks had fallen, one by one, but the
citadel was still held by a few obstinate doubts.
As a lion-hunt the expedition had so far not
been a success. Every night the low rumbling,
occasionally changing to a snarl, of the great beasts
of prey could be heard in various directions.
Fourie and the Balala, who were now in good condi-
tion and equal to any amount of work, went out
indefatigably on the spoor day by day. Many lions
were thus followed to their lairs in dense patches of
reeds and grass, but they always managed to escape
unseen. The vegetation was too green to kindle.
The full-fed lion is usually a coward ; it is when
Afar in the Desert 209
hungry that his courage rises and he becomes
terrible.
They were but three days' easy walk from the
wagon when it was decided to return. On the
morning they started the first lion fell. Just before
dawn they heard the unmistakable sound of a kill,
so when day broke they stole to the spot where it
took place, which was about a mile away. They
found four lions eating the carcase of a quagga.
Three fled at once ; the other, a magnificent brute
with a great coal-black mane, would not surrender
his meat, so he dropped on his belly and faced the
intruders.
The underbrush was scanty ; nevertheless the
lion, for all his size, could scarcely be seen. Just the
top of his head and the ridge of his back were visible.
Fourie stepped forward to within forty paces and
took careful aim. The great tail began to wave
from side to side, striking the around with the force
of a flail. With the shot the hindquarters of the
lion heaved mightily into the air, and fell forward
towards the hunter. After a few convulsive
struggles the limbs loosened ; then the great help-
less creature rolled over on its side and lay still.
The bullet had grazed the top of the head and
buried itself in the spine, between the shoulders.
That night they camped just below the enormous
gates through which the Olifant breaks to reach the
low country. The mighty, sheer, table-formed
masses, arising from dense forest, bulked huge
against the stars. The cataract-speech of the river
o
210 By Veldt and Kopje
filled the sounding gorge with softened thunder.
To the boy it seemed as though Immensity stretched
forth a finger to touch his brain and counteract the
spell of sleep. He tried vainly to rest. The rich,
slow, beauty-burthened hours went by. Canopus
wheeled high over the Cross. A sense of the
imminence of something strange thrilled him ; his
soul seemed to stand tiptoe upon the summit of
expectation and stretch forth its hands.
The fire had dwindled ; he built it anew, arid
the crackling flames shot up high through the wind-
less dark. The boy glanced to where the girl lay,
near her father. Her eyes were open. The boy
beckoned to her. She sat up and hesitated for an
instant ; then she arose and came to his side.
He took her hand and led her away into the
gloom. He kissed her on the lips and the kiss was
returned. The voices of the gorge swelled to a
warning dissonance as a breeze from the west gathered
their thunders into a sheaf and hurled it to the
plains below, but the lovers heard it not. The roar
of a killing lion and the scream of its stricken prey
startled the forest creatures for miles around, but
the sound of the tragedy passed over these two, un-
heeding. The mystery and the wonder of the
desert, the lust of the spoiler, the terror and anguish
of the victim — each blindly following the awful law
of its being — was around them, but Love lent wings
of flame that bore them to the stars, and stayed with
his wonder-working hand the running of the sands
of Time.
Afar in the Desert 211
Dawn stole, virginal, from the sea and sought
their transfigured faces. The splendour of morning,
which had its habitation for a space on the mountain
crags, found its counterpart in their eyes. The
cataracts shouted with their joy ; the falcons chanted
it as they soared into the sunshine.
They had no thought for the future ; the present
was all-sufficient. The wilderness was theirs, and
the fulness thereof. Here was a fair kingdom in
which they reigned as victorious king and gracious
queen, without the tiresome superfluity of subjects.
That day, for the first time, they planned to
be alone together on the march. With feet made
languid by excess of joy they lingered whenever
a locality of more than usual beauty was reached.
At midday Fourie, who had got somewhat far ahead,
was wondering at their laggardness.
A distant shot, followed by two others in quick
succession, recalled them to practical realities, so they
hurried forward on the spoor. When they reached
Fourie he was sitting under a tree regarding with
satisfaction a large lion he had shot, and which three
Balala were engaged in skinning. Tied to a shrub
close by were two young lion-cubs.
" See, Anna, what I have caught," cried he ;
" have a look at the little brutes before I kill them."
"No, no," said the girl, " they are too young to
kill. Let them go. Where is their mother?"
" That is what I cannot understand ; I have
never heard of such young cubs being left behind by
212 By Veldt and Kopje
their mother. But I'm not going to let them go,
perhaps to kill some one, as my father was killed."
The girl's soul revolted from the idea of slaughter-
ing these innocents. So full of new-found happiness
was she that the taking of Hfe or the infliction of pain
was abhorrent. But she knew her father's implac-
able hatred of the whole lion race.
" Let me take them back to the camp," she
begged ; " I will tame them."
After advancing many objections Fourie gave a
grudging consent. The little animals could be fed
on soup until the camp was reached, then on meal
and water. They were evidently only a week or ten
days old, and resembled yellow cats with abnormally
large, solemn faces. They showed no vice when
handled, and seemed quite contented with their lot.
The girl carried one and the boy the other, the three
Balala being unable to do more than carry the skin
of the animal just killed.
The halting-place for the night was an open,
circular space surrounded by high trees. The boughs
met overhead ; it looked like a green-domed temple.
The ground was almost clear of brushwood. In the
centre the fire was lit. The river was only about two
hundred yards distant. Supper was over, and the
cubs, being hungry, were complaining in queer,
guttural tones. They had been coupled together by
means of a rein, the loop of which was fastened to a
protruding root.
The boy took the only cooking utensil and
started, a live firebrand in one hand and his rifle in
Afar in the Desert 213
the other, for the river to fetch water for the soup.
When he reached the fringe of low bushes which
surrounded the camping-place he stopped for an
instant and looked back. Fourie had removed the
block from his rifle and sat oiling it near the fire.
The girl was bending over the cubs, trying to soothe
their impatience. She looked after the boy with a
smile. His last sight of her face showed it lit by
the flickering flame and radiant with an aura of love
and happiness.
When the boy, returning, got within about fifty
yards of the fire, his desert-tuned ear caught a sinister
sound of low growling. He dropped the vessel of
water and the firebrand, and rushed forward, bursting
through the fringe of bushes. There, full in the
firelight, crouched a great, tawny lioness, roughly
pawing the cubs. In an instant his rifle was at his
shoulder ; the lioness sprang into the air and fell
back dead, shot through the heart.
The boy and the fire were the only living things
in the firelit circle. Fourie was lying, his neck ter-
ribly lacerated, in a pool of blood. The girl lay on
her face, absolutely still. The cubs had been
mangled to death through the efforts of the mother
to set them free.
He could not believe the girl to be dead. Think-
ing she had fainted from terror, he lifted her in his
arms. Her head fell back, horribly limp. Her
neck had been broken by a stroke from the lioness's
paw.
214 By Veldt and Kopje
When the boy awakened from his swoon a figure
was standing near him. It was that of the old man
of the Balala. The boy sat up and tried to think.
Then, with a lamentable cry, he sprang up and lifted
the corpse of the girl in his arms. The head again
fell back, the loosened wealth of burnished hair flow-
ing like a cataract to the ground. The old waif of
the desert stole silently away.
Later the old man returned, this time accompanied
by two others. He touched the boy, who sat stupidly
gazing at his dead, on the shoulder. The boy looked
up with haggard, deathlike face, and the wholesome
human sympathy of the old man's regard loosened
the frightful tension of his soul. He fell into a
paroxysm of tears.
After a while the old man again touched him on
the shoulder and pointed westward, in the direction of
the camp. Then, with a sweep of the hand to indi-
cate that he would return, he melted into the dark-
ness. The two other Balala remained behind, close
at hand, and tended the fire.
It was noon when the Reefer arrived. The
ground was soft, so it did not take his practised arm
long to dig a deep grave. In this they reverently
laid the bodies of the mrl and her father. At their
feet were placed the dead cubs, for showing mercy to
which such dire requital was dealt by that inscrutable
power which so often chastises men for their virtuous
deeds, and rewards them lavishly for their sins.
Heavy stones were carried from the river terrace
Afar in the Desert 215
close by and placed in such a way that the resting-
place could not be disturbed.
A few days afterwards the oxen returned, so the
wagon, with its sad passengers, went back to the
dead man's farm. The boy accompanied it and, after
relating what had happened (which was regarded by
all in the neighbourhood as the direct and unmis-
takable judgment of Heaven upon irreligion), he
wancered forth once more, this time to be for
ever a stranger among the sons and daughters
of men.
BY THE WATERS OF MARAH
"And when they came to Marah, they could not drink of
the waters of Marah, for they were bitter." — Exodus xv. 23.
I
It was in the old and, by some at least, ever-to-be-
regretted days of the ox-wagon that the following
strange experience befell me. These were days when
the Boers were invariably hospitable to strangers
(who did not arrive on foot), when the natives had
still some respect for the white man, and when game
was still to be had for the hunting on the high
plains of South Africa.
We had left our wagons at Shoshong, in what
is now Kama's country, and struck out with three
pack oxen and six ''boys" towards the north-west,
vaguely hoping to reach Lake Ngami. At that
time, a quarter of a century ago, little was known of
that interior which has now become a sort of Cook's
Tourist Route, and consequently the traveller had
always the vague charm of the unknown around him,
whilst the fluttering hem of the garment of the
fascinating nymph, whose name is Adventure, gleamed
in every thicket. Maps^ it is true, existed, but
were a distinct disadvantage to the wanderer, for
the reason that all those extant were fearfully and
217
2i8 By Veldt and Kopje
ingeniously incorrect. We had once nearly lost our
lives through trusting to an indication of a supposed
water-place upon a brand new chart prepared by a
distinguished traveller, who believed every yarn
told him, and who, it is now well known, did not
visit half the places he described from alleged
personal observation.
Dick Wharton, Sam Logan and I formed the
party. We were all young, in good health, and
keen shots. We hardly expected to reach the lake,
but we knew that there was plenty of shooting to
be had in the direction in which it lay, and that was
all that we particularly cared about.
The country, usually a grim desert, was now a
smiling garden. For two seasons rain had fallen in
phenomenal abundance, and the wayward bounty of
Heaven had caused the long-dormant vegetation to
spring up over the length and breadth of the land.
The flowers were scattered everywhere in bewilder-
ing beauty, and the insects held constant revel in
the mild sunshine. Water was to be found by
digging, hardly a foot deep, in every donga, and all
the game in Africa seemed to have collected in the
northern zone of the Kalihari.
We wandered on, taking our journey easily,
resting as suited our mood whenever we reached
some particularly charming spot. Indeed, it almost
seemed as though the wild creatures had the same
esthetic sense as ourselves, for it was almost
invariably at such places that we found game in the
greatest plenty. The delight of those days is, and
By the Waters of Marah 219
I trust ever will be, an abidino- remembrance. We
slept comparatively little, for sleep seemed but a
waste of time, and it was better to lie awake under
the soft stars or the regal moon, listening to the
wild sounds of the desert, than to waste our precious
hours in barren unconsciousness. Whilst our three
pack oxen, tied to a tree hard by and surrounded by
a fence of thorn-trees, chewed the cud of plenty or
drew the deep, sighing breath of bovine alarm, we
would lie watching the flames leaping from the
kindled logs, and listening to the grunting of the
lions, the booming of the ostriches, or the screaming
of the hyaenas. We did not dread the lions, for we
knew that where game was plentiful the king killer
of the waste seldom troubled man or his cattle.
Our natives could always be trusted to keep the
fires alight. They were continually full of meat,
and therefore happy.
I may as well say at once that we never reached
Lake Ngami. As a matter of fact, we did not go
much more than two-thirds of the way to it. We
dawdled upon our course to such an extent that we
were obliged to return from a spot only seven days'
march beyond the Lutyahau River.
Hunters familiar with the regions indicated have
all heard of the bitter wells, with the unpronounce-
able Bushman name, not a great many days' journey
from Anderson's Vley. The water found in these
wells is extremely poisonous to Europeans. A few
Bushmen, who have habituated themselves to its use,
are always to be found in the vicinity, but woe
220 By Veldt and Kopje
betide the unhappy human creature of any other
breed who slakes his thirst at this poisonous spot ;
he will almost assuredly die if obliged to drink the
water for three days in succession. This spot can
only be visited by hunters with safety upon the rare
occasions when the rains have fallen so heavily on
the surrounding country that water is obtainable in
the sand-filled rocky hollows, of which this area of
the desert is full. Taking advantage of the
splendid condition of the country, we determined to
make a detour to the southward for the purpose of
visiting this little-frequented spot.
We arrived late one afternoon, and found the
place deserted, although showing signs of having
recently been inhabited by human beings. We
knew what had taken place — the Bushmen had fled
in alarm at our approach, but we felt sure of meet-
ing some of them within the next few days.
The locality was desolate in the extreme, for the
rich vegetation ceased on every side within about a
mile of the muddy puddles. These formed a small
group in a shallow depression some hundred yards
in diameter. The surrounding soil was evidently
strongly charged with some alkaline substance, which
lay thickly on the surface in the form of white
powder. The water had a brownish tinge where it
oozed out of the soil, and gave forth an unpleasant
smell, as though of decaying vegetable matter.
We soon found sweet rain-water in a donga close
by, so decided to rest for a few days. Rest is hardly
the right term to use, for we worked exceedingly
By the Waters of Marah 221
hard. Each member of the party had his own
favourite game. Dick was not content with the
slaughter of anything less than the King of Beasts,
Sam enjoyed shooting koodoos more than anything
else, whilst the slaying of the gentle giraffe brought
the keenest joy to my hunter's heart. Consequently,
we three, although the best of chums, seldom hunted
together. Each preferred to take a couple of *' boys "
and follow the chase of that which his soul panted
for.
On the day following our arrival at the bitter
wells I took my rifle and wandered forth towards a
considerable clump of comparatively large trees,
which could be descried about seven miles away to
the westward, and where I expected to meet with
my favourite game. It was nearly midday when I
reached the trees, and just upon entering the grove
I was astonished to see the spoor of a large sandal
leading along a game-path. The spoor was certainly
not that of a Bushman, its length being too great
and the impression too heavy. I pointed it out to
one of my followers, who uttered a low exclamation
of surprise, and then we followed the track silently
into the thickest part of the grove.
On turning a sharp corner we suddenly stood
still, for a small hut, or '' scherm," constructed of
bushes and fragments of skin, stood before us. It
was not so much a hut as a kind of movable screen
such as the Hottentots use — one that could be shifted
with little difficulty to meet the changing wind. Its
back was towards us. After pausing for a few
222 By Veldt and Kopje
seconds, I stepped forward and looked under the
roof of the structure from the other side.
Again I stood still, my eyes being riveted by the
strangest-looking human creature it has ever been
my lot to behold. The man was reclining on a few
jackal skins, and resting on his elbow. He was
quite naked except for a tanned hide, which was tied
with a thong around his middle. In spite of the
dark and rough condition of his skin, his long
matted hair and beard clearly showed him. to be
an European. The hair hung over his shoulders in
a white fleece, and the beard lay upon his chest in a
long silvery tangle. His face was a striking one ;
the forehead was high and intellectual, the nose
prominent and somewhat hooked, the eyes were
dark and deep, and gleamed splenetically from under
the shaggy and prominent brows.
My two followers ran back with exclamations of
terror, and crouched behind a bush about thirty
yards away. I myself, feeling more astonishment
than alarm, looked hard at the man, who gazed back
fixedly without the least appearance of surprise or
embarrassment. Then I took a step nearer and
spoke.
^' Good day. Who are you ? "
" One who will never trouble you as much as
you trouble him," came the surly reply.
The voice had an even, metallic tone — a tone
which I was strangely reminded of years afterwards
when I first listened to a phonograph. There was a
queer suggestion of impersonality about it. I tried
By the Waters of Marah 223
to think of something to say, but could not find a
word, so taken aback was I. The man's eyes rested
on mine like those of an animated sphinx, and seemed
to exercise a queer kind of mesmerism. Withdraw-
ing mine with difficulty, I glanced around the
" scherm" and took a rapid survey of its contents.
I noticed a number of sticks, pared flat, and with
the edges full of little notches. A Bushman's bow
and a quiver of arrows were stuck behind one of the
supports, and a skin wallet hung from another.
Several curiously knobbed sticks lay on the floor,
and a lump of raw meat, which was in course of
being invaded by an army of small red ants, was
stuck in the fork of a stake planted in the ground.
Several ostrich egg-shells, with small wooden pegs
inserted at each end, lay about.
The silence became oppressive. The man still
gazed at me, and I glanced nervously and rapidly at
him from time to time. The thought that he per-
haps was a lunatic crossed my mind, and I quicklv
surveyed his build in view of the possibility of a
struggle. The conclusion I came to was that I
should prefer to decline a contest. The man was
old and rather emaciated, but his muscles looked as
hard as the pasterns of a springbuck.
"Is there much game hereabouts? " I hazarded.
The strange being suddenly stood up, and I was
astonished at his height. I involuntarily stepped
back a couple of paces as he emerged from the
*'scherm." He stretched forth his hand towards me,
but not in a threatening manner — although his eyes
224 By Veldt and Kopje
seemed to blaze — and spoke in the same strange
pitch, but much more loudly than before.
" Is not the desert wide enough that you come
here to trouble me ? You have the whole world for
your hunting-ground, and I have only this little
spot. Get you gone and trouble me no more, or I
will get the Bushmen to drive you off."
I began to lose my nervousness completely —
although I could not help seeing that the man's
threat was a serious one. Bushmen had not been
giving much trouble of late years ; however, I knew
that they existed in considerable numbers in that
particular area of the Great Desert. Probably this
strange being possessed some influence over them,
and if so, nothing would be more easy than to have
us killed when sitting around our camp-fire by means
of a volley of poisoned arrows poured in at point-
blank range. Such occurrences had happened
before.
'' Man alive," I said in a cheerful voice, " I don't
want to interfere with you ; I came here quite by
accident, and I shall go on my way without giving
you any trouble whatever. Ta-ta — I hope you are
enjoying your picnic."
I turned on my heel, but he called out to me to
stop, and I again faced round.
" How many are there in your party ? '* he said,
after giving me a long, fixed look.
"Two other white men and six boys."
" Wait for just a moment. I want to have a few
words with you."
By the Waters of Marah 225
I set my rifle against the stump of a tree and
stood before him with my arms folded. The creature
seemed to have become more human.
" Would it be of any use asking you not to tell
your companions anything about your having met
me?"
"Well — you see — I have my two boys with
me ; even if I hold my tongue they are sure to
talk."
A queer ghost of a smile seemed to flit across
the stern face.
" I know you will keep your word if you give
it," he replied, "and I will make it right with the
boys. Will you promise ? Take time to think if
you like."
A great pity for the poor creature before me
seemed to swell in my breast. Why should I not
grant his request -^ Why should I darken, in no
matter how slight a degree, a life apparently over-
loaded by some great tragedy ? Of course I felt
flattered by his estimate of my veracity.
"Yes, I promise," I said.
His face softened, and the tension of his limbs
seemed to relax. When next he spoke the tone of
his voice had quite changed.
" Ah ! I find that I am not as dead as I thought.
Yours is the first English voice I have heard for
over twenty years. I wonder what fate brought you
here to wake me back to pain. Give me a grasp of
your hand and then go."
I held out my hand, and he seized it with a grip
226 By Veldt and Kopje
of iron. We looked into each other's eyes for a
moment, and mine dimmed with tears.
" Can you not come away with us ? " I asked.
He shook his head vigorously.
" Is there nothing I can do for you — give
you i^
" If you have at your camp any sort of a knife
to spare I should be glad of it.''
" Right, I will bring you one to-morrow. And
you need not fear that I will say a word about you.
Of course I cannot answer for the boys."
I picked up my gun and strode away rapidly,
not wishing to give him an opportunity of changing
his mind. When I reached the bush behind which
my boys were crouching, they looked towards, and
then past me, with expressions of the utmost terror.
I turned and found that the man was closely and
noiselessly following me. He beckoned to the boys,
who arose and followed him, crouching out of sight.
I sat down and awaited events. In a few minutes
the boys returned, their faces ashen and their heads
bent. I strode on and they followed me in complete
silence.
I did not then make for the camp, but for a low
ridge to the northward, on which a number of
" camel-thorn " trees were visible. Here I wounded
a fine bull giraffe. Following the spoor took up the
rest of the day, and the sun was down before the
poor brute lay before me dead. We camped for
the night alongside the carcase, there being a wet
donga close at hand. After a good supper, in which
By the Waters of Marah 227
that most delicate of delicacies, giraffe marrow, was
an important element, I lit my pipe and basked in
the blaze of the logs. I had noticed that my two
boys were silent and depressed.
" Wildebeeste," I said, addressing the senior,
"what do you think of the man we saw to-day ? "
Wildebeeste glanced uneasily over his shoulder
into the darkness and replied in a low tone —
" I saw no man to-day, Bass ; neither did Ghola,
nor even the Bass himself."
Both boys covered their heads with the frag-
ments of skin which did duty for clothing and lay
down. When 1 addressed them a few minutes after-
wards both pretended to be fast asleep, but I
could tell by their breathing that they were wide
awake.
The sun was high when I reached the bitter wells
next morning. My two companions had gone away
exploring to the southward ; they had left a note
explaining that they would probably not return till
the following day. This suited me exactly. I had
never been able to lie skilfully ; I hated having
to deceive my chums. It may, therefore, be well
imagined that I was somewhat uneasy on the subject
of my secret.
After a short rest, I again set off westward,
taking with me the spare knife. The sun was just
setting when I reached the grove. The strange man
was still in his "scherm." A new piece of meat
hung upon the forked stick ; nothing else appeared
to have been changed since the previous day. We
228 By Veldt and Kopje
sat up the whole night — he talking and I listen-
ing to what surely must have been one of the
saddest and strangest tales ever poured into a human
ear.
I passed my word to the effect that for twenty
years, not alone would I never mention a word of
what he told me, but that I would not even write it
down. It will, accordingly, be understood that a
good deal of the language in which the tale is set
forth is rather mine than his. I have, however, a
very vivid recollection of the circumstances related
— in fact many of the phrases used have never faded
from my memory.
After various experiments as to the best mode of
relation I find that telling as though in the first
person seems the most effective.
II
** I WENT to sea as a boy and, in the late forties, was
mate of a ship which ran ashore on the coast of the
Cape Colony, somewhere to the eastward of Cape
TAgulhas. I disliked the sea ; and when I managed
to obtain a clerkship in a store in Cape Town, deter-
mined to spend the rest of my life ashore. But I
soon sickened of town life. I had always longed to
visit the great unknown interior and to shoot big
game, but without means this was, of course, im-
possible.
" At length, I found myself with a few pounds
in my pocket, so I bought a small wagon and a
By the Waters of Marah 229
team of oxen, and commenced business on my own
account as a travelling trader. I used to obtain
goods in Cape Town on credit, take them up country
to barter with, and afterwards return with cattle and
sheep, which I sold to the butchers at a good profit.
" My business prospered, so that within a few
years I found myself in a position to realise my
dream of taking a trip up-country. I possessed a
strong, comfortable wagon, sixteen good oxen, and
three smart ponies — all of which I had obtained by
trading. I bought several good guns, a lot of gun-
powder and lead, and, in fact, a complete hunting
and trading outfit.
" I had no fixed plan. Time was no object, so I
meant to travel northward in a leisurely manner,
resting whenever 1 felt inclined to, or when my
cattle required to pick up in point of condition.
Being a handy man with tools I knew I could repair
my wagon or guns should they require it. I spoke
Dutch well, and I took a lot of stuff for the purpose
of trading with the Boers for food.
" Always a solitary man, I did not feel the need
of a companion, but I took two servants with me —
an old Hottentot named Danster and his grandson,
a lad of sixteen. These had been in my service for
several years, and were willing to follow me any-
where.
" It was October when I started, and it was well
on in September of the following year before I
reached the Orange River. The course I had taken
was somewhere to the westward of the usual trade
230 By Veldt and Kopje
route. I wanted to see as much unknown country
as possible, and I had an idea that gold might be
found in the great, high, central plain. The rains
had fallen more plentifully than for years previously
— almost as heavily as they have fallen here this
season — so I had an easy time of it. I just went
slowly along, shooting game when I wanted meat
and pausing when the desire to rest came over me.
The farther northward I went, the scarcer became
the farms, until at length the only people I met were
the few wandering Boers who lived in wagons and
mat-houses and moved about on the track of the
rains.
" Fate or chance led me to a bend in the Orange
River where a certain Boer and his family dwelt.
Although the family spoke nothing but Dutch, this
Boer was a Scotsman by birth. He had come to
Africa when a child, and had spent his Hfe on the
fringe of the desert. He was now old, blind, and
feeble, and had evidently not long to live. The
family consisted of three sons — the eldest being
twenty-five and the youngest nineteen years of age
— and a niece, a girl of eighteen.. These young men
were the three greatest scoundrels it has ever been
my lot to meet, but the girl was beautiful and good,
and I loved her from the first moment my eyes
rested on her face.
" I will try and describe the homestead and its
dwellers. The house was small and low, built of
round stones with mud plaster and thatched with
reeds. The furniture was rough-hewn from logs
By the Waters of Marah 231
carried down by the great river when in flood. The
old Boer was rich in cattle, sheep and horses. Grain
was grown on a patch of sandy ground which was
sometimes fertilised by the river when at its highest
flood. Brayed skins served principally for clothing
and wholly for bedding.
" Piet, the eldest of the brothers, was a tall,
melancholy man with a narrow face, thick lips, and
hair the colour of a fox. Gerrit, the second, was
short and powerfully built. He had black eyes,
beard and hair, and his complexion was swarthy.
He was passionate and cruel, and the poor old man
used to shake at the sound of his voice. Sandy, the
youngest, was a powerfully built fellow, and also had
red hair. His face was like that of a weasel. He
was lame from an injury received in childhood, but
so strong that he could hold fast the Itg of an ox no
matter how hard the animal kicked. He seldom
spoke, and he had the strongest aversion to meet-
ing with his pale eyes even the glance of anyone
else.
"And the girl — how shall a man describe the
first and only woman he has loved — and that after
she has been dead for twenty years ? Alida was
dark, dark as a gipsy, and of middle height. I had
not seen much of women — I had never pleased them,
nor had they been attracted by me — so, although
thirty-five years of age, I had not thought of marry-
ing. But here, in this God-forgotten corner of the
wilderness, I suddenly came face to face with my
mate, clad in rough skins that could not hide her
232 By Veldt and Kopje
beauty, and as ready to go with me to the end of the
world as I was to take her.
''Alida was the orphan daughter of the blind
old man's only brother. He and his wife had both
been killed by lightning in a mat-house when Alida
was a baby, and the child had been dragged out from
under the flaming roof by an old Bushwoman. Then
her uncle adopted her, and she grew up in the rough,
uncouth household like a gazelle among swine.
" It was a strange household : the old man lived
in terror of his sons, and it was Alida who took his
part and protected him from their violence. His wife
had been dead three years, and he longed for the
day of his own release. Every night he would pray
aloud before going to bed, and the sons would mock
him to his face. These three young men hated each
other, and they all tormented the girl with proffers
of love, she meeting their advances with the utmost
scorn.
" A few days after my arrival at the homestead
Piet recommended me to send my oxen to graze on
a certain ridge within sight of the house, where the
grass looked green and luxuriant. I did so, and
within three days all my team except four were dead.
The ridge was covered with the dreaded 'tulp,'
which is deadly poison to all cattle. I am satisfied
that the three brothers put their villainous heads
together and devised this infamy with the view of
getting possession of the contents of my wagon,
which they coveted. I was in despair, for I could
see no plan of replacing the cattle except by parting
By the Waters of Marah 233
with most of my trading stock, and without this I
could not proceed upon my trip. There appeared
no way out of the difficulty, so I thought to remain
where I was for a short time and then endeavour
to make my way back to Cape Town.
'' Such is the effect of a guilty conscience that the
three ruffians could not bear to be in my presence ;
they appeared to dread my face, so they spent most
of their time away from the homestead. In fact
they made a practice of taking their guns early in
the morning and making for the veldt, whence they
returned late at night, and at once went sulkily to
bed. Thus, they never suspected that there was
anything of the nature of love between Alida and
myself, whereas we had come to an understanding
within a week of the disaster to my cattle. It came
about thus. One night after Piet had come in, I
heard Alida reproach him for his dastardly deed,
which he did not attempt to deny. Next day, when
the coast was clear, I mentioned the subject to her,
and she burst into a flood of tears. Then I tried to
comfort her, and we soon found out that we were
more important to each other than all else that the
world contained.
" I asked her to come away with me, but she
refused to leave the old man, so I made up my mind
to stay near her, at all risks, until his death, and then
to take her and make her my wife. I knew that the
old man could not live much longer ; he became
feebler day by day. The murder of my oxen, which
he had heard discussed, preyed upon his mind to
234 By Veldt and Kopje
such an extent that he became rapidly weaker, and at
length was unable to leave his bed.
*' I heard of a Hottentot camp situated some
three days' journey away, up the river, so I sent old
Danster, my servant, to see if he could purchase any
cattle there. My idea was to dispose of some of my
stock-in-trade and acquire a sufficient number of
oxen to enable me to get away with my wagon as
soon as ever Alida should be free. The brothers had
refused to sell me any cattle except at an impossibly
exorbitant rate. I knew there would be extraordinary
difficulty in getting Alida out of the clutches of her
cousins, but the thing had to be accomplished some-
how or another.
" In six days' time Danster returned with a fav-
ourable report, so I made secret preparations for my
departure. By this time the brothers had begun to
feel suspicious of my relations with their cousin, so
one of their number always hung about the homestead.
" My intention was to load three of my four re-
maining oxen, which had been trained to the pack,
with tobacco, coloured handkerchiefs and other stuff
which I knew the Hottentots valued, and then steal
away, unobserved if possible. I reckoned on being
able to obtain six animals. These, with my other
four, would suffice to pull the wagon with its dimin-
ished load. Danster had done his best to induce the
Hottentots to bring their cattle down for me to see,
but the reputation of the brothers was such an evil
one that no one from the encampment would venture
near the farm.
By the Waters of Marah 235
"At the same time preparations for a journey,
the object of which I never learned, were being carried
on by the brothers. Guns, saddles and other gear
were furbished up, and horses carefully selected out
of the half wild herd. Alida managed to let me know
that Piet and Gerrit were going away, and were not
expected to return for five or six days. I looked
upon this as a piece of good luck, and determined
to take my departure immediately after they had
started.
" Next morning at daybreak the two mounted
their horses and rode forth, and no sooner were they
out of sight than I sent Danster to drive up my
oxen. The packs were ready, so I hurriedly adjusted
them and, after bidding farewell to Alida and the
old man, made haste in the direction of the Hottentot
camp. The last thing I saw as I left the homestead
was the evil face of Sandy peering like a weasel round
the corner of the building.
" I travelled all day and camped at sundown. So
tired was I that I fell asleep at once, leaving old
Danster to collect fuel and tie up the oxen. The
distance I had travelled was not great, but the slow-
ness of the gait of the oxen had tired me. The last
thing I remember is seeing old Danster nodding
drowsily over the newly-kindled fire. His grand-
son had been left at the farm to look after my
remaining ox.
*' I cannot upon natural grounds account for the
next thing I became cognisant of. I found myself
standing up, looking at the figure of the old Boer,
236 By Veldt and Kopje
which stood on the other side of the fire. It was
splashed by the flickering flame against the black
night, and as clear to my startled gaze as you are at
this moment. The sightless eyes were wide open
and full of unwonted expression, and one arm was
extended imperatively in the direction of the home-
stead. There was an expression of sternness on the
worn face which I had never previously seen, and the
wasted form seemed instinct with dignity.
" I never doubted that it was indeed the old Boer
in the flesh that stood before me, but my mind was
in a whirl of wonder as to how he had managed to
follow me, and I never doubted that Alida was at
hand, but an eddying gust of smoke filled my eyes,
and I closed them for an instant. When I opened
them again the figure had vanished, and then I knew
it for a vision.
" In an instant the truth, clear and inevitable,
pierced my brain — Alida was in danger and the old
man was dead ; his spirit had come to warn me. I
seized my gun and bandolier from where they lay,
close to the head of my couch, took a hurried glance
at old Danster, who was huddled, snoring, close to
the fire, and plunged into the darkness.
Ill
" I HAD a long distance to cover, so I husbanded my
strength. The night was calm, still and starlit when
I started. I judged the time to be about midnight.
My mind was in a curiously exalted condition ;
By the Waters of Marah 237
clear, tense and braced to its purpose like a tempered
steel spring. I felt that I could have swept an army
of men or devils from my path. My course lay
across a succession of low, wide ridges with gently
sloping sides, each culminating in an abrupt backbone
of bare boulders, the whole inclining slightly towards
the river.
" Whenever my way led up hill I walked. On
reaching the top I drew breath for a few seconds, and
then went down the next slope at a swinging trot.
I found both strength and wind improve as I pro-
ceeded. Dawn just began to flicker as I reached the
comb of the last ridge, from which I knew that the
homestead was visible by daylight about three miles
away. Then something which I had taken for a
stone in my path arose before me, and in a few
seconds Alida stood revealed. She stretched out her
hand towards me with a gesture of appeal ; I dropped
my gun and folded her in my arms. Neither of us
spoke a word.
" After a few seconds she disengaged herself from
my embrace, took my hand and led me forward
towards the homestead. The glimmer of dawn
began to merge into the gold of morning, and by
the time we reached the dwelling the level shafts of
sunlight were searching the crests of every tree and
kopje. Although Alida had not once broken her
silence I knew that something terrible had occurred,
but I felt no curiosity ; I did not wish the ear to
anticipate the eye in the revelation which was about
to be made. The front door of the homestead stood
238 By Veldt and Kopje
wide open ; no sign of life was visible, and the only-
sound which smote on my tense ear was the howling
of a door down near the river.
'' Pausing before the doorway, Alida and I looked
into each other's eyes for an instant, during which
earth and sky seemed to pause in dreadful expectancy,
and the pulse of time to cease. The girl's face was
drawn and pallid, and wore an expression of the
bitterest agony. She took my hand and drew me
into the house.
" The front room was in the same condition as
when I had last seen it, except that the table bore
the remains of last evening's meal, and that a chair
lay overturned against the wall, as though it had been
hurriedly flung out of someone's way. The old
man's bedroom opened to the left, and into it Alida
led me.
" The wooden shutters were closed, so the only
light was the faint glimmer which filtered through
the front room. Alida strode to the window and,
avoiding something which lay on the floor, threw
back one shutter. In an instant the room was flooded
with sunshine. On the bed lay the old man, dead,
with the same expression on the worn face which I
had noticed in my vision of the previous night.
Under the window lay the corpse of Sandy, with a
deep gash on the right temple, from which a trickle
of black blood had oozed and congealed upon the
clay floor.
" The whole room was in a state of disorder, and
showed signs of a violent struggle. I passed my arm
By the Waters of Marah 239
round Alida's body and drew her, half-fainting, from
the room. We walked some distance from the house
and seated ourselves in the pure, bright sunshine.
Then she told me her tale.
" The old man had been taken with what must
have been a fit immediately after supper on the pre-
vious evening, and died within a few minutes. Sandy
went outside, and Alida remained with the body to
carry out the necessary arrangements. About mid-
night Sandy returned, and tried to induce her to go
to her room. She refused, and he began to use force.
Then his brutish intention became clear to her. In
the very room where the dead man lay this fiend laid
his hot hands upon the girl who had grown up in the
house with him like his sister. Fortunately she was
strong, and able to make an effective resistance. In
the struggle his foot slipped, and he fell with his head
against the sharp wooden corner of his father's cartel
bedstead ; this pierced to his brain through the thin
bone, and the foul brute fell, dead, to the floor.
" She showed me the black bruises upon her
beautiful arms and shoulders, and I kissed them, one
by one. Then I left her sitting upon the stone and
went to drive up the cattle, which, fortunately, were
close at hand in the big river bend. I could not find
old Danster's grandson ; in fact, not a soul was to
be seen about the place. The Hottentots had evi-
dently got scent of the tragedy, and bolted.
" After driving the cattle into the kraal, I called
Alida to my assistance, and together we selected six-
teen of the best. She knew all the animals individu-
240 By Veldt and Kopje
ally. We caught them by passing reims over their
horns. Then we filled the wagon — which stood
close by — with provisions, ammunition, and other
necessary things. My goods had been stored in a
little outhouse ; I selected some of these and added
them to the load. Before noon the team stood ready
in the yoke. I entered the house and took a last
look at the scene of the tragedy. Upon coming
from the room Alida met me in the doorway —
" ' Bring him with you, and we will bury him
beyond the river,' she said.
" I returned to the room and wrapped the body
in a large kaross which lay upon the bed. Although
much emaciated, the body seemed strangely light for
its build. We laid it reverently upon the wagon-
cartel, and I seized the whip. Alida took her place
in front of the team as leader, and the heavy wagon
rumbled down the stony track towards the river drift.
" We travelled about six hours before outspan-
ning. It was then sundown, and we were on the
southern verge of the great Kalihari waste, which is
usually an arid desert, but was then like a rich
meadow. In the darkness I set to work and dug a
deep grave in the sand. Before we lowered the
body into it, Alida drew the kaross back from the
face and imprinted a long kiss upon the dead,
smoothed-out brow of the man who had been for so
long a father to her, and who had wearied so sorely
for his death. Then she threw herself upon the
ground at the grave-side and burst into passionate
weeping. I placed heavy stones over the grave and
By the Waters of Marah 241
burnt loose gunpowder among them for the purpose
of scaring off the jackals.
"At the first gleam of dawn we were again on
our way. We knew we should be pursued, sooner
or later, and I wanted to get beyond the range of
pursuit so as to avoid, if possible, the necessity for
shedding blood. In this there was no element of
fear, for I felt strong and confident of being able to
overcome the two ruffians. But I knew it would be
necessary to kill them if they overtook us, and I had
always shrunk from taking the life of a fellow-
creature — no matter how vile — even in self-defence.
''We had no fixed plans. Alida knew no more
than I of the country before us. We were on no
track, but just steered vaguely northward, taking
our direction from the sun and the stars. Water
was to be found almost everywhere ; besides, the
whole desert was strewn with "tsamai" melons, on
which we, as well as the cattle, could exist should
the water fail. Game was plentiful and tame, so we
never lacked meat. Each night as we camped we
collected fuel, and built two large fires for the
purpose of keeping off the lions, one just behind the
wagon and the other in front of the team. The
front yoke we used to peg down firmly, to prevent
the oxen, which were tied in pairs along the chain,
from rushing back on the wagon, in the event of
a panic being caused by wild beasts. We divided
the night into two watches, of which I took the
first. The oxen were well trained, so the services
of a leader were not often required, and Alida was
Q
242 By Veldt and Kopje
thus enabled to sleep for long periods as the wagon
crawled slowly over the velvet-like sand.
'' Thus passed five days, and on the morning of
the sixth old Danster turned up. He had waited for
my return a day and a night, and then gone back
to the homestead on my spoor, arriving on the
evening of the second day after I had left him.
He found the house just as we had left it, but
feeling that something was wrong, had been afraid
to enter, so he took cover close by and waited for
daylight, when he traced the wheel-tracks of our
wagon down to the river. Little Slinger, his
grandson, he could not find, although he searched
for him far and near. In the afternoon Piet and
Gerrit arrived. Danster stole up to a bush, from
which he could observe all that went on near the
house. He saw the brothers moving about ex-
citedly and gesticulating wildly. Little Slinger
soon afterwards appeared ; he had evidently been
hiding in the bush, and emerged, driven out by
starvation. The boy was seized by Gerrit and
dragged into the house. He was shortly afterwards
dragged out again, and then Piet shot him dead
before the door.
" Danster saw the brothers drive in the mob of
horses, saddle up two, and place a small pack upon
a third. Then they started on the track of our
wagon. Danster followed on foot, and passed the
two when camped for the night. Since then he had
travelled night and day to overtake us, and he only
arrived just in time to give warning. I at once
By the Waters of Marah 243
determined to await the approach of our pursuers,
who were now so close that we could not hope to
escape them. Personally, I had no doubt as to the
result of the encounter. I did not want the woman
I loved to stain her sinless hands in blood, be it ever
so guilty, so I refused her offer of assistance in the
conflict. But she took a solemn oath that if I were
killed she would take her own life.
" I knew that I should inevitably have to destroy
these men, but I, nevertheless, determined not to
do so without having absolute proof that they meant
to murder me. In the long silent watches of the
recent nights, when earth lay speechless to the stars,
I had thought out a plan in view of the probable
contingency, and this plan I proceeded to put into
execution. These men should have their chance,
and if they meant anything less than absolute
murder, my right hand might perish before I would
slay them.
''So I yoked the team to the wagon once more,
and drew it onward for a few hundred yards to a
spot where two dunes nearly met, and where the
drift-sand lay loose and soft. Then I halted the
wagon, letting it appear as though the oxen had
been unable to draw it any farther. The oxen I
unyoked and sent forward in charge of Danster,
telling him, if he heard shooting, shortlv followed
by a shout from me, to bring them back at once.
'^ Then I gathered a quantity of fuel, carefully
selecting a number of logs of heavy, close-grained
wood, which might be depended upon to keep alight
244 By Veldt and Kopje
for hours. I felt so sure that no attack would be
made before dark, that I proceeded with my prepara-
tions in a most leisurely manner. We built the pile
ready for kindling, but waited for sundown before
setting it alight.
"In the meantime, Alida had — under my direc-
tions — taken a couple of yokes and some pillows, and
of these made dummy figures, which she dressed in
some of our garments. Then I scooped out a com-
fortable-looking couch in the soft dune-side, close
to the pile of fuel, and in the bottom of it laid a
kaross. Upon this we placed the two figures, side
by side, and over them we spread another kaross.
Above the head of one figure was laid Alida's
* cappie,' with the hood drawn over the face as
though to keep off the dew. Over the head of the
other my coat was laid in the same manner, my
hat being carelessly thrown down alongside. Within
arm's-reach one of my spare guns lay propped upon
forked sticks, so as to keep it clear of the sand.
" We finished our preparations just after the sun
had sunk, but I afterwards added a slight touch here
and there for the purpose of improving the general
effect. I remember Alida clinging to my arm in
terror, because, just as dusk was setting in, I re-
turned and placed one of my pipes on top of the hat,
where the metal top glinted brightly in the firelight.
Then we climbed into the wagon, let the canvas
flap fall, and sat silently awaiting developments.
'* The sides of the canvas cover buttoned to the
woodwork of the tilt, but we unbuttoned sufficient
By the Waters of Marah 245
of it to give us, when we lifted it slightly, a good
view of the fire, the couch with the dummies lying
in it, and a considerable space surrounding these.
"I sat in the wagon grasping my double-
barrelled gun. My pulse beat no faster than usual.
The only emotion I was conscious of was extreme
impatience. I was not even uneasy about Danster
and the cattle, although I knew there were many
lions about. I was quite certain that the two human
jackals would fall into the trap I had so carefully set
for them, but the waiting, which lasted until after
midnight, seemed long and wearisome. It was
Alida who first, with the sharp ear of the desert-
bred, heard their approaching stealthy steps. She
grasped my arm suddenly, and I knew quite well
what she meant to convey, so I noiselessly cocked
both barrels of my gun. Then she lifted the edge of
the canvas a few inches, and I looked cautiously out.
''Gerrit was the first to appear ; he had an evil
smile on his face, and his wicked black eyes glittered
like sparks. Immediately following came Piet. He
looked haggard, and his pale lips moved convulsively.
Both men were barefoot, and without hats or boots.
They had, Danster afterwards ascertained when he
traced their spoors backwards for the purpose of
getting their horses, watched our camp for some
time from the top of a dune a few hundred yards
away, and there discarded their boots and superfluous
clothing before advancing to their cowardly attack.
*'Gerrit leading, the two stole up to within two
yards of my supposed figure, and then Piet stretched
246 By Veldt and Kopje
out his hand and took possession of my gun, which
he placed out of reach. The two then pointed their
guns, Gerrit at the head and Piet at the breast of the
dummy. I noticed that both took some pains to
avoid the possibility of wounding the other supposed
sleeper with their shots, and for this a faint throb of
something like pity woke in my mind. I saw the
muzzles of the guns drop slightly in unison once,
twice, and then, at the third drop, both weapons
were discharged.
" I had covered Gerrit, and an instant after he
fired he dropped with my bullet through his brain.
Piet sprang wildly to one side, only, however, to
meet my second shot, which pierced his chest from
the left-hand side. He fell on his face with a gurg-
ling groan, and died, clutching wildly at the grass.
IV
" I SPRANG out of the wagon, ran to the top of the
dune and shouted to old Danster, who, to my aston-
ishment, emerged from under a bush a few yards off.
He had stolen back after leaving the oxen, replete
and happy, lying down about a quarter of a mile
away. The old Hottentot was filled with savage
delight at little Slinger's death having been so com-
pletely avenged. He had his gun ready to shoot
Piet had I fallen. Soon afterwards he brought up
the oxen at a run, and we tied them to the yokes.
*' We then dragged the two bodies to the back of
the dune, and there left them to such sepulture as
By the Waters of Marah 247
the vultures and the jackals might give. A few
spadefuls of clean white sand obliterated all superficial
traces of the gruesome happenings in the vicinity of
the wagon. Then Alida and I sat on the wagon-
box, hand in hand, and watched until the night
died and the gracious morning smiled upon the
desert.
" I felt no remorse for what I had done, then or
ever afterwards. My deed had been an execution,
not a murder — an act of self-defence under the direst
necessity. But I preferred to look upon it as a kind
of judicial proceeding in which the culprits had been
tried and sentenced at the bar of eternal justice, and
handed over to me, unwilling, for execution.
*' When the sweet, pure influences of dawn des-
cended upon us after that night of blood, my heart-
strings sang aloud and I thrilled with a sense of
elation such as I had never previously experienced.
I seemed to be king of a boundless realm, and my
queen sat in beauty at my side. No word of love
had passed between us since our flight, but she was
now mine by every law of heaven and earth. The
face of love had hitherto been shaded by terror and
tears, but now it shone upon us, unclouded and
bright as the morning. We were alone in the wild,
untracked and boundless desert, but we would not
have exchanged our wagon for a palace. To us a
world of men would have been unbearable ; the con-
vulsion we had passed through had whirled us to
some zone far from the ways of ordinary humanity.
We were like two peerless eagles soaring in the heart
248 By Veldt and Kopje
of the infinite blue, forgetful of the inconspicuous
earth.
" Northward and ever northward we travelled.
Wayward Nature spread a carpet for our delighted
feet, and laid the fruits of the earth ready for our
banquet. I felt so happy that it gave me pain to
slay the innocent desert creatures when meat was
required. I knew not fear of anything. I have
looked calmly into the eyes of a furious lion when
he crouched ready to spring at me, and laid him
quivering at my feet with a shot which seemed as
though it could not err.
" We happened upon the bitter wells quite by
accident. Alida took a fancy to this spot, so we
here formed our camp. We never dreamt of having
to depend upon the bitter water for our sustenance,
for the well in the donga close at hand looked as
though it could never run dry. The Bushmen soon
became our fast friends. Alida spoke their language,
and they used to bring their sick and hurt to her
for treatment. In one or two serious cases I was
called in, and, owing to the fact of fortunate re-
coveries resulting, I acquired the reputation of a
great magician. This reputation I have never lost.
" For a year no two human beings were ever
happier than we. Alida could use a gun quite as
well as I, so I felt no uneasiness about leaving her
alone when hunting took me far afield. The desert,
after rain, is full of wholesome vegetable food, and
with this the Bushmen kept us well supplied. We
had no want or desire which we could not satisfy.
By the Waters of Marah 249
Yes, that year was enough to atone for an eternity
of pain.
" One thing only I dreaded — the possibility of
Alida's becoming a mother, and at length the day
came when I knew that my dread w^ould be realised.
This was just a year after our union.
" Soon afterwards the land began to dry up, and
it was then I should have escaped to the Great Lake.
But I was new to the climate, and I could make no
guess as to what was coming. I hoped against hope
for rain, but the sun scorched fiercer and fiercer.
Now and then the clouds came up to mock our
misery, but no drop fell from them. One by one
the water-places failed, and the Bushmen began to
flock in to the bitter wells from every direction. All
had the same tale to tell. The desert, which had
been awakened to beauty by the kiss of the fickle
sky, was falling back into its ancient, death-like
sleep. Until this present season it has never since
awakened.
*' The well in the donga close at hand held out
long after the others had dried up, but it, too, began
to show signs of soon becoming exhausted. The
Bushmen still said that rain might come, and once,
when the lightnings flickered on the north-eastern
horizon, they held a dance to show their joy at the
prospect of a deluge. But soon afterwards the air
grew cooler, with a clear sky, and then the dwellers
of the desert told us to bid good-bye to hope.
" The child was born — a strong, lusty boy — and
Alida stood the ordeal bravely. But the sides of
250 By Veldt and Kopje
our well began to crumble in, and the water to
become horribly less. At length, after we had spent
nearly a whole day in squeezing a single pannikin of
moisture from the sand scraped up at the bottom of
the pit, we sadly moved over to the bitter wells.
The child was then two months old.
*'Alida sickened from the water at once.
Strangely enough, it had no effect upon me. Then
the kind Bushmen searched all over the desert for
the ostrich egg-shells which they had filled with
rain-water and buried here and there so that the
hunters might not die of thirst when their pursuit
of game had taken them far away from their camps.
This stuff, horrible as it proved, Alida was able to
exist upon, but the supply soon became exhausted,
and then the bitter water made her more ill than
ever. Her illness poisoned the child ; it wasted
quickly and died in cruel pain.
''Alida never lifted her head after the child's death.
By her wish I carried it over here for burial. At
one time it seemed as though she might possibly
become accustomed to the bitter water. Then, after
unusually hot weather, its poison grew so virulent
that even some of the Bushmen sickened. Alida
became suddenly worse, and two days afterwards she
died in my arms.
..•■••
'' All this happened twenty years ago. On these
notched sticks I have kept a record of the slow time.
Alida and the child lie buried beneath the spot where
we are sitting now ; I shall never leave the place.
By the Waters of Marah 251
Every day the Bushmen bring me enough meat and
water for my needs. Old Danster died of thirst when
hunting in the desert, years ago.
• ••••,
"The wild animals seem to know me, for they
never attempt to do me any hurt. I do not think I
am unhappy, for I can sleep when I like, and in my
dreams I go over the past again and again. They
used to teach me that another life comes after death.
I do not know. ... I know that if the soul lives
when the body dies, our souls will be together. . . .
But now I dream . . . and dream ..."
THE HUNTER OF THE DIDIMA.
" You say, my Chief, that you wish me to relate a
tale of the days of my youth, which are now so very
far away. Well, I owe you homage for that you
opened the door of the prison wherein my grandson
lay, accused of a crime which another had committed.
Last year I might have sent you a cow, which would
have kept your children's calabash always full, but
now that the Rinderpest has emptied my kraal I am
a poor man — so poor that I cannot even offer you a
drink of sour milk. There, behind that mat, lie
the calabashes splitting from dryness. IVau^ but it
is hard for an old man who has owned cattle all his
life to look every day into an empty kraal.
" Oh yes — about the tale. Well, I can tell you
of an occasion when I was so near my death that
for months afterwards I would start up in my sleep
of nights and shriek aloud. The tale has often been
told, but never the whole of it, for it is shameful
for a man to relate how he wept like a woman and
begged for his life. But now all the others are dead
— and, for myself, why, I am only an old man of no
account who will soon be dead too.
" In the days I speak of Makomo was Chief over
all the country. I was a young man, and had only
been married a few months. My father was one who
253
254 By Veldt and Kopje
stood near the Chief. He was rich in cattle and his
racing oxen were the best in the land. I had only
recently been made a man. I was too young, so
many said, for the rite, but the Chiefs ' Great Son '
was to be made a man at the time, and my father
wanted me to be one of his blood-brothers. Then
my father said I should marry and get grandchildren
for him. In those days I cared for nothing but
hunting, but my father began paying dowry for a
girl, so I made no objection. She came to be the
grandmother of Nathaniel, whom you know. He
comes home twice every year from the Mission, and
tells me that I am going, when I die, to a deep pit
full of a very hot kind of fire. Well, perhaps I am,
but I shall meet my Chief and my old friends there,
but not Nathaniel, nor his grandmother.
" Makomo was a great Chief in those days, and
no one ever dared to disobey him except the
' Abatwa,' the wild Bushmen who dwelt in the high
mountains among the rocks and forests, and who
shot people to death with shafts smeared with the
poison of snakes. Brave as Makomo's men were
when they fought the English, they dreaded the
little men of the rocks, who could kill from afar
without being seen or heard.
"From my earliest boyhood I loved nothing so
well as hunting, and my favourite ground was the
forest at the back of the Didima Mountain, which
was full of buffalo, koodoo, bushbuck, and other
game. On the top of the big mountain beyond it,
which you call the Katberg, herds of eland used
The Hunter of the Didima 255
often to browse. Other young men who loved the
chase would accompany me, but I was always the
leader.
"At a spot in the valley at the back of the
Didima, far away from any other dwellings, lived a
man called Bangeni, a great doctor. This man did
not fear the Bushmen. For some reason or another
they never interfered with him, even when they
raided in the valleys far past his dwelling. He spoke
their language, which sounded like the spitting of a
nest of wild cats I once dug out of a hole. Men
used to say that through his medicines Bangeni had
the power of moving unseen from place to place, and
that the Bushmen knew this and feared him accord-
ingly. I do not know if this was the case, but it is
certain that although the Bushmen were often seen
in the rocks on the ridge above his kraal, and although
they sometimes killed the herd-boys in the valley
below, and drove off cattle, nothing of Bangeni's was
ever taken.
" We all feared this man, and no one ever went
to his kraal unless for medicine. Over and over
again have I passed it when returning from hunting,
but no matter how tired or thirsty I was I would
never stop.
" One day, being alone in the forest, I found a
young girl sleeping. She had a beautiful face, and
a bosom like that of a partridge when the millet
is ripe in the fields. She arose when I approached,
but did not show the least alarm. We sat together
and talked from noon until the sun had nearly sunk.
256 By Veldt and Kopje
She was the daughter of Bangeni, and her name was
Nongala. She spoke of sensible things in a low,
soft voice. When we parted I already wished that
my father had paid dowry for her instead of for the
other one — Nathaniel's grandmother.
" After that day I never passed Bangeni's dwell-
ing without calling. Nathaniel's grandmother got
to hear of the girl, and I had to break several sticks
upon her before she left off troubling. You know
Nathaniel? Well, he is just like what she was.
" As I grew older I hunted more and more. My
father was rich, and I was his * great son,' so, when-
ever I heard of a good dog I used to try and buy it.
We had no guns, but we were expert with the
assegai, and besides we used to drive the game into
stalked pits. Mawo^ but these were great days.
In the valley, where the buffaloes used to crash
through the forest with my dogs baying behind, the
Hottentots now grow tobacco. And I am an old,
old man without a single cow, and my Chief is dead,
and Nathaniel says I am going to the pit to burn in
this new kind of fire.
" The mischief committed by the Bushmen at
length became so bad that the people could stand it
no longer, so Makomo called out an army for the
purpose of clearing the mountains of these vermin.
The occasion was that they had one day killed six
herd-boys and driven a large troop of cattle off.
Then Makomo saw that if he wished to hold the
country any longer he must destroy the Bushmen.
" Every man who could wield an assegai was
The Hunter of the Didima 257
called out, and the army was doctored on the night of
the new moon. Next morning we went forth in three
divisions, one of which held the level plateau which
connects the Katberg Range with the great mountains
farther back, and so cut off the retreat of the enemy.
Another division went to the east of the Katberg and
the third to the west of the Didima ; then the three
bodies moved towards each other in open order.
"The Bushmen retired without fighting when
they saw how strong we were, and when they found
their retreat cut off from the great mountain they
took refuge in the caves and chasms of a high ridge
which stood apart near the southern end of the plateau.
We were joyful when we knew that at length we had
the murderers where our hands could reach them.
" It was nearly nightfall when we formed in a ring
around the rocks and scrubby bushes amidst which
they lay, and our numbers were so great that no man
was more than four paces from his companions on
either side. Each carried a shield wherewith to ward
off the poisoned arrows. For a long time it had been
known that this attack must, some day, take place,
and every man had been ordered to provide himself
with a strong shield of ox-hide.
" Throughout the night we could hear no sound
except now and then hootings and cries like those of
owls and night-jars. These were the signals which
the enemy made to each other. Just before daybreak
they made an attempt to break through the ring, but
we drove them back ; not more than five or six
managed to escape. We had expected this attempt,
R
258 By Veldt and Kopje
and word had been sent round by the leader that
should it take place the grass was to be fired. Within
a few minutes the ridge was ringed with flame. The
season was late summer, but the land was dry and the
grass fit for burning. Not a breath of wind was
stirring, so the ring of fire burnt slowly, and we closed
in behind it as the ground became cool enough for
our feet to bear it.
" Day was breaking when the fire reached long
grass and brambles just beneath the summit among
which the Bushmen lay concealed. Then they sprang
out like monkeys from a cornfield when the dogs are
let loose, and climbed to a bare mass of stone which
topped the ridge. We rushed in at them through the
flame, and they met us with a shower of arrows. It
was a hard, bitter fight, but when the sun arose not a
Bushman was left alive. The women, and even the
little children, fought as bravely as the men, and bit
our feet as we trod over them in the struggle thinking
they were dead. Not one uttered a cry, even in the
death-agony. Thirty-four of our men were struck
down by the poisoned arrows, and of these more than
half died in torment.
'^Bangeni had fallen under suspicion of being in
some way leagued with the Bushmen, on account of
his property not having been carried off. He was too
old a man to be expected to fight, so was not with
the attacking force. As our men passed his dwelling
on their way to the attack they had shouted threats as
to what would be done to him after * his friends,' as
they called the Bushmen, had been reckoned with.
The Hunter of the Didima 259
However, he now came forward with his medicines,
and it was only the men whom he treated that recovered
from their wounds. Therefore he was once more re-
ceived into favour.
"After this slaughter we had peace, and for
several years not a Bushman was seen anywhere near
the Didima, although it was known that many still
existed in the great mountain beyond it. Bangeni
still dwelt at the old spot, and I continued to visit his
kraal and meet Nongala. Nathaniel's grandmother
became jealous, and I was compelled to break several
more sticks upon her back. She often ran home,
and I was glad to be rid of her, but her father always
sent her back lest he should have to return the dowry-
cattle. Eventually I sent my brother, with three
oxen, to Bangeni to ask for Nongala as my second
wife, and it was arranged that I should marry her at
the coming time of green corn.
" One day in autumn, after the plough rains had
fallen, I, with seventeen of my friends, went to hunt a
troop of elands which were reported to have newly
come to the top of the Katberg. We all brought our
best dogs, and I had arranged through Bangeni with
the Bushmen that they should help us to drive the
game into a deep valley with a narrow pass at one
end, where we could lie in ambush. This valley was
some distance away, in the direction of the great
mountain where the wild men, as we well knew, dwelt
in large numbers. But we were young and had no
fear. I thought that on account of my friendship
with Bangeni none of the Bushmen would harm me.
26o By Veldt and Kopje
and that my companions would be safe as well.
Besides, the suggestion towards this hunt came from
the Bushmen themselves.
*' We found the game and drove it into the valley.
When we arrived there, exhausted and out of breath,
we found the bewildered herd huddled together in a
rocky hollow, whilst around its sides stood a ring of
the little people. Then we rushed in, and before the
sun sank five of the elands lay dead. The rest broke
through the circle and escaped, whilst we threw our-
selves to the ground and lay there, panting.
"Two of the elands had fallen close together,
within a few paces of a stream of water, and the
others lay at different spots, none of which were
more than a hundred paces away. We seventeen
collected together where the two elands lay, and in
a few minutes found ourselves surrounded by those
who had driven the game for us. At first we sus-
pected no treachery, but all at once we found that
each of us had several poisoned arrows pointed at
him, and that the notch of every arrow rested against
the string of a drawn bow. Then we saw how we
had been tricked ; these people had enticed us thus
far from our friends for the purpose of getting us
into their power.
" One Bushman, who could speak our language,
came forward, and with him we held a parley. They
did not, he said, want to kill us but to hold us at
ransom. What they wanted was cattle, and for cattle
our Chief might buy our lives. To prove this they
were willing to allow one of our number to go with
The Hunter of the Didima 261
a message to Makomo, stating their terms. At this
we felt much relieved ; some of our party were re-
lated to MakomOj and we knew that the cattle would
be sent.
" But we had not heard all, and what followed
made us burn with rage. We were required to give
up our arms and then to submit to being bound,
hand and foot. At first we angrily refused to do
this, saying that we would rather die fighting than
undergo such disgrace ; but when we looked at the
bent bows and the arrows, each drawn back to the
poison-smeared point, we felt as though hooded
snakes surrounded us, poised to strike if we so much
as moved hand or foot. We had seen the pain of
those who died of their wounds after the fight, and
we remembered how brave men had wept like women,
begging of us to kill them as their blood had turned
to fire. Death by spear or club we could have faced,
but the thought of slowly dying from the snake-
poison of the arrows made our hearts like the hearts
of little children, so we yielded. One by one we
cast our weapons to the ground and stepped forth to
where they bound us with thongs. Each of us had
his knees and ankles tied together and his hands
fastened behind his back.
" Our weapons were collected into a heap ; our
dogs were caught and tied to the bushes near the
stream, and then our messenger, a man named
Goloza, was allowed to go free. He was told to be
back with the cattle by noon on the following day,
and warned that if more than five men accompanied
262 By Veldt and Kopje
him we would be killed as soon as their approach
was signalled.
" After this the Bushmen lit fires and began to
feast upon the game we had killed. They made
merry around the carcases, eating such a quantity of
meat that their bodies swelled until they looked like
ticks on the dewlap of a cow in summer. In the
early stages of the feasting they sang and danced,
and then they played a curious game, in which some
pretended to kill others, who, in their turn, pretended
to be slain. We could hear from the noises around
the other fires that similar feasting and dancing was
going on at each carcase.
" Our throats felt as though filled with hot ashes,
for we had sweated much in the chase, but though
we begged for water they would not give us a drop.
My heart seems even now to grow cold when I think
of all that happened during that night. Our bonds
were tightly drawn and galled us sorely, but our
captors laughed at and taunted us when we prayed
for relief.
''After they had feasted and danced through half
the night, the Bushmen came and sat close to us,
and some who happened to be able to speak our lan-
guage began to converse with us. What they said
made us lose all hope and wish for a speedy death to
put us out of our pain. It appeared that their send-
ing Goloza with the message was but a device for
the purpose of getting cattle, and that they meant
to kill us in any case. Their craft was such that
they kept us alive in the event of Makomo sending
The Hunter of the Didima 263
messengers ahead for the purpose of ascertaining that
we were still alive before delivering the ransom cattle.
They intended to kill us as well as the messengers as
soon as the cattle were in their possession. This was
to be their revenge for the slaughter we had inflicted
upon their friends and relatives.
" We begged hard for our lives, offering large
herds of cattle if our captors would let us send one
of our number to collect from our kraals. We wept
and moaned as we begged for mercy, but the more
pitifully we pleaded the more they laughed and jeered
at us. After we had amused them sufficiently thus,
they returned to their feasting. Then, after placing
two of their number to watch us, they fell fast asleep.
" Now a Bushman, when really full of meat,
must needs sleep, and then he is like a gorged
vulture, for nothing will wake him until he has
digested the food. If disturbed he will only sprawl
about like a drunken man, and roll his eyes like a
child a week old. Soon the two watchers slept too,
and then the fire died down, and we lay suffering in
the darkness. There was no sound except our own
groans, the snoring of the Bushmen, who had sunk
back, each at the place where he had been sitting,
and lay huddled upon the ground, and the murmur-
ing of the stream of water.
" We strove and struggled with our bonds, but
they were too cunningly tied for this to be of any
avail, so we only put ourselves to greater pain. The
plashing of the cool water over the stones only a few
yards off maddened us, and we tried to roll towards
264 By Veldt and Kopje
it, but a barrier of sharp rocks stood in the way, and
this we found it impossible to cross. The jackals
came up and began to gnaw the bones around the
fireplace ; they stepped fearlessly in among the
sleepers, as though quite accustomed to so doing.
" We lay thus until it was nearly day. Then I
heard a soft voice speak my name. I answered in a
whisper, and in a moment Nongala was bending over
me, cutting my bonds with a sharp knife.
" I was so stiff that for a while I could hardly
move a limb. Nongala went to the others, one by
one, and released them as well. After a few minutes
our clogged blood began to move once more, and
then, suddenly, we seemed to recover our strength.
The first thing we did was to recover our weapons.
"Then we went softly to and fro among the
sleepers and took possession of their bows and
arrows. The reed shafts of the latter we broke, and
then we flung them, like snakes with broken backs,
in a heap upon the embers. In a short time the
heap blazed brightly up, and then we went to work
at our vengeance.
" The sleepers lay close together, and we made
a ring about them, so that none might escape. But
this was not necessary ; they were so gorged that
not one awakened, even when the spear was at his
throat. One by one we slew them as they lay.
Then, with one accord, we went to the stream we
had been listening to throughout the long night of
pain, and drank our fill. But our work was not yet
done.
The Hunter of the Didima 265
''Around the bones of each of the other three
elands — for it proved that not a scrap of meat was
left — lay a party of surfeited sleepers, and those we
slew as we had slain the others. It was horrible
work, but the gall of black anger had risen to our
hearts, and we knew that these people had doomed
us to a miserable death.
"Day broke just as we had finished the killing,
so we struck for home across the mountains. We
met Goloza, accompanied by five other men, bring-
ing the cattle for our ransom ; they turned back and
accompanied us to Makom.o's Great Place — for we
went at once to make report of what had happened
to the Chief. The war-cry had gone out and men
were already assembling. It had been intended to
pursue the Bushmen and recover the ransom cattle.
There was great astonishment when we related what
we had done, and the disgrace of having allowed
ourselves to be disarmed and tied up like dogs was
regarded as having been wiped out by the blood we
had shed.
" You may be sure that Nongala came in for her
share of honour. A song, which was sung at every
feast for years afterwards, was composed to com-
memorate the exploit. She became so celebrated
that a rumour went forth that Makomo intended to
add her to the number of his wives. My own idea
is that the grandmother of Nathaniel caused the
thing to be talked about through jealousy. I do
not know if such be the case, or if the Chief had any
such intention, but to avoid the danger Nongala and
266 By Veldt and Kopje
I ran away together one night and took refuge with
the Chief of the Gaika tribe, who received us kindly,
feeling that it was to his honour to have such cele-
brated people under his protection. Three years
afterwards I returned to my own country and
Makomo received me kindly.
" For my own part, I have always felt ashamed
of having surrendered my weapons and allowed my-
self to be tied up — to say nothing of having wept
like a little boy, and beseeched for my life — than
proud of the killing. I do not think that until to-
day anyone has ever told the whole truth about this
matter. Often, when I have heard some of the
others at a beer-drink boasting of what they have
done, I have walked away or hidden my face in my
kaross lest the truth should be revealed by my looks.
But all the others are now dead, and I am an old
man, so what does it matter ?
"Yes, I am an old man, and the sooner I am
dead the better. The valleys in which I hunted in
the days of my youth are full of the Hottentots
to whom the Government gave the land, and I
doubt if you would find an ' iputi ' in the Didima
Forest.
" Men can say what they like, but the world is
not so good to live in now as it was in the days when
I was young. Where has the rain gone to ? It has
not rained as it used to rain when Makomo was
Chief since the Hottentots were given the country.
" Well, it may be as you say, but if Government
The Hunter of the Didima 267
were to drive the Hottentots out and give back the
land to Makomo's son, I think you would find that
the rain would fall again as it used to. But I am an
old man, and my kraal is empty. Yes, I have lived
too long.
A FORGOTTEN EXPEDITION
In the early winter of 1874 considerable excitement
prevailed in the little mining camp of Pilgrim's Rest.
The Transvaal Government (Mr Burgers being
President) was reported to be organising an expedi-
tion to Delagoa Bay for the purpose of convoying
certain arms and ammunition thence to Pretoria. It
had been for some time an open secret that an attack
was projected upon Seccocoeni, chief of the Bapedi,
who had refused to pay hut-tax. The attack was
made in due course, and failed, but that has nothing
to do with this story.
The war material in question had, with the excep-
tion of ten tons of gunpowder purchased from the
firm of Pigou & Wilkes, been presented to the
Republic by the German Government. It was part
of the loot of the Franco-German war.
Delagoa Bay had a bad name. The previous
year was a very fatal one in the 'Mow country."
Out of thirty-five men who went to prospect, to hunt
or to amuse themselves between the mountains and
the sea in the early part of 1873, twenty-seven died
of fever. They had gone too early, and the rains
were late. But the seasons were not known so well
in the seventies as they are now.
Twenty-five men were wanted, and, among the
269
270 By Veldt and Kopje
floating population of the reckless and the restless
who are always attracted by an alluvial gold-field,
these were not difficult to obtain. Accordingly, in
the early days of June the expedition started under
the command of Major McDonald (late of the
United States' Army), who held the office of Gold
Commissioner. The convoy included eight wagons
and sixteen spans of oxen. The country of the tsetse
fly had to be traversed ; but, unless rain falls, cattle
generally live for six weeks or so after being bitten,
and it was intended to run the goods through before
the oxen succumbed.
We were a various sort of crew, most nations,
trades and characters being represented in our meagre
ranks. I was the boy of the party, and consequently
had a very rough time. My worst tormentor was a
powerful brute named Collins ; my best protector a
herculean and splendidly handsome Highlander from
Skye, named Macpherson, who earned my deathless
gratitude by thrashing Collins severely. When
sober, " Mac " was always my good friend ; when
otherwise he was wont to use me despitefully.
Occasionally, when under the influence of Mauritius
rum, he would seize me by the heels and swing me
round his head.
We passed over the steep and massive mountain
range into the mysterious haze-shrouded country
which, without any break save the low Lebombo
Range, stretches evenly to the mangrove-cumbered
coast. After trekking through the undulating foot-
hills our course led across a dead level sparsely
A Forgotten Expedition 271
timbered and densely covered with thick, wiry grass.
The trees usually permitted a vista of about two
hundred yards, at the farther end of which one could
often see the wild forest creatures melting into the
gloom.
Close to Ship Mountain, where the plains begin,
we reached the border of the tsetse region, and here
we established a depot at which we left eight of our
sixteen spans of oxen. The country was teeming
with game. Lions were much in evidence. Al-
though we seldom saw the animals, their spoor
abounded, and their rumbling groans were at night
often audible on three sides of the camp at once.
We always camped at sundown, the wagons being
drawn up in a double line. Before dark the oxen
would be secured to the staked-down trek-chains.
All hands gathered fuel, which was very plentiful.
Six large fires were kept burning all night, and four
men were always on guard.
We crossed the Crocodile and Komati rivers —
noble streams of clear water several hundred yards
in width, eddying between large rocks upon which
many crocodiles basked. Along the low banks stood
groves of splendid trees, which harboured buffalo,
giraffe, water-buck and many other kinds of game.
Elephants we never saw, but their spoor was
occasionally visible. On one occasion we heard
them trumpeting and crashing through the trees.
Near the Komati I had the only narrow escape
from death I ever experienced in the hunting-field,
and the occasion thereof was a buck not much
272 By Veldt and Kopje
bigger than a "duiker." The incident occurred as
follows : —
I went out one morning to shoot impala.
Now the impala is a small red antelope which used
to frequent river banks in immense herds. The
does are hornless, but the bucks have sharp horns
over eighteen inches long. The proportion of the
sexes is about one buck to a hundred does. I stood
in a thicket watching a herd pass, waiting for an
opportunity to shoot a buck. At length I got a
shot, and put a bullet through an animal with
particularly fine horns, just behind the shoulder.
The buck turned out of the herd, bleeding profusely,
and I followed on the spoor. When I overtook my
quarry he was standing under a tree, apparently
almost at the last gasp. I laid down my rifle, drew
my knife and approached. The buck sprang at me
like an arrow, head down. I just managed to leap
out of the way ; he grazed my leg in passing and fell
over, helpless. It was only by the merest chance
that I escaped being transfixed.
The first notable incident occurred after we had
crossed the Komati and were approaching the Le-
bombo Range. Early one morning we were as-
tonished to find a tent-wagon standing in a some-
what thickly-wooded hollow. Around it lay the
putrifying carcases of several oxen. A few low
mounds were also visible. Under the wagon lay
four white men in the last stage of exhaustion from
fever. All were raving in delirium. There were no
signs of water in the vicinity. The surrounding
A Forgotten Expedition 273
trees were thickly encrusted with bright yellow
lichen, which gave them a ghastly and fever-stricken
look.
We camped close to the spot, wondering what
could be the explanation of the strange phenomenon.
Hours passed, but we could discover no clue. The
unhappy creatures under the wagon mowed at us
and raved in French. We gave them water, which
they greedily drank. The stench was frightful ;
the mounds we had noticed were human graves.
But no excavations had been made, the sand being
simply heaped over the bodies.
Then a gigantic, bearded man emerged from the
bush and approached, carrying a small demijohn in
each hand. I recognised him as one Alexandre, a
Frenchman I had known on the diamond fields.
He explained matters. The expedition, originally
eight strong, had started from Lydenburg some six
weeks previously. The whole team of oxen suc-
cumbed more quickly than usual to tsetse bite. All
his companions went down with fever. Three died
and had been laid to their rest under the mounds.
But even there rest had been denied them, for the
lions used to come at night and tear open the graves ;
they had actually rooted out one of the bodies.
Owing to prodigality of ammunition when the big
game was most plentiful, only very few cartridges
were left. Every night jackals and hyenas used to
snarl and fight over the carcases of the oxen, which
lay only a few yards from the wagon. But it was
the lions that were the chief source of terror. A
s
274 By Veldt and Kopje
lioness had carried off a dog from the fireside im-
mediately behind the wagon. As though aware of
the helplessness of the stricken party, the great brutes
became bolder and bolder, walking round and round
the camp in an ever-narrowing circle. All this was
corroborated by the fact that not a hand's-breadth of
ground anywhere near the camp was without a lion's
spoor. The nearest water lay ten miles away, and
to the spring Alexandre wended, with his two demi-
johns, every day. We loaded the sick men up —
leaving the wagon in the waste like a stranded ship
— and took them on to Delagoa Bay.
The road had been cut by the Transvaal
authorities to near the inland base of the Lebombo,
and by the Portuguese to the seaward base. It fell
to our lot to clear a passage over the mountain itself.
This entailed a great deal of crowbar work, in rolling
out of the way huge boulders. My clearest remem-
brance in connection with the enterprise is of a
scorpion sting which I received in the hand.
We reached Lourengo Marques in due course.
The inhabitants turned out en masse to meet us.
For several miles along the road approaching the
town, the trees were loaded with children gaping in
dumb curiosity. The town lay between the bay and
a crescent-shaped swamp. This was crossed by
several causeways. Between the swamp and the
houses stood a fortified wall, from which projected
many poles bearing mouldering human heads. The
town was from the seaward side dominated by a
wicked-looking fortress.
A Forgotten Expedition 275
The principal inhabitants appeared to be Banyans
who, surrounded by members of their dusky harems
and clad in picturesque Eastern dress, occupied the
stoeps on the shady side of every street. All the
houses had closely latticed windows, but these were
thrown open when the shades of evening fell.
There was a very high time in the old town that
night. Our party took possession of the only hotel
— a large, cool and comfortable house kept by a
Portug^uese named Fernandez, who had an Engrlish
wife. With our arrival respectability fled shrieking
from the premises. I trust I may be acquitted of
self-righteousness in recording the circumstance that
I was the only sober one among the strangers. We
acted more or less like an army which has taken a
city by assault.
One of the larger stores stocked a quantity of
obsolete fire brigade uniforms. These, in most
details suggestive of the burlesque stage, included
enormous helmets, which had massive burnished
metal guards extending down the wearer's back.
Mild hints towards a realisation of these monstrosi-
ties may be found in Flaxman's illustrations to the
Iliad. We dressed in the uniforms and proceeded
to paint the settlement red.
After dinner one of our braves stag^gered into the
hotel dining-room, carrying seven or eight rifles
with fixed bayonets attached under one arm, and a
trembling Portuguese soldier under the other. This
unhappy being was summarily tried for attempted
murder. In passing sentence of death — and the
276 By Veldt and Kopje
address was punctuated by dabs with a full-cocked
and loaded revolver — the judge came crashing to the
floor. The marble-topped table on which he sat
collapsed into utter ruin. The sentence was to have
been carried out at once, but a few of us, who still
retained some vestige of our senses, with difficulty
succeeded in getting an hour's reprieve to enable the
culprit to prepare for eternity. We led him out and
let him escape. I shall never forget how he sprinted
down the street.
Later, Macpherson and I sallied forth in search
of adventure. We happened upon the Governor's
residence. Here an archway led into a small court-
yard which was full of tropical plants. Another
arched doorway led from the courtyard into the
house, and over the apex hung a fine pair of koodoo
horns. Two sentries paced the footway outside, but
we had slipped in before they realised our intentions
■ — Macpherson leading and I following, with mis-
givings, in his wake. When we looked round, there
stood the two sentries barring the way we had entered
by with fixed bayonets. Macpherson reached up,
tore the koodoo horns from the wall, placed the
skull to his chest and charged with a terrible yell.
The sentries collapsed. One escaped ; the other we
captured and put in a sentry box, which we turned
over on him. We stuck the bayoneted rifles into
his Excellency's flower-beds and departed, leaving
the unhappy sentry a prone prisoner.
Next day the town was, except for ourselves, like
a city of the dead. All the shops were shut — not a
A Forgotten Expedition 277
soul appeared. The soldiers were shut up in the fort,
the cannon of which were trained on the streets.
However, some sort of order was restored, negotia-
tions were opened, and it was agreed that we
were to load up the goods we had come to fetch
early next morning. This we accordingly did.
Then we drew our wagons some few miles out
of town and held high wassail in the primeval
bush.
Our wagons were almost entirely laden with
gunpowder, and the loads were light. The gun-
powder was contained in loo-lb. kegs. These last
were loosely built and hooped together with twigs.
The explosive inside was done up in 5-lb. bags.
We also had a mitrailleuse, which was drawn by
eight oxen. I well remember the name of this
weapon, inscribed in large letters on a thick copper
plate. It was "Le General Schuler."
About three days' trek from the port lay the
Mattol Marsh — a hideous quagmire several hundred
yards in width. On our forward journey we had
felled trees and laid a corduroy road over it. This
the empty wagons crossed with comparative ease,
but now when loaded they broke it up with dire
results. The barrels had to be carried across. There
was no chance of a rest by the way as, on account of
the gaping spaces between the staves, the kegs could
not be laid down in the mud even for an instant.
The bare recollection of that experience gives me
toothache in the atlas bone. Then the wagons had
to be taken asunder and carried across piecemeal,
278 By Veldt and Kopje
but this was not so bad, for we could take an
occasional rest.
The Mattol was, alas ! not the only marsh we
had to cross. Soon, from much handling, the gun-
powder barrels began to break up, and we had to
deal with the bags. Then these began to give way,
and loose powder permeated everything. We tasted
it in our tea ; we shook it out ot our kits when we
unrolled them each night. Strict orders against
smoking anywhere near the wagons had been given,
but no one, from the commander down, paid the
least attention to these. I have seen several men
lying on the ground smoking under a wagon, and
when one climbed up to get his kit, watched small
trickles of powder fall among the smokers. Once
a grass fire swept towards us before a stiff breeze.
We were then outspanned at the Komati Drift. An
order was passed round that when the fire reached a
certain point we were to leave the wagons to their
fate and take to the river. This, by the way, was
full of crocodiles. But suddenly the wind died
away, so we rushed at the fire and beat it out with
our shirts. It was evident that the Fates were
determined we were not to be blown up.
Occasionally we trekked by moonlight. One
night I was walking with two others some distance
in front of the leading wagon. We carried no
weapons. One man uttered a low " sh-h " and held
up his hand. There, not five yards away, were a
lion and a lioness crouched flat in the roadway. We
stepped slowly backwards for about fifty yards and
A Forgotten Expedition 279
then stood not upon the order of our going until we
met the convoy.
One morning buffalo were reported close to the
camp. I sprang from my blankets and went after
them. I wounded one badly and went on its spoor.
The sun began to decline, and I attempted to get
back to the wagons. But the country was flat and
the trees stood high on every side. Soon the terrible
fact came home to me that I was lost.
I had neither eaten nor drunk since the previous
evening. The day was sultry ; soon I began to
suffer from raging thirst. I had only three cart-
ridges left, having expended the others on the
wounded buffalo, whose vanishing hindquarters
had been my occasional target for several hours.
But my thirst became so furious that I determined
to shoot some animal and drink its blood. I reached
a long and wide depression where trees were few,
but which was full of straggling patches of reeds.
Looking through one of the latter I became aware
of several animals moving to my left. I crept to
the end of the reed-patch to intercept them and —
out stalked five lions. Two were full grown ; three
were cubs. The old couple paced majestically away ;
the cubs squatted funnily on their haunches and
looked at me with quaint curiosity.
That night I perched in a tree, where I was
driven from bough to bough by predatory ants.
When the sun arose I got my bearings roughly.
Fortunately the day was cool. Early in the after-
noon I managed to strike the trail of the wagons.
28o By Veldt and Kopje
After walking on it for about an hour, I found I was
going in the wrong direction. But I turned and
staggered along until about midnight, when I reached
the camp. Here I narrowly escaped being shot, for
when the sentry challenged I could not answer, my
lips, tongue and throat being like crackling leather.
Thus ended the most horrible experience of my life.
We cached our cargo at Ship Mountain, having
dug a pit for it in the dry sand. The wagons were
at once sent back to Delagoa with the fresh spans.
The cattle which had been through the fly country
were left at the cache. Six men of our party were
put in charge. I happened to be one of these.
Almost immediately the unhappy cattle began to
die. Soon they lay in heaps at a spot about a mile
from the camp. Thither we used to drive them
when signs of collapse set in. It would, of course,
have been far more merciful to shoot them all at
once, but this we were not permitted to do.
At this bovine Golgotha congregated all the car-
nivora of the neighbourhood. Lions, hyenas and
jackals were always to be found. It is popularly
believed that lions will not eat carrion. This is a
mistake ; I have seen them doing so and apparently
enjoying themselves.
Our nights were made hideous by the hyenas,
whose yell is surely one of the most atrocious sounds
in Nature's repertoire. Lions worried us consider-
ably. On dark nights they used to drink at, and
befoul, a pool within ten yards of our tent. There
was no other water for many miles around. One
A Forgotten Expedition 281
evening a runner with letters from Lydenburg was
driven up a tree by a lion within a couple of miles
of our camp and kept a prisoner until about eleven
next forenoon.
I recall one trifling incident which left a very
weird impression. One very dark night we heard a
far-off halloo. The surrounding country was abso-
lutely uninhabited — so far as human beings were con-
cerned. The source of the noise drew nearer and
nearer, the halloo sounding at short intervals. It
was unmistakably a human voice. We made a roar-
ing blaze, shouted, waved firebrands and discharged
guns. But the creature with the human voice passed,
I should say, about three hundred yards from us,
uttering its gruesome cry at intervals. Then the cry
grew fainter and fainter, until it died away in the
distance. None of us slept a wink that night.
In our charge were thirty donkeys. For these
we built a high corral. The country being full of
game — and sick oxen — the lions never interfered with
these donkeys, although the spoors showed that they
used to prowl around the enclosure nearly every night,
evidently meditating a spring.
One day we saw a vast cloud of dust steadily
approaching from the distant south-west. There
was not a breath of wind stirring. Then came a
sound like that of the sea. This swelled to a
thunderous roar, and soon we were surrounded by a
mighty host of stampeding big game. Buffalo,
quagga, wildebeest, koodoo, hartebeest, and many
other varieties were jostling together and rushing
282 By Veldt and Kopje
wildly on. Occasionally the long, swaying necks of
a troop of giraffe would loom dimly above the throng-
ing mass. Had it not been for the fact that three
big trees shielded our tent, I firmly believe we would
have been overwhelmed.
It took about twenty minutes for this hurricane
to pass. Our thirty donkeys had disappeared, carried
along by the resistless flood. I found two of these
a couple of days afterwards, about ten miles away.
The others were seen no more. After the stampede
not a single head of game was to be found in the
neighbourhood, so we were reduced for some time to
a diet of dried peas.
In due course the second convoy arrived from
the Bay, and four wagons, drawn by such of the
oxen as were still fit to travel, were sent on to Lyden-
burg. I accompanied these.
When we began to ascend the mountain spurs
the nights turned bitterly cold. We had desperately
hard work, for the cattle became so weak that we
had to unload at nearly every donga. Being, as we
thought, out of the lion country, our vigilance at
night was somewhat relaxed. We posted only one
sentry at a time, nor were large fires around the
camp any longer compulsory. Very early on the
morning before we reached the summit of the range
I was on guard. Mine was the third watch, and my
two predecessors had so faked our only time-piece
that my vigil had lasted nearer six than the regula-
tion three hours. One of the recovered donkeys was
tied to a bush about twelve feet from where I sat,
A Forgotten Expedition 283
vainly endeavouring to warm my hands over a few
dying embers. Just before daybreak two lions sprang
on the unhappy donkey. I heard the wretched
animal's bones crack. The lions dragged the carcase
about fifty yards away — into a thick bush — and there
breakfasted at their leisure.
On our return to Lydenburg most of the members
of the expedition were paid off. We had lost only
one man ; he perished in a grass fire in the low
country.
I often wonder as to what has been the fate of
my companions. Some few I have heard of ; only
three have I since foregathered with. Two of the
latter I know to be dead. The others are — where ?
My one-time comrades, I salute you — or your
shades. Taking into account the kind of men you
were, the way you lived and moved and had your
being, and the fact that you were all so much older
than I, few should, in the natural course of events,
be still alive. A short, but by no means a merry,
life is the usual lot of such as you. May your spirits
have found that rest which could never have been
their portion on earth. Vale !
KAFFIR MUSIC
If one were to ask the average inhabitant of South
Africa whether the Bantu tribes have any national
music, the reply would almost surely be in the
negative. It is known that the mission-trained
native sometimes develops remarkable singing
powers, and that he picks up part-music with
strange facility ; but in his natural state the native
is supposed only to exercise his vocal powers in the
" tshotsha," which is a lugubrious sound generated
deep down in the throat, and suggests a comming-
ling of the notes of the corn-crake with the noise
made by the wind in streaming over the open
bunghole of an empty barrel.
Nevertheless, the Bantu possesses a music of his
own ; but this can only be heard, as a rule, if one
frequent the celebration of his tribal ceremonies.
Many of the native songs and chants are very
intricate compositions, in which the different parts
are adjusted to each other with ingenious nicety.
Such part-songs are probably extremely old, and
have reached their present development very
gradually.
It is not, however, with these that this article
will deal, but rather with simple tunes which it has
285
286 By Veldt and Kopje
been found possible to note down as opportunity
offered. Such may be of interest for purposes of
comparison with the rudimentary music of other
savage peoples.
The tunes given are mostly battle-songs, each
probably struck out like a spark upon the occasion
of some great tribal emergency.
In giving the following specimens of tunes
collected among the Hlubi tribe, it may be of
interest to indicate shortly, where possible, the
historical episode to which each relates. The Hlubi
tribe was one of the first to move in the great
migration which took place from what is now Natal,
early in the present century, before the onslaught of
Tshaka, the Zulu king. The Hlubis were not, as a
matter of fact, driven forth by the Zulus, but by
another tribe, the Amangwane, whose chief —
Matiwane, "the destroyer" — had evidently been
incited by Tshaka to declare war. They fled across
the Drakensberg Mountains to what is now the
Orange Free State, and there led a life of continuous
warfare for ten or twelve years.
The Hlubi chief Umti'mkulu ' was killed, with
nearly all his household. It was believed that not a
single member survived. Afterwards, however, it
transpired that his great wife, with her infant son,
Langalibalele,2 had escaped. The latter eventually
died in exile, having rebelled against the British
Government in Natal in the early seventies.
Upon the death of Umti'mkulu, the chieftain-
^ " Big tree." ^ " The sun scorches."
Kaffir Music 287
ship temporarily devolved upon his nephew,
Sidinane. This chief had a short and tragic career.
His memory is revered among the adherents of the
"right-hand house" of the Hlubi tribe, of which he
was the head, and his pathetic story even now brings
tears to the eyes of the old men.
It appears that after the death of Umti'mkulu,
the Hlubis for a long time wandered about, in a
great disorganised mob, over the wide plains lying
between the Vaal and Orange rivers. They were ex-
posed to attacks from the Zulus, the Matebele under
Umzil'igazi,' and the Amangwane under Matiwane
"the destroyer." A number had alreadv submitted
to the Matabele chief, and been incorporated in his
regiments. One night the Hlubis were attacked by
a Matabele force, but they scattered under cover of
the darkness, without making any resistance. Next
morning they opened negotiations with the Mata-
bele induna, and eventually agreed to submit to
Umzil'igazi. The Matabele force was returning,
laden with booty, from a raid upon the Basuto.
Messengers were despatched to Umzil'igazi, inform-
ing him of the submission of the Hlubis, and asking
whether they were to be destroyed or spared.
Umzil'igazi sent back a message to say that the
submission of the Hlubis was to be accepted, but
that Sidinane and every member of his family were
to be killed. The latter part of the message was
supposed to be secret, but it was communicated to
^"Bloody trail" — father of Lo Bengula ; usually called
" Moselikatse."
288 By Veldt and Kopje
Sidinane by one of the Hlubis belonging to the
Matabele force.
Sidinane was a young man ; his family consisted
of a wife and an infant son. In the night he fled,
accompanied by his wife and child, leaving the tribe
in charge of his younger brother Sondaba, who
agreed to personate him.
Sidinane fled to Swaziland. On the way his
child died of the hardships of the journey. He was
kindly treated by the Swazi chief, but he could not
rest. He departed for Zululand, and went straight
to Tshaka's kraal. His wife refused to accompany
him. Tshaka received him with civility, and agreed
to accept him as a vassal. An ox had just been
slaughtered, so Tshaka ordered Sidinane to skin it.
Sidinane, after indignantly refusing to perform such
menial work, wandered forth once more. We next
hear of him as captured by the Amangwane, and
brought before the cruel Matiwane. Tradition
states that he was put into an enclosure in which a
lot of bulls were fighting, and that he stilled them
with a word. This raised the jealous wrath of
Matiwane, who at once caused the captive to be
strangled. The chief Zibi, who is at present at the
head of the right-hand house of the Hlubis, is looked
upon as Sidinane's son, but he is really the son of
Sidinane's brother, in terms of the practice as
defined in the fifth verse of the twenty-fifth chapter
of Deuteronomy.
Sondaba found it impossible to keep up his
impersonation of Sidinane. UmziFigazi, however,
Kaffir Music 289
forgave him the deceptioiij and located him at a
large military kraal which was situated about two
days' journey from the " Great Place/' and was
under the command of a favourite induna, or
general, called Soxokozela. Here he remained for
upwards of a year.
Umzil'igazi sent for his new vassal. The great
place of the Matabele chief was close to the present
site of Potchefstroom, in the Transvaal, at a spot
then called Ezinyosini, which means " the place of
bees."
A great feast was held in honour of the guest.
When Sondaba was led before Umzil'igazi, the
latter was struck by the size of the young man's eyes,
so he at once gave him the name of Mehloma-
kulu.^ This name quite superseded the original
patronymic.
Mehlomakulu was of splendid physique, and had
all the bearing of a chief and a leader of men.
Consequently he at once incurred the jealousy and
hatred of Umzil'igazi. The latter was particularly
struck by the superiority of his guest's dancing, as
well as the clever way in which he flung his club
into the air in the course of the dance and caught it
again as it fell. The Matabele chief was heard to
say, as he lifted his head to follow the course of the
club as it soared — ''You are blinding me — you
are breaking my neck." The death of Mehlomakulu
was determined on, but he was allowed to return
home in the meantime.
I " Big eyes."
T
290 By Veldt and Kopje
Shortly afterwards Mehlomakulu heard from a
spy that he was to be killed immediately — that an
impi was even then assembling to fall upon him.
He thereupon called together his principal men in
order to discuss the situation.
A number of Soxokozela's soldiers had left the
kraal to meet the advancing impi. It was now
only a question of hours : whatever was to be done
must be done quickly.
With tears and many protestations of sorrow,
the majority of the Hlubi councillors and headmen
decided to leave their chief to his fate. *' We are
tired of wandering/' they said ; '' Umzil'igazi is
strong and able to protect us. Let Mehlomakulu
go forth if he will ; it is against him that the hate
of Umzirigazi is hot. We have lived for years
gathering roots under the spears of Matiwane ; we
will now remain as subjects of the chief of the
Matabele.''
While this was going on, an uncle and devoted
adherent of Mehlomakulu left the meeting quietly
and assembled his followers. With these he sur-
rounded the kraal of Soxokozela, and killed the
induna with every member of his family. The
killing party then hastened back, flung down their
blood - stained spears before the assembly, and
told what they had done. The matter was now
plain and clear : they knew that the killing of
Soxokozela would never be forgiven by Umzil'igazi ;
that unless they fled the lives of all would be
sacrificed.
Kaffir Music
291
So the war-cry — a long '' g " of the second
line of the treble clef, which is wailed out with
piercing shrillness — was raised. All the other
Matabele within reach were killed, the cattle were
quickly collected, and the Hlubis fled to the
eastward.
In commemoration of this episode the following
song was composed by the tribal bard : —
Andante. ^^
V-H-
-;—•-<» — I-
lC
^?=-iJz-f±
PP
i^
=:^
^^^-^^
"cT-^^^FF-v
3^^
/TN r:\
=nz=^
~ T\
V* «^ r
EE3
llzazzt
The words run as follows : —
" Sondaba has killed Mehlomakulu : Mehlomakulu has
killed Lihlongo (the latter being another of Mehlomakulu's
names) : Lihlongo has killed Sondaba."
This somehow suggests " Glamis hath murdered
sleep, and therefore Cawdor, etc."
The Hlubis managed to escape to a fairly strong
position on the western bank of the Caledon River,
before being overtaken by the pursuing Matabele.
The latter came up just at nightfall. They were
hungry and tired, but they nevertheless attacked
without delay. There were a number of Hlubis in
292 By Veldt and Kopje
their ranks, but these at once deserted to Mehlo-
makulu's side. Then the Matabele fell back for a
few hundred yards and halted. The Hlubi deserters
told Mehlomakulu that the enemy would most
probably make a night attack, so the Hlubi chief,
with the pick of his force, stole quietly back
and took up a position in some broken ground,
which the enemy, if they attacked, would have to
cross.
They had not long to wait — the whole Matabele
impi advanced stealthily towards the Hlubi encamp-
ment, but it fell into the ambush and was cut to
pieces. Next morning the battle-field was found to
be thickly strewn with the shields and spears which
had been thrown away in the flight. The shields
were piled together and burnt ; the spears proved a
welcome and much-needed addition to the Hlubi
armament.
Then the following song was composed in honour
of the victorious chief : —
^ if Maestoso.
±zz-* w^zSzzJ=±z--[B--=:=l
:r=3:
:=|:
:qz=:i:za=m=qizczt=z=zj=q:zc=q=q=z
— I- -m- -M- -m- --M- -•- -d-
The words are : —
"Spotted leopard, come out so that we can see
you.
Kaffir Music
293
The next song also dates from this occasion :■
1st Part.
Moderato.
hi^^v^m^^-^'
J — S-
E3S
^IZU.
2nd Part.
-i-^-F=^-K=-^-^-*z^— irkizi
S^£feE^E£^EE^^
The words are : —
" Run off with your plunder, Chief! — Houti ma-e-a."
The concluding portion is rather obscure ; in
fact, it has been found quite impracticable to trace
its meaning. Possibly — and this is a suggestion on
the part of a very old native, — it represents an
attempt to reproduce the lowing of the looted cattle
when being driven off.
With varying fortune Mehlomakulu waged a
war which lasted for about eight years with the
Amangwane, as well as with the different expeditions
which Tshaka sent against him and Matiwane. It
was a curious situation — the Hlubis and the Amang-
wane locked in a deadly struggle with each other, and
being attacked, together or in detail, from time to
time by Tshaka. It does not appear that the notion
of combining against the common enemy ever sug-
gested itself to either the Hlubi or the 'Mangwane
chief
294 By Veldt and Kopje
After a successful raid against Matiwane's cattle,
the following song was composed : —
Moderato.
fi
i:1=:=l^-=|:
rT\
rT\
3:
ipzpzn
:b=t=*
-^
m
p^
r7\
F=]-
:[qEz=:z=3z
The words are : —
"The Chief is pregnant with the number of cattle he
has taken. — Ho, ho, ho, aha ; ho, oho, ho, ho ! "
At one period of their wanderings the Hlubis
were driven into the mountainous, inhospitable
country that lies near the source of the Orange River.
The following song is connected with this episode : —
Vivace.
:sE£E3:
[=fci=!
3:
=1:
^v
1
iz*z*:
=d:
The words of this song are :-
" The Orange River : It is far away : It flows : The
Orange River : I see the mountains of the Zulus."
What follows is the last of the Hlubi series : —
„ Alia Marcia.
S^553=:
=^'^
-A-
■-■X
^=^
Its words are : —
" Ho, ho ! — We call to the chief. He is as great as the ocean."
Kaffir Music 295
Within a few years of the flight of the Hlubis, the
Baca tribe was driven from its home, on and about
the present site of Maritzburg, Natal. The reigning
chief was Madikane. Around his memory hangs an
accretion of many legends. There is some ground for
thinking thut Madikane s mother was an European,
possibly a waif from one or other of the vessels which
are known to have been wrecked on the east coast of
Southern Africa toward the end of the last century.
The words of one of the songs composed in his
honour run somewhat as follows : —
" 'Mngcangane (one of Madikane's names) is an animal, —
Ho ! — V^hat shall we do with him?
There is no chief who can conquer a white chief,—
Hi ! — What shall we do with him ?"
These words clearly indicate the peculiarity of
Madikane's appearance, as well as that he was light
of colour. The air to which these words are sung
does not merit reproduction.
All authorities agree that Madikane was of great
stature, that he was light in colour, and that his hair
and beard were long. It was his habit to carry his
snuff-spoon stuck in the hair of his chest. One of
the writers has examined a number of his male
descendants, and found about one in every four with
traces of hair on the chest. It is, it may be stated,
very unusual to find any hair on the body of a
Bantu.
Madikane placed himself at the head of his own
shattered tribe, together with the fugitives from some
296 By Veldt and Kopje
forty-four broken clans, and led them southward.
He was killed on December I9th5 1824, in a com-
bined attack made by the Tembus and Gcakkas, and
on the next day there was a total eclipse of the
sun.
The Baca women and children were all either
killed or captured. Many of them wore ivory arm-
lets, which had been put on when they were children,
and which, consequently, could not be drawn off. For
the sake of the ivory, the savage victors cut the
hands off the unfortunate creatures and turned them
abroad to die. Some few managed to make their
way back, for over a hundred miles, to the valley
of the Umzimvubu River — one of the former
sojourning places of the tribe — and lived for many
years. The last of these died only about eight years
ago.
The eclipse on the following day was taken as a
tremendous portent. All the fighting men were
called up to the great places of the Tembu and
Gcaleka chiefs, respectively, for the purpose of being
doctored. The Bacas, in their fligit, came upon an
immense number of Tembu women ind children who
were proceeding, with cattle, with the intention of
occupying an uninhabited piece of country under the
Drakensburg Range. These the Bacas captured and
took away, so as to rehabilitate themselves for their
losses, domestic and other.
The following is the tribal war-song of the Baca
tribe. It is a tune held in great veneration, and is
never used except upon important occasions. Sung
Kaffir Music
297
in slow, stately unison by a number of men on the
war - path, it has an indescribably impressive
effect : —
Maestoso.
-^r-
"1 — r
"S— 1
/TN
1
1
1
- 1 i
w-
=*=#=
-C2
-# -# • J
G>
1 '—
=1 :
-m—9-
jSi •:
•7 —
cJ
• -e-
This song is apparently of great antiquity. Its
words have quite lost their meaning. They are
simply : —
*' Eye ya how, eye ya yow yow yow."
Tradition relates that when Madikane was
a boy he disappeared mysteriously. The witch-
doctors told his father Kalimetsh not to be un-
easy, as the boy would come back. Afrer an
absence of eight months he returned, saying that
he had been in the forest learning the magical use
of roots. He called to his uncle and two of his
brothers, and they accompanied him to the place
of his secret sojourn, driving with them a black
ox. When they arrived at the specified spot the ox
was slaughtered. Portions of the meat were then
spread about for the use of the "imishologu," or
ancestral spirits, and then the tribal song was sung.
After this the young man asked the others what they
would like to be " doctored " for. The uncle suffered
298 By Veldt and Kopje
from a dread of being poisoned, and asked to be so
doctored that poison should have no effect on him.
The others asked to be so doctored as to become
great fighting chiefs.
At the annual "incubi," or "feast of the
iirst-fruits," which is held by the Bacas — when the
chief rushes out of his hut after being doctored, and
flings an assegai towards the rising sun — the tribal
song is sung in full chorus by the assembled
lieges.
Each individual chief adopts a song composed
specially in his honour, and which is ever afterwards
associated with him. In Madikane's song there is
an undertone of sadness, as well as a finish, which,
in view of the fact that his mother was probably a
white woman, might almost lead one to think that
it had a civilised source. Possibly it may be a sort
of reflection of some melody of her childhood which
the mother had been heard singing. It is as
follows : —
Andantino
These are the words :
" An assegai thrown among the Zulus, plays. You are
a young animal to the Zulus."
Kaffir Music
299
Madikane's peculiar appearance is apparently
again referred to in the foregoing.
The next is the song which was dedicated
to the present chief, Makaula, upon his ac-
cession :
Moderato.
The words are
" All the chiefs opposed Makaula by name ; they said
he would never be a chief. He is the youngest of all the
chiefs. Orange River" (with the last syllable repeated
several times).
Makaula succeeded to the chieftainship when
quite a boy, upon the death of his father, 'Ncapai,
who was killed in a war with the Pondos in 1845.
The mention of the Orange River has reference to
the fact of the Bacas having wandered to its inhospi-
table source after being driven southward before the
spears of Tshaka.
300 By Veldt and Kopje
The two airs next following are danced to by
the Bacas : —
J, LL Vivace. A
f-^-
:q^=c
-^zj^.
=^:
■=\--
y#^
mzil:
amztziii
E«±i:rB^EH:
^A-
A
V
'-%
3^5
-^z^tz^-iziizlt:
:=1-q:
# iU
i^j
Moderate .
sf
sf
-1^^-
q-
3S
?sz*:
::1=1:
;^
:=1^;
i^
-A
ilvi^=3^:
:t:
:tzi!:
P
=1=1:
:3 ^ g=g
i^^
i^
i^i^
=|:
1
The following air is common among all the tribes
between the Shangaan country, north of Delagoa
Bay, and Pondoland : —
Alle9retto.
S
3iZ3t
^-
A
c:t2:
iBue:
i
A
t:
ezf^t;?:
it?::^
eza!z:
3:
i
Kaffir Music
301
The three last examples given are songs heard
by one of the writers among the Tongas and
Shangaans
Andantino
In their songs the Bantu have never got beyond
a few words set to a tune of a few bars, these being
sung with monotonous repetition. In spite of their
monotony, the songs have a wild charm which is all
their own. The Kaffirs are as loyal to their chiefs as
were the Scottish Highlanders of the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries. Probably among no other
people in the world is the sentiment of loyalty so
strong. In each of these simple melodies a treasured
story lies embalmed and fragrant. Up to the present
the- habiliments of civilisation sit but ill upon the
savages of South Africa, whose waning ideals are
clustered around the leafless tree of ancestry as a
swarm of belated bees cluster over the portals of a
ruined nest. I n singing their songs the natives recon-
struct the departed glories of the grand old " houses "
which have, as they themselves say, '* withered."
for a few fleeting and pathetic moments.
NOTE
" Voices of Africa " appeared in The Spectator ; " The
Lepers," in Scribner's Magazine ; " The Wisdom of the
Serpent," " Rainmaking," '' Mr Bloxam's Choice " and
*'The Hunter of the Didima," in The Graphic, " By the
Waters of Marah," in Cornhill ; "Kaffir Music," in the
Pall Mall Magazine ; "Tommy's Evil Genius," " Afar in
the Desert" and "A Forgotten Expedition," in the
African Monthly. Most of the others were published in
The South Africa?] News.
" Kaffir Music " was written in collaboration with
my wife.
Caledon, Cape Colony,
February 1 907.
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