The Gold Kloof

"How shall we do it, Poeskop?" said Guy. "Go after them now, and try to shoot the old men baboons?"

"No, Baas Guy," said the Bushman, "that would be no good. We should never catch them up these hills, and we might shoot the wrong baboon and kill the boy. Leave it to me. I will hide up here among the rocks, and follow up the troop. They will go to rest at sundown in some cave; and if I can mark the place, we can go for them at night, and perhaps take the boy."

So Poeskop was left among the wild hills, while Mr. Blakeney and the boys strolled quietly back to the wagon-which was now outspanned at the entrance to the kopjes-and made ready for the evening. They had supper, and presently, a little before eight o'clock, Poeskop walked quietly into the camp.

"Well, Poeskop," chorused the two boys, "what's the news? Have you marked them down?"

"Ja, baas," said the Bushman, a pleased smile playing on his features, "I have marked them down."

"Baboon boy and all?"

"Ja, baboon boy and all. They are gone to sleep in a big cave, not far from where we saw them, and we shall find them presently."

"That's excellent," said Mr. Blakeney. "Now, Poeskop, get your supper and have a pipe. When shall we start?"

"Not till the moon gets up a bit, baas," answered the Bushman. "We can then find our way better, and the baviaans will all be fast asleep."

They waited a couple of hours, till ten o'clock. The moon rose slowly behind the hills and shed a glorious light, tipping the wild kopjes with pale silver, and casting blue-black shadows from bush and tree and ant-hill. Mr. Blakeney had delved among the wagon stores and brought out some blue lights, with which, as well as with a couple of lanterns, they were provided for the assault. Three-quarters of an hour's walk brought them near to the scene of operations. Sheltering behind some bush, they now lit the two lanterns, and moved forward for the final act. It was a stirring moment. Not a sound was heard through the vast solitude of these lonely hills, save for the ceaseless droning of a cicada in a bush hard by. The very night birds were asleep or absent. The clear moon gazed down upon the little group of serious men with placid serenity. Very silently they moved forward, Poeskop and Mr. Blakeney leading. Turning an angle of bush, Poeskop nudged his master. Mr. Blakeney swiftly lighted a blue light at his open lantern, and the pair dashed forward. They stooped and entered a dark cavern, the boys close at their heels, and then a weird scene, indeed, met their gaze.

They stood in a large cave some thirty yards square. The roof was fairly lofty, once they had passed the portal, and the wonderful illumination of the blue light, now held upwards by Mr. Blakeney, lit up every nook and cranny of the place. In the corner, huddled together as if for mutual encouragement and protection, was a troop of some score of baboons, big and little. All the creatures were alarmed and angry. The older and bigger beasts showed their teeth threateningly, and quah-quahed fiercely at the intruders. In the centre of the group the eyes of the onlookers were instantly fixed, on a figure which, as all could clearly see, differed somewhat from the rest of the apes. It had a black face, but it was human, and, undoubtedly, the baboon boy.

"Now, lads," said Mr. Blakeney, "you guard the entrance. Let all escape that will, but whatever happens seize the boy yonder. Shoot any of the brutes that go for you. I'll stir them up."

As he spoke these words the fury of the baboons seemed to be redoubled; they barked fiercely, their raucous voices resounding hoarsely through the cavern. Holding the blue light aloft in his left hand and a revolver in his right, Mr. Blakeney advanced upon the group. Poeskop kept pace with him. Two grim old men baboons suddenly quitted the group and ran at a shamble swiftly upon Mr. Blakeney. The first barrel of his revolver accounted for the leader at close quarters; before he could press the trigger again, the second, a huge baboon, leaped for his throat. Mr. Blakeney somehow managed to elbow the brute off, and its teeth met in the fleshy part of his shoulder. At the same moment a bullet from Poeskop's carbine, the barrel pressed against the baboon's ribs, pierced its body. It relaxed its grip and dropped dead.

The commotion set up by these attacks and by the firing was indescribable. It seemed to the two lads guarding the entrance that they stood in some wild inferno. The hoarse barkings of the older beasts; the howls and shrieks of the young animals; the smoke drifting across the startling illumination of the blue light; the dark, rough, uncouth figures of the apes, now beginning to scatter for flight-all these things seemed like the strange semblance of some wild dream. Now the baboons were separating. They ran in two parties round the walls of the cavern. Eight of the biggest, snapping and feinting in savage affright, Guy and Tom allowed to pass and escape out at the cave mouth. Two or three half-grown beasts and some mother baboons, with some quite small animals, went next. Next came a huge old female, with the baboon boy running at her heels. Guy and Tom ran back for the entrance, and planted themselves there. The baboon, grunting savagely and showing her formidable teeth, ran at Tom, and was in the act of springing at his throat, when a terrific kick from the lad caught her fairly on the point of the jaw and stretched her on the sand. Guy fired his Mannlicher instantly at the creature's head, and the thin bullet at once stretched her dead. At this the dark figure behind her-the baboon boy-turned and fled, seeking the farthest corner of the cave. By this time there seemed little fight left in the small remnant of baboons. The boys came forward from the entrance once more, and the maddened creatures swept out and away into the night. Besides themselves, but one figure remained in the cavern-the baboon boy.

"Now, lads, back to the entrance again!" cried Mr. Blakeney, "and we'll soon finish the business."

Kindling another blue light, he and Poeskop advanced upon the dark figure crouching behind a big projection of rock. As they approached, the thing, with a strange inhuman, angry grunt, manifestly copied from the baboons, darted away and ran round the cave wall. Poeskop flung down his carbine and rushed in pursuit. The three Englishmen, the ludicrous side of the chase overmastering the element of horror in this weird scene, burst into laughter as the Bushman chased the preternaturally active baboon boy round and round the cavern. Twice as it passed the entrance one of the boys made a grab at the creature. It sheered off, however, and, as they hesitated to leave their post, ran on. But Poeskop, suddenly ceasing from his pursuit, now made a cut across. Mr. Blakeney barred the way to the fleeing figure, and the Bushman, throwing himself upon the naked, black-skinned thing, held it in a grip that never relaxed. The creature bit, fought, scratched, and struggled fiercely. It was all of no avail. In five minutes Poeskop and Mr. Blakeney had the wild thing fastened up securely. Between them they carried it moaning down the hill and through the valley, and presently got it to their camp fire. There, surrounded by their curious native servants, who had heard the tale from Poeskop, they examined their capture with an interest strangely sharpened by amazement.

Chapter XI.

THE BERG DAMARAS

It was, indeed, a strange, wild-looking creature that lay there before them in the full blaze of the fire, in its face a beast-like, hunted look, and its eyes glancing fiercely yet furtively at its captors. It was a black boy, that was certain. It was stark naked, and its skin was very dark. The head, covered with kinky wool, rather long for an average African, was big, and the forehead round and prominent. Poeskop, who knew more about the native races of this part of South Africa than any man present, pronounced it to be a Berg Damara boy, and its age somewhere about seven or eight. It had manifestly been consorting with the baboons for a considerable time, for its knees were hard and horny from much contact with the ground, as also were its hands and feet. Evidently it had been running on all fours for many months, if not for a year or two. It had no power of human speech, but grunted and chattered like the baboons it had consorted with. Even in its face it seemed to have acquired something of the savage nature of its comrades, and at times there was a hideous, ape-like expression which, as Tom expressed it, "made one feel quite uncomfortable."

They offered the wild boy food, which he refused. Then fastening him securely to a wagon wheel, and covering him with a blanket, they retired to rest. Poeskop, who was much interested in the capture, woke several times in the night, and saw that the wild boy had not tampered with his fastenings.

When Mr. Blakeney awoke next morning and looked out from his wagon, he saw before him a curious and most laughable scene. Tom was sitting by the wild boy, having in front of him a large bowl of mealie-porridge, sweetened with sugar, into which had been poured some condensed milk and water. With this savoury mess Tom was evidently trying his hand upon the wild creature. To his father's astonishment, he had apparently already met with some success. The wild boy seemed pretty sharp-set, and having seemingly convinced himself that his captors meant him no immediate injury, was more at his ease than the terrified, hunted-looking creature of the previous night. Still there was something very bestial and uncanny about him.

"Now," said Tom, holding a spoonful of porridge and milk close to the wild boy's face, "say skorf."

The wild boy made a wry face, and lunged with open mouth at the spoon. Evidently he had tasted the food and wished for more. Tom drew back the spoon. "Skorf," he repeated. "Skorf, skorf, skorf." With each repetition of the word he held the spoon a little closer, and at last, to Mr. Blakeney's astonishment, the wild boy grunted out some sound resembling very distantly the word Tom was waiting for. After this feat Tom rewarded the strange-looking black imp with several spoonfuls of the porridge. Then again he made him repeat the word, or grunt out some kind of equivalent. The whole scene was so ludicrous that, as Tom finished up the basin and administered to the wild boy the last spoonful, Mr. Blakeney could no longer contain himself, but burst into a shout of laughter.

"You two are getting on splendidly," he said, as soon as he could gather speech. "How long have you been at your lesson, Tom?"

"About twenty minutes, pater," returned Tom. "He was awfully annoyed at first, and wouldn't buck up a bit. I could see he was very hungry, though, and took time, and in a little while he saw my meaning, and began to grunt out some kind of imitation of the word I was repeating. Do you know, pater, I believe the creature has spoken before. I can't tell you quite why. But there was a queer, knowing look in his eyes, as if he had heard people speak at some time or other, no doubt long ago, and was just trying to call to memory something. I wonder how long he's been living with the baboons."

"Wait a bit, Tom," said his father; "this is very interesting. I shook myself so much laughing just now at you two that I hurt my shoulder. Here, Guy," he went on, as his nephew came in with his shot-gun and a couple of brace of francolin, "give me a hand with this wound. That bite the old man baboon gave me last night is very painful, and we must dress it again."

Guy ran for some clean water and carbolic, and, his uncle having taken off his flannel shirt, unfastened the dressing put on the night before. The wound was very angry and inflamed, and the shoulder was swollen and puffy.

"My word, uncle," said Guy, as he gently sponged the wound with carbolic and water, and then applied a fresh dressing, "that brute gave you a horrid bite."

"Yes," answered Mr. Blakeney cheerfully, "It's a nasty place. The old man baboon got his teeth right through my thick, elephant-cord coat as if it had been tissue paper, and fastened well on to my shoulder. In another second, if Poeskop hadn't fired and killed him, he would have had a mouthful of my flesh clean out. A baboon's bite is far worse than any dog's; in fact, I've seen an old man baboon tear out the throat of a big hound, and kill him without giving him the ghost of a chance of retaliation. The brute went at my throat last night. It's a lucky thing I fended him off, and he only got me by the shoulder. I shall be all right in a few days. I'll take it quietly, and sit in the wagon and eat slops."

They sat down to breakfast, and then, calling Poeskop up, held consultation as to the baboon boy. Poeskop, who knew the Berg Damara tongue, tried the child in various ways, repeating simple sentences slowly. The boy made no reply, save by curious grunts and ape-like contortions of the face; if he had ever possessed the power of speech, he seemed to have for the present quite lost it. Still, as the Bushman spoke to him, there was at times a strange glimmer of perception about his eyes, as if his mind were striving to recover some lost memory. Once even he opened his mouth, and seemed upon the very verge of speech. They all waited breathlessly for what was to follow, but the boy closed his mouth with a snap, assumed the ape-like expression, which he had no doubt borrowed from his friends the baboons, and they could get no more out of him.

Tom gazed long and earnestly at the odd-looking little creature.

"I think," he said presently, "we'll call you 'Peter.' I remember reading once a most curious story about a German lad who was found without power of speech and as wild as a savage. He was called Peter the Wild Boy, and there was some strange mystery about his birth. I forget what became of him, but the mystery of his birth was, I fancy, never cleared up. Now, Peter," he continued, getting up, "I mean to make you a respectable member of society. And, first of all, I'm going to put you into a decent pair of breeks. Clothed, and associating with high-toned folk like ourselves, by degrees we may get you into your right mind."

So speaking, he went to the wagon, found an old pair of trousers, which he cut off at the knees, and brought them back to the group. They tried to make the wild boy understand what was wanted of him. It was a most absurd scene, and they all laughed till they ached again and the tears ran down their cheeks. At first Peter thought some injury was about to be attempted on him. He showed his teeth, and as Tom and Poeskop laid hold of him, fought, scratched, and tried hard to bite his would-be benefactors. They ceased for a few minutes, and then Guy took up the breeches, held them up, patted his own knee-breeches, and tried to make the wild creature understand what was wanted.

"The little Juggins!" said Tom angrily; "he ought to have more sense."

Peter at once caught the angry look in Tom's eyes, and grinned and chattered at him angrily in response. They all shrieked again with laughter; and then Tom, as if to apologize, sat down by the little wild creature, patted him on the back, stroked him, and gave him a piece of bread and marmalade. Peter appreciated this peace offering, and calmed down rapidly.

"Poor little beggar," said Tom apologetically; "we must go quietly with him. After all, we can't make a Christian of him in a morning."

Meanwhile Poeskop bethought himself of a plan. Undoing his belt, he took off his old trousers full in front of Peter, held them out in an explanatory way, sat down and put them on again. Then coming to the lad's side, he took the cut-down breeches and gently insinuated, first one, then the other, of his feet into them. Peter seemed now dimly to comprehend what was required of him. They hoisted him gently to his feet, pulled the garments up, buttoned them, pulled the buckle tight at the back, and the trick was done. Tom, in his delight, patted the boy on the back and drew his attention to the nether garments of all the party, finally stroking Peter's new breeches admiringly. The little creature seemed suddenly to comprehend the whole business. His face expanded into a broad smile-by far the most human-like expression that had yet appeared there-and he looked down at his new garments with real contentment. Thus was his first step towards civilization successfully accomplished.

For the next few days they trekked on steadily through beautiful country. Tom and Poeskop attended untiringly to the wild boy's education, Mr. Blakeney occasionally rendering them assistance. In another day's time Tom had induced the child to wear an old flannel shirt. He showed no inclination to run away. Still they took the precaution to fasten him up with a cord fixed to a broad piece of leather, which Tom sewed round his waist. And at night Tom-who was becoming really interested in the little creature, and had no intention of losing him again-gave up sleeping in the tent with Guy, and lay down under his sheepskin kaross by the fire, with a blanket under him, Peter meanwhile sleeping at the length of his cord two or three yards away. They had washed the little fellow thoroughly with carbolic soap and water, and made him clean. And Poeskop now washed him daily. As a matter of fact, he was not objectionably dirty when first captured. Baboons in the wild state keep themselves remarkably clean, and the child evidently was not afraid of fresh water.

For two days Peter still ran about on all fours, much to Tom's annoyance. On the third day the force of example began to tell, and he attempted to walk after the manner of the other human beings he saw about him. He had so long shambled along like a baboon on his hands and feet, that his attempts at walking upright were not at first completely successful. Still he persevered, and was occasionally rewarded by Tom with bits of sugar or a piece of bread and jam. It was a matter of some vexation to Tom that, as they strolled around the camp at outspan places, Peter still chose to avail himself of the strange veldt fare to which he had been accustomed. He would pull up and devour certain roots and bulbs. Once he caught and ate a small lizard, rejecting only the head. And he would eat spiders, caterpillars, and even scorpions-after he had carefully and most deftly torn away the sting-and other unpleasant trifles. Tom's annoyance at these habits was extreme.

"Here I'm feeding him on Christian fare three times a day," he would say, "and the little beast must go and make me sick by devouring all these filthy things which he picks up in the veldt."

"My dear Tom," replied Guy chaffingly, "the poor beggar must have his dessert! Even we Christians enjoy nuts, ginger, raisins, wine, and other things, after dinner, when we're living in a state of complete civilization. And, after all, what's the difference between poor Peter wolfing down a lizard, or a caterpillar, or a chrysalis, while we white folk delight in oysters, and periwinkles and whelks, lobsters and prawns, which are nothing but marine insects; frogs, eels, spawn (I'm thinking of cod's roe), the livers and lights of various beasts-I mean what we call 'fry'-kidneys, tripe, and other things of that sort. The French eat snails. The whole thing is only a matter of individual taste and environment, as scientific folk call it."

"That's all very fine, Guy," retorted Tom, "but we ought to draw the line somewhere. And Peter, now that he is becoming a respectable biped, has got to draw it at lizards and scorpions and caterpillars."

After the very next meal the two cousins and Peter went for a stroll through some timber just outside the camp. Peter, ranging at the end of his cord, suddenly turned aside at a tree, pulled off with two little horny fingers a piece of bark, and drawing forth a huge fat grub from its hole, devoured it instantly, with manifest gusto. Even Guy, who had just enjoyed an excellent dinner, as had Peter, was disgusted at this performance.

"Nasty little beggar!" he exclaimed angrily, jerking at Peter by his cord. "You ought to know better. Come out of it, and don't do that again!"

Peter grinned angrily, and showed his white teeth. He knew he was being scolded, and he resented it. Tom laughed heartily.

"I'm glad you're convinced at last," he said. "Now you'll agree with me that Peter needs reform, and that he must be broken off his baboon propensities."

"I'm convinced, absolutely," answered Guy, with a disgusted look still on his face. "It's enough to make one sick. I'll help you all I know to wean the little beggar of these disgusting practices. – Peter, you little beast," he added, again plucking the wild boy by the cord, "you're not to do it. Here, come and take my hand, and walk like a gentleman."

The little, wild creature, after looking intently into Guy's face, and seeing a smile of good humour replace the frown of disgust, came up, put his black paw into Guy's strong, sunburnt hand, and together the three wandered back to the wagon.

On the sixth day after the adventure with the baboons, they reached a long range of hills, among which Poeskop's sharp eyes soon detected signs of native life. He informed Mr. Blakeney that the last time he had travelled that way the place was uninhabited. Entering a broad, open valley, here and there littered with boulders and adorned with patches of bush, they outspanned not far from a stream of water that ran by. Then Poeskop, accompanied by Mr. Blakeney and the boys, all fully armed, went up the slope of a low hill towards some huts that nestled among trees and rocks. It was manifest that natives were about, and that the little settlement was a good deal perturbed at the advent of the travellers. Black figures flitted hither and thither, and cries could be heard.

"What are they, Poeskop?" asked Mr. Blakeney.

"Berg Damaras, I think, baas," replied the Bushman; "but I don't quite understand the place. They seem to have houses up in the trees. I'll go forward and see what they have to say. I don't think they'll harm us; but if they try to, do you and the young baases shoot."

They moved on together for another hundred and fifty yards, and then Poeskop went ahead, and keeping about a hundred yards in front neared the village. The commotion became yet louder, shrill female voices were heard, and men appeared, armed with bows and arrows and assegais; the aspect of affairs looked by no means peaceful. Still advancing, and without betraying an atom of fear or suspicion, the Bushman moved confidently forward till he was within earshot. Then, raising his voice, he addressed the natives. As he had supposed, they were Berg Damaras, a wild, miserable, down-trodden people, who are infamously treated by other tribes, and shelter themselves in the remotest places they are able to find among the wide and unpeopled deserts of this part of Africa.

Poeskop soon calmed their apprehensions and established friendly relations with them. They had a curious tale to tell. They had been in this place no more than a few months, having been driven from their previous locality by the assaults of lions, which had destroyed a good many of their clan and created a terror among them. The lions had either followed them to this valley, or they had stumbled upon a fresh band of man-eaters, and their lives were rendered a burden to them by the night attacks of these dangerous Carnivora. They had at last resorted to the expedient of building huts among the trees, where they passed their nights, and, as lions cannot climb, managed to escape annihilation.

Poeskop having opened up amicable relations with these unfortunates, Mr. Blakeney and the boys came up and were introduced. The Berg Damaras seemed miserably poor. They numbered not more than seventy or eighty souls, men, women, and children, and evidently lived a harassed, shuddering kind of existence. Occasionally stronger tribes, such as the Ovampo and Ganguellas, raided them, murdered such of them as they caught, and carried off their women and children as slaves. The lions seemed to have completed their dejection, and they had little spirit left in them. These people speak a pure Hottentot tongue, and have many ancient Hottentot manners and customs. Yet, unlike the yellow-skinned Hottentots, their skins are black. They are supposed to have been a feeble, aboriginal negroid race, who became enslaved by the Namaqua Hottentots, and, acquiring the tongue of their conquerors, lost their own language.

Having given the headman of these miserable people some tobacco and beads, and gained his confidence, Mr. Blakeney and the boys strolled round the kraal. They were especially interested in the sleeping huts, placed among the foliage of some tallish trees. These had been very ingeniously devised, platforms of stout poles serving for floors. The walls were composed of ant-hill clay and branches, the whole being covered by deep thatches of reeds and grass.