The Gold Kloof

Guy came bursting round the corner of the covert, and, seeing the triumph, added two more "hurrahs" to Tom's exultant shouts.

There, in truth, lay the murderous brute, and the poor, innocent wild boy was avenged. He was a huge, dark-maned lion, fat and in high condition, and in the very prime of his strength. Poeskop and Jan now came running up, full of joy and congratulations.

"Ah, baas! that is a great lion," said the Bushman. "I never saw a bigger or a heavier. Look at his forepaws. Why, he could kill an ox as easily as I could kill a chicken. The Berg Damaras up yonder may well be glad. Two lions killed last night, and this old mannetje this morning. They will sleep in peace for a long time to come."

While Jan Kokerboom set to work to skin the lion, Poeskop, by Mr. Blakeney's directions, made his way into the thicket to see if he could discover any further remains of the unfortunate Peter. Meanwhile, a number of the Berg Damaras, guided by the rifle shot, had made their way down to the spot. Their delight on discovering, not only that the man-eater had been slain that morning, but that a lion and lioness had also been killed during the night, was very great. Something of their load of depression seemed lifted from their spirits. They even began to smile, a thing none of the English party had observed during the previous day. As to the death of their kinsman, the unfortunate Peter, they seemed not in the least affected; but, as Mr. Blakeney pointed out to the boys, wandering tribesfolk, such as Bushmen and Berg Damaras and the like, lead such precarious lives, and are so often confronted by death, danger, and starvation, that they become callous and indifferent to suffering, whether it affects themselves or others.

Poeskop presently returned. Beyond a few bones and a piece or two of flesh, he had found no further traces of the boy. The lion had devoured him. They returned to camp, leaving the Berg Damaras to deal as they pleased with the now flayed carcass of the dead lion. With this and the flesh of the other two lions the poor wretches seemed highly delighted. The hearts of these beasts, the headman explained, when they had eaten them, would give them courage, and the rest of the flesh and fat would be useful to them. Returning up the valley, Guy shot a fine waterbuck bull. After taking the horns and skin, this also was handed over to the tribes-people, who were now well provided with meat. The flesh of the waterbuck is coarse and unpleasant, and not at all palatable to Europeans; and as the hunters had plenty of meat at their camp, the Berg Damaras were welcome to this fresh food supply. On reaching camp Tom took a spade, and, with Guy, went out to bury the poor remains of Peter, the wild boy-the head and the severed arm. Tom returned from his task sorrowful enough, and was depressed and quiet for the rest of the day.

"Poor little Peter!" he said that evening at supper. "His meeting with us, which we all thought such a fine thing for him, was but a miserable bit of luck after all. I do believe, if he had remained with the baboons, he might have lived for years."

"Ay, Tom," rejoined his father, "it's a strange world; and human destiny, whether in the case of the black man or the white, is one of the most inexplicable of all mysteries. Still, we did the right thing in rescuing poor Peter. Think of it. What an existence would have been his if we had not discovered him. To live with the beasts of the field-and such beasts as baboons-surely even you, Tom, fond as you were of the little chap, could never have wished him such a fate."

"No, pater, I suppose not," acknowledged Tom; "but it was a cruel end. I shall never forget the little fellow, and it will be a long while before I shall get his death-scream out of my memory."

Chapter XIII.

GUY IS MISSING

More than a month had elapsed since the beginning of the trek. They were now, as Poeskop had informed them, within little more than a week's journey from the kloof of gold of which they were in search. It was full a week since they had left the Berg Damara village behind, and they had progressed well and steadily during the interval. One morning Mr. Blakeney and Tom had ridden out together in search of game. Guy was sitting on the wagon, for a change taking a rest, going through some of his specimens, and packing away odds and ends. They were trekking across a wide, open grass plain, whereon various herds of game, for the most part hartebeest, blue wildebeest, and Burchell's zebra, were to be seen grazing in the distance. At half-past twelve the oxen were outspanned, and a halt was made. Guy, having finished his work and eaten some lunch, was now, with the aid of the Ross stalking-glass, ranging the wide grass flats, watching the various troops of game, and wondering what kind of luck his uncle and cousin were having. It had been a most beautiful morning. The hot, rather suffocating winds, which had been blowing persistently from the north for the last few days, had vanished. A most cool and refreshing breeze now came up gently from the south, borne from the cool regions of the far Antarctic; and there was a feeling of vigour in the sparkling atmosphere which, albeit it was now just past high noon, made Guy's restless English blood eager for action.

As he looked, he suddenly spied through the clear telescope a single ostrich, stalking across the veldt. It was a long way off-five miles certainly-but he would go after it. Telling Seleti to saddle up his pony, Guy's preparations were soon made. After their experiences in the thirst-land, he was not going to take any more unnecessary risks, and he had fastened to his saddle his water-bottle, coat, and a hunting case containing a little food. Thus equipped, he picked up his sporting Martini rifle-he had lent Tom his Mannlicher-and, swinging himself lightly into the saddle, rode off at a brisk canter, humming, in the lightness of his heart, a cheerful song. Poeskop gazed admiringly after him as he rode away.

"There goes a proper young baas!" he said to Jan Kokerboom, as they sat at their meal. "'Tis a fine thing to be an Englishman." Jan admitted that it was, and Guy's figure gradually receded into the distance.

Guy rode steadily for five or six miles, at the end of which he discovered that the ostrich had been moving away north-westward, and was still two or three miles distant. Some light bush now hid it from view, and, taking advantage of this screen, Guy pressed on until he saw that he was about to enter upon the plain again. Before issuing from the bush, he got off and carefully examined the country in front of him. Yes, there was the ostrich right enough, feeding quietly less than a mile away. It was a splendid cock bird, and its white plumes, showing up finely against its black body colouring, made Guy long to possess them. Walking his horse out of the covert, Guy now touched the good beast with his spur and galloped for the big bird, hoping to get a shot at it before it had discovered that the approaching object was anything more than a zebra. It was a wild, unfrequented veldt, and surely, argued Guy to himself, an ostrich in these parts would not be very suspicious. Half a mile was covered. He was now within seven hundred yards of the bird; surely he was going to get a fair shot directly.

But even as he thus flattered himself, he was discovered. The ostrich's head went up, and then, with a limp and a flutter of the wing feathers, the bird moved off. It went so lame that Guy at once perceived that something was the matter with it. So much the better-he would have an easy victory. Suddenly, fifty yards in front of him, there rose from the long grass veldt another ostrich, a hen bird manifestly. Nothing ailed her, and she rushed away like a steam engine, covering whole leagues, as it were, in her enormous strides. Guy reached the place whence she had started, and saw, as he expected, a nest full of huge, shining eggs. At a swift glance, as he galloped by, he reckoned that there must have been twelve or fourteen of them. But he had no time to attend to them now; he would ride back that way, and take toll of them as he went to the wagon. For the moment all his energies and attention were centred on the maimed or sick bird in front of him, the magnificence of whose plumes he could now plainly discern.

He galloped, but still the limping creature managed, not only to keep a start, but even to increase its lead. In a while it squatted, as if it had reached the end of its tether, and Guy thought now surely it was his. It was not so, however. As he approached within four hundred yards the great bird rose and pursued its way, stumbling, staggering occasionally, as if it would fall on its head, and flapping its wings, plainly in great distress. It was very annoying that, notwithstanding its apparent sickness, the bird could yet manage as it did to keep going. Mile after mile went by, and still the ostrich stumbled along, just beyond reasonable shooting distance. Once again, having gained a fresh lead, in response to a long spurt on the part of Guy, it sat down again; and once more Guy was most provokingly baulked of what he now looked upon as his legitimate booty-those magnificent plumes that waved and dangled so annoyingly, just beyond reach of his trusty Martini.

The lad had now become downright angry. That bird should be his, if he had to ride till evening; and so, about five hundred yards still separating them, the hunted and the hunter moved swiftly across the plain for another mile. Three o'clock went by-four o'clock-surely the bird would soon give in! But now it was running quite differently. There was no trace of the falterings and stumblings that he had so long noticed. The cock was apparently quite recovered, and running as strongly and as straight as had its mate. Then suddenly there flashed upon Guy's mind what had happened. The creature had been playing the fool with him all this time. It had simulated lameness and sickness, just as will a plover or a partridge, merely to decoy him away from its nest, which he had by a lucky chance ridden by and discovered.

Guy smiled grimly to himself as the cleverness of the whole ruse was borne in upon him. Nevertheless, he was wild with vexation; and setting his teeth, he said to himself very softly that he would make it hot for the shamming bird yet. And, indeed, he did so. He was now full twenty miles from camp; hills and kopjes rose not very far in front of him-hills which, now ruddy brown and plain to see, looked four hours ago blue in the distance. His pony was a good one, and in first-rate condition. It was not by any means at the end of its resources, and Guy called upon it for one more long and sustained effort. Two more miles were past. Then Guy, to his joy, discovered that the ostrich was really coming back to him. The long and persistent chase under the hot sun had at last told upon it. He had certainly gained one hundred and fifty yards in the last hour.

Once more the great bird set itself going, and raced away. So rapid was its flight that it seemed as if Guy and his nag were this time to be completely distanced. But it was soon very plain what the bird was aiming at. It was trying for an offing, so as to work its way round to the right, and thus, as evening fell, regain its mate and her nest once more. Guy saw the manoeuvre, and, galloping across the wide arc that the ostrich was now making, managed, by dint of pressing his pony for another and a final effort, to cut it off. The foolish bird stuck obstinately to its point; its pace was now slackening; and Guy succeeded in getting within fifty yards of its line. Slipping off his pony, he fired as the big bird came by, and, aiming well forward, struck the ostrich fair in the body. Even so tough a creature as this, the largest of all feathered fowl, could not resist the impact of a solid Martini bullet at fifty paces, and the bird suddenly fell dead in its tracks, a mere quivering bundle of flesh and feathers.

It was a splendid prize. Guy, as he walked up and looked at the dead bird, saw at once that the plumage was magnificent. Knee-haltering his pony, and taking off its saddle, he now refreshed himself after his desperate ride, and set to work to divest his capture of its finest plumage. The white feathers were magnificent, and Guy could scarcely admire them sufficiently. Making neat bundles of the prime whites, the shorter whites, the beautiful black and white plumes, and the black feathers, he now saddled up again, slung the longest feathers over his back, fastened the rest to his saddle, and mounted.

The point now to be decided was, What should he do for the night? He knew that the camp lay away behind him, far across the dry and weary plain. But it was twenty long miles away; his pony was very tired and thirsty; and in the darkness now coming on he might easily lose his direction. Only a mile or two in front of him rose the line of low hills. Here he was pretty sure to find water for his pony. On the whole, it seemed better to make his way thither, water his pony, light a good fire, rest till early morning, and then ride back to camp. Having thus decided, he rode his nag at a walk for the kopjes. Night was falling rapidly as he entered the hills. After following an open valley for a quarter of a mile, he came, as he expected, to a vlei of water, recruited by a fountain flowing from the hill above. Here he off-saddled for the night. His pony drank till it cared to drink no more. Meanwhile he cut some grass for fodder, tied his nag to a bush, collected wood for a fire, and, taking out the meat and bread he had brought with him, ate his supper.

His position was a well-chosen one. At his back he had an impenetrable screen of thick bush and rock. He had seen no indication of lions as he rode into the hills. A big fire blazed cheerfully in front of him, and plenty of wood lay handy so soon as its first strength died away. The lad was very sleepy after his long ride. He lay for an hour or more gazing drowsily into the red blaze in front of him, turning over in his mind the events of the afternoon, and following with a feeling of placid contentment the shifting scenes depicted in the heart of the fire by various pieces of burning wood. His pony munched its food contentedly close to his head. Gradually his eyes closed, his head sank deeper into the saddle which formed his pillow, and he slept.

Guy had not enjoyed the blessed oblivion of slumber more than an hour-it seemed to him not a minute since he had closed his eyes-when he was suddenly and most rudely awakened. Strong hands gripped him fiercely on either side, and pinned him to the ground. With a cry he tried to spring to his feet. But his hands and feet were both securely held. He struggled violently, but his struggles were ineffectual against superior strength and numbers. Almost before he was fully awake he was bound hand and foot, and lay helpless in the hands of his captors. Then he had time to look about him. The light of the fire showed him that his assailants were four in number, two white men and two black. The faces of the white men were known to him. It was with something like a shock of dismay that he realized the fact that he was in the hands of Karl Engelbrecht and Antonio Minho, who were now regarding him, as they stood over him, with unmistakable signs of triumph on their unpleasant faces.

"What's all this about?" cried the lad angrily in Dutch. "And what do you mean by attacking me in this way? You shall suffer for it, and that before many hours are over."

"Softly, my young friend," answered Minho, a bantering smile illuminating his oily, yellow face. "You go a little too fast. You, and not Karl and myself, are likely to be the suffering party. We find you are necessary to our plans, and so we invite you to come with us. If you keep a civil tongue and behave yourself, we shall treat you reasonably well. If you are troublesome and impertinent, you will be corrected."

"Ja," added the slower-tongued Boer, who had by this time found his speech. "We shall stand no nonsense from you. Keep your mouth shut, you schepsel, unless you are spoken to. We want no tantrums, and no noise. If you don't behave, we shall teach you to, and that with the sjambok." As he spoke the great Boer touched significantly his riding whip of giraffe hide, just now stuck through his belt.

The English lad's eyes blazed with anger at this threat. If he had been free, he would at that instant have struck the Dutchman in the face, great as was the disparity in size and age between them. But he was helpless; and he saw, answering his own fiery look, such an expression of malevolence and hate spread over the Boer's countenance, that he judged it the wiser course to resume a less pugnacious demeanour. After all, pugnacity, when you are tied hand and foot, avails nothing.

"What do you want with me?" he went on, in a tone of assumed indifference, addressing himself to the Portuguese.

"We propose to take you with us on a short journey," returned Minho. "We shall tell you more of our plans later on. Meanwhile, you had better submit yourself quietly, and don't make a fuss, or it may be worse for you. There are more painful things even than sjamboks," he added, with a significant leer; "rifles and knives, for instance."

"Now, then," said Engelbrecht, in his thick guttural voice, "pick him up, you two."

The two strong natives, who were standing ready to obey their master's orders, stepped forward, picked up Guy, and set him on his feet. Then, saddling and bridling his pony, they unfastened the raw-hide riem that bound his feet, hoisted him to the saddle, and set off. All carried rifles; the Boer marched at the pony's head, holding its bridle. Guy's hands were firmly tied, and there was not the faintest chance of escape. Half a mile farther up the valley they came to Karl Engelbrecht's camp. Here a wagon was outspanned, and there were more natives. The word was now given at once to trek. Guy was placed on the wagon, and his feet carefully bound again, and in half an hour they set forth, steering a course through the hills which would take them north-west, in a direction almost diametrically opposite to that in which the English party was progressing. They trekked rapidly, and the oxen were pushed to their utmost speed.

Quitting the hills presently, they entered upon thin forest country, and thereafter their course was set, manifestly, for a chain of mountains which lay upon the horizon some fifteen miles distant. This range was reached before evening set in. Entering a deep and secluded gorge, Engelbrecht's party ensconced themselves in a strong defensive position, commanding a narrow pass, the entrance to which they blocked temporarily by rolling down boulders and rocks from the hillside. Here, with plenty of wood and water about them, and holding what they evidently looked upon as an impregnable position, the shadowers believed themselves in absolute security, and prepared to take the next step in the operations upon which their energies and schemes were fixed.

Engelbrecht and Minho had, in the course of their pursuit, followed pretty closely all the movements of the party in front of them. The Boer had with him clever and resourceful native servants. These he employed as spies, sending them forth scouting in front of him. These men, accustomed from their youth up to read accurately every sign and indication of veldt life, had traced with minute care every phase of the wanderings of the English trekkers. They had reported the various happenings-had observed the number of elephants slain in the big hunt, and had satisfied themselves and their master that the English leader and his party were all, white and black, good hunters and excellent shots. They were known to be very well armed, and it was obvious that any open attack upon them would mean severe fighting, in which the assailants, in all probability, would be beaten off or most seriously mauled. Besides, it was not the policy of the two allied ruffians to make any kind of attack before the gold treasure should have been discovered.

Upon the day before Guy had ridden out after the ostrich, Engelbrecht had made a forward trek, and placed his camp much closer to the English party than he had hitherto ventured. Minho was against this move, but the Boer was now growing somewhat reckless, and his persistency had carried the day. Guy's rifle had been heard that afternoon, spies were watching his movements from the hills, and his entrance to the valley and the place where he had camped for the night were carefully noted. The spies hastened back to the Boer's outspan, and reported all they had seen.

Then ensued a discussion between Engelbrecht and the Portuguese as to what course to pursue. Antonio Minho was in favour of letting the young man return to his own camp unmolested. But Engelbrecht's patience, as we have seen, was becoming somewhat exhausted. He was a man of action, and a plan had suddenly come into his mind which he at once unfolded. It was this. If they captured the English lad, they could hold him as a hostage, and make any terms they pleased with the gold seekers; nay, they might even force them to enter into a kind of partnership, by which the gold, when discovered, should be parcelled out equally between the two expeditions. This seemed to the Boer, upon the whole, a better and safer plan than attacking the Englishmen after they should have secured their treasure. After all, the attack might be repelled. Karl knew these Englishmen could shoot, and they would, no doubt, fight hard; and even if they were surprised and shot down in a night attack or ambuscade, there might be awkward questions to answer thereafter. Lawless and bloodthirsty though the man was, he knew that, even from amid the silence and solitudes of the desert, murder will out, especially the murder of white men. He still cherished bitter animosity and hatred against these intruders, especially against Mr. Blakeney, the man who had conquered him in the affair of fists at Mossamedes; but upon the whole he judged that he would now have a safer chance of gratifying his revenge, by seizing Guy and using him as an instrument for squeezing his rivals, than by more violent measures.

During an hour Karl and the Portuguese keenly debated the question, whether or not they should seize and carry away the lad, now sleeping in absolute ignorance of their vicinity no more than half a mile away. In the end the plan seemed good to Minho. The capture was effected; and now, having carried off Guy Hardcastle to a place which the Boer had in his mind-a place which could be made impregnable against any assault-they prepared to take their measures for squeezing Mr. Blakeney, and bringing him to the terms and demands upon which they had fixed their minds.

Chapter XIV.

POESKOP TO THE RESCUE

Upon the afternoon on which Guy Hardcastle had been so busily engaged with the ostrich hunt, Mr. Blakeney and Tom had returned about four o'clock. By six o'clock, when it was getting dark, they were-although expecting him in camp at any moment-by no means anxious about him. Mr. Blakeney had heard from Poeskop that Guy had gone out after an ostrich, and ostrich hunting is always a difficult and oftentimes a long and tedious business. Night fell, supper was over, and still the lad tarried. A rifle was now discharged at intervals, and the fires were replenished, so that the wanderer might be guided to the safe haven of the camp. Still no Guy. There was nothing more to be done that night. They imagined that he had wandered farther away than he had intended, and was camping out somewhere. The veldt was not a waterless one, and there was therefore little anxiety on that score. Still, as morning came, Mr. Blakeney was determined to lose no time in going out in search. Something might have happened. The lad might have been thrown, or have suffered some other casualty.

After a hurried breakfast, taking with them Poeskop, Mr. Blakeney and his son rode out, Poeskop carefully following the spoor made by Guy's pony on the previous day. It took them a long time to puzzle out the intricacies of the spoor, and trace the devious wanderings of the ostrich hunt. But they came in time to the place where Guy had killed the bird. Then they traced him to the valley among the hills where he had camped. Here they at once discovered other spoor as well as Guy's. To the Englishmen, accustomed as they were to veldt life, it was difficult to understand what had actually happened. To Poeskop the whole story was plain enough. He searched about quietly for a few minutes, then he told his tale.