The Gold Kloof

Lunch over, and Mr. Blakeney's pipe finished, they went to work again. From half-past twelve till three o'clock they steadily pursued their investigations. At two o'clock the greatest and most amazing discovery of the day was made by Guy. While turning over some gravel, just at the edge of the stream, he came upon what he took to be a submerged, rounded stone, of which there were plenty scattered about the bed and edges of the rivulet. In trying to push this out of its cradle of sand and gravel he found it unexpectedly heavy. At last he shifted it from the soil in which it lay, and lifted it out. Its weight astonished him. Suddenly a thought flashed across his mind. He whipped his hunting-knife from the sheath, and scraped away a coating of what looked like rusty soil which covered it. Then, cutting into the stone, a streak of bright yellow showed instantly. The lump was solid gold. His shouts brought the rest of the party running up to him.

"Here's something like a nugget!" said the lad, with flushed face. "Look, uncle, it's gold right enough; and it weighs, I should think, at least ten pounds. It's certainly the weight of a light pair of dumb-bells!"

Mr. Blakeney stooped and picked up the stone, and carefully examined it. Then, taking out his knife, he cut into it as Guy had done. Again there showed a streak of bright yellow.

"Yes, that's gold right enough," he said, in answer to Guy's intense look; "and it must weigh well over ten pounds. I see there's just a thin skin, apparently of quartz, on one side. Deduct, say, a couple of pounds for that and quartz further inside, and you have something like eight or nine pounds of virgin gold. A magnificent find, indeed! I congratulate you, Guy, with all my heart."

Leaving the big nugget, they worked till three, and then knocked off for the day. The occupation was so exciting, so entrancing a one, that it was difficult to tear themselves away. But, as Mr. Blakeney pointed out, they had the climb out of the kloof before them, and an hour's walk to camp, and they would scarcely reach the wagon much before sunset.

The valley, as they walked down it on their way to the ladder, looked marvellously fair. Flights of wild duck, geese, widgeon, and teal flew up and down stream. A big troop of guinea-fowl, at least fifty or sixty strong, was making its way to some favourite roosting-place; the sharp, metallic cry of the various members of the flock, calling to one another, sounded curiously resonant in this rock-engirdled kloof. Many birds of lovely plumage flitted hither and thither; occasionally a small steinbuck, duyker, or bushbuck would dart away in front of them. The flowers and flowering shrubs starring the green of the kloof and climbing the cliffsides added not a little to the beauty of the scene.

"What a lovely spot, uncle!" said Guy, as they marched steadily forward. "I feel almost as if I should like to throw up gold-digging, and settle for life in such a paradise."

"I'm afraid, Guy," replied his uncle, "you would soon grow tired of the place. It's very beautiful, certainly; but it's mighty lonely. And you would have a rare business to keep yourself supplied with even the bare necessaries of life. Think of the long trek from Mossamedes-six weeks' travel before your tea and coffee, and sugar and other small luxuries, can reach you. Take my word for it. No one has enjoyed the life of the hunter and explorer more than I have done. I knocked about, as you know, for years in South Africa before I settled down. After a time, even the most inveterate wanderer begins to sigh for rest and some of the comforts of civilization. I speak of what I know. I dislike town life; and the huddling together of huge populations, with an immense deal of misery for two-thirds of the poorer folk, is to me absolutely hateful. I believe the system, for which machinery is largely answerable, is absolutely wrong, and will lead to untold misfortunes to the so-called civilized nations in the future, if persisted in. But on the other hand, fascinating as is the life of the wilderness for a time-say a year or two at a spell-you would become weary of it if you had to settle down in such a place as this, fair though it is, for the rest of your existence. The fact is, mankind is to a great extent gregarious, and you would want some kind of company as an occasional relief from the monotony of too much solitude."

"Besides," broke in Tom, who had been listening quietly to his father's ideas, "I should say this kloof, jolly as it looks, would be pretty feverish-wouldn't it, pater? – especially after the rains."

"Yes, Tom; I think it would. This country is a good deal nearer the equator than British Bechuanaland, which I take to be the healthiest part of South Africa; and where you get the combination of moisture and heat you are bound to have fever. That reminds me, we shall have to look after our health on the homeward trek. The rains haven't fairly set in yet, but they will soon, and I shall have to put you fellows on a course of quinine. I don't want to take you home mere pallid spectres, like men who have been suffering from Zambesi fever."

They reached the rope-ladder at length, and then began the upward climb. As Mr. Blakeney had warned them, the ascent was a very different matter from the journey down. For the first fifty feet or so, as the ladder swung and swayed in empty air, it was by no means pleasant progression; and by the time they had reached the top, all were out of breath and exhausted.

"My word, pater!" gasped Tom, as he threw himself on the ground and lay panting. "Shall we have to do this often? It's a beast of a climb, and our gold will be jolly hardly won if we're to have much of this sort of thing."

Mr. Blakeney sat up. Evidently he was thinking hard.

"Well," he said, "it is a terribly tough, as well as a very nasty, climb. I for one don't want to attempt it very often. It's worse than I bargained for. I think we'll have to camp in the kloof till we've finished our gold search."

Poeskop, who had stayed behind to make the ends of the ladder fast to two stout bushes which grew near the foot, and so prevent the unpleasant oscillation of the last fifty odd feet, now made his appearance. The sight of his queer little sharp-chinned face (now streaming from the toil of the climb), as it appeared over the edge of the cliff, sent Guy and Tom, and indeed Mr. Blakeney himself, into fits of laughter, to which the good-humoured Bushman freely responded.

"What ho! Poeskop!" cried Tom; adding in Dutch, "How do you like the climb?"

"Hard work, Baas Tom," responded Poeskop cheerily, as he squatted on his hams to rest, and wiped the sweat from his face with his usual handkerchief, a jackal's tail. "But I've seen harder jobs even than this. If you had lived the life of a wild Bushman, as I did till I was a grown man, you'd soon understand that a day like this is mere child's play. Nowadays I know that I get two good meals every single day of my life, rain or shine. When I was a lad the great puzzle of my life was to find or catch food at all. When your skorf comes to you as easily as it does to me now, a day's work is just nothing at all. Why, baas, as a lad of ten or twelve, I've travelled three days at a stretch, fifty miles a day, without food or water, and thought nothing much about it."

"Yes," said Tom reflectively; "I quite see your point. A hard day's work to a well-fed, healthy man, who gets his breakfast and dinner 'regular,' is a mere healthy exercise canter. Still, Poeskop, it was a tough climb, eh?"

"Ja, baas," responded the Bushman, grinning; "but think of what you have in your pockets."

Tom looked down at his breeches pockets, bulging with nuggets, and roared with laughter.

"Quite so, Poeskop," he said; "it's worth it all."

They now started with Seleti and September, who had spent a quiet and perfectly uneventful day at the cliff top, and made their way rapidly down to the wagon. There, after their supper, they turned to their treasure, which meanwhile reposed in a Kaffir blanket, and Mr. Blakeney, having got out his scales, began to estimate the value of the day's find. Altogether, not counting Guy's big nugget, which they christened "Poeskop's Pride," they had gathered forty-nine nuggets, giving a total weight of ninety-eight ounces. This amount of gold, at the value of £3, 15s. per ounce, would figure out therefore at a total of £367. These nuggets, varying in size and weight from a pea to more than five ounces, had scarcely any indication of quartz or other extraneous substance about them, and were manifestly nearly all pure and solid metal. Deducting £17 for wastage, Mr. Blakeney estimated their value at not less than £350.

Then came Guy's monster nugget to be dealt with. It weighed exactly twelve pounds ten ounces. At a liberal estimate the thin coating of quartz running down one side, and other impurities with which it was coated, could not possibly exceed two pounds. This would leave a weight of gold of nine pounds ten ounces, or, reduced to ounces, one hundred and eighteen ounces. At £3, 15s. per ounce, then, "Poeskop's Pride" was worth £442 at the least. Adding this sum to the £350, the value of the smaller nuggets, a total of £792 would represent the value of the day's work.

"Not by any means a bad day's work, even for four hard-working men like ourselves," said Mr. Blakeney, with a smile, as he looked round at his audience-the two lads and Poeskop.

"I should think not, indeed," added Guy.

Mr. Blakeney now went to the wagon, and produced a bottle of champagne which, with five others, he had brought for such high occasions as the present; and as medicine, if occasion needed. Opening the bottle-it was Giesler 'eighty-nine, a first-rate brand-he poured out a tot all round in the kommetjes, or little earthenware basins, used by the Boers and most up-country trekkers for coffee. Then they pledged one another, and drank to the complete success of the expedition. Poeskop, as pioneer of the grand discovery, was served out with a drink of the same excellent liquor. He had never tasted or even seen champagne before, and the effervescing wine, getting into his broad nostrils, set him off in so violent a fit of sneezing that he upset the remainder of his tot.

"My baas," he said presently, after he had somewhat recovered, "I don't think I like this medicine. It is not so good as 'pain-killer' [a drug beloved of all African natives], and I would much rather have a soupje of Cango brandwein."

The Bushman's struggles with his champagne, and his plaintive speech after the mishap, were received with much laughter.

"All right, Poeskop," said Mr. Blakeney, "you shall have the Cango."

Going to the locker of the wagon, he brought out a bottle of the good Cape brandy of that name, and, pouring out a dram, handed it to the Bushman. Poeskop, smacking his broad lips over this liquor, was at once satisfied, and expressed himself as more than well pleased at the exchange. The rest of the men were, in honour of the evening, also each served out with a tot of the same spirit. At ten o'clock a merry evening beneath the stars came to an end, and all sought their resting places.

Next morning Mr. Blakeney announced his intention of trying to get the wagon up to the cliff, near where they had let down the rope-ladder. It would be a hard and difficult trek, and some trees and bush would have to be cut down. But he had carefully surveyed the ascent by which they reached the place, and he thought it could be accomplished. His chief reason for getting the wagon up was, that he disliked very greatly the idea of maintaining two separate camps at some distance apart from each other. He knew that it was by no means improbable that Karl Engelbrecht, and any allies he might get together, would make another attack on them. A strong camp might be formed near the ladder. There was a fountain in the hill close by; and it would be much more convenient to load the wagon there than to have to carry every ounce of gold they won each day down to their present camping ground.

All parties, including Poeskop and the other native servants, heartily approved of the scheme; and the whole of that day, therefore, was spent in clearing a road up the long and steep mountain ascent, over the nek, and on to the plateau overlooking the Gold Kloof. Next day they inspanned the oxen, now much refreshed and recruited by their rest and good feeding, and ascended the long mountain slope. It was, as Mr. Blakeney had anticipated, a tough trek, but it was accomplished. They passed the nek, gained the plateau, and made a permanent camp within a hundred yards of the cliff edge overlooking the Gold Kloof. The position was an excellent one against attack. Their rear rested against the base of a mountain peak above them; they had a secure water supply; and any assault delivered against them must be made across the open plateau. There was plenty of good grazing for the cattle and horses among the long grass which here covered the plateau. Occasionally the oxen were taken down to the valley, where they had first outspanned, for change of diet. At night they were kraaled in a strong thorn scherm, which effectually protected them against the raids of leopards, lions, or other Carnivora.

This matter having been arranged satisfactorily, the gold-seekers turned their attention entirely to the work of denuding the kloof of as much of its treasure as they could find and make their own within a given time. For three days they descended the ladder at early morning, climbing up to their camp each night with loads of gold. But the labour entailed in this process seemed so great and so unnecessary, that Mr. Blakeney finally made up his mind to take down food and necessaries for a week, and camp in the kloof near the gold they sought. They found that this plan obviated much labour and saved much time. Jan Kokerboom was left in command of the main camp, with the strictest commands to keep the most vigilant watch and ward. Seleti, Mangwalaan, and September were each sent out during the week to take a glance round the country, to inspect the pass, and to ascertain whether any foes were approaching the kloof. Once in three days Poeskop was sent up the ladder to receive Jan Kokerboom's report.

For six days on end the four diggers, now living in the Gold Kloof, stuck resolutely to their task. Each day they worked steadily up the stream, unearthing nuggets, plying pick and shovel, and washing soil in a rough cradle which Mr. Blakeney constructed. Their success was wonderful. Poeskop had spoken truly when he had affirmed that the kloof was full of gold. During the first six days' work, after the day of the opening search, they gathered never less than four hundred ounces; on two of these, thanks to some large nuggets, their finds totalled close on six hundred and a little over eight hundred ounces respectively. Each night they camped under the shelter of some bush, close to the ladder. They slept in their blankets, with a good fire at their feet; and the weather remaining fine and open, with little dew, they were perfectly comfortable. They had with them a kettle in which to boil their coffee, a three-legged Kaffir pot, which served them for baking and stewing, and a saucepan. They had brought down a supply of meal and some baking powder, from which Tom or Guy each day made and baked sufficient bread for their wants. The kloof, a magnificent natural game preserve, provided them with as much game, furred or feathered, as they cared to shoot; and their stew-pot each night furnished them with a savoury meal of the flesh of buck or guinea-fowl, or wild pigeon or partridge. Sometimes they shot a couple or two of fat wild duck, mostly geelbek (yellow-bill), the best of all South African wildfowl, which, baked in the three-legged pot, with embers above and below, and basted with a little fat occasionally, afforded them a delicious banquet.

These were delightful days, which are likely to remain for ever marked in letters of red in the memories of the two young adventurers and of Mr. Blakeney. The toil was hard, but healthy; the kloof was wonderfully beautiful; the weather was magnificent; the gipsy-like existence was fascinating; the daily excitement and anticipation of seeking and unearthing great quantities of the most valuable mineral in the world kept them one and all at concert pitch.

The following Sunday, having climbed up their ladder on the Saturday night, they enjoyed as a day of rest in the main camp. After their work of the preceding six days, they were all glad enough to spend the day quietly about the wagon-resting, reading, writing up their diaries, and listening to the reports of Jan Kokerboom and his subordinates. Nothing had happened to disturb the quiet tenor of life in camp during the absence of the gold-seekers. Nothing had been seen or heard of Engelbrecht or his followers, although a vigilant watch had been maintained, and the neighbouring country occasionally patrolled. Jan Kokerboom had shot a leopard one night, close to the camp fire, as it clawed down the venison of a koodoo which had been recently slain. The brute, stretching itself up to the low branch of a tree on which the venison hung, within fifteen feet of the camp fire, had been observed by Jan. Snatching up his rifle he shot it in the throat, breaking its spine, and instantly ending its predatory career.

For three weeks the gold-diggers steadily pursued their search. Thoroughly exploring the river-side, they were occasionally delayed for several days together by the finding of some unexpectedly rich deposit in the banks of the stream, or some smooth spit of sand, left bare during the absence of the rains. The heap of gold which they were accumulating each day near the foot of the ladder was steadily assuming large proportions. In another week or two, Mr. Blakeney, who had carefully weighed their finds every evening, calculated that they would literally have made their pile, and be ready to trek for the coast and home.

Chapter XVII.

THE SHADOWERS' ATTACK

Towards the end of the fourth week of the search, while the diggers were at work at the far end of the kloof, they were startled one morning by the figure of a man running up the valley towards them.

"Hallo!" cried Guy excitedly, as he paused from his work with the pick and stretched his back; "who on earth is this coming our way? Look, uncle! I believe it's Jan!"

Mr. Blakeney shaded his eyes and looked down the kloof.

"Yes," he said, after regarding the figure attentively, "it's Jan. What can he want? He must have news of importance. I suppose it's Karl Engelbrecht again."

Jan Kokerboom, who presently trotted up, had news undoubtedly, and news that was disturbing. On the previous afternoon, Seleti (who had, under Mr. Blakeney's instructions, been exploring the country for any signs of Engelbrecht and his gang) had come across the spoor of two mounted men, who had evidently tracked the wagon up to the entrance of the mountains, noted the valley up which it had passed, and, turning rein again, had cantered away.

"Well, I expected this," said Mr. Blakeney, his brow knitted in thought. "I never imagined that Karl Engelbrecht, who knows what we are after, and is writhing under two nasty rebuffs, would give up his revenge or leave his thirst for plunder unsatisfied. These men, who have shadowed us all the way from the coast, are shadowing us still. We shall have to look out for their next assault, which, I believe, will be a desperate one. The business now is to find out how many there are of them, and what their plans may be.

"Sit down, lads," he continued, filling and lighting his pipe; "we'll knock off for a spell. – Poeskop," he went on, speaking in Dutch, "you must go back with Jan, climb the ladder, take two or three days' supplies of biltong with you, and go and look up Karl Engelbrecht. If they are still shadowing us, you must just shadow them. Find out, if you can, when they mean to have a shot for us, and then cut back as fast as your legs can carry you and give us warning. We must be prepared for them, and I've no doubt we shall be able to give them a pretty hot reception."

The curious wrinkling of the yellow skin of Poeskop's face, and the humorous twinkle that showed in his Mongol-like eyes, convinced the three white men that the task proposed was thoroughly to the Bushman's liking. His splendid white teeth gleamed expressively as he broke into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"Ja, baas," he said; "I shall becreep them. Poeskop was not bred a Bushman for nothing; and he will spy out Karl Engelbrecht's camp, and find out what he means to do, and when he is going to attack. He has had two hard knocks already; we shall give him a third, which will make him what you call 'sit up.' But baas must have a care: this time Karl will do his hardest to kill us all and take the gelt."

The two natives now started back for the ladder and the main camp. Mr. Blakeney and the two boys continued the work of digging till afternoon, when, taking with them the gold they had found that day, they made their way back to the foot of the cliff. Here, adding their nuggets to the heap already accumulated, they climbed the ladder, and found themselves once more in the security of their own camp. Nothing further had happened that day, and Poeskop had long since started away on his journey of reconnaissance.

Meanwhile it is necessary to return to Karl Engelbrecht and his proceedings. After the escape of Guy from his camp, the death of the Griqua, his own repulse by Guy and Poeskop, and the wounding of another of his men, the Boer, although raging furiously at the ill-success of his schemes, had felt himself scarcely strong enough to attack a party who were evidently quite capable of defending themselves. In this feeling he was strengthened by his colleague in rascality, Antonio Minho, who by no means relished the business of attacking the English party, except with a much superior force.

Engelbrecht knew of a commando of Boers who had been away in the country to the north, engaged on a punitory and marauding expedition against a tribe of natives. He calculated that, by trekking steadily for ten days, he would intercept this party on their return journey. His calculations were rightly made, and he fell in with his freebooting fellow-countrymen returning to Humpata in triumph and great spirits. They had had, from their point of view, a first-rate time, having thoroughly subdued the tribe against which they had marched, killed a number of unfortunate natives, burnt their corn and crops, and captured some two thousand head of cattle.

Karl, who was hand and glove with these men, whom he had often himself led on commando, had no great difficulty in persuading some of them to accompany him on a fresh expedition of plunder. He held out high inducement in the shape of gold, which, it was known, the Englishmen were in search of; and the plan of inflicting revenge and humiliation on men of that accursed nation had, in addition, no small weight with the British-hating filibusters. Eight stalwart Boers, then, with two wagons and a number of well-armed native servants, signified their intention of aiding Karl Engelbrecht in his new campaign, and sharing the rich booty which they counted on lifting from the Englishmen. Halting for a few days to rest and recruit their trek oxen and horses, the party returned upon Engelbrecht's wagon spoor, and presently found themselves at the place where the Englishmen had last been sighted.

It was not difficult to hit off the wagon spoor of the gold-seekers' party; and now, eager to come to grips with their opponents, of whom they counted on making an easy prey, the Boers presently came in sight of the mountains wherein the Englishmen were so busily engaged in gathering the fortune that lay awaiting them.

Halting at this point, Engelbrecht with one of his Boer allies had ridden into the valley and convinced himself that here, at last, he had run the hated Englishmen to ground. Somewhere in these rude hills his foes were at work. It would be his business to trace them to their gold deposits, to locate accurately their camp, and then, descending upon them some morning at early dawn, attack them in such overwhelming force as to effectually beat down all opposition. Revenge-a bloody revenge, Karl meant it to be-was within his grasp; and gold-plenty of it, captured from his enemies-would, he firmly believed, make a man of him for the remainder of his life.

Already Karl saw himself back in the good Transvaal country, the owner of some of the richest farms in Marico, with a great, a palatial, farmstead of his own, surrounded by vast flocks and herds, and a wielder of much power in the national Volksraad. Why, indeed-his broad chest dilated as he thought of it-should he not aspire to like power and prominence with Paul Kruger himself! Paul was growing old; in a few years his course would be run, and some strong man would be needed to take his place. Thus dreamed Karl Engelbrecht, as he rode back to his wagon that day after spooring his adversaries to their mountain retreat, where, as he rightly calculated, they had been now some weeks at work in their hunt for gold.