CHAPTER XIV
I CARRY THE COLLAR OF PRESTER JOHN
I ran till my breath grew short, for some kind of swift motion I had tohave or choke. The events of the last few minutes had inflamed mybrain. For the first time in my life I had seen men die byviolence--nay, by brutal murder. I had put my soul into the blow whichlaid out Henriques, and I was still hot with the pride of it. Also Ihad in my pocket the fetich of the whole black world; I had taken theirArk of the Covenant, and soon Laputa would be on my trail. Fear,pride, and a blind exultation all throbbed in my veins. I must haverun three miles before I came to my sober senses.
I put my ear to the ground, but heard no sound of pursuit. Laputa, Iargued, would have enough to do for a little, shepherding his flockover the water. He might surround and capture the patrol, or he mightevade it; the vow prevented him from fighting it. On the whole I wasclear that he would ignore it and push on for the rendezvous. All thiswould take time, and the business of the priest would have to wait.When Henriques came to he would no doubt have a story to tell, and thescouts would be on my trail. I wished I had shot the Portugoose whileI was at the business. It would have been no murder, but a righteousexecution.
Meanwhile I must get off the road. The sand had been disturbed by anarmy, so there was little fear of my steps being traced. Still it wasonly wise to leave the track which I would be assumed to have taken,for Laputa would guess I had fled back the way toBlaauwildebeestefontein. I turned into the bush, which here was thinand sparse like whins on a common.
The Berg must be my goal. Once on the plateau I would be inside thewhite man's lines. Down here in the plains I was in the country of myenemies. Arcoll meant to fight on the uplands when it came tofighting. The black man might rage as he pleased in his own flats, butwe stood to defend the gates of the hills. Therefore over the Berg Imust be before morning, or there would be a dead man with no tales totell.
I think that even at the start of that night's work I realized theexceeding precariousness of my chances. Some twenty miles of bush andswamp separated me from the foot of the mountains. After that therewas the climbing of them, for at the point opposite where I now stoodthe Berg does not descend sharply on the plain, but is broken intofoot-hills around the glens of the Klein Letaba and the Letsitela.From the spot where these rivers emerge on the flats to the crown ofthe plateau is ten miles at the shortest. I had a start of an hour orso, but before dawn I had to traverse thirty miles of unknown anddifficult country. Behind me would follow the best trackers in Africa,who knew every foot of the wilderness. It was a wild hazard, but it wasmy only hope. At this time I was feeling pretty courageous. For onething I had Henriques' pistol close to my leg, and for another I stillthrilled with the satisfaction of having smitten his face.
I took the rubies, and stowed them below my shirt and next my skin. Iremember taking stock of my equipment and laughing at the humour of it.One of the heels was almost twisted off my boots, and my shirt andbreeches were old at the best and ragged from hard usage. The wholeoutfit would have been dear at five shillings, or seven-and-six withthe belt thrown in. Then there was the Portugoose's pistol, costing,say, a guinea; and last, the Prester's collar, worth several millions.
What was more important than my clothing was my bodily strength. I wasstill very sore from the bonds and the jog of that accursed horse, butexercise was rapidly suppling my joints. About five hours ago I hadeaten a filling, though not very sustaining, meal, and I thought Icould go on very well till morning. But I was still badly in arrearswith my sleep, and there was no chance of my snatching a minute till Iwas over the Berg. It was going to be a race against time, and I sworethat I would drive my body to the last ounce of strength.
Moonrise was still an hour or two away, and the sky was bright withmyriad stars. I knew now what starlight meant, for there was amplelight to pick my way by. I steered by the Southern Cross, for I wasaware that the Berg ran north and south, and with that constellation onmy left hand I was bound to reach it sooner or later. The bush closedaround me with its mysterious dull green shades, and trees, which inthe daytime were thin scrub, now loomed like tall timber. It was veryeerie moving, a tiny fragment of mortality, in that great wide silentwilderness, with the starry vault, like an impassive celestialaudience, watching with many eyes. They cheered me, those stars. Inmy hurry and fear and passion they spoke of the old calm dignities ofman. I felt less alone when I turned my face to the lights which wereslanting alike on this uncanny bush and on the homely streets ofKirkcaple.
The silence did not last long. First came the howl of a wolf, to beanswered by others from every quarter of the compass. This serenadewent on for a bit, till the jackals chimed in with their harsh bark. Ihad been caught by darkness before this when hunting on the Berg, but Iwas not afraid of wild beasts. That is one terror of the bush whichtravellers' tales have put too high. It was true that I might meet ahungry lion, but the chance was remote, and I had my pistol. Onceindeed a huge animal bounded across the road a little in front of me.For a moment I took him for a lion, but on reflection I was inclined tothink him a very large bush-pig.
By this time I was out of the thickest bush and into a piece ofparkland with long, waving tambuki grass, which the Kaffirs would burnlater. The moon was coming up, and her faint rays silvered the flattops of the mimosa trees. I could hear and feel around me the rustlingof animals. Once or twice a big buck--an eland or a koodoo--brokecover, and at the sight of me went off snorting down the slope. Alsothere were droves of smaller game--rhebok and springbok andduikers--which brushed past at full gallop without even noticing me.
The sight was so novel that it set me thinking. That shy wild thingsshould stampede like this could only mean that they had been thoroughlyscared. Now obviously the thing that scared them must be on this sideof the Letaba. This must mean that Laputa's army, or a large part ofit, had not crossed at Dupree's Drift, but had gone up the stream tosome higher ford. If that was so, I must alter my course; so I boreaway to the right for a mile or two, making a line due north-west.
In about an hour's time the ground descended steeply, and I saw beforeme the shining reaches of a river. I had the chief features of thecountryside clear in my mind, both from old porings over maps, and fromArcoll's instructions. This stream must be the Little Letaba, and Imust cross it if I would get to the mountains. I remembered thatMajinje's kraal stood on its left bank, and higher up in its valley inthe Berg 'Mpefu lived. At all costs the kraals must be avoided. Onceacross it I must make for the Letsitela, another tributary of the GreatLetaba, and by keeping the far bank of that stream I should cross themountains to the place on the plateau of the Wood Bush which Arcoll hadtold me would be his headquarters.
It is easy to talk about crossing a river, and looking to-day at theslender streak on the map I am amazed that so small a thing should havegiven me such ugly tremors. Yet I have rarely faced a job I liked solittle. The stream ran yellow and sluggish under the clear moon. Onthe near side a thick growth of bush clothed the bank, but on the farside I made out a swamp with tall bulrushes. The distance across wasno more than fifty yards, but I would have swum a mile more readily indeep water. The place stank of crocodiles. There was no ripple tobreak the oily flow except where a derelict branch swayed with thecurrent. Something in the stillness, the eerie light on the water, andthe rotting smell of the swamp made that stream seem unhallowed anddeadly.
I sat down and considered the matter. Crocodiles had always terrifiedme more than any created thing, and to be dragged by iron jaws to deathin that hideous stream seemed to me the most awful of endings. Yetcross it I must if I were to get rid of my human enemies. I remembereda story of an escaped prisoner during the war who had only the KomatiRiver between him and safety. But he dared not enter it, and wasrecaptured by a Boer commando. I was determined that such cowardiceshould not be laid to my charge. If I was to die, I would at leasthave given myself every chance of life. So I braced myself as best Icould,
and looked for a place to enter.
The veld-craft I had mastered had taught me a few things. One was thatwild animals drink at night, and that they have regular drinkingplaces. I thought that the likeliest place for crocodiles was at oraround such spots, and, therefore, I resolved to take the water awayfrom a drinking place. I went up the bank, noting where the narrowbush-paths emerged on the water-side. I scared away several littlebuck, and once the violent commotion in the bush showed that I hadfrightened some bigger animal, perhaps a hartebeest. Still followingthe bank I came to a reach where the undergrowth was unbroken and thewater looked deeper.
Suddenly--I fear I must use this adverb often, for all the happeningson that night were sudden--I saw a biggish animal break through thereeds on the far side. It entered the water and, whether wading orswimming I could not see, came out a little distance. Then some sensemust have told it of my presence, for it turned and with a grunt madeits way back.
I saw that it was a big wart-hog, and began to think. Pig, unlikeother beasts, drink not at night, but in the daytime. The hog had,therefore, not come to drink, but to swim across. Now, I argued, hewould choose a safe place, for the wart-hog, hideous though he is, is awise beast. What was safe for him would, therefore, in all likelihoodbe safe for me.
With this hope to comfort me I prepared to enter. My first care wasthe jewels, so, feeling them precarious in my shirt, I twined thecollar round my neck and clasped it. The snake-clasp was no flimsydevice of modern jewellery, and I had no fear but that it would hold.I held the pistol between my teeth, and with a prayer to God slippedinto the muddy waters.
I swam in the wild way of a beginner who fears cramp. The current waslight and the water moderately warm, but I seemed to go very slowly,and I was cold with apprehension. In the middle it suddenly shallowed,and my breast came against a mudshoal. I thought it was a crocodile,and in my confusion the pistol dropped from my mouth and disappeared.
I waded a few steps and then plunged into deep water again. Almostbefore I knew, I was among the bulrushes, with my feet in the slime ofthe bank. With feverish haste I scrambled through the reeds and upthrough roots and undergrowth to the hard soil. I was across, but,alas, I had lost my only weapon.
The swim and the anxiety had tired me considerably, and though it meantdelay, I did not dare to continue with the weight of water-loggedclothes to impede me. I found a dry sheltered place in the bush andstripped to the skin. I emptied my boots and wrung out my shirt andbreeches, while the Prester's jewels were blazing on my neck. Here wasa queer counterpart to Laputa in the cave!
The change revived me, and I continued my way in better form. So farthere had been no sign of pursuit. Before me the Letsitela was theonly other stream, and from what I remembered of its character near theBerg I thought I should have little trouble. It was smaller than theKlein Letaba, and a rushing torrent where shallows must be common.
I kept running till I felt my shirt getting dry on my back. Then Irestored the jewels to their old home, and found their cool touch on mybreast very comforting. The country was getting more broken as Iadvanced. Little kopjes with thickets of wild bananas took the placeof the dead levels. Long before I reached the Letsitela, I saw that Iwas right in my guess. It ran, a brawling mountain stream, in a narrowrift in the bush. I crossed it almost dry-shod on the boulders above alittle fall, stopping for a moment to drink and lave my brow.
After that the country changed again. The wood was now getting likethat which clothed the sides of the Berg. There were talltimber-trees--yellowwood, sneezewood, essenwood, stinkwood--and theground was carpeted with thick grass and ferns. The sight gave me myfirst earnest of safety. I was approaching my own country. Behind mewas heathendom and the black fever flats. In front were the coolmountains and bright streams, and the guns of my own folk.
As I struggled on--for I was getting very footsore and weary--I becameaware of an odd sound in my rear. It was as if something werefollowing me. I stopped and listened with a sudden dread. CouldLaputa's trackers have got up with me already? But the sound was notof human feet. It was as if some heavy animal were plunging throughthe undergrowth. At intervals came the soft pad of its feet on thegrass.
It must be the hungry lion of my nightmare, and Henriques' pistol wasin the mud of the Klein Letaba! The only thing was a tree, and I hadsprung for one and scrambled wearily into the first branches when agreat yellow animal came into the moonlight.
Providence had done kindly in robbing me of my pistol. The next minuteI was on the ground with Colin leaping on me and baying with joy. Ihugged that blessed hound and buried my head in his shaggy neck,sobbing like a child. How he had traced me I can never tell. Thesecret belongs only to the Maker of good and faithful dogs.
With him by my side I was a new man. The awesome loneliness had gone.I felt as if he were a message from my own people to take me safelyhome. He clearly knew the business afoot, for he padded beside me withnever a glance to right or left. Another time he would have beensnowking in every thicket; but now he was on duty, a serious,conscientious dog with no eye but for business.
The moon went down, and the starry sky was our only light. The thickgloom which brooded over the landscape pointed to the night being fargone. I thought I saw a deeper blackness ahead which might be the lineof the Berg. Then came that period of utter stillness when every bushsound is hushed and the world seems to swoon. I felt almost impioushurrying through that profound silence, when not even the leavesstirred or a frog croaked.
Suddenly as we came over a rise a little wind blew on the back of myhead, and a bitter chill came into the air. I knew from nights spentin the open that it was the precursor of dawn. Sure enough, as Iglanced back, far over the plain a pale glow was stealing upwards intothe sky. In a few minutes the pall melted into an airy haze, and aboveme I saw the heavens shot with tremors of blue light. Then theforeground began to clear, and there before me, with their heads stillmuffled in vapour, were the mountains.
Xenophon's Ten Thousand did not hail the sea more gladly than Iwelcomed those frowning ramparts of the Berg.
Once again my weariness was eased. I cried to Colin, and together weran down into the wide, shallow trough which lies at the foot of thehills. As the sun rose above the horizon, the black masses changed toemerald and rich umber, and the fleecy mists of the summits opened andrevealed beyond shining spaces of green. Some lines of Shakespeare ranin my head, which I have always thought the most beautiful of allpoetry:
'Night's candles are burned out, and jocund day Walks tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.'
Up there among the clouds was my salvation. Like the Psalmist, Ilifted my eyes to the hills from whence came my aid.
Hope is a wonderful restorative. To be near the hills, to smell theirodours, to see at the head of the glens the lines of the plateau wherewere white men and civilization--all gave me new life and courage.Colin saw my mood, and spared a moment now and then to inspect a holeor a covert. Down in the shallow trough I saw the links of a burn, theMachudi, which flowed down the glen it was my purpose to ascend. Awayto the north in the direction of Majinje's were patches of Kaffirtillage, and I thought I discerned the smoke from fires. Majinje'swomankind would be cooking their morning meal. To the south ran a thickpatch of forest, but I saw beyond it the spur of the mountain overwhich runs the highroad to Wesselsburg. The clear air of dawn was likewine in my blood. I was not free, but I was on the threshold offreedom. If I could only reach my friends with the Prester's collar inmy shirt, I would have performed a feat which would never be forgotten.I would have made history by my glorious folly. Breakfastless andfootsore, I was yet a proud man as I crossed the hollow to the mouth ofMachudi's glen.
My chickens had been counted too soon, and there was to be no hatching.Colin grew uneasy, and began to sniff up wind. I was maybe a quarterof a mile from the glen foot, plodding through the long grass of thehollow, when the behaviour of the dog made me stop and listen. In thatstill air s
ounds carry far, and I seemed to hear the noise of feetbrushing through cover. The noise came both from north and south, fromthe forest and from the lower course of the Machudi.
I dropped into shelter, and running with bent back got to the summit ofa little bush-clad knoll. It was Colin who first caught sight of mypursuers. He was staring at a rift in the trees, and suddenly gave ashort bark. I looked and saw two men, running hard, cross the grassand dip into the bed of the stream. A moment later I had a glimpse offigures on the edge of the forest, moving fast to the mouth of theglen. The pursuit had not followed me; it had waited to cut me off.Fool that I was, I had forgotten the wonders of Kaffir telegraphy. Ithad been easy for Laputa to send word thirty miles ahead to stop anywhite man who tried to cross the Berg.
And then I knew that I was very weary.