CHAPTER IV
MY JOURNEY TO THE WINTER-VELD
A reply came from Colles, addressed not to me but to Japp. It seemedthat the old fellow had once suggested the establishment of a branchstore at a place out in the plains called Umvelos', and the firm wasnow prepared to take up the scheme. Japp was in high good humour, andshowed me the letter. Not a word was said of what I had written about,only the bare details about starting the branch. I was to get a coupleof masons, load up two wagons with bricks and timber, and go down toUmvelos' and see the store built. The stocking of it and theappointment of a storekeeper would be matter for furthercorrespondence. Japp was delighted, for, besides getting rid of me forseveral weeks, it showed that his advice was respected by hissuperiors. He went about bragging that the firm could not get onwithout him, and was inclined to be more insolent to me than usual inhis new self-esteem. He also got royally drunk over the head of it.
I confess I was hurt by the manager's silence on what seemed to me morevital matters. But I soon reflected that if he wrote at all he wouldwrite direct to me, and I eagerly watched for the post-runner. Noletter came, however, and I was soon too busy with preparations to lookfor one. I got the bricks and timber from Pietersdorp, and hired twoDutch masons to run the job. The place was not very far fromSikitola's kraal, so there would be no difficulty about native helpers.Having my eyes open for trade, I resolved to kill two birds with onestone. It was the fashion among the old-fashioned farmers on thehigh-veld to drive the cattle down into the bush-veld--which they callthe winter-veld--for winter pasture. There is no fear of red-waterabout that season, and the grass of the plains is rich and thickcompared with the uplands. I discovered that some big droves werepassing on a certain day, and that the owners and their families weretravelling with them in wagons. Accordingly I had a light _naachtmaal_fitted up as a sort of travelling store, and with my two wagons full ofbuilding material joined the caravan. I hoped to do good trade inselling little luxuries to the farmers on the road and at Umvelos'.
It was a clear cold morning when we started down the Berg. At first myhands were full with the job of getting my heavy wagons down theawesome precipice which did duty as a highway. We locked the wheelswith chains, and tied great logs of wood behind to act as brakes.Happily my drivers knew their business, but one of the Boer wagons gota wheel over the edge, and it was all that ten men could do to get itback again.
After that the road was easier, winding down the side of a slowlyopening glen. I rode beside the wagons, and so heavenly was theweather that I was content with my own thoughts. The sky was clearblue, the air warm, yet with a wintry tonic in it, and a thousandaromatic scents came out of the thickets. The pied birds called 'Kaffirqueens' fluttered across the path. Below, the Klein Labongo churned andfoamed in a hundred cascades. Its waters were no more the clear greyof the 'Blue Wildebeeste's Spring,' but growing muddy with its approachto the richer soil of the plains.
Oxen travel slow, and we outspanned that night half a day's march shortof Umvelos'. I spent the hour before sunset lounging and smoking withthe Dutch farmers. At first they had been silent and suspicious of anewcomer, but by this time I talked their taal fluently, and we weresoon on good terms. I recall a discussion arising about a black thingin a tree about five hundred yards away. I thought it was an aasvogel,but another thought it was a baboon. Whereupon the oldest of theparty, a farmer called Coetzee, whipped up his rifle and, apparentlywithout sighting, fired. A dark object fell out of the branch, andwhen we reached it we found it a _baviaan_[1] sure enough, shot throughthe head. 'Which side are you on in the next war?' the old man askedme, and, laughing, I told him 'Yours.'
After supper, the ingredients of which came largely from my _naachtmaal_,we sat smoking and talking round the fire, the women and children beingsnug in the covered wagons. The Boers were honest companionablefellows, and when I had made a bowl of toddy in the Scotch fashion tokeep out the evening chill, we all became excellent friends. Theyasked me how I got on with Japp. Old Coetzee saved me the trouble ofanswering, for he broke in with _Skellum_! _Skellum_![2] I asked him hisobjection to the storekeeper, but he would say nothing beyond that hewas too thick with the natives. I fancy at some time Mr Japp had soldhim a bad plough.
We spoke of hunting, and I heard long tales of exploits--away on theLimpopo, in Mashonaland, on the Sabi and in the Lebombo. Then weverged on politics, and I listened to violent denunciations of the newland tax. These were old residenters, I reflected, and I might learnperhaps something of value. So very carefully I repeated a tale I saidI had heard at Durban of a great wizard somewhere in the Berg, andasked if any one knew of it. They shook their heads. The natives hadgiven up witchcraft and big medicine, they said, and were more afraidof a parson or a policeman than any witch-doctor. Then they werestarting on reminiscences, when old Coetzee, who was deaf, broke in andasked to have my question repeated.
'Yes,' he said, 'I know. It is in the Rooirand. There is a devildwells there.'
I could get no more out of him beyond the fact that there was certainlya great devil there. His grandfather and father had seen it, and hehimself had heard it roaring when he had gone there as a boy to hunt.He would explain no further, and went to bed.
Next morning, close to Sikitola's kraal, I bade the farmers good-bye,after telling them that there would be a store in my wagon for threeweeks at Umvelos' if they wanted supplies. We then struck more to thenorth towards our destination. As soon as they had gone I had out mymap and searched it for the name old Coetzee had mentioned. It was avery bad map, for there had been no surveying east of the Berg, andmost of the names were mere guesses. But I found the word 'Rooirand'marking an eastern continuation of the northern wall, and probably setdown from some hunter's report. I had better explain here the chieffeatures of the country, for they bulk largely in my story. The Bergruns north and south, and from it run the chief streams which water theplain. They are, beginning from the south, the Olifants, the GrootLetaba, the Letsitela, the Klein Letaba, and the Klein Labongo, onwhich stands Blaauwildebeestefontein. But the greatest river of theplain, into which the others ultimately flow, is the Groot Labongo,which appears full-born from some subterranean source close to theplace called Umvelos'. North from Blaauwildebeestefontein the Bergruns for some twenty miles, and then makes a sharp turn eastward,becoming, according to my map, the Rooirand.
I pored over these details, and was particularly curious about theGreat Labongo. It seemed to me unlikely that a spring in the bushcould produce so great a river, and I decided that its source must liein the mountains to the north. As well as I could guess, the Rooirand,the nearest part of the Berg, was about thirty miles distant. OldCoetzee had said that there was a devil in the place, but I thoughtthat if it were explored the first thing found would be a fine streamof water.
We got to Umvelos' after midday, and outspanned for our three weeks'work. I set the Dutchmen to unload and clear the ground forfoundations, while I went off to Sikitola to ask for labourers. I gota dozen lusty blacks, and soon we had a business-like encampment, andthe work went on merrily. It was rough architecture and roughermasonry. All we aimed at was a two-roomed shop with a kind of outhousefor stores. I was architect, and watched the marking out of thefoundations and the first few feet of the walls. Sikitola's peopleproved themselves good helpers, and most of the building was left tothem, while the Dutchmen worked at the carpentry. Bricks ran shortbefore we got very far, and we had to set to brick-making on the bankof the Labongo, and finish off the walls with green bricks, which gavethe place a queer piebald look.
I was not much of a carpenter, and there were plenty of builderswithout me, so I found a considerable amount of time on my hands. Atfirst I acted as shopkeeper in the _naachtmaal_, but I soon cleared outmy stores to the Dutch farmers and the natives. I had thought of goingback for more, and then it occurred to me that I might profitably givesome of my leisure to the Rooirand. I could see the wall of themountains quite clear to
the north, within an easy day's ride. So onemorning I packed enough food for a day or two, tied my sleeping-bag onmy saddle, and set off to explore, after appointing the elder of theDutchmen foreman of the job in my absence.
It was very hot jogging along the native path with the eternalolive-green bush around me. Happily there was no fear of losing theway, for the Rooirand stood very clear in front, and slowly, as Iadvanced, I began to make out the details of the cliffs. Atluncheon-time, when I was about half-way, I sat down with my Zeissglass--my mother's farewell gift--to look for the valley. But valley Isaw none. The wall--reddish purple it looked, and, I thought, ofporphyry--was continuous and unbroken. There were chimneys andfissures, but none great enough to hold a river. The top was sheercliff; then came loose kranzes in tiers, like the seats in a gallery,and, below, a dense thicket of trees. I raked the whole line for abreak, but there seemed none. 'It's a bad job for me,' I thought, 'ifthere is no water, for I must pass the night there.' The night wasspent in a sheltered nook at the foot of the rocks, but my horse and Iwent to bed without a drink. My supper was some raisins and biscuits,for I did not dare to run the risk of increasing my thirst. I hadfound a great bank of _d?bris_ sloping up to the kranzes, and thick woodclothing all the slope. The grass seemed wonderfully fresh, but ofwater there was no sign. There was not even the sandy channel of astream to dig in.
In the morning I had a difficult problem to face. Water I must find atall costs, or I must go home. There was time enough for me to get backwithout suffering much, but if so I must give up my explorations. ThisI was determined not to do. The more I looked at these red cliffs themore eager I was to find out their secret. There must be watersomewhere; otherwise how account for the lushness of the vegetation?
My horse was a veld pony, so I set him loose to see what he would do.He strayed back on the path to Umvelos'. This looked bad, for it meantthat he did not smell water along the cliff front. If I was to find astream it must be on the top, and I must try a little mountaineering.
Then, taking my courage in both my hands, I decided. I gave my pony acut, and set him off on the homeward road. I knew he was safe to getback in four or five hours, and in broad day there was little fear ofwild beasts attacking him. I had tied my sleeping bag on to thesaddle, and had with me but two pocketfuls of food. I had alsofastened on the saddle a letter to my Dutch foreman, bidding him send anative with a spare horse to fetch me by the evening. Then I startedoff to look for a chimney.
A boyhood spent on the cliffs at Kirkcaple had made me a bold cragsman,and the porphyry of the Rooirand clearly gave excellent holds. But Iwalked many weary miles along the cliff-foot before I found a feasibleroad. To begin with, it was no light task to fight one's way throughthe dense undergrowth of the lower slopes. Every kind of thorn-bushlay in wait for my skin, creepers tripped me up, high trees shut outthe light, and I was in constant fear lest a black _mamba_ might appearout of the tangle. It grew very hot, and the screes above the thicketwere blistering to the touch. My tongue, too, stuck to the roof of mymouth with thirst.
The first chimney I tried ran out on the face into nothingness, and Ihad to make a dangerous descent. The second was a deep gully, but sochoked with rubble that after nearly braining myself I desisted. Stillgoing eastwards, I found a sloping ledge which took me to a platformfrom which ran a crack with a little tree growing in it. My glassshowed me that beyond this tree the crack broadened into a clearlydefined chimney which led to the top. If I can once reach that tree, Ithought, the battle is won. The crack was only a few inches wide, largeenough to let in an arm and a foot, and it ran slantwise up aperpendicular rock. I do not think I realized how bad it was till Ihad gone too far to return. Then my foot jammed, and I paused forbreath with my legs and arms cramping rapidly. I remember that Ilooked to the west, and saw through the sweat which kept dropping intomy eyes that about half a mile off a piece of cliff which lookedunbroken from the foot had a fold in it to the right. The darkness ofthe fold showed me that it was a deep, narrow gully. However, I had notime to think of this, for I was fast in the middle of my confoundedcrack. With immense labour I found a chockstone above my head, andmanaged to force my foot free. The next few yards were not sodifficult, and then I stuck once more.
For the crack suddenly grew shallow as the cliff bulged out above me.I had almost given up hope, when I saw that about three feet above myhead grew the tree. If I could reach it and swing out I might hope topull myself up to the ledge on which it grew. I confess it needed allmy courage, for I did not know but that the tree might be loose, andthat it and I might go rattling down four hundred feet. It was my onlyhope, however, so I set my teeth, and wriggling up a few inches, made agrab at it. Thank God it held, and with a great effort I pulled myshoulder over the ledge, and breathed freely.
My difficulties were not ended, but the worst was past. The rest ofthe gully gave me good and safe climbing, and presently a very limp andweary figure lay on the cliff-top. It took me many minutes to get backmy breath and to conquer the faintness which seized me as soon as theneed for exertion was over.
When I scrambled to my feet and looked round, I saw a wonderfulprospect. It was a plateau like the high-veld, only covered withbracken and little bushes like hazels. Three or four miles off theground rose, and a shallow vale opened. But in the foreground, half amile or so distant, a lake lay gleaming in the sun.
I could scarcely believe my eyes as I ran towards it, and doubts of amirage haunted me. But it was no mirage, but a real lake, perhapsthree miles in circumference, with bracken-fringed banks, a shore ofwhite pebbles, and clear deep blue water. I drank my fill, and thenstripped and swam in the blessed coolness. After that I ate someluncheon, and sunned myself on a flat rock. 'I have discovered thesource of the Labongo,' I said to myself. 'I will write to the RoyalGeographical Society, and they will give me a medal.'
I walked round the lake to look for an outlet. A fine mountain streamcame in at the north end, and at the south end, sure enough, aconsiderable river debauched. My exploring zeal redoubled, and Ifollowed its course in a delirium of expectation. It was a noblestream, clear as crystal, and very unlike the muddy tropical Labongo atUmvelos'. Suddenly, about a quarter of a mile from the lake, the landseemed to grow over it, and with a swirl and a hollow roar, itdisappeared into a mighty pot-hole. I walked a few steps on, and frombelow my feet came the most uncanny rumbling and groaning. Then I knewwhat old Coetzee's devil was that howled in the Rooirand.
Had I continued my walk to the edge of the cliff, I might have learneda secret which would have stood me in good stead later. But thedescent began to make me anxious, and I retraced my steps to the top ofthe chimney whence I had come. I was resolved that nothing would makeme descend by that awesome crack, so I kept on eastward along the topto look for a better way. I found one about a mile farther on, which,though far from easy, had no special risks save from the appallinglooseness of the _d?bris_. When I got down at length, I found that itwas near sunset. I went to the place I had bidden my native look forme at, but, as I had feared, there was no sign of him. So, making thebest of a bad job, I had supper and a pipe, and spent a very chillynight in a hole among the boulders.
I got up at dawn stiff and cold, and ate a few raisins for breakfast.There was no sign of horses, so I resolved to fill up the time inlooking for the fold of the cliff which, as I had seen from thehorrible crack of yesterday, contained a gully. It was a difficultjob, for to get the sidelong view of the cliff I had to scramblethrough the undergrowth of the slopes again, and even a certain way upthe kranzes. At length I got my bearings, and fixed the place by sometall trees in the bush. Then I descended and walked westwards.
Suddenly, as I neared the place, I heard the strangest sound comingfrom the rocks. It was a deep muffled groaning, so eerie and unearthlythat for the moment I stood and shivered. Then I remembered my river ofyesterday. It must be above this place that it descended into theearth, and in the hush of dawn the sound
was naturally louder. Nowonder old Coetzee had been afraid of devils. It reminded me of thelines in _Marmion_--
'Diving as if condemned to lave Some demon's subterranean cave, Who, prisoned by enchanter's spell, Shakes the dark rock with groan and yell.'
While I was standing awestruck at the sound, I observed a figure movingtowards the cliffs. I was well in cover, so I could not have beennoticed. It was a very old man, very tall, but bowed in the shoulders,who was walking slowly with bent head. He could not have been thirtyyards from me, so I had a clear view of his face. He was a native, butof a type I had never seen before. A long white beard fell on hisbreast, and a magnificent kaross of leopard skin covered his shoulders.His face was seamed and lined and shrunken, so that he seemed as old asTime itself.
Very carefully I crept after him, and found myself opposite the foldwhere the gully was. There was a clear path through the jungle, a pathworn smooth by many feet. I followed it through the undergrowth andover the screes till it turned inside the fold of the gully. And thenit stopped short. I was in a deep cleft, but in front was a slab ofsheer rock. Above, the gully looked darker and deeper, but there wasthis great slab to pass. I examined the sides, but they were sheerrock with no openings.
Had I had my wits about me, I would have gone back and followed thespoor, noting where it stopped. But the whole thing looked black magicto me; my stomach was empty and my enterprise small. Besides, therewas the terrible moaning of the imprisoned river in my ears. I amashamed to confess it, but I ran from that gully as if the devil andall his angels had been following me. Indeed, I did not slacken till Ihad put a good mile between me and those uncanny cliffs. After that Iset out to foot it back. If the horses would not come to me I must goto them.
I walked twenty-five miles in a vile temper, enraged at my Dutchmen, mynatives, and everybody. The truth is, I had been frightened, and mypride was sore about it. It grew very hot, the sand rose and chokedme, the mopani trees with their dull green wearied me, the 'Kaffirqueens' and jays and rollers which flew about the path seemed to bethere to mock me. About half-way home I found a boy and two horses, androundly I cursed him. It seemed that my pony had returned rightenough, and the boy had been sent to fetch me. He had got half-waybefore sunset the night before, and there he had stayed. I discoveredfrom him that he was scared to death, and did not dare go any nearerthe Rooirand. It was accursed, he said, for it was an abode of devils,and only wizards went near it. I was bound to admit to myself that Icould not blame him. At last I had got on the track of somethingcertain about this mysterious country, and all the way back I wonderedif I should have the courage to follow it up.
[1] Baboon.
[2] Schelm: Rascal.