CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
A ROW IN THE CAMP.
There was just this much to bear out the ill-natured comments of thescandal-mongers, in that the re-appearance of the missing cousin hadgone very far towards consoling the young widow for the loss of the deadhusband.
The fact was that where her strongest, deepest feelings were concerned,Eanswyth, like most other women, was a bad actress. The awful poignancyof her suffering had been too real--the subsequent and blissfulrevulsion too overpowering--for her to be able to counterfeit the one ordissemble the other, with anything like a satisfactory result. Thosewho had witnessed the former, now shook their heads, feeling convincedthat they had then mistaken the object of it. They began to look atEanswyth ever so little, askance.
But why need she care if they did? She was independent, young andbeautiful. She loved passionately, and her love was abundantlyreturned. A great and absorbing interest has a tendency to dwarf allminor worries. She did not, in fact, care.
Eustace, thanks to his cool and cautious temperament, was a betteractor; so good, indeed, that to those who watched them it seemed thatthe affection was mainly, if not entirely, on one side. Sometimes hewould warn her.
"For your own sake, dearest," he would say on such rare occasions whenthey were alone together. "For your own sake try and keep upappearances a little longer; at any rate until we are out of thisinfernal back-biting, gossipy little hole. Remember, you are supposedto be plunged in an abyss of woe, and here you are looking as absurdlyhappy as a bird which has just escaped from a cage."
"Oh, darling, you are right as usual," she would reply, trying to lookserious. "But what am I to do? No wonder people think I have noheart."
"And they think right for once, for you have given it away--to me. Dokeep up appearances, that's all. It won't be for much longer."
Eustace had secured a couple of rooms for his own use in one of theneighbouring cottages. The time not spent with Eanswyth was got throughstrolling about the camp, or now and then taking a short ride out intothe _veldt_ when the _entourage_ was reported safe. But this, indeference to Eanswyth's fears, he did but seldom.
"Why on earth don't you go to the front again, Milne?" this or thatfriend or acquaintance would inquire. "You must find it properly slowhanging on in this hole. I know I do. Why, you could easily get acommand of Fingo or Hottentot levies, or, for the matter of that, itoughtn't to be difficult for a fellow with your record to raise acommand on your own account."
"The fact is I've had enough of going to the front," Eustace wouldreply. "When I was there I used often to wonder what business it was ofmine anyway, and when the Kafirs made a prisoner of me, my first thoughtwas that it served me devilish well right. I give you my word it was.And I tell you what it is. When a man has got up every day for nearly amonth, not knowing whether he'd go to bed between his blankets thatnight or pinned down to a black ants' nest, he's in no particular hurryto go and expose himself to a repetition of the process. It tells uponthe nerves, don't you know."
"By Jove, I believe you," replied the other. "I never knew Jack Kafirwas such a cruel devil before, at least not to white men. Well, if I'dgone through what you have, I believe I'd give the front a wide berth,too. As it is, I'm off in a day or two, I hope."
"I trust you may meet with better luck," said Eustace.
One day a considerable force of mounted burghers started for theTranskei--a good typical force--hardened, seasoned frontiersmen all,well mounted, well armed; in fact, a thoroughly serviceable lookingcorps all round. There was the usual complement of spectators seeingthem off--the usual amount of cheering and hat-waving. On the outskirtsof the crowd was a sprinkling of natives, representing divers races andcolours.
"_Au_!" exclaimed a tall Gaika, as the crowd dispersed. "_That_ will bea hard stone for Kreli to try and crush. If it was the _Amapolise_[Police] he could knock them to pieces with a stick. Mere boys!"
"What's that you say, Johnny?" said a hard-fisted individual, turningthreateningly upon the speaker.
"Nothing. I only made a remark to my comrade," replied the man in hisown language.
"Did you?" said the other walking up to the Kafir and looking himstraight in the eye. "Then just keep your damned remarks to yourself,Johnny, or we shall quarrel. D'you hear?"
But the Kafir never quailed, never moved. He was a tall, powerfulnative and carried his head grandly. The white man, though shorter,looked tough and wiry as whip cord. The crowd, which had beenscattering, gathered round the pair with the celerity of a mob of Londonstreet-cads round a fallen cab-horse.
"What's the row? A cheeky nigger? Give him fits, Mister! Knock himinto the middle of next week!" were some of the cries that burst fromthe group of angry and excited men.
"I have committed no offence," said the Kafir. "I made a remark to acomrade, saying what a fine lot of men those were."
"Oh, yes? Very likely!" shouted several ironically.
"See here now. You get out of this," said the first man. "Do you hear,get out. Don't say another word--or--"
He did not finish. Stung by a contemptuous look in the Kafir's eyes, hedashed his fist full into his face.
It was a crushing blow--but the native did not fall. Like lightning heaimed a blow at his assailant's head with his heavy kerrie--a blow whichwould have shattered the skull like an egg shell. But the other threwup his arm in time, receiving nearly the full force of the blow on thatmember, which dropped to his side completely paralysed. Withoutattempting to follow up his success the savage sprang back, whirling hiskerrie round his head. The crowd, taken by surprise, scattered beforehim.
Only for a moment, though. Like a pack of hounds pressed back by a stagat bay they gave way but to close up again. In a trice the man's kerriewas struck from his grasp, and he was thrown down, beaten, kicked, andvery roughly handled.
"Tie up the _schelm_!"
"Give him six dozen well-laid on!" "Six dozen without counting!""Cheeky brute!" were some of the shouts that accompanied each kick andblow dealt or aimed at the prostrate Kafir, who altogether seemed to behaving a pretty bad time of it.
"That's a damned shame!" exclaimed a voice behind them.
All started and turned their heads, some astonished--all angry--someperhaps a little ashamed of themselves--towards the owner of the voice,a horseman who sat calmly in his saddle some twenty yards away--anexpression of strong disgust upon his features.
"What have you got to say to it anyhow, I'd like to know?" cried the manwho had just struck the native.
"What I said before--that it's a damned shame," replied Eustace Milneunhesitatingly.
"What's a shame, Mister?" sneered another. "That one o' your preciousblack kids is getting a hidin' for his infernal cheek?"
"That it should take twenty men to give it him, and that, too, when he'sdown."
"I tell you what it is, friend," said the first speaker furiously. "Itmay take rather less than twenty to give you one, and that, too, whenyou're up!" which sally provoked a blatant guffaw from several of thehearers.
"I'm not much afraid of that," answered Eustace tranquilly. "But now,seeing that British love of fair play has been about vindicated by ascore of Englishmen kicking a prostrate Kafir, how would it be to lethim get up and go?"
The keen, biting sarcasm told. The group, which mainly consisted of thelow element, actually did begin to look a trifle ashamed of itself. Thebetter element composing it gave way and took itself off, as Eustacedeliberately walked his horse up to the fallen native. There were a fewmuttered jeers about "the nigger's friend" and getting into the Assemblyon the strength of "blanket votes," [The native franchise, derisively sotermed] and so forth, but none offered any active opposition except one,however, and that was the man who had originated the disturbance.
"Look here," he shouted savagely. "I don't know who you are and I don'tcare. But if you don't take yourself off out of this mighty quick, I'lljust about knock you into a jelly; you see if
I don't."
"_Ja_, that's right. Serve him as you did the nigger!" yelled thebystanders, a lot of rowdy hobbledehoys and a contingent of town loaferswhom the prospect of an easy-going, devil-may-care life in the _veldt_had drawn from the more sober avocations of bricklaying andwaggon-building within the Colony, and who, it may be added,distinguished themselves at the seat of hostilities by such a line ofdrunken mutinous insubordination as rendered them an occasion ofperennial detestation and disgust to their respective commanders. Thesenow closed up around their bullying, swash-bucklering champion,relieving their ardently martial spirits by hooting and cat's calls. Itwas only one man against a crowd. They felt perfectly safe.
"Who sold his mate to the blanked niggers!" they yelled. "Ought to betarred and feathered. Come on, boys; let's do it. Who's for tarringand feathering the Kafir spy?"
All cordially welcomed this spicy proposal, but curiously enough, no oneappeared anxious to begin, for they still kept some paces behind theoriginal aggressor. That worthy, however, seemed to have plenty offight in him, for he advanced upon Eustace unhesitatingly.
"Come now. Are you going to clear?" he shouted. "You're not? Allright. I'll soon make you."
A stirrup-iron, wielded by a clever hand, is a terribly formidableweapon. Backing his horse a pace or two Eustace wrenched loose hisstirrup. Quick as lightning, it whirled in the air, and as hisassailant sprang wildly at him down it came. The aggressive bully wentto earth like a felled ox.
"Any more takers for the tar-and-feather line of business?" said Eustacequietly, but with the light of battle in his eyes.
The insulting jeers and the hooting still continued. But no oneadvanced. No one seemed anxious to tackle that particularly resolutelooking horseman.
"Get out of this, you cowardly skunks!" sung out a voice behind him,which voice proceeded from another horseman, who had ridden up unseenduring the _emeute_. "Twenty to one! Faugh! For two pins we'llsjambok the lot of you."
"Hallo, Errington! Where have you dropped from? Thought you were awaydown in the Colony," said Eustace, turning to the new arrival, a finesoldierly looking man of about his own age, in whom he recognised aformer Field-Captain in Brathwaite's Horse. The crowd had already begunto melt away before this new accession of force.
"Yer--send yer winder to be cleaned! Stick it in yer breeches pocket!"were some of the witticisms yelled back by the retreating rowdies, inallusion to the eye-glass worn by the newcomer.
"By jove, Milne. You seem to have been in the wars," said the latterlooking from one to the other of the injured parties. "What's the row,eh?"
"It speaks for itself. Nothing much, though. I've only been remindingour valiant friends there that fair play is a jewel even when its only aKafir that's concerned."--"Which unsavoury Ethiop seems to have beenknocked about a bit, however," rejoined the other, sticking his glassinto his eye to examine the fallen native.
The Kafir, who had raised himself to a sitting posture, was now staringstupidly about him as though half dazed. Blood was issuing from hisnose and mouth, and one of his eyes was completely closed up. Hisassailants had all slunk away by now, the arrival upon the scene of thisunwelcome ally having turned the scale against any plan they might haveentertained of showing further unpleasantness toward the solitaryintervener.
Some three or four of the Gaika's countrymen, who had held aloof, nowcame up to the assistance of their friend. These gave their version ofthe story. Eustace listened attentively.
"It was a foolish thing to make any remark at such a time and in such aplace," he said. "It was sure to provoke strife. Go and get him a totof grog," throwing them a sixpence, "and then you'd better get awayhome."
"I tell you what it is, Milne," said Errington in a low tone. "I knowthat fellow you floored so neatly. He's one of the best bruisers in thecountry, and I'm afraid you haven't seen the last of him. You'd betterkeep a bright lookout as long as you're in this part. He's bound toplay you some dog's trick at the earliest opportunity."
"Is he? Well I must try and be ready for him. I suppose now we mustbring the poor devil round, eh? He seems about stunned."
Errington had a flask in his pocket. Dismounting he raised the fallenman's head and poured some of the contents into his mouth.
The fellow revived--gradually, stupidly. He had received a bad blow,which only a thick slouch hat and a thicker skull had saved from being aworse one.
"Who the hell are you?" he growled surlily, as he sat up. "Oh, I knowyou," he went on as his glance lit upon Eustace. "All right, my finefeller, wait a bit, till I'm all right again. You'll be sorry yet forthat damned coward's whack you've given me. See if you're not."
"You brought it upon yourself. Why did you try and rush me?"
"I didn't rush you with a stirrup-iron, did I?"
"No. But see here. If I'm attacked I'm not going to leave the choiceof my means of defence to the enemy. Not much. How would that pan outfor an idea in fighting old Kreli, for instance?"
"Of course," struck in Errington. "That's sound sense, and you know itis, Jackson. You and Milne have had a bit of a scrimmage and you've gotthe worst of it. It might easily have been the other way. So don't letus have any grudge-bearing over it. Take another drink, man," pouringout a liberal modicum of whiskey into the cup of the flask, "and shakehands and make it up."
The man, who was not a bad fellow at bottom, gave a growl as he tossedoff the tendered potion. Then he held out his hand to Eustace.
"Well, Mister, I don't bear no grudge. If you'll jest say you're sorryyou hit me--"
"I'll say that with pleasure, Jackson," replied Eustace, as they shookhands. "And look here, if you still feel a bit groggy on your pins,jump on my horse and ride home. I'll walk."
"No, thanks. I'm all right now. Besides I ain't going your way. Mywaggon's outspanned yonder on the flat. Good-night."
"I stand very much indebted to you, Errington, for two servicesrendered," said Eustace as they rode towards the township. "And I'm notsure that the last isn't by far the most important."
"Pooh! not at all, my dear fellow. That howling rabble wouldn't havecome within twenty yards of you."
"I don't know about that. The vagabonds were rather beginning torealise that twenty to one meant long odds in favour of the twenty, whenyou came up. But the deft way in which you smoothed down our friendwith the broken head was diplomatic to a degree. I hate rows, and theknowledge that some fellow is going about day and night seeking anopportunity of fastening a quarrel upon you unawares is tiresome.Besides, I'm nothing of a boxer, and if I were should hate a shindy justas much."
"I quite agree with you," said the other, who _was_ something of aboxer. "To form the centre of attraction to a howling, yahooing rabble,making an undignified exhibition of yourself bashing and being bashed bysome other fellow like a couple of butcher's boys in the gutter, isbound to be a revolting process whichever way you look at it. Even thelaw of the pistol seems to be an improvement on it."
"I think so, too. It puts men on better terms of equality. Any man maybecome a dead shot and a quick drawer, but not one man in ten can fulfilall the conditions requisite to becoming a good boxer. The fact is,however, I hate rows of any kind, even when only a spectator. Whenfellows say they like them I never altogether believe them."
"Unless they are very young. But the Berserk taint soon wears off asyou get on into life a bit," said Errington.
"Well now--I turn off here. Good-evening."