Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Into the Unknown, by Lawrence Fletcher.
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________________________________________________________________________INTO THE UNKNOWN, BY LAWRENCE FLETCHER.
Into the Unknown--by Lawrence Fletcher
CHAPTER ONE.
THE GHOSTS' PASS.
"Well, old man, what do we do next?" The speaker, a fine young fellowof some five-and-twenty summers, reclining on the rough grass, withclouds of tobacco-smoke filtering through his lips, looked the pictureof comfort, his appearance belying in every way the discontent expressedin his tones as he smoked his pipe in the welcome shade of a giant rock,which protected him and his two companions from the mid-day glare of aSouth African sun.
Alfred Leigh, second son of Lord Drelincourt, was certainly a handsomeman: powerfully and somewhat heavily built, his physique looked perfect,and, as he gradually and lazily raised his huge frame from the roughgrass, he appeared--what he was, in truth--a splendid specimen ofnineteenth-century humanity, upwards of six feet high, and in theperfection of health and spirits; a fine, clear-cut face, with blue eyesand a fair, close-cropped beard, completed a _tout ensemble_ which wasEnglish to a degree.
The person addressed was evidently related to the speaker, for, thoughdarker than his companion, and by no means so striking in face orfigure, he still had fair hair, which curled crisply on a well-shapedhead, and keen blue eyes which seemed incessantly on the watch and werewell matched by a resolute mouth and chin, and a broad-shouldered framewhich promised strength from its perfect lines. Dick Grenville,_aetat._ thirty, and his cousin, Alf Leigh, were a pair which any threeordinary mortals might well wish to be excused from taking on.
The third person--singular he certainly looked--was a magnificentcreature, a pure-blooded Zulu chief, descended from a race of warriors,every line of his countenance grave and stern, with eyes that glistenedlike fiery stars under a lowering cloud, the man having withal a general"straightness" of appearance more easily detected than described. A"Keshla," or ringed man, some six feet three inches high, of enormouslypowerful physique, armed with a murderous-looking club and a brace ofbroad-bladed spears, and you have a faithful picture of Myzukulwa, theZulu friend of the two cousins.
The scene is magnificently striking, but grand with a loneliness awfulbeyond description, for, so far as the eye can reach, the fervid sunbeats upon nothing but towering mountain-peaks, whose grey and ruggedsummits pierce the fleecy heat-clouds, and seem to lose themselves in ahopeless attempt to fathom the unspeakable majesty beyond.
"Do next, old fellow?" The words came in cool, quiet tones. "Well, ifI were you, Alf, I should convey my carcass out of the line of fire fromyonder rifle, which has been pointed at each of our persons insuccession during the last two minutes;" and Grenville, with the stem ofhis pipe, indicated a spot some three hundred yards away, where his keeneye had detected the browned barrel of a rifle projected through afissure in the rock; then, in quick, incisive tones, suiting the actionto the word, "Lie down, man!" and not a moment too soon, as an angryrifle-bullet sang over his head and flattened against the rock. Inanother instant all three were ensconced behind a rocky projection, andendeavouring to ascertain their unknown assailants' force.
Truly, an unpleasant place was this to be beleaguered in--little food,still less water, and positively no cover to protect them in the eventof a night attack upon the position they occupied. Grenville quietlypicked up the flattened bullet, eyed it curiously, and then handed it toMyzukulwa with an interrogative look; the other scarcely glanced at themissile and replied quietly, yet in singularly correct English, "Inkoos(chief), that lead came from a very old gun, but it is a true one--theInkoos, my master, was too near it."
"Yes," responded Grenville, who had now quite taken command of matters,"but we must find out how many of these rascals are lurking behindyonder rocks with murder in their hearts." So saying he coolly steppedout into the open again, ostensibly to pick up his pipe, which lay onthe ground, but kept his eye warily fixed upon the expected point ofoffence, and instantly dropped on his hands and knees as another bulletwhizzed over him. Then he quietly rose to his feet, but with a beatingheart, for, if the rifle were a double-barrelled one, or if more thanthe one marksman were lying hid, he was in deadly peril. No shotfollowed, however, and he calmly picked up his pipe and again soughtshelter with his companions.
"Now, chief," said Grenville, after a brief interval, "wait till I havedrawn the scoundrel's fire again, and then rush him," and, executing arapid movement round the rocky boulder which served the party as ashelter, he once more provoked the fire of the hidden foe, deliveredwith greater accuracy than before, the bullet grazing the skin of onehand as he swung himself into cover, crying, "Now, Myzukulwa!" but thefleet-footed Zulu was already half-way across the open space, going likea sprint-runner, having started simultaneously with the flash of therifle. In a moment more the cousins were after him, only to find, uponreaching the rock, that there was no trace of the would-be assassin, andthat the Zulu was hopelessly at fault. A little powder spilled upon astone showed where the man had been placed, and that was all.
Just then Grenville's quick eye "spotted" the barrel of a rifle slowlyrising a hundred yards away, out of a hollow in the ground,imperceptible from where they stood; he instinctively pitched forwardhis Winchester, and the two reports blended into one. Leigh's hat flewoff his head, carried away by a bullet, and at the same instantMyzukulwa again "rushed" the hidden marksman, only to find the workdone; and a gruesome sight it was. There lay a fine-looking man,stone-dead, with the blood welling out of a ghastly hole in his head,the heavy shell-bullet doing frightful execution at such short range,having fairly smashed his skull to pieces.
The Englishmen were very considerably taken aback at finding that theirassailant was as white-skinned as themselves; they had half expected tofind some loafing Hottentot or Kaffir, though the accuracy of theshooting had already caused Grenville to doubt that the marksman couldbe either of these, for, as a general rule, if a Kaffir aims at anythinga hundred yards from him he misses it nine times out of ten. The deadman was dressed in a deerskin costume, which caused the cousins toremark that he looked like many a man they had seen when shootingbuffalo on the prairies of the Wild West. His gun proved to be a longflint-lock rifle of an obsolete type, but extremely well finished, andit was the flash of the powder in the pan which had enabled Grenville toanticipate the leaden messenger from this weapon.
Leigh, who was disposed to scoff at their present undertaking, which hecalled "a wild-goose chase," gave it as his opinion that the miserableman was some escaped convict who had gravitated up country, and who, nodoubt, imagined that the white men were in search of him with a nativetracker--anyway, it had been a very near thing with them, and nothingbut Grenville's unceasing watchfulness could have saved his cousin'slife, as it unquestionably had done, twice over.
Grenville listened in silence to Leigh's remarks, and then, turningtheir backs on the mortal remains of their foe, they left him to theeternal solitude of that vast and rocky wilderness.
Several hours of hard toil followed, during which they slowly and warilyascended the Pass, without, however, seeing any further sign of life.Stopping once to take a hurried mouthful of dried deer-flesh, the partywas soon again on its way, and reached the top of the Pass just beforesunset. Beyond this point all possibility of advance in any directionseemed at an end. The mountains shot up towards the sky, based, as itwere, by a precipitous wall of rock, and flanked by mighty spurs, whosepeaks stood out, clear and sharp, some fifteen
thousand feet above thePass, their barren and rugged sides almost beautified by the glow of thesetting sun.
The sterile appearance of the valley was, however, to some slight extentrelieved by a magnificent waterfall, which appeared to receive itssupply through a fissure in the wall of rock, whence it came sheer overa beetling crag and fell from a height of at least one hundred feet intoa rocky basin at the very head of the Pass.
Grenville quickly bestowed his party in a small cave for the night, andby the time they were comfortably domiciled the sun had set. He thenmounted guard whilst the others slept, and three hours later, havingaroused the Zulu, he himself turned in for a much-needed rest.