Part 33 (1/2)
At length I woke up again, feeling much stronger, and saw the dog, Lost, watching me with its great tender eyes-oh! they talk of the eyes of women, but are they ever as beautiful as those of a loving dog? It lay by my low bed-stead, a rough affair fas.h.i.+oned of poles and strung with rimpis or strings of raw hide, and by it, stroking its head, sat the witch-doctoress, Nombe. I remember how pleasing she looked, a perfect type of the eternal feminine with her graceful, rounded shape and her continual, mysterious smile which suggested so much more than any mortal woman has to give.
”Good-day to you, Mac.u.mazahn,” she said in her gentle voice, ”you have gone through much since last we met on the night before Goza took you away to Ulundi.”
Now remembering all, I was filled with indignation against this little humbug.
”The last time we met, Nombe,” I said, ”was when you played the part of a woman who is dead in the Vale of Bones by the king's kraal.”
She regarded me with a kindly commiseration, and answered, shaking her head-
”You have been very ill, Mac.u.mazahn, and your spirit still tricks you. I played the part of no woman in any valley by the king's kraal, nor were my eyes rejoiced with the sight of you there or elsewhere till they brought you to this place, so changed that I should scarcely have known you.”
”You little liar!” I said rudely.
”Do the white people always name those liars who tell them true things they cannot understand?” she inquired with a sweet innocence. Then without waiting for an answer, she patted my hand as though I were a fretful child and gave me some soup in a gourd, saying, ”Drink it, it is good. The lady Heddana made it herself in the white man's fas.h.i.+on.”
I drank the soup, which was very good, and as I handed back the gourd, answered-
”Kaatje has told me that the lady Heddana is dead. Can the dead make soup?”
She considered the point while she threw some bits of meat out of the bottom of the gourd to the dog, Lost, then replied-
”I do not know, Mac.u.mazahn, or indeed whether the dead eat as we do. Next time my Spirit visits me I will make inquiry and tell you the answer. But I do know that it is very strange that you, who always turn your back upon the truth, are so ready to accept falsehoods. Why should you believe that the lady Heddana is dead just because Kaatje told you so, when I who am still alive had sworn to you that I would protect her with my life? Nay, speak no more now. To-morrow if you are well enough you shall see and judge for yourself.”
She drew up the kaross over me, again patted my hand in her motherly fas.h.i.+on and departed, still smiling, after which I went to sleep again, so dreamlessly that I think there was some native soporific in that soup.
On the following day two of Zikali's servants who did the rougher work of my sick room, if I may so call it, arrived and said that they were going to carry me out of the cave for a while, if that were my will. I who longed to breathe the fresh air again, said that it was very much my will, whereon they grasped the rough bedstead which I have described by either end and very carefully bore me down the cave and through its narrow entrance, where they set the bedstead in the shadow of the overhanging rock without. When I had recovered a little, for even that short journey tired me, I looked about me and perceived that as I had expected, I was in the Black Kloof, for there in front of me were the very huts which we had occupied on our arrival from Swazi-Land.
I lay a while drawing in the sweet air which to me was like a draught of nectar, and wondering whether I were not still in a dream. For instance, I wondered if I had truly seen the figures of Ans...o...b.. and Heda pa.s.s the mouth of the cave, on that day when I awoke, or if these were but another of Zikali's illusions imprinted on my weakened mind by his will power. For of what he and Nombe told me I believed nothing. Thus marvelling I fell into a doze and in my doze heard whisperings. I opened my eyes and lo! there before me stood Ans...o...b.. and Heda. It was she who spoke the first, for I was tongue-tied; I could not open my lips.
”Dear Mr. Quatermain, dear Mr. Quatermain!” she murmured in her sweet voice, then paused.
Now at last words came to me. ”I thought you were both dead,” I said. ”Tell me, are you really alive?”
She bent down and kissed my brow, while Ans...o...b.. took my hand.
”Now you know,” she answered. ”We are both of us alive and well.”
”Thank G.o.d!” I exclaimed. ”Kaatje swore that she saw you dead and buried.”
”One sees strange things in the Black Kloof,” replied Ans...o...b.. speaking for the first time, ”and much has happened to us since we were parted, to which you are not strong enough to listen now. When you are better, then we will tell you all. So grow well as soon as you can.”
After this I think I fainted, for when I came to myself again I was back in the cave.
Another ten days or so went by before I could even leave my bed, for my recovery was very slow. Indeed for weeks I could scarcely walk at all, and six whole months pa.s.sed before I really got my strength again and became as I used to be. During those days I often saw Ans...o...b.. and Heda, but only for a few minutes at a time. Also occasionally Zikali would visit me, speaking a little, generally about past history, or something of the sort, but never of the war, and go away. At length one day he said to me-
”Mac.u.mazahn, now I am sure you are going to live, a matter as to which I was doubtful, even after you seemed to recover. For, Mac.u.mazahn, you have endured three shocks, of which to-day I am not afraid to talk to you. First there was that of the battle of Isandhlwana where you were the last white man left alive.”
”How do you know that, Zikali?” I asked.
”It does not matter. I do know. Did you not ride through the Zulus who parted this way and that before you, shouting what you could not understand? One of them you may remember even saluted with his spear.”