Part 19 (1/2)

Gideon, chafing with impatience, remained with the wagon. The servants replenished the kegs with water and then returned to the river bank, where they remained with the cattle.

Gideon, in his loneliness, was the prey of the most miserable apprehensions. In estimating possibilities he had always endeavoured to place himself in his brother's situation and by this means had driven from his mind the possibility of Stepha.n.u.s being otherwise than absolutely implacable. He pictured the injured man hurrying, immediately after his release, to the farm, his whole mind bent on the wreaking of his long-panted-for revenge. Then, how he would have foamed with fury at finding that the one in whose blood he had so longed to imbue his fingers, had escaped. Of course a hot pursuit would be immediately undertaken, and it would be as keen and relentless as that of a blood-hound. The thought of this man, whose eyes he dreaded more than he dreaded the face of Death, pressing furiously after him across the blackened waste was ever before his vision, sleeping or waking.

He had not the slightest doubt that Stepha.n.u.s was following him, for it was exactly what he felt he would have done himself to Stepha.n.u.s under similar circ.u.mstances, but he drew a little comfort from the conclusion that his pursuer could not have crossed the scorched desert anything like as quickly as he himself had done. The raging heat of the past few days had been as balm to his suffering spirit. Others had died in Bushmanland--even when it had not been as arid as it now was; why not Stepha.n.u.s? But, he reflected, he had never expected his hotheaded brother,--the restless, pa.s.sionate man who could never brook restraint in any form, to survive his long term of imprisonment; his heart should have broken years ago.

Well,--here in the desert it was a case of man to man, and each was a law unto himself. One thing was sure: if his vengeful brother persisted in following him now,--if Stepha.n.u.s would not even leave him the starved desert as his lonely portion,--then the wide earth was not s.p.a.cious enough to hold them both. He was doing his best to put the miles between them; if Stepha.n.u.s followed he did so at his own risk and must abide by the consequences.

But for the dread of h.e.l.l-fire Gideon would have ended it all years ago, by means of a bullet through his own brain. That would be nothing,--the bullet,--but Gideon imagined his soul standing, immediately afterwards, naked before the vestibule of the Pit, listening to the roaring of the flames and the shrieks of the d.a.m.ned, and awaiting its own summons to enter.

After the cattle and horses had been driven back to the wagon from the river, it was necessary for them to be allowed a night's grazing on the edge of the plains, no gra.s.s having been found on the river bank. So the horses were hobbled and turned out to graze with the oxen. The leader was strictly enjoined to get up before daylight next morning and bring the animals back to the wagon in time to admit of an early start being made. There were tracks of lions visible here and there, but the risk of beasts of prey had to be taken. Gideon now meant to turn due east, cross the ”neck” which connects the dune-tract with the river mountains, and plunge into the unknown country beyond.

Next morning, soon after daylight, the herd returned, terrified, and reported that both oxen and horses had been driven off by Bushmen.

Gideon's heart stood still. This appeared to be proof of what he had often suspected, that the Lord had singled him out for relentless persecution because he had done His work of vengeance. However, there was only one thing now to be done: to pursue the marauders and attack them at all hazards. Arming the leader and driver and taking his own gun, he left the wagon and its contents to their fate and started on the spoor.

To his surprise he found that the spoor, instead of leading into the rough ground, as was invariably the case when animals were stolen by Bushman marauders, led back along the track made by his own wagon.

After walking for about an hour he reached the top of a low ridge from which the eye could range for an immense distance across the plains.

Then Gideon saw what made the blood curdle in his veins with horror. A wagon which he knew must be that of Stepha.n.u.s was approaching and behind it was being driven a mob of loose cattle and horses which he could not doubt were his own. The Hottentots raised a shout of joy; to their astonishment Gideon turned and fled back across the plains towards his wagon.

The miserable man now became insane in his terror. His only thought was to escape,--to hide from the face of the man he had so greatly wronged.

Fear lent wings to his feet and, by the time Stepha.n.u.s had reached the top of the ridge where the two Hottentots were waiting in their perplexity, Gideon had almost reached his wagon. Stepha.n.u.s, overjoyed at hearing that his brother was so close at hand, at once mounted his horse and rode forward.

Gideon took refuge in the wagon and laid himself down with his loaded gun in his hand. He had made up his mind as to what he would do in this last emergency:--he would allow his brother to approach and, when he arrived within point-blank distance, would cover him with the gun and bid him stand. Then he would solemnly warn Stepha.n.u.s not to approach, holding him at parley where he stood. If the warning should be disregarded Gideon determined to shoot his brother dead, but he hoped not to be driven to do this. He would force Stepha.n.u.s, under the muzzle of the gun, to swear to go back and trouble him no more. He would say:--”Your life is mine, here in this lawless land, to destroy by the mere slight pressure of my finger upon the trigger against which it rests.--It is mine,--forfeit because you have pursued me when I tried my best to avoid you, and driven me to bay.--I give it to you in exchange for the wrong I have done you. Take it and go in peace and I will never cross your path again,--but come one step nearer and you are a dead man with your blood upon your own revengeful soul.”

As the past is said to crowd upon the consciousness of a drowning man so these thoughts, wild and half-unformulated, hurtled against the distracted consciousness of Gideon van der Walt as he lay shaking in the wagon, holding his loaded gun with the muzzle projecting through the slit in the canvas which, he had made with his knife for the purpose.

Every few seconds he lifted his head and glanced out with fevered eyes to see whether his enemy were approaching. At length he saw what his eyes had been seeking with expectant dread; riding down the long slope swiftly on a stout pony was a man with a long, snow-white beard, whom he recognised as Stepha.n.u.s.--But what did this mean? his brother was unarmed.--But perhaps the gun was concealed--slung from the saddle behind as guns were sometimes carried in the hunting-field.--No,--the pony swerved to avoid a shrub,--Stepha.n.u.s was certainly unarmed.

He was riding in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves and not even a switch did he carry in his hand. Surely, Gideon thought, the man who was engaged in this implacable pursuit could not expect his enemy to allow him to approach to within gripping distance. No matter,--Gideon would challenge his brother when he came close, and bid him stand if he valued his life.-- But would the man who had tenaciously held to a trail across Bushmanland in a black drought stand still when bidden? Gideon felt sure that he would not. Well,--he must shoot,--there was nothing else for it.