Part 10 (2/2)

”I do not understand you.”

Zoonah's stolid air convinced Frankfort, too, that it was of no use to question him. It was evident that May was right--he was a spy on his way to his own chief's kraal, and, as the bushman observed, it was useless to waste words upon a liar.

”He's born liar--he'll die liar; he's born blackguard, and he'll die blackguard.”

And, with this last truly English vituperative, May left the thicket, and went to prepare his master's breakfast.

He had tied up the dogs and kept watch himself all night, lying in the long gra.s.s between Frankfort's tent and Ormsby's wagon, and had seen Zoonah, just as the moon was waning, winding himself along in snake fas.h.i.+on, till he reached the young officer's sleeping-place, in which he was wont to spend part of the day, reading and smoking, with ”pistol, sword, and carbine,” slung above him.

Doubtless, Zoonah had long had his attention fixed on these particular objects, and allowing the cavalcade to pa.s.s the open plains, had come up with it as soon as it was fairly bivouacked in the embowered nook selected by May. Here he awaited his opportunity to plunder.

But Kafirs have a dread of what they cannot see--a house, a tent, or a wagon, may always, they believe, contain some mysterious agency of evil, and hence, on Ormsby's instinctively clutching the pistol the Kafir dropped it in terror, which was increased by a movement of May's. The wily bushman, though, had no mind to throw the Kafir off his guard; the roar of the river proved that it was impa.s.sable; in the rear were the inhospitable plains of sand, the Kafir must ere this have exhausted such provision as he could have carried from Vanbloem's, and would therefore not go far; and, in a word, May resolved not to alarm the little camp until obliged to do so.

The result was, that Zoonah traced his way to the thicket where the bushman had left a decoy, in the shape of scattered bread and meat, and an apparently empty bottle.

”I watched that bush yesterday evening,” said May, when explaining his devices to Frankfort; ”for though I laughed at Master Ormsby, it's always right to be 'primed and loaded.' Well, I watched that bush closely, because, whenever the birds lighted on it, they flew away and would not stop a minute. Some came there to roost in their nests--but no, off they went, came back again, and then away--'Ah!' says May, 'some one _spenning_ (lurking, hiding) there, I know;' so I was glad to see Master Ormsby tie Marmion to his wagon, while we were hunting the porcupine, and I told old Piet to lie between that and the tent, where I made a good fire. This schelm little thought we went off so far; but I gave Fitje the long pistol ready loaded, and told her to fire it, if she was frightened--but she was not,” added May quietly, ”and lay down as soon as she heard the dogs coming home with us. I tied them up as soon as I had fed them, and so now, if the sir pleases, I'll reim the prisoner.”

”Reim the prisoner?” said Ormsby; ”what does he mean?”

”Tie him to the wagon wheel, master,” answered May, ”and keep him there, till we can get rid of him handsomely.”

Probably, May's ideas about getting handsomely rid of Zoonah were rather vague; at any rate, he had no idea of trusting him in the smallest degree, and he was greatly astonished when Frankfort observed, ”Nay, nay, we won't bind him; he looks half-starved.

”Poor wretch; we may make him earn his living by being useful--it is no business of ours if he chooses to leave Vanbloem, we cannot send him back--he is but a savage, and we must be kind to him.”

”Right, master,” replied May, after grave consideration; ”but he's a thief, as well as a liar, so take care.”

So saying, they left Zoonah in the leafy covert.

May put no trust in Zoonah, and such was Fitje's dread of him, that she would not lie down to rest, unless her husband laid his gun beside him.

The sportsmen decided on crossing the river as soon as it was fordable; and Zoonah, rejoicing in contributions of tobacco, cigars, and provisions, was happy, after Kafir fas.h.i.+on, lying on the soft turf, and contemplating, with a longing eye, the cattle he professed to guard, but hoped to steal from the men who had saved his life, and now fed him, and treated him with kindness.

Although May heartily despised Zoonah, he was always in good humour with him; for there is nothing in nature more cheery and good-humoured, though hot-tempered and keenly alive to injury, than a bushman, caught young, and tamed and educated by real Christian people.

Three or four evenings after the incident described, as Frankfort and Ormsby sat by the river, after the last meal of the day, anxiously comparing the depth of water with a certain mark they had drawn on a jutting rock, their attention was diverted by an earnest ”talk” going on between May and Zoonah.

The latter was deriding May's idea of _Umtiko_ (G.o.d). Zoonah, finding disguise was useless, now conversed in excellent English. May's suppositions were right. He had been educated at s.h.i.+loh; but the care bestowed on a Kafir seldom answers the humane purpose intended. Savage he is, and savage he will he, unless, indeed, the age of miracles is not past and gone.

”You say that Umtiko is good,” said Zoonah; ”how do you _know_ it?”

May pointed out the benefits we derive from G.o.d.

”How do you know they come from him? Did you ever see him?”

”He is invisible.”

”If he is so good and so glorious, why does he not show himself? The teachers are always telling us about G.o.d; but first, a Kafir never believes what he does not see, and next, the teachers say that all men are liars; how, then, can they expect _us_ to believe _them_?”

<script>