Part 25 (2/2)

Gladly, hopefully, did the leopard observe his decision and watch his progress. To him the tide of fortune seemed to have taken a favourable turn, for Junkie, in the innocence of his heart, made straight for the gnarled tree.

But one of the many slips so often quoted with reference to cups and lips was at this time impending over the unfortunate leopard.

There was yet one other early riser that morning--namely b.o.o.by the Bushman. In pursuance of his calling, that ill-used and misguided son of the soil arose about daybreak with much of his native soil sticking to his person, and, with a few other desperadoes like himself, made a descent on Glen Lynden--not, by any means, the first that his fraternity had made. Not so bloodthirsty as the leopard, quite as mischievous as Junkie, and much more cunning than the baboons, b.o.o.by chanced to arrive at the gorge already mentioned just at the time when Junkie was approaching it. There was, if you will, somewhat of a coincidence here in regard to time, but there was no coincidence in the fact of such characters selecting the same route, because whoever pa.s.sed up or down that kloof must needs go by the gorge.

Slowly Junkie picked his way up the ragged path towards the gnarled tree. The leopard, scarcely believing in his good luck, licked his lips. Rapidly the Bushman and his men descended the same path.

They rode on horses--stolen horses, of course. The leopard heard the clatter of hoofs and looked back. Junkie drew nearer to the gnarled tree; the leopard looked forward. Never was savage beast more thoroughly perplexed. Anxiety glared in his eyes; exasperation grinned in his teeth; indecision quivered in the muscles of his tail. Just at that moment b.o.o.by caught sight of his spotted skin. Had the leopard been less perturbed he would have been too wise to allow his carca.s.s to appear. A poisoned arrow instantly quivered in his flank. It acted like a spur; with an angry growl and a clear bound of no one knows how many feet, he re-entered the jungle and fled to the mountains.

Petrified again, Junkie remained motionless till the Bushmen robbers rode up. b.o.o.by knew that his leopard was safe, for a poisoned arrow is sure to kill in time, so he did not care to hasten after it just then, but preferred to continue his approach to the white man's habitations.

Great, then, was his amazement when he all but rode over Junkie.

Amazement was quickly succeeded by alarm. His knowledge of the white man's ways and habits told him at once the state of affairs. The appearance of Junkie in the company of ”tigers” and baboons, was, he knew well, a mere juvenile indiscretion. He also knew that parental instincts among white men were keen, and thence concluded that discovery and pursuit would be immediate. His own plans were therefore not only defeated, but his own safety much endangered, as his presence was sure to be discovered by his tracks. ”Let's be off instanter,” was the substance of b.o.o.by's communication to his brethren. The brethren agreed, but b.o.o.by had lived among white men, and although his own particular master was a scoundrel, there were those of his household-- especially among the females--who had taught him something of Christian pity. He could not leave the child to the tender mercies of wild beasts. He did not dare to convey him back to the cottage of Kenneth McTavish. What was he to do? Delay might be death! In these circ.u.mstances he seized the horrified Junkie by the arm, swung him on the pommel of his saddle, and galloped away up the kloof and over the mountains into the deepest recesses of Kafirland.

When Mrs Scholtz awoke that morning, rubbed her eyes, looked up and discovered that Junkie's crib was empty, she sprang from her bed, perceived the open lattice, and gave vent to an awful scream. In barbarous times and regions a shriek is never uttered in vain. The McTavish household was instantly in the room, some of them in deshabille--some armed--all alarmed.

”Oh my!--oh me!” cried Mrs Scholtz, leaping back into bed with unfeminine haste, ”he's gone!”

”Who's gone?” asked McTavish.

”Junkie!”

”What! where? when? how? why?” said Mrs McTavish, Jessie, and others.

Mrs Scholtz gasped and pointed to the lattice; at the same time she grasped her garments as a broad hint to the men. They took it hastily.

”Come, boys, search about, and one of you saddle up. Go, call Groot Willem,” was the master's prompt order as he turned and left the room.

Six Hottentots, a Bushman, and a Bechuana boy obeyed, but those who searched sought in vain. Yet not altogether in vain--they found Junkie's ”spoor,” and traced it into the jungle. While two followed it, the others returned and ”saddled up” the horses. Groot Willem chanced to be on a visit to the Highlanders at the time.

”What a pity,” he said, coming out of his room and stretching himself (it was quite an impressive sight to see such a giant stretch himself!) ”that the hunters are off. They might have helped us.”

The giant spoke with good-humoured sarcasm, believing that the urchin would a.s.suredly be found somewhere about the premises, and he referred to the departure of an exploring and hunting party under George Rennie, which had left Glen Lynden the previous day for the interior.

But when Groot Willem with his companions had ridden a considerable way up the kloof, and found Junkie's spoor mingling with that of baboons, he became earnest. When he came to the gnarled tree and discovered that it was joined by that of horses and Cape tigers, he became alarmed.

A diligent examination was made. Drops of blood were found on the ground. The leopard itself was ultimately discovered stone dead in a thicket with the poisoned arrow in its side, the horse-spoor was followed up a long way, and then it was pretty clearly seen that the child had been carried off by marauders of some sort.

Of course a thorough search was made and pursuit was immediately inst.i.tuted. Groot Willem and McTavish pushed on promptly to follow the spoor, while men were sent back to the glen for a supply of ammunition, etcetera, in case of a prolonged search becoming necessary.

The search was ably planned and vigorously carried out; but all in vain.

Junkie had departed _that_ life as thoroughly as if he had never been, and Mrs Scholtz remained at Glen Lynden the very personification of despair.

We shall now turn to the exploring party which had left the Baviaans River on the previous day.

About this time the rumours of war among the natives of the vast and almost unknown interior of the land had become unusually alarming. A wandering and warlike horde named the Fetcani had been, for some time past, driving all the other tribes before them, and were said at last to be approaching the Winterberg frontier of the colony. In order to ascertain what foundation there was for these reports, as well as to explore the land, the party under Rennie was sent out. Among those who formed this party were Charlie Considine, Hans Marais, Sandy Black and his satellite Jerry Goldboy, Andrew Rivers, Diederik and Christian Muller, and the tall black-bearded hunter Lucas Van Dyk, besides Slinger, Dikkop, and other Hottentots and Bushmen.

”This is what I call real enjoyment,” said Considine, as he rode with Hans, somewhat in advance of the cavalcade;--”splendid weather, magnificent scenery, lots of game big and little, good health and freedom. What more could a man wish?”

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