Part 21 (2/2)

”It'll have to be a big one then; I detest the chap. Well, I must be getting on. Two more rinderpest cases. What do you think of that?”

”Nothing. Wait till I get a little deeper here; and if all the cattle in Matabeleland were to snuff out, it wouldn't matter.”

”Well, that's what they're going to do. This is a G.o.d-forsaken country, after all. So long.”

About an hour after Lamont had gone, two young Matabele came into the camp, and saluted pleasantly.

”Why, who are these, Inyovu?” asked Peters, seeing that in outward appearance they were the very image of his boy.

”They are my brothers, _Nkose_.”

”Your brothers? And what do they want?”

”They would like to work at the mine, _Nkose_.”

”But I don't want them. I have boys enough.”

”But such are only Makalaka, _Nkose_. These are much better. _Au_!”

With the last exclamation the speaker turned sharply. As he did so, Peters instinctively turned his head to look in the same direction, and--received a whack on the back of it that made him stagger. A shout was raised--

”Throw him in! Throw him in!” The mouth of the shaft gaped behind him.

The three young savages closed with him, and Inyovu called to the other two to pinion him while he got in another blow with the pick-handle.

They were young, and athletic. Peters was not young, but was athletic too, and the struggle became a furious one. He could not draw his revolver, because, foreseeing the attempt, one of them had kept a hand upon it. Inyovu the while was dancing round the combatants, holding a pick-handle all ready to strike when he saw a chance of not felling one of his brothers instead. Then Peters saw his chance, and--kicked.

Right in the pit of the stomach it caught the man who was giving him most trouble. With a gasp of anguish this fellow staggered back, then doubling up, toppled down the shaft behind him. Quick as lightning, and taking advantage of the momentary panic, Peters shot forth his left fist, and caught Inyovu under the jaw. It was a regular knock-out blow, and Inyovu dropped. The other, however, still hung on, and, looking up, the reason for this became clear.

Heading for the spot at a run came quite a number of natives, and s.h.i.+elds and a.s.segais glancing through the spa.r.s.e bush told upon what sort of errand were these. It was manifest that the rising had begun.

Do what he would Peters could not throw off his wiry antagonist, who hung on to him like a terrier, utterly impervious to kicks or blows, the object being to prevent him from effecting his escape until the others should come up, and then--good-night! The Makalaka boys had already taken to their heels and were fleeing wildly.

Then fortune favoured him. His adversary slipped on a loose stone, and in trying to save himself loosed the hand which had been gripping the revolver holster. It was a slip there was no retrieving, and in a twinkling a bullet crashed through his ribs, sending him spinning round and round, to flatten out, face downward, to the earth.

A wild shout went up from the advancing savages. At them Peters sent one look and pointed his pistol. No, they were not near enough for a shot to prove effective, but quite near enough for him to start running--and that at nearly his best pace--homeward, for he had no horse.

As he turned to run, the pursuing Matabele set up a series of the most appalling yells; which, however, so far from appalling the object of their pursuit, caused him to laugh grimly to himself as he thought how these idiots were wasting wind in making a wholly unnecessary noise.

Peters was as hard as nails, and absolutely sound in wind and limb--yet he started handicapped by reason of the strain upon both effected by his recent struggle. And he had about two miles to cover before reaching the homestead. Even then, was safety there? Lamont might not have returned, in all probability would not have--and then these might waylay and murder him at their leisure; whereas the two of them might have made a good show of defence. Of Ancram's presence he took no account whatever.

All this pa.s.sed through his brain as he ran--yet ran with judgment. He had not put forth his best pace as yet. A glance over his shoulder from time to time told him that his enemies, though they kept the distance equal, were not gaining on him, and that being so, he would reserve a spurt for emergencies. Thus the chase sped on, and the pursuing savages strung out upon the track of the one white man like a pack of hounds in full cry.

Ancram the while was sitting in the shade of the rough verandah, reading a novel, and, alternately, thinking. He had returned there with a purpose, and that was to force Lamont to do something for him; wherefore the ill-concealed ungraciousness of his welcome had no effect upon him whatever. He could make it unpleasant for Lamont--very unpleasant; he had already noticed a growing coolness towards the latter since he had insinuated here and there the tale--his version--of the affair at Courtland Mere. And Clare Vidal? Watching her furtively but keenly he had recognised that she entertained a high opinion of Lamont, but not of himself. Well, that might be altered, with a little judicious innuendo, as to the first, at any rate, if not as to the last. She certainly was a splendid looking girl, and ought to have her eyes opened. Lovely eyes they were, too, by Jove!

Looking up now, he saw Lamont strolling across from the stable.

”I say, old chap, do you go to bed with that magazine rifle?” he said banteringly, in allusion to the weapon the other always carried during the last few days.

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