Part 38 (1/2)

Over and above the poignancy of bereavement an awful depression would come upon her, and in her dreams she would again see the horrors and bloodshed she had witnessed--ay, and taken part in; and the savage faces of those she herself had slain would rise to confront her, glaring hideously with distorted features and threatening snarl. What was she expiating, she would wonder, that no peace should be hers either by night or by day?

If she suffered, it was in silence. Hers was far the stronger mind of the two, and even to her sister she shrank from laying it entirely open.

Yet her reticence was seen through, and everybody was considerate and sympathetic. Every sc.r.a.p of news relating to what was going on in the field was promptly conveyed to her, all but what she thirsted to hear, and that was still lacking. Day followed upon day, and the whereabouts of Peters and his following remained shrouded in a mystery as impenetrable as that of him whom they sought.

Among those who strove to cheer her up was Driffield the Native Commissioner, and he in a measure succeeded.

”Don't give up, yet, Miss Vidal,” he said, ”no, not by any means. I wish I could bring you round to my belief, and that is that Lamont will turn up again.”

”I wish you could,” she answered. ”But--time goes on and we hear-- nothing.”

”I'm not sure that's against it,” returned Driffield. ”Lamont was a peculiar chap--in fact, a very peculiar sort of chap. He was friendly with Zwabeka's people and with Zwabeka himself. Well, then, it's just possible some of them may be hiding him away until it's safe to turn him loose.”

”Why do you think that, Mr Driffield?”

”I don't know. It occurs to me as quite within the possibilities. The great thing is--we know he wasn't killed there, and we know that two others were. Lamont understands natives thoroughly--I could see that-- and I fancy I know a little about them myself. Look, too, how he engineered the old witch-doctor the day of the race meeting. That was a great piece of nerve and gumption combined. By Jove! I shouldn't wonder in the least if he were to make it worth their while to let him skip. Somehow I'm almost certain he'll turn up again quite jolly.”

”If only I could think so!” she would reply sadly.

Every day she would visit the wounded men, who were lying in a temporary hospital within the precincts of the laager, and this she never missed.

They had been wounded in her defence, she declared, and anything she could do to brighten the weariness and pain of their enforced detention should be done. And brighten it she did, and her daily visit was looked forward to with such eagerness that more than one poor fellow declared that it almost made it worth while being knocked out. But Jim Steele growled mightily.

”To think I should be logged up here, when Peters and the rest are looking for the captain. These infernal sawboneses are no d.a.m.n good at all. Eh, Strange?”

”No? Only to save you by a miracle from having to part with your hoof, Jim,” answered the Buluwayo surgeon tranquilly. ”That no good, eh?”

For the other had been shot in the ankle, and had just escaped the necessity of amputation by something like a miracle, as the doctor had said.

”Well, get it all right again sharp, that's what I want,” growled the big fellow, who was terribly hipped and impatient under his enforced rest. ”Get me out of this in ten days, Strange, and I'll double your blooming fees--Dawson's too.”

”If you were to multiply them by twenty or twenty hundred, Jim, it couldn't be done,” answered the surgeon tranquilly. ”Moreover, not with my consent, nor Dawson's either,”--the latter was the Gandela medico,--”do you put that foot to the ground under six weeks. No, it's no use cussing, none at all. Besides, here's Miss Vidal just coming in, and she might hear you.”

There was one who was variously affected by the disappearance of Lamont--one of whom we have lost sight of for a little, and that one was Ancram. When he awoke from his slumber of exhaustion to find the relief party gone, at first he had affected great concern. Why had not someone awakened him? Of course he would have joined it. As a matter of fact, he was overjoyed that no one had, for he had no stomach for fighting, and had spent the last three days heartily wis.h.i.+ng he had taken Lamont's advice and cleared out of the country in time. More than ever did he congratulate himself on his escape, when the experiences of the relief party became known, but it was with dismay that he learned the disappearance of its leader. For Ancram was getting desperately hard up, and would soon not know which way to turn. He was not much liked among those into whose midst he had come. Lamont might have helped him--probably would--not by reason of what he could tell--the prowess of the missing man was too much in the air for that--but for old acquaintance' sake; and now Lamont had disappeared.

The days of that disappearance had just grown into weeks. News would filter through from outside--of battles fought, of rescues effected; of losses inflicted upon the savage enemy: but of the missing man, and those who sought him, came no word, and Clare Vidal, abandoning hope, could only storm high Heaven with supplication for him, whether in life or in death.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

”WHERE HE WAS.”

Even with the first slip and stumble of his horse Lamont realised that his last moment had come; and, as he lay pinned there and unable to move, he restrained a natural instinct to call for a.s.sistance. His fleeing comrades could not render him such, and the attempt would result in the certain sacrifice of their own lives. His time had come.

He was powerless for resistance. His magazine rifle was lying on the ground beyond his reach, and his revolver was crushed beneath him in such manner that he could not get at it. Helpless he awaited his end, agonising and bitter as such must be.

He saw the swarming savage faces, scowling beneath their war adornments, the tossing s.h.i.+elds and uplifted a.s.segais, as that dark crowd surged forward, eyeb.a.l.l.s glaring and blades lifted, eager to redden the latter in the blood of a hated and now helpless enemy. He heard the guttural death-hiss vibrate upon the air--and then--and then--he saw and heard no more. His horse, rendered frantic with terror, had made a wild effort to rise, and in so doing had so crushed its rider's leg that the latter had fainted through sheer acute agony.

”_Wou_! This has gone on too long. He has said that none should be spared.”

”Yet, this one is.”

”Ill will befall us, brothers; ill because of it.” And Gingamanzi, the highest in rank of the group of Abantwana Mlimo there deliberating, clicked deprecatorily, and spat.