Part 4 (2/2)

Then the brute put out its strength. The claws of one paw it drove deep into the muscles of his left thigh, while with another it scratched at his breast, tearing the clothes from it and furrowing the flesh beneath.

The sight of the white skin seemed to madden it, and in its fierce desire for blood it drooped its square muzzle and buried its fangs in its victim's shoulder. Next moment there was a sound of running feet and of a club falling heavily. Up reared the leopard with an angry snarl, up till it stood as high as the attacking Zulu. At him it came, striking out savagely and tearing the black man as it had torn the white. Again the kerry fell full on its jaws, and down it went backwards. Before it could rise again, or rather as it was in the act of rising, the heavy k.n.o.b-stick struck it once more, and with fearful force, this time as it chanced, full on the nape of the neck, and paralysing the brute. It writhed and bit and twisted, throwing up the earth and leaves, while blow after blow was rained upon it, till at length with a convulsive struggle and a stifled roar it lay still--the brains oozing from its shattered skull.

Hadden sat up, the blood running from his wounds.

”You have saved my life, Nahoon,” he said faintly, ”and I thank you.”

”Do not thank me, Black Heart,” answered the Zulu, ”it was the king's word that I should keep you safely. Still this tiger has been hardly dealt with, for certainly _he_ has saved _my_ life,” and lifting the Martini he unloaded the rifle.

At this juncture Hadden swooned away.

Twenty-four hours had gone by when, after what seemed to him to be but a little time of troubled and dreamful sleep, through which he could hear voices without understanding what they said, and feel himself borne he knew not whither, Hadden awoke to find himself lying upon a kaross in a large and beautifully clean Kaffir hut with a bundle of furs for a pillow. There was a bowl of milk at his side and tortured as he was by thirst, he tried to stretch out his arm to lift it to his lips, only to find to his astonishment that his hand fell back to his side like that of a dead man. Looking round the hut impatiently, he found that there was n.o.body in it to a.s.sist him, so he did the only thing which remained for him to do--he lay still. He did not fall asleep, but his eyes closed, and a kind of gentle torpor crept over him, half obscuring his recovered senses. Presently he heard a soft voice speaking; it seemed far away, but he could clearly distinguish the words.

”Black Heart still sleeps,” the voice said, ”but there is colour in his face; I think that he will wake soon, and find his thoughts again.”

”Have no fear, Nanea, he will surely wake, his hurts are not dangerous,”

answered another voice, that of Nahoon. ”He fell heavily with the weight of the tiger on top of him, and that is why his senses have been shaken for so long. He went near to death, but certainly he will not die.”

”It would have been a pity if he had died,” answered the soft voice, ”he is so beautiful; never have I seen a white man who was so beautiful.”

”I did not think him beautiful when he stood with his rifle pointed at my heart,” answered Nahoon sulkily.

”Well, there is this to be said,” she replied, ”he wished to escape from Cetywayo, and that is not to be wondered at,” and she sighed. ”Moreover he asked you to come with him, and it might have been well if you had done so, that is, if you would have taken me with you!”

”How could I have done it, girl?” he asked angrily. ”Would you have me set at nothing the order of the king?”

”The king!” she replied raising her voice. ”What do you owe to this king? You have served him faithfully, and your reward is that within a few days he will take me from you--me, who should have been your wife, and I must--I must----” And she began to weep softly, adding between her sobs, ”if you loved me truly, you would think more of me and of yourself, and less of the Black One and his orders. Oh! let us fly, Nahoon, let us fly to Natal before this spear pierces me.”

”Weep not, Nanea,” he said; ”why do you tear my heart in two between my duty and my love? You know that I am a soldier, and that I must walk the path whereon the king has set my feet. Soon I think I shall be dead, for I seek death, and then it will matter nothing.”

”Nothing to you, Nahoon, who are at peace, but to me? Yet, you are right, and I know it, therefore forgive me, who am no warrior, but a woman who must also obey--the will of the king.” And she cast her arms about his neck, sobbing her fill upon his breast.

CHAPTER IV

NANEA

Presently, muttering something that the listener could not catch, Nahoon left Nanea, and crept out of the hut by its bee-hole entrance. Then Hadden opened his eyes and looked round him. The sun was sinking and a ray of its red light streaming through the little opening filled the place with a soft and crimson glow. In the centre of the hut--supporting it--stood a thorn-wood roof-tree coloured black by the smoke of the fire; and against this, the rich light falling full upon her, leaned the girl Nanea--a very picture of gentle despair.

As is occasionally the case among Zulu women, she was beautiful--so beautiful that the sight of her went straight to the white man's heart, for a moment causing the breath to catch in his throat. Her dress was very simple. On her shoulders, hanging open in front, lay a mantle of soft white stuff edged with blue beads, about her middle was a buck-skin moocha, also embroidered with blue beads, while round her forehead and left knee were strips of grey fur, and on her right wrist a s.h.i.+ning bangle of copper. Her naked bronze-hued figure was tall and perfect in its proportions; while her face had little in common with that of the ordinary native girl, showing as it did strong traces of the ancestral Arabian or Semitic blood. It was oval in shape, with delicate aquiline features, arched eyebrows, a full mouth, that drooped a little at the corners, tiny ears, behind which the wavy coal-black hair hung down to the shoulders, and the very loveliest pair of dark and liquid eyes that it is possible to imagine.

For a minute or more Nanea stood thus, her sweet face bathed in the sunbeam, while Hadden feasted his eyes upon its beauty. Then sighing heavily, she turned, and seeing that he was awake, started, drew her mantle over her breast and came, or rather glided, towards him.

”The chief is awake,” she said in her soft Zulu accents. ”Does he need aught?”

”Yes, Lady,” he answered; ”I need to drink, but alas! I am too weak.”

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