Part 16 (2/2)
”For Heaven's sake, don't talk like that!” he broke in.
”Why not? One must face things, and it would be better than Jacob Meyer; for who would protect me here?”
Mr. Clifford walked up and down for a few minutes, while his daughter watched him anxiously.
”I can see no plan,” he said, stopping opposite her. ”We cannot take the waggon even if there are enough oxen left to draw it, for it is his as much as mine, and I am sure that he will never leave this treasure unless he is driven away.”
”And I am sure I hope that he will not. But, father, the horses are our own; it was his that died, you remember. We can ride away on them.”
He stared at her and answered:
”Yes, we could ride away to our deaths. Suppose they got sick or lame; suppose we meet the Matabele, or could find no game to shoot; suppose one of us fell ill--oh! and a hundred things. What then?”
”Why, then it is just as well to perish in the wilderness as here, where our risks are almost as great. We must take our chance, and trust to G.o.d. Perhaps He will be merciful and help us. Listen now, father.
To-morrow is Sunday, when you and I do no work that we can help. Mr.
Meyer is a Jew, and he won't waste Sunday. Well now, I will say that I want to go down to the outer wall to fetch some clothes which I left in the waggon, and to take others for the native women to wash, and of course you will come with me. Perhaps he will be deceived, and stay behind, especially as he has been there to-day. Then we can get the horses and guns and ammunition, and anything else that we can carry in the way of food, and persuade the old Molimo to open the gate for us.
You know, the little side gate that cannot be seen from up here, and before Mr. Meyer misses us and comes to look, we shall be twenty miles away, and--horses can't be overtaken by a man on foot.”
”He will say that we have deserted him, and that will be true.”
”You can leave a letter with the Molimo explaining that it was my fault, that I was getting ill and thought that I should die, and that you knew it would not be fair to ask him to come, and so to lose the treasure, to every halfpenny of which he is welcome when it is found. Oh! father, don't hesitate any longer; say that you will take me away from Mr.
Meyer.”
”So be it then,” answered Mr. Clifford, and as he spoke, hearing a sound, they looked up and saw Jacob approaching them.
Luckily he was so occupied with his own thoughts that he never noted the guilty air upon their faces, and they had time to compose themselves a little. But even thus his suspicions were aroused.
”What are you talking of so earnestly?” he asked.
”We were wondering how you were getting on with the Makalanga,” answered Benita, fibbing boldly, ”and whether you would persuade them to face the ghosts. Did you?”
”Not I,” he answered with a scowl. ”Those ghosts are our worst enemies in this place; the cowards swore that they would rather die. I should have liked to take some of them at their word and make ghosts of them; but I remembered the situation and didn't. Don't be afraid, Miss Clifford, I never even lost my temper, outwardly at any rate. Well, there it is; if they won't help us, we must work the harder. I've got a new plan, and we'll begin on it to-morrow.”
”Not to-morrow, Mr. Meyer,” replied Benita with a smile. ”It is Sunday, and we rest on Sunday, you know.”
”Oh! I forgot. The Makalanga with their ghosts and you with your Sunday--really I do not know which is the worse. Well, then, I must do my own share and yours too, I suppose,” and he turned with a shrug of his shoulders.
XIV
THE FLIGHT
The next morning, Sunday, Meyer went to work on his new plan. What it was Benita did not trouble to inquire, but she gathered that it had something to do with the measuring out of the chapel cave into squares for the more systematic investigation of each area. At twelve o'clock he emerged for his midday meal, in the course of which he remarked that it was very dreary working in that place alone, and that he would be glad when it was Monday, and they could accompany him. His words evidently disturbed Mr. Clifford not a little, and even excited some compunction in the breast of Benita.
What would his feelings be, she wondered, when he found that they had run away, leaving him to deal with their joint undertaking single-handed! Almost was she minded to tell him the whole truth; yet--and this was a curious evidence of the man's ascendancy over her--she did not. Perhaps she felt that to do so would be to put an end to their scheme, since then by argument, blandishments, threats, force, or appeal to their sense of loyalty, it mattered not which, he would bring about its abandonment. But she wanted to fulfil that scheme, to be free of Bambatse, its immemorial ruins, its graveyard cave, and the ghoul, Jacob Meyer, who could delve among dead bones and in living hearts with equal skill and insight, and yet was unable to find the treasure that lay beneath either of them.
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