Part 18 (1/2)
”They have seen our fire,” whispered her father to Benita; ”now, if we wish to save our lives, there is only one thing to do--ride for it before they muster. The impi will be camped upon the other side of the hill, so we must take the road we came by.”
”That runs back to Bambatse,” faltered Benita.
”Bambatse is better than the grave,” said her father. ”Pray Heaven that we may get there.”
To this argument there was no answer, so having drunk a sup of water, and swallowing a few mouthfuls of food as they went, they crept to the horses, mounted them, and as silently as possible began to ride down the hill.
The sentry was alone again, the other three men having departed. He stood with his back towards them. Presently when they were quite close on to him, he heard their horses' hoofs upon the gra.s.s, wheeled round at the sound, and saw them. Then with a great shout he lifted his spear and charged.
Mr. Clifford, who was leading, held out his rifle at arm's length--to raise it to his shoulder he had no time--and pulled the trigger. Benita heard the bullet clap upon the hide s.h.i.+eld, and next instant saw the Matabele warrior lying on his back, beating the air with his hands and feet. Also, she saw beyond the shoulder of the kopje, which they were rounding, hundreds of men marching, and behind them a herd of cattle, the dim light gleaming upon the stabbing spears and on the horns of the oxen. She glanced to the right, and there were more men. The two wings of the impi were closing upon them. Only a little lane was left in the middle. They must get through before it shut.
”Come,” she gasped, striking the horse with her heel and the b.u.t.t of her gun, and jerking at its mouth.
Her father saw also, and did likewise, so that the beasts broke into a gallop. Now from the point of each wing sprang out thin lines of men, looking like great horns, or nippers, whose business it was to meet and cut them off. Could they pa.s.s between them before they did meet? That was the question, and upon its answer it depended whether or no they had another three minutes to live. To think of mercy at the hands of these bloodthirsty brutes, after they had just killed one of their number before their eyes, was absurd. It was true he had been shot in self-defence; but what count would savages take of that, or of the fact that they were but harmless travellers? White people were not very popular with the Matabele just then, as they knew well; also, their murder in this remote place, with not another of their race within a couple of hundred miles, would never even be reported, and much less avenged. It was as safe as any crime could possibly be.
All this pa.s.sed through their minds as they galloped towards those closing points. Oh! the horror of it! But two hundred yards to cover, and their fate would be decided. Either they would have escaped at least for a while, or time would be done with them; or, a third alternative, they might be taken prisoners, in all probability a yet more dreadful doom. Even then Benita determined that if she could help it this should not befall her. She had the rifle and the revolver that Jacob Meyer had given her. Surely she would be able to find a moment to use one or the other upon herself. She clenched her teeth, and struck the horse again and again, so that now they flew along. The Matabele soldiers were running their best to catch them, and if these had been given but five seconds of start, caught they must have been. But that short five seconds saved their lives.
When they rushed through them the foremost men of the nippers were not more than twenty yards apart. Seeing that they had pa.s.sed, these halted and hurled a shower of spears after them. One flashed by Benita's cheek, a line of light; she felt the wind of it. Another cut her dress, and a third struck her father's horse in the near hind leg just above the knee-joint, remaining fast there for a stride or two, and then falling to the ground. At first the beast did not seem to be incommoded by this wound; indeed, it only caused it to gallop quicker, and Benita rejoiced, thinking that it was but a scratch. Then she forgot about it, for some of the Matabele, who had guns, began to shoot them, and although their marksmans.h.i.+p was vile, one or two of the bullets went nearer than was pleasant. Lastly a man, the swiftest runner of them all, shouted after them in Zulu:
”The horse is wounded. We will catch you both before the sun sets.”
Then they pa.s.sed over the crest of a rise and lost sight of them for a while.
”Thank G.o.d!” gasped Benita when they were alone again in the silent veld; but Mr. Clifford shook his head.
”Do you think they will follow us?” she asked.
”You heard what the fellow said,” he answered evasively. ”Doubtless they are on their way to attack Bambatse, and have been round to destroy some other wretched tribe, and steal the cattle which we saw. Yes, I fear that they will follow. The question is, which of us can get to Bambatse first.”
”Surely we ought to on the horses, father.”
”Yes, if nothing happens to them,” and as he spoke the words the mare which he was riding dropped sharply upon her hind leg, the same that had been struck with the spear; then recovered herself and galloped on.
”Did you see that?” he asked.
She nodded; then said:
”Shall we get off and look at the cut?”
”Certainly not,” he answered. ”Our only chance is to keep her moving; if once the wound stiffens, there's an end. The sinew cannot have been severed, or it would have come before now.”
So they pushed on.
All that morning did they canter forward wherever the ground was smooth enough to allow them to do so, and notwithstanding the increasing lameness of Mr. Clifford's mare, made such good progress that by midday they reached the place where they had pa.s.sed the first night after leaving Bambatse. Here sheer fatigue and want of water forced them to stop a little while. They dismounted and drank greedily from the spring, after which they allowed the horses to drink also; indeed it was impossible to keep them away from the water. Then they ate a little, not because they desired food, but to keep up their strength, and while they did so examined the mare. By now her hind leg was much swollen, and blood still ran from the gash made by the a.s.segai. Moreover, the limb was drawn up so that the point of the hoof only rested on the ground.
”We must get on before it sets fast,” said Mr. Clifford, and they mounted again.
Great heavens! what was this? The mare would not stir. In his despair Mr. Clifford beat it cruelly, whereupon the poor brute hobbled forward a few paces on three legs, and again came to a standstill. Either an injured sinew had given or the inflammation was now so intense that it could not bend its knee. Understanding what this meant to them, Benita's nerve gave out at last, and she burst into weeping.
”Don't cry, love,” he said. ”G.o.d's will be done. Perhaps they have given up the hunt by now; at any rate, my legs are left, and Bambatse is not more than sixteen miles away. Forward now,” and holding to her saddle-strap they went up the long, long slope which led to the poort in the hills around Bambatse.
They would have liked to shoot the mare, but being afraid to fire a rifle, could not do so. So they left the unhappy beast to its fate, and with it everything it carried, except a few of the cartridges. Before they went, however, at Benita's prayer, her father devoted a few seconds to unbuckling the girths and pulling off the bridle, so that it might have a chance of life. For a little way it hobbled after them on three legs, then, the saddle still upon its back, stood whinnying piteously, till at last, to Benita's intense relief, a turn in their path hid it from their sight.