Chapter Twenty
Tracking the Kosa Chief
“I tole you all about it, and, what’s more, I ain’t got no time to jaw along when that shed o’ mine wants mendin’,” and Abe resolutely re-filled his pipe, unheeding my request for the completion of his last yarn.
“Leave the shed alone. It will keep – besides, this is resting weather.”
“Sonny, listen to me. Restin’ weather’s been the ruin of this yer country. That so. When a man should span in and plough, when he should take the hoe and skoffel the lands, what does he do? Why up and say at the first touch of the warm wind, that it’s restin’ weather. I can’t stand such laziness, and I ast you, sonny, where’d I been to-day, if I’d taken notice of the weather?”
I glanced round at the neglected lands, at the solitary gum tree, at the old water barrel on its tree sledge, at the tumble-down shed, and shook my head, for there really was nothing to say.
Old Abe followed my look, and then shoved himself back with his heels into a breadth of shade.
“That’s it, my lad,” he said with a queer smile, “cast your eyes round and see what can be done by one man if his heart’s in his work. Forty years agone this yer land were wilderness, and now look at it, with that there shed, them pumpkin lands, and this yer tree standin’ up like the steeple of a church as a token of honest labour.”
“Wonderful!” I said.
“That it are. I watched that old gum grow since it were no higher than my knee. I watered it an’ tended it, an’ measured it by the buttons on my shirt till it topped my head, and now, blow me, you could send a hull regiment with the band in the shadder of it.”
“I suppose you have seen regiments on the march?”
“What, me? Well, now, I was tellin’ you of that time I give the slip to the Kaffirs beyond Chumie and took hiding in the mealie field. Well, that time I came on a regiment in Pluto’s Vale, when a Kaffir poked his assegai in the big drum, and the Colonel he give me a big knife for what I did.”
I said nothing about the shed or the resting weather, and Uncle Abe, sprawling in the shade, went on with his story.
“Yes, sonny, there I were in the mealies, and there were the Kaffirs about the house banging at the windows because there was nobody at home for ’em to kill. They were mostly young bucks, and they all jawed together, ’cept two or three who started singin’ about what big potatoes they was. Well, after knocking around an’ smashin’ things, they set off in a cluster anyhow, on the back trail. And as I watched ’em go, blow me ef one of them in the rear didn’t drop his assegai on puppose. On they went out o’ sight behind the bush, but Abe Pike he jest kep’ where he were. I tell you, Kaffirs is mighty stuck on their assegais, and bymby, sure enough, back came that chap lopin’ along. When he reached the house he shouted out to his friends that it was all right and he’d foller. Well, they gave him the answer back, saying they would go on. He were a young chief this, with an ivory ring round his wrist, and a feather sticking out behind his ear, and as springy on his feet as a young ram. I spotted him well, for I were wondering what his game were, and marked the look in his eyes, and the smooth sweep of his jaws. He picked up his wepin and then he giv’ a sharp look all roun’, and nex’ he went steppin’ roun’ the house with his head bent. I saw it then, sonny. He were lookin’ for spoor, and, by gum, he found it sooner you could snap your fingers. I yeard him give a grunt, and nex’ thing I see him sailin’ along over the veld with his head down on a trail quite away from that taken by his friends.”
“He was spooring the people who had escaped from the house?”
“Don’t jump over a gate when you can open it, bossie. I crep’ out of the mealies and cast round the house; but for all I’d seen where that young Kaffir went it were many minutes afore I saw the spoor – then it were as slight as a brush of a hare’s tail. But there it were – the spoor of a man in veldschoens. You know, there’s no heel to a veldschoen, and it leaves little sign; but this yer chap had a habit of stickin’ his toes into the ground, and here and there he had kicked up a tuft o’ grass. Well, I laid down to that spoor, marking the direction the Kaffir had taken, and went at a trot, thinking all the time it were mighty queer for one Kaffir to leave his friends. When I reached the wood it was easier going, for in the bush path the naked spoor of the chief was plain enough in the dust. The spoor led deeper into the wood, crossed a stream where the white man had drunk, for there was the print of his corduroys where he had knelt, and then climbed a hill, when I went slow. The darkness was coming on, and I reckoned that the chief couldn’t be but a mile ahead. Neither he nor me could spoor in the dark, so I guessed he would pull up, an’ I didn’t want to run in on his assegai. Turnin’ away from the trail I pegged out under a rock until the spreuws whistled before sun-up, when I crept once more on the trail. ’Twere very faint now, but bymby I come on fresh spoor – so fresh I jest squatted behind a tree. Then, after a time, I marked where this new sign entered the path, and follering it back came on the spot where the chief had slept. The beggar had turned back on his trail a matter o’ fifty paces, and if so be I’d follered him in the evening he’d a’ had me sure.”
“He was up to his work!”
“Him – I guess so, lad. He were a caution for cunnin’ and bush learnin’, were the chief.”
“What chief was he?”
“This ain’t the place to bring in his name, for I didn’t know him then. I tell you it was smart work tracking him through the woods, over the hills, inter the kloofs, but Abe Pike did it sure enough, and he tracked the white man, though he were half starved and lamed in the arm, by gosh. Many a time that day, when my back ached from the bending of it, and my stummick was jammed together for want of something to eat, many a time I thought of the three of us strung out in the dark woods like tigers on the scent. Hungry, by gum! I jest chewed leaves as I went along; and sore – thunder – I kin feel now the throbbing of the wound in my arm. But I kep’ on. I tell you, young Abe Pike was tough as foreslag, and he wern’t going to cave in while that red Kaffir boy was keepin’ up. The chap in the lead, the man in veldschoens who was escaping, must a been made o’ iron too, I reckon, for he only stopped once the second day, when he ate some bread. There was some crumbs on the yearth among the grass, with the ants over ’em where he’d sat and ate, and the dry skin from a piece o’ biltong. I took a chew o’ elephant leaves, and bymby in the afternoon I seed little balls of pith, which showed the Kaffir had cut off a insengi root to chew. The white man kep’ on for twenty miles, keeping to the woods all the time where he could, and the Kaffir kep’ on arter him, and Abe Pike he kep’ on arter the Kaffir. If it hadn’t a been for that insengi root I’d a lost the spoor clean, for there were a big stretch of rock veld where they passed over, and all I could follow was white balls of chewed root. I dunno how the Kaffir picked up the trail on that stretch. He must ha’ smelt it. There were a bit o’ hill to climb, and when I reached the top my head swam, an’ I pitched down like a log. When I opened my eyes it were dark, and my bad arm was doubled up.”
“You gave up?”
“Sonny; you didn’t know young Abe – no, you didn’t. But I did. And I tell you, for all his emptiness, he jes’ kep’ on. Yes, sir – he did that I said the darkness were down, but when I looked aroun’ I seed the glimmer o’ a spark down below, an’ I kep’ my eyes on it whiles I crawled down the steep of the hill to the kloof below. Things happen sometimes, sonny, in a way that makes you very quiet an’ thoughtful. A bird flew up – a grey-wing partridge, I guess, from the whirr – and, searchin’ around, I found its eggs. They put life into me, and I steadied up – but what’s all this I’m telling you about? There’s work to be done, and if you don’t stir ’twill be sun-down and too dark. As for me, I’m going to boil the kettle.”
“But you’ve not finished telling about the spooring.”
“Ah, well, it can wait, sonny; but it’s time the kettle were put on and the mealies roasted.”
Chapter Twenty One
The Boom of the Drum
“Oh, ghoisters!” said Abe, “there’s the blamed bung come outer the vaitje and not a drop of Dop left, and all the buchu collected for the soaking.”
“Do you soak the buchu in brandy?”
“The brandy brings out the goodness from the yerb, and I tell you a dose of it gets home every time. But what’s the good – the brandy’s gone, there’s not a tickey in the stocking, and not a man in the country would offer ole Abe Pike so much as half-a-pint – not a one. The old people’s gone and the new ones, blow me – the new ones drink cold tea.”
“What about the Kaffir chief you were following Abe?”
“I ain’t follering no Kaffir chief, not me – and look here sonny, you get along home, see, ’fore it gets dark.”
“I think I could spare a gallon of brown Cango, Abe, if you come over in the morning.”
“Cango, eh! Stay right here, sonny – I’ve marked down a fine porkipine – and we’ll hunt him to-night. In the morning I’ll go over with you, arter showing you something as’ll surprise you, I bet.”
“What’s that?”
“A horn-bill sitting on her nest in a hollow tree, and the entrance built up with mud, so she can’t get out, and the cats can’t git in, by gum, an’ the ole chap a feeding her. Lor’ love yer, there’s no matchin’ animiles an’ birds for cunnin’.”
“Yet I remember you saying that young chief was very cunning.”
“So he were; lad, he were born smart; an’ them gleamin’ eyes of his’n could read the writin’ on the ground, the signs of weather, and the ways of fightin’ men better’n you could read a big print book. That’s so. I tole you how I follered him, and how he follered a chap in veldschoens all the way from the Chumie. Well, in the dark of the second evenin’ I seed a red light, and were blunderin’ on towards it, being pretty well dazed from the hunger and weakness and pain o’ my bad arm, when somethin’ in the steady glow of it brought me up with a jerk. Says I, that fire’s been long lit, there’s nothin’ but coals blazing, and whoever lit it must feel safe. Says I, who can feel safe in this yer place? Why, a Kaffir. So I slowed down to a crawl, and blow me, when I got within hearin’ distance, I seed a man by the fire. Sonny, he were the man in veldschoens.”
“The white man the chief was after.”
“’Twas a blanged half-caste, lad, that’s what he were. I saw that in the fust look by the red dook he wore roun’ his greasy head, and by the spread of his flat nose, and the sight of him kept me still, I tell you. Half-castes is mean. And to think I’d been goin’ hungry to save a thing like that, and him a sitting there with his mouth all smeared with black coal from the bried meat he were eatin’. The smell of it came to me where I lay in the shadder, an’ I tell you it made me sick with longing for a bite, but I jes’ kept there sniffin’ till the faintness left me. Well, all ov a sudden I seed his jaws stop, and his eyes had that sort o’ fixed look which they has when a man’s listenin’. Then, without movin’ his body, he reached out for his gun. Yes, sonny, he reached out for his gun with his eyes starin’ straight for me, and I kivered him. While I was gettin’ ready to shoot, outer the darkness behin’ him there come a voice callin’ in greetin’, ‘Gumela vietu!’ I giv’ a start, but that ere half-caste he never stirred. The hand that was reachin’ out for his gun stopped, his jaws began to move, but his voice were a bit shaky when he said ‘Gumela inkose!’ and there was a sort o’ hunchin’ of his shoulders as tho’ he felt the assegai going in. For a spell there was silence, then from the wall o’ blackness there stepped to the fire the young chief hisself. I see the gleam o’ his ivory bracelet. With his toe he moved the gun away. Then he reached down, took up a length of roasting flesh, caught hold of a mouthful and saw off the chunk with the blade of his assegai ’twixt his hand and his lips. He jes’ ate and ate, an’ the smell o’ the meat made my stummick heave an’ grumble most horrible.”
“They were friends, then, after all?”
“You wait, sonny – jes’ keep still an’ wait. Arter a time they began to talk. Then it came out that the half-caste was on some mission from the head chief, and the young chap was mighty curious to know all about it; but the half-caste he were too slim. They jes’ paced roun’ each other like a couple o’ strange dogs. At the end the chief he up and say, ‘I know where you’re going.’ ‘Soh?’ said the half-caste. ‘Yes,’ said the chief, ‘you’re going to the white man’s camp to give the white chief news of our coming.’ Well, the half-caste he spat in the fire. ‘You are a boy,’ he said; ‘your place is at home with the women.’ ‘My place is with you,’ said the young chief, speaking soft, so that the other laughed in his throat, and called the chief quedin– ‘boy’ – again, which you know is the easiest word to rile a Kaffir. ‘I know, in your heart,’ said the boy, ‘you will sell us for the white man’s money.’ The half-caste spat again. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said, ‘the white men are in terror of you – a warrior like you would be worth a whole goat to them.’ ‘I am Sandili,’ said the lad, ‘son of the head chief, and one day the Amakosa will do my bidding.’ The half-caste giv’ a start; then he grew soft all of a sudden. ‘I was but trying you,’ he said. ‘Oh, chief, forget my words, and take the path with me in the morning. We will find out where the red-coats are, how many of them, and what road they take, so that we can report to your father, and plans can be made to trap them.’ I could hear the hiss of a snake in the man’s speech, sonny; and it struck me then he had, in his heart, determined to take the young chief Sandili to the English colonel.”
“It was really Sandili?”
“It were, an’ no mistake. I could a’ shot him then, an’ put a stop to two wars; but a good many things could be done, sonny, if only we could see ahead. Well, for all they’d made friends, those two didn’t trust one another – not a bit, not they – they jes’ sat there glancing acrost the coals, nodding, an’ wakin’ up with a start, and when one on ’em moved t’other would have his eyes wide open. Long before sun-up they moved off, an’ I crep’ outer my hidin’ place to the fire, where I found jes’ a coal-blackened strip o’ meat that jes’ made me hungrier than afore. Lor’ love you, a human is a helpless crittur. There was animiles about an’ birds, but as I darn’t use my gun I couldn’t get one. I cotched a salamander and ate him, an’ a land crab by the stream, an’ ate him – an’ I ate some berries, an’ a clutch o’ young birds from the nest, and I had a bathe – and took up the spoor of the two of ’em. ’Twas easier spoorin’ now, for they was going slow, and at mid-day I had ’em in sight, and so kep’ ’em till the last. In the afternoon we were climbing a ridge among the bushes, when boomin’ along there came the sound of music that brought the three of us to a dead stop. Never had young Abe yeard any sound like that afore or since ’cept once – it went through my worn-out body until I trembled like a leaf – yes, sonny – and the wet ran down my cheeks. ’Twas the soun’ of a big drum.”
“There’s not much music in that, Abe.”
“Isn’t there, sonny? Not when you’ve been three days in the woods, skeered of every shadder; not when you’ve yeard the war-cry of the red Kaffir; not when the cries of the little ones waitin’ for the assegai are ringin’ in yer head. Only the soun’ of a drum. One, big boomin’ note, rolling clear an’ far with a message of help. The tiredness an’ the sickness fell from me, sonny, an’ I could a’ run up that hill. The other two they crept up presently, and bymby I follered and hid behind ’em. They was crouchin’ by a rock, lookin’ down, and I forgot ’em in lookin’ at the picture. Far below in the valley was the white tents, an’ the cattle, an’ a line of red where the soldiers were drawn up, bayonets flashing. Then a troop of men on horseback rode down the line, and again the drums beat and the bugles rang out. It was a picture, sonny, that I could a’ looked at all day, but I were jes’ jerked out o’ my spell o’ dreamin’ by the chief talkin’.”
“‘Yoh,’ he said, ‘they are few, but what noise is that?’
“‘Tis their witch-music,’ said the half-caste; ‘’tis kep’ in a big box, and when the man hits the top of it with a stick the witch cries out what they should do.’ ‘Yoh!’ said the chief, ‘I will kill the box! They are great warriors, these, but they are foolish to wear a red so bright, that no man of them can hide.’ ‘They do not hide,’ said the half-caste, and he shifted his gun as he looked at the chief from the corner of his eyes. ‘Let us go.’ ‘Nay,’ said the chief, ‘it is a good sight this – stay a little while. Why do they move about so?’ ‘It’s their war-dance, and he on the white horse is the chief. At his words they turn and stop, break up, and come together.’ The young chief watched like a dog straining at the leash – and, by gum, he yeard the colonel’s commands, though never a sound reached me. A smart Kaffir can smell, and see, and hear like a animile. ‘Yoh!’ he said; ‘listen to his words!’ – and in his excitement he raised his head, and the half-caste he stood back and lifted his gun. But he measured his distance to the camp, and he said, ‘Let us get nearer’ – for why, the cuss wanted to be near help when he went for the chief. The chief looked round, and, ghoisters! he seed my face stickin’ outer a bush. He jumped to his feet and drew back his arm to fly the assegai, but the half-caste, after one glance at me, dropped his gun, seized the haft of the assegai with one hand and hooked his other arm round the chief’s neck. ‘It was a good word you spoke, quedin,’ he said, hissing as he struggled with the boy. ‘I will sell you to the white man.’ Seein’ how it was, I stepped out, and as I went up I seed the chief’s eyes rollin’, while his nostrils were blowed out like a horse. ‘I am a boy,’ he said; ‘I give in.’ The half-caste he laughed, turnin’ to me whiles he called out in Dutch that it was he who took the quedin prisoner, but he’d give me somethin’ if I helped him – the skunk, the blanged, mangy, yeller dog. Well, sonny, that Kaffir were shamming. Soon’s he give in, the half-caste he loosed his hold, when, with a grunt, the Kaffir yanked his assegai away, and with a wriggle o’ his naked body he got a length and struck the half-caste under the armpit. ‘Dog,’ he said, and druv’ his assegai in over the blade. The half-caste he jes’ went green. ‘Ek ’es dood,’ he said, lookin’ at me; then he sat down all of a heap. The young chief he stood there eyein’ me like a tiger, with his lips curled back and his chest heavin’. It was the first man he’d killed, I guess. Well, I lifted the gun, but the left hand gave out and the barrel wobbled – then, I dunno why, but I begin to laugh in a foolish way, an’ I kep’ on laughin’ whiles the Kaffir came crouchin’ up with his assegai held back. Nex’ thing I seed the half-caste roll over, and then sit up and point his gun at the boy’s back. ‘Pass op,’ I said ’mid the laughin’, while the sweat was drippin’ off my nose; and the chief he jumped aside as tho’ there was a snake in his way, and the bullet whizzed by him. The half-caste gave a groan and rolled over dead, out of hate and disappointment, ’cause he’d missed. That’s so. The chief he looked at me, an’ he looked at the soldiers who were hurrying up from down below, then he jes’ turned and walked away; yes, he jes’ walked away with his head up, and I could a’ shot him – for the laughin’ fit had passed away. But before he could ha’ killed me easy as sticking a pig, so I watched him go; an’ when he reached the bush he said, lookin’ over his shoulder, ‘Grow fat, man who laughs, an’ you will be food for my assegai.’ The cheek of these young bucks; but I reckon, sonny, if he’d a’ known I’d killed two of his men in the Chumie he wouldn’t a’ waited, for all I was like a shadder.”
“Is that all?” I said, when the old man paused.
“Well, it were enuff, wern’t it?”
“What did the Colonel say?”
“Oh, the Colonel! He said, ‘Who the devil are you, an’ where the blazes you come from?’ That’s what he said, that time; but ’twern’t long afore he changed the tune of his remarks. ‘Who the devil are you, and where the blazes you come from?’ he sed, sittin’ in his tent with his officers by him; an’ I jes’ reached over to a black square bottle that was ahind him and put the neck to my mouth.”