The Kafirs debated rapidly for a moment in an undertone. Then Usivulele stepped forward, looking Claverton full in the face.

"We accept them," he said. "I am ready."

"Very well. Now you two may return and carry my 'word' to Matanzima.

When he comes he will find his friends just as they fell. We do not harm wounded men."

The two amba.s.sadors saluted again, and turning, strode away from the camp, escorted to the brow of the hill by a couple of sentries, while the hostage was placed under a strict guard. They gave him something to eat, and he was well treated though carefully watched. But not for a moment would he unbend from the grave, dignified reserve wherewith he had wrapped himself. Communicativeness was not in the bond, and to all their questions he returned laconic and evasive replies. It was evident that he was not to be "drawn." Once during their march Lumley, having just given him a pipe of tobacco, asked where Sandili was.

"Chief," replied the Kafir, in a tone of quiet rebuke. "If I were to ask you where your general and your _amasoja_ (soldiers) were at this moment--what should you say?"

"I should say, 'd.a.m.n your impudence,'" muttered Lumley, half angrily, as he turned away feeling very much snubbed; but Claverton, listening, thoroughly enjoyed the retort.

"Don't be unfair, Lumley," he said. "This fellow has his wits about him. He's no ordinary n.i.g.g.e.r, I can see."

"No, he isn't, confound him," growled the other, unmollified.

Meanwhile the hostage stalked along among his guards, and showed not the smallest concern as to his own fate. Evidently the conditions would be observed in good faith, and of that fact he was aware. In a trifle more than an hour, now, he would be set at liberty--when lo, cresting the brow of a hill, one of the saddest and most eloquent tokens of savage warfare burst upon the eyes of the party. Beneath, lay what had been a flourishing homestead, now a heap of _debris_ and blackened ruins, from which, as they gazed, little lines of smoke still arose, showing that the work of destruction was but recent. The roof had fallen in but the walls still stood, with their gaping window-holes like the eyeless sockets of a skull, and fragments of charred rafters stood out overhead, the fleshless ribs of the frame of the once sheltering roof-tree. And in contrast to this sad work of desolation, a fine fruit-garden fronted the house, the trees weighed down beneath their luscious burdens--the fig and the pomegranate, blushing peaches and yellow pears, golden apricots, and quinces ripening in the high, straight hedges which shut in the orchard. Extensive lands under cultivation lay along in the bottom, and these had not been interfered with.

"This can't have been done long," observed Lumley, surveying the ruin.

"Shouldn't wonder if it was the same gang that attacked us."

"Very likely. Stop. Here's a part of it not so smashed up. Let's have a look round," said Claverton, dismounting.

One end of the building seemed to have partially escaped--a largish apartment, evidently a bedroom. A fall of rubbish across the narrow window had blocked it, and it was almost in darkness.

"Good heavens! look here," cried Lumley, with a shudder, examining the ground. Their eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, and both made out a broad red stain, whose nature there was no mistaking. Upon that rude floor had been spilt the stream of life, and the greedy earth had absorbed it. "I don't care for this sort of investigation," continued he. "It's one thing bowling fellows over in the open air, in fair, lively scrimmage; but, hang it all, nosing about in this infernal gloomy den is another. Let's get outside," and again he shuddered, as if dreading what they might find.

"Wait a bit," said Claverton, "Look. Some one has come to grief here-- there's no doubt about it."

Nor was there. Another great red patch and a few smaller ones were seen, and then, following a mark made by something heavy trailed along in the dust, they came to a doorway leading into the burnt part of the house, and here, among the dust, and bricks, and fallen _debris_, lying in the gloom cast by an overshadowing fragment of roof, which looked as if it was about to fall on them, they came upon the charred remains of three human beings--apparently two men and a woman, for portions of female attire still hung about one of them. Indeed, only presumably could their European nationality be p.r.o.nounced upon, for the ghastly relics were little more than a few calcined bones.

"Good G.o.d!" exclaimed Lumley, turning sick and faint at the horrid sight. "They've been burnt alive."

"No; I don't think that," said Claverton. "Poor wretches--they were killed first and then flung in here. The marks in the other room show that, if it's any comfort. They were probably surprised in their beds and murdered; this very morning, too, I should say. What's this?"

Something shining, which lay on the floor in a dark corner, had caught his eye. He picked it up. It was a small crucifix, about eight inches in length, such as is constructed to stand on a bracket. The cross was broken and splintered in two or three places, but the figure, being of metal, was intact. It was exquisitely wrought, and Claverton stood gazing sadly down upon the holy symbol, which he held in his hand amid this gloomy scene of ashes, and tears, and blood; and it seemed to him that a wave of ineffable sorrow swept across the suffering, lifelike countenance as he gazed. Wrapping the relic in his handkerchief, he placed it carefully in his pocket. Lilian would certainly value it.

"By Jove, Lumley; but war isn't all fun, after all!" he said, with something like a sigh.

"No, it isn't. I'm glad now that we peppered those black devils this morning--cowardly, sneaking brutes. I wish we had done for a thousand of them."

"Let's see if we can find anything more among this rubbish," went on Claverton, not heeding his lieutenant's honest vehemence. But nothing was to be found. The savages had gutted the place, and how the holy relic had escaped them was incomprehensible, unless it were that, with superst.i.tious awe, they feared to touch it. A few battered bits of iron, the remains of a bedstead, and some broken crockery lay strewn about; but everything combustible--chairs, tables, curtains, etcetera-- had been given to the flames.

They went out into the air again. The sun shone placidly down from an unclouded sky upon this gloomy scene of desolation and death; around, a fair vision of hill and dale lay spread afar, and now and then the melodious call of the hoepoe would float upon the summer air as if no frightful tragedy had been enacted in that peaceful spot, where the torch and a.s.segai of the savage had been glutted in his l.u.s.t for blood.

"I suppose we must let this devil go, too," said Lumley, with a fierce, vengeful glance at their hostage.

"Oh, yes," said Claverton, decisively; "no question about that.

Usivulele," he went on, addressing the Kafir, "is this the work of your band? It'll make no difference to you; I shall let you go all the same."

The man gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Chief," he replied, "we are not the only party of warriors in the bush.

The land is full of them. Some were here this morning, and are yonder to-night," pointing to the horizon. "Why should it be our work?"

"A true native answer, but a fair one," said Claverton. "No one's bound to criminate himself. Hallo; here's a book!"

For, agitated by the faint breeze, some leaves of paper might be seen stirring amid the gra.s.s a few yards off. He picked it up. It was not a book, but a few pages of one, in the German language--a hymn-book, from all appearances--and it must have been flung there by the savages when they had completed their ruthless work. The finding of it, however, and some other fragments of books all in the same language, scattered around, threw additional light upon the incident. Evidently the unhappy victims were German immigrants, of whom there were many in Kaffraria, and who either disbelieving the alarming reports, or trusting to the friendliness of the natives, had been loth to leave their prosperous, and, as they thought, peaceful home; and had suffered the penalty of their imprudence.

A grave having been dug the remains were carefully deposited within it, and, knocking together a rude cross out of some of the wood-work of the ruined dwelling, Claverton planted it over the last resting-place of the unfortunate immigrants slaughtered beneath their own roof-tree. Then comparing his watch with the sun he addressed the hostage:

"Usivulele, you have kept your side of the compact and I will keep mine.

The time has come and you are at liberty to return to your chief. Go.

You are free."

The Kafir's impa.s.sive countenance relaxed into a slight smile, and, with a murmur of a.s.sent and a courteous salute to Claverton, he gathered his blanket about him and strode away into the _veldt_. Many a scowl followed the retreating figure as the bystanders grasped their rifles and stole a furtive glance at their leader's face. They longed to send a volley after the retiring Kafir; but each man knew that to do so would mean instant death to himself.

Claverton watched his late prisoner till he was out of sight, and then returned to explore the ruins afresh, while his men regaled themselves on the ripe fruit which grew in the garden in such profusion; and very grateful was the luscious feast to their throats, dry with the smoke of powder and the shouting and excitement of the morning's fray. Just as he was about to enter, the part of the roof which had escaped fell in with a crash, nearly smothering him in a cloud of dust and cinders.

"I say, Lumley. That was a narrow share of your getting promotion," was all he said.

Further investigation was of course barred, and the time for halting having expired, the "fall-in" was sounded. As they wound their way out of the valley, they turned to look back. The fall of the roof had disturbed the still smouldering embers beneath, and now a volume of smoke was rolling up from the blackened ruins, darkening the azure sky, and casting a fell shadow upon the sunlit earth. And all Nature smiled around, in fair, mocking contrast to these hideous tokens of the vengeful hate of men.

VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE MAIN CAMP.

It was after sundown when "Claverton's Levy" reached the camp of the main body of the forces detailed to operate in the Gaika Location.

The camp was pitched on an open flat, well situated for defensive purposes, and commanding a wide open sweep of half a mile on the most closed-in side. In the event of attack upon it the enemy would have to bring more than his wonted _verve_ and determination to the fore, if he would render the chance of even partial success so much as possible; for here were gathered over eight hundred men, all handy with the rifle, and a few volleys, sweeping across that open approach, would tumble the advancing foe over so quickly that he would turn and flee before half the s.p.a.ce was covered. A likely-looking force. Border farmers, up-country transport-riders, frontiersmen all--ready for the roughest work and the hardest of tussles, at the earliest opportunity--with many a long score of petty depredation and wholesale marauding, and insolence, and defiance, and menace, and desertion of service to pay off upon their erewhile turbulent neighbours, and now open enemies. Dutch burghers, from the Tarka and Cradock districts--past masters in the art of skirmishing, competent to pick off an object the size of an orange at three or four hundred yards, while exposing the smallest fraction of their own ungainly frames to the enemy's fire. Volunteers--mostly townsmen--full of fight, if less reliable in their aim than their more practised brethren, all had their separate camps pitched in close proximity. Some of the corps were fortunate and had tents, others were unfortunate and had none. A few waggons were there, containing the supplies and baggage of each corps, or the ventures of private and speculative individuals, who retailed indifferent grog and other "luxuries" at their own prices. On one side of the camp, like a dark cloud, might be seen a swarm of native warriors; this was the bivouac of the Fingo levies, and like a disturbed ants' nest, its area was alive with black forms moving to and fro and making themselves comfortable for the night, while the hum and murmur of their deep-toned voices rose upon the air.

Having fixed upon a camping ground for his men--to augment whose numbers an additional batch had arrived from King Williamstown--Claverton left his lieutenant in charge, and proceeded to report himself at head-quarters.

"I think you've done exceedingly well, Mr Claverton," said the Commandant of Colonial Forces--a tall, quiet-looking, middle-aged man-- as he listened to the narrative of the attack upon the Hottentot levy.

He was a frontier farmer, and something of a politician, clever and prompt in the field, and of good administrative capacity, by virtue of which qualities he had been elected to, and subsequently confirmed in his present post. "In fact, we hardly expected you so soon. I'm very glad to find that your fellows are made of such good fighting stuff; and, by the way, you may hardly like to leave them now. I mean," he went on, seeing the other's look of surprise, "when I say, you may not like to leave them, that I think we can find you something better. The fact is, Brathwaite wants to get you into his troop--Garnier, his third man, was invalided on the way up, fever, result of bad water or something; and he wants to pitchfork you into his place. I told him I didn't think you'd care to give up a regular command of your own to put yourself under another fellow, and, now, while I think of it, you have managed those Hottentot chaps so well, that I don't much like your leaving them just as you've got them ship-shape. Still, you'd probably rather be among your friends, and if you care about taking the post, I'll get you appointed at once."

"It's very kind of you," replied Claverton. "If I might, I should like to think it over. Would it do if I let you know in an hour's time?" It was even as the other had said; he was not quite prepared to throw up an absolute command of his own to serve in a subordinate capacity, even among his old comrades.

"Oh, yes. Let me know to-morrow morning, that will be time enough," was the good-natured answer. "Why, there is Brathwaite," and, gaining the door of the tent with a couple of strides, he called out: "Here, Brathwaite. Tumble in here for a minute, will you."

"What's up?" cried Jim, turning. "Why, Arthur! You here? When did you turn up?"

"He's had a scrimmage, and a good one," pat in the Commandant before he could answer. "But look here, Brathwaite. I've been telling Claverton about your idea, and he'll let us know in the morning. If you can talk him over meanwhile so much the better--for you," he added, with a smile.

"Oh! Well, look here, Arthur. Fetch up at my tent as soon as you've got your camp fixed, and we'll talk things over and make an evening of it. I can't stop now--got to see about that ammunition that's just come. So long!" and he wae gone.

From head-quarters Claverton betook himself to the commissariat department to arrange for the rationing of his men. He was well pleased with his reception, and might have been more so had he heard the remark of the chief authority to a volunteer officer who had dropped in just after he left.