Between Sun and Sand Part 20

Two or three were soon caught and dragged back, howling, to the edge of the opening. Selecting the one whose size appeared to be most suitable, the "gqira" ordered him to descend, but the boy yelled with redoubled vigour and struggled violently to escape. Then Noquala called out to one of the women to bring a rod, and with this he thrashed the unhappy youth unmercifully until the latter consented to do what was required of him. The boy, silent and wild-eyed with terror, was thereupon lowered into the dark pit through the narrow mouth.

"What do you find there?" asked the "gqira."

"I am standing in water," called the boy, his voice sounding hollow from the depths.

"Feel if there be any living thing."

"Au--there are snakes," yelled the boy, and his hands grasped the edges of the opening as he tried to draw himself up.

"They are not snakes! they are frogs," replied 'Ndakana.

At the same time Noquala cut the boy's fingers sharply with the rod.

The wretched creature dropped back to the bottom of the pit with a screech of mingled pain and terror.

A basket was pa.s.sed down to him, and this he was directed to fill with frogs. This, when handed up, was emptied into a larger basket, and then pa.s.sed back. After several basketfuls had been taken out, the unhappy boy was a.s.sisted to come out of his prison, and the pit was closed up at once.

'Ndakana then addressed the a.s.sembled crowd. He told them that the wonder he had revealed to them was a special grace vouchsafed by the "imishologu" in response to his incantations, and that the frogs were to be utilised in doctoring Noquala's cattle so as to render them proof against the ravages of the dreaded disease.

A deep awe had fallen upon all. They felt that they were in the presence of a master wonder-worker. Noquala was now sure that his beloved cattle were safe, and his heart overflowed with grat.i.tude to the "gqira" and to the "imishologu" who had shown such favour.

The cattle were now driven up in lots of about fifty each. When in the enclosure they were caught separately and skilfully thrown. An incision was then made in the nose of each, as well as in a frog. The reptile was then held so that its flowing blood mingled with that of the beast.

As soon as this had been effected, the latter was loosened and turned out of the enclosure. A fresh cut was made in the frog for each beast treated, but as soon as the reptile died or it was found that no more blood would flow from it another frog was brought, the worn-out one being carefully put away into a basket. The frogs were thus believed to have absorbed the latent disease.

By sundown all the cattle had been treated in this manner, and then the dead frogs were thrown into a deep pit. Red-hot coals were then thrown upon them, and the pit was closed up, the earth being stamped firmly down.

But the issues at stake were too great for the caprice of the "imishologu" to be risked. More ritual must be performed on the third and fifth day, and in the meantime feasting had to take place.

Otherwise the "imishologu" might, as they had often been known to do, change their shadowy, if powerful minds.

Thus, as the "gqira" p.r.o.nounced it to be unsafe to remove the cattle before the sixth day, the hearts of the company were lifted up with great joy, for they knew that the exigencies of the occasion demanded that unrestricted feasting should take place during the interval.

It was here that the astute 'Ndakana made his great mistake. He should have taken his reward, which would have been, under the circ.u.mstances, a most liberal one, and removed with it to a distance. But the greatest men sometimes make mistakes, and 'Ndakana proved that he was no exception to this general rule.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

THE DISEASE APPEARS.

The circ.u.mstance of 'Ndakana's having been so positive that the cattle would not take the rinderpest might easily puzzle those unacquainted with the methods of the native doctor, nevertheless it was quite characteristic. Although a colossal humbug, the "gqira," to a certain extent, believes in his own powers. As is the case in other walks of life, he gets so into the habit of deceiving others that he ends by deceiving himself. Probably, however, in this case 'Ndakana may have believed the reports which just about that time were current as to the Cape Government having succeeded in staying the destroying course of the disease by erecting a fence across the continent and keeping all animals away from its vicinity. Moreover the accidental resemblance to a bull which the cloud had taken may easily have been regarded by 'Ndakana's superst.i.tious mind as a sign that the progress of the disease had been stayed. Superst.i.tion and fraud have in all ages gone hand in hand.

Again, it must be remembered that the reputation of a native doctor can only be made by taking risks. One lucky guess, one confident prophecy which happens to be crowned with fulfilment by the capricious Fates, and a "gqira" may be sent spinning dizzily along the road of success with such a momentum that many subsequent minor failures are condoned. Of course, the day comes at length when the luckiest "gqira" makes a mistake of such importance that he has to flee the neighbourhood and ever afterwards hide his diminished head. It is a well-known fact that under the rule of the native chiefs the "gqira" seldom died a natural death.

Three days of feasting took place at Noquala's kraal, the neighbours from far and near being bidden to it. Noquala was so pleased at his cattle having been rendered safe from the threatened scourge that he did not mind several of his fattest oxen being slaughtered for the occasion.

Just about sundown on the third day one of the herd-boys mentioned that a certain heifer did not appear to be quite well. Noquala heard the news without uneasiness; it was seldom that one got such a large herd of cattle together without some of them becoming afflicted with one or other of the major or minor ills that bovine flesh is heir to.

However, Noquala left the feasters and, directed by the boy, walked down the hillside to where the sick heifer was standing. It turned out to be one of the dun-coloured stock he had recently purchased out of the proceeds of the sheep, and which had been brought down from the Drakensberg.

The heifer certainly looked sick--very sick indeed. Its coat was staring; it was breathing heavily and groaning at intervals. From its nostrils was running a ma.s.s of thick, unclean, mucous discharge; water copiously ran out of its eyes; its ears hung, not downwards, as is usually the case with a sick beast, but backwards.

Noquala felt a shaft of sick dread transfix him. He stood before the poor animal, which was evidently suffering acute pain. Its muzzle retracted at each breath as one sees the nostrils of a human being retract in severe cases of asthma. The creature turned an appealing eye upon him--a large, beautiful dark eye, to which agony had lent a strange and pathetic intelligence. Noquala's eyes grew moist, and a spasm contracted his throat. He suffered with the suffering of the thing that he loved.

While he was regarding the sick heifer Noquala heard the sound of approaching footsteps, so after hastily getting rid of any signs of emotion, he turned to meet the comer. This turned out to be a native policeman, who, executing some message from the magistrate of the district, had sniffed the feast from afar and turned aside to partake in it. After he had carefully examined the heifer the policeman returned to where he had left his horse. Then he informed the company that he had suddenly remembered something which made it impossible for him to spend the night, as he had already expressed his intention of doing, with the feasters. After this he rode away in the direction of the Magistracy.

Next morning the Magistrate was awakened out of his slumbers by word that a policeman wanted to see him upon important business. The police had been carefully warned to examine into and report upon suspicious cases of bovine disease which might come under their notice. At the same time the superficial symptoms of rinderpest were explained to the men so that they might better be able to diagnose cases of illness coming under their personal notice.

In the present instance the symptoms reported by the constable suggested rinderpest so exactly that the Magistrate immediately mounted his horse and rode to Noquala's kraal so as personally to investigate matters. He was accompanied by four mounted constables for use in the event of the worst contingency being realised.

Noquala, after contemplating the sufferings of the sick heifer, had no stomach for the feast. However, darkness had fallen, so nothing more could be done until the following day. At earliest dawn he was among his cattle. The dun-coloured heifer was evidently dying. It was lying down where he had left it on the previous night, with its head turned back against its shoulder--an att.i.tude which Noquala had never previously noticed in the case of a sick beast. Its extremities were cold, its nostrils were inflamed. The soft, suffering glance from the mild brown eye beamed out through a ring of foul, caked mucus, and struck a chill into the gazer's soul.

He went with hurried steps to the large cattle-fold. Three other animals struck him as looking seedy. What he particularly noticed was the peculiar backward droop of the ears and the copious running from the eyes and nostrils. He opened the gate and drove out the whole herd.

Then he called the boys and also the man from the Drakensberg, and had the cattle which had come from there driven back into the enclosure.

The examination did not diminish his uneasiness. Seven animals appeared to be sick. Every minute the symptoms appeared to increase with horrible rapidity. 'Ndakana was sent for, and arrived drowsy with repletion. He made light of the affair, saying that the animals were probably seedy from a change of pasturage--a thing which often happened when cattle were brought down from the mountains to the low country.

The Drakensberg cattle were herded together during the day, by afternoon they were all sick. The heifer was still lingering in agony, but evidently its hours were numbered. Noquala wandered from one suffering creature to another, his heart rent with their pangs and his soul quaking with fear.

Just before sundown the Magistrate arrived and made an examination.

There was, he said, no doubt that the disease was the dreaded rinderpest. He drew a cordon around the valley in which Noquala's kraal was situated, and put a chain of guards to see that no animal left the infected area.

Noquala and 'Ndakana had a long and serious conversation, the result of which was that the former's fears were somewhat stilled. What did the Magistrate know of cattle? asked the "gqira." The beasts were all right. Those from the Drakensberg had apparently eaten of some poisonous herb on the way down. A few might die, but the others would recover. He--'Ndakana--would stake his reputation on the correctness of his view. In the meantime he would go to the bush and dig out some roots which were an infallible remedy against the results of eating poisonous bushes.

The infallible remedy was administered, but it had small, if any, effect. Next day the heifer was dead, and every one of the Drakensberg cattle appeared to be doomed. Then they began to die, one by one at first; afterwards by twos and threes. Some appeared to take a turn towards recovery, only suddenly to succ.u.mb. The "gqira" was voluble over the effects of the poison. He remembered just such a similar case taking place in the Hlangweni country, where he had once lived. None of the other cattle showed signs of sickness as yet, so Noquala fully accepted the poison-bush theory.

But it could be seen that the "gqira" was uneasy. Every morning he would turn out before any one else, and spend a long time among the cattle. Then, when the others rose from their slumbers, he would triumphantly report that there was no sign of disease among any but the Drakensberg herd. One morning, however, he failed to make his triumphant report; in fact, when the others arose, there was nothing of the "gqira" to be seen. One of the boys said that he had been entrusted with a message from 'Ndakana to the effect that the latter had gone to a more distant forest to get some roots of greater potency than any obtainable close at hand.

Noquala went down to the kraal, and noticed that a number of cattle, besides those of the Drakensberg herd, were showing signs of sickness.

From that morning the kraal of Noquala knew the presence of 'Ndakana the "gqira" no more.

When the sun went down that day every member of the Drakensberg herd was dead, and a number of other cattle were sick with symptoms similar to those they had suffered from.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE TRAGEDY.

The agony of Noquala now entered into its acute stage. The guards were posted around the vale of pestilence and mourning in a pitiless ring.

Dozens of men were at work inside with pick and spade, digging pits for the interment of the carcases. Soon, however, the deaths became so many that the diggers could not keep pace with them, so the carcases were allowed to lie and rot in the suns.h.i.+ne. Later, as the animals fell sick, they were driven up towards the head of the valley, where the stench of the dead poisoned their dying breath, and thus added another pang to those the miserable creatures already suffered from. This cruelty was rendered necessary by the circ.u.mstances of the case. It was, above all, important to confine the infection within bounds, until the surrounding herds had been inoculated.

Day by day, hour by hour, the mournful processions would wend, with the slowness of a funeral, to this ghastly spot, where the swollen carcases festered over the ground. Sometimes a doomed brute being goaded along would suddenly take fright at the stench, and, gathering a flicker of strength from its dismay, rush frantically backwards, until it tumbled in a heap to the ground. Foul carrion-birds roosted upon every stump and stone; others, gorged so that they could not fly, would hop ungainly away when disturbed, and fall into a sick sleep when they stopped at a few yards' distance.

The effluvium became so bad that it was found impossible to approach this bovine Golgotha except when the wind was favourable. When the breeze blew down the valley towards the kraal, the dwellers would be seized with violent sickness.

Noquala, who had become quite prostrated when he found that the pest had attacked his main herd and that 'Ndakana had bolted, soon recovered his self-command, and bore himself with pathetic dignity. His hair and beard became rapidly greyer; his face grew drawn and haggard; his eyes took on the look of agony which he read, all day long, in the eyes of the beasts he loved so well, and the sufferings of which seemed to be mirrored in his consciousness. Some few--about a tenth of the herd--as yet showed no sign of infection. The n.o.ble, dun-coloured bull still stalked about majestically, breathing love and defiance in his low.

Well, thought Noquala, surely all his cattle would not die; he would be left with a few with which to begin again with. Just the dun-coloured bull and a few cows. It would be a joy once more to build up wealth.

No one ever heard of such a thing as that a mult.i.tude of cattle, such as his, should die out of any disease. Alas! no one with whom Noquala had foregathered had ever heard an adequate account of the fell effects of the rinderpest.

But day by day the agony deepened, until at length the time came when the splendid herd of a couple of weeks back all had expired except a few sick and staggering creatures, the superior vitality of which had prolonged for them the agonies of inevitable death. The dun-coloured bull was one of the last to succ.u.mb, but he too vailed his lordly crest and sank his deep voice to a pitch as pitiful as that of the two-year-old heifer, his dying daughter, that lay moaning close to him.