The Claw Part 2

I can only account for not having recognised him earlier by the fact that I had not really seen his eyes. He was one of those men whom you might pa.s.s without a glance, thinking him ordinary, until you looked in his face or he spoke to you. Then you saw at once that he was not ordinary at all, that so far from being short he was seemingly at least about three heads taller than most men, also that his hair was perfectly nice, and what was better perfectly original. In his crakey, thrilly voice he was now a.s.suring me that he had never supposed for an instant that there was any one in the post-cart.

"And a lady, good G.o.d!--I mean it is unbelievable; but where is your driver? Do you mean to say, Madam, that you have been here alone in that cart all the evening?"

Madam! That was funny, though I did not much care about being taken for a madam. But of course he could see nothing of my face through my thick veil.

"Yes," I said. "The driver gave me my choice between being shut into the stable with the mules or staying out here in the cart alone. I preferred this."

"The infernal scoundrel! The--" His mouth shut, he hastily swallowed something, doubtless more profanity. "The scoundrel!" he repeated.

"The river is full. He said we could not cross to-night."

"That is true, but his business was to make fires here and guard you.

This is one of the most dangerous places in Africa. I cannot think, Madam, how you came to be on such a journey alone and unprotected. Some one is gravely to blame."

"No, indeed," I faltered. "No one is to blame but myself. I insisted on taking this journey against all advice. If the lions had eaten me it would have been my own fault."

I don't know what was the matter with me, but suddenly the remembrance of all my terrors overwhelmed me and I began to cry. I never thought I could have been so utterly silly and ridiculous, but the cause was something that I had no control over, something quite outside myself; it may have been the reaction of suddenly feeling so safe after all my misery, or that his voice was the kind of voice that stirs one up to doing things one didn't intend to do; really I don't know. Only, I cried quite foolishly and brokenly for a few moments like a child, and he took hold of my hands and patted them and said ever so kindly:

"There, there--don't cry, for Heaven's sake don't cry--it's all right now--you're quite safe--I'll take care of you. And I'll hammer that, brute within an inch of his life to-morrow morning," he added savagely.

He made me sit on his rug by the fire, while he went over to the cart and hauled out mail-bags and cus.h.i.+ons and rugs, all bundled up together, and dragged them over by the fire, and in two minutes had a most delightful sort of lounge-seat ready for me. I never thought other people's letters and parcels could be so comfortable and useful.

"Now," said he, "have you got anything to eat or drink? I am sorry to say I haven't a thing. I'm 'travelling light,' and expected to cross the river to-night and get to Madison's for dinner."

Of course I had a travelling basket with plenty of tinned things in it, and some stale bread. There was also tea and a little kettle which he filled from the water-bag under the cart and had over the fire in the twinkling of an eye, while I spread a napkin on the ground and laid out as invitingly as possible such provisions as I had. Then, while he was once more replenis.h.i.+ng the fires, I pulled a little mirror from my vanity bag, and by its aid removed some of the dust which by reason of my tears had now turned to mud on my face. I arranged my veil over my hat, and my dainty, tragic brown face looked back at me from the hand-gla.s.s. I say _tragic_ because so many people have said it before of me and I've got used to the word but I could never really see myself what suggested it. Only I know that I am rather original looking. I do not profess to be pretty: but I am unusual; and I have nice bones, and the shades of brown and amber in my eyes and hair are really rather charming; and I know I've a good line from my ear to my chin--one cannot study sculpture without getting to recognise fine lines whether in one's self or other people.

When he came back with the kettle of boiling water, I knelt by the cloth and made the tea, while he stared at me in perfect silence. Perhaps he was surprised to see that I didn't look much like a madam after all. He made no sign of recognition, which was rather disappointing, but I did not mind at the time as I was so frightfully hungry. So was he. There was not the faintest attempt on the part of either of us to disguise the fact that we each possessed what d.i.c.k called an "edge." We drank our tea and fell like wolves upon the sandwiches I had made of stale bread and potted turkey. We also cleaned up a tin of sardines, about three pounds of biscuits, and a pot of strawberry jam. We ate like schoolboys and were as merry as thieves in a wood. It did not seem in the least strange to be sitting there under the stars in that wild place taking possession of a large meal with a man who did not know my name nor I his. Nothing is strange on the veldt! Besides, I felt as if I had known him all my life, even if he did not recognise me. All the same, I was aware that he never ceased to stare at me intently, with the little rag of black hair hanging between his blue eyes. He told me he was riding across country from Tuli to Fort George. He had been buying waggons and horses in the Transvaal for the Chartered Company.

"I suppose you know you have come to this part of Africa at a very bad time?" he said. "The Chartered Company is going to send an expedition into Matabeleland against Lobengula. Almost all the men in the country will be needed to fight, and while they are away in Matabeleland the ladies in Mashonaland will all be shut up in forts. That will not be very interesting. It would have been better for you to have postponed your journey until a little later."

"_Au contraire_," said I. "It is far more interesting to be in a country while history is being made than to arrive afterwards when everything is settled and dull. But why are we going to war with Lobengula?"

He laughed at the "we" which slipped in unconsciously.

"Ah! I see you are one of us already, so I can tell you all about it.

Well, Loben has been behaving very badly for a long while. Ever since the Chartered Company took possession of Mashonaland he has been hara.s.sing us in various ways. But lately he has taken to serious menace. Large _impis_ of his armed warriors have been raiding across the border laid down by agreement between the two countries, murdering the Mashonas who are under our protection, and taking up a very threatening and insolent att.i.tude to any white men who remonstrate with him. He has paid no attention to official remonstrance, either, but broken promise after promise, so that at last we have had to take things into our own hands. If we don't they'll wipe out every white man in Mashonaland one of these days. So we are going to invade them and break their power once and for all. There is a chance of some interesting fighting first, though, for the Matabele are twenty thousand strong, all in fighting trim, and as ferocious as the Zulus from whom they are descended. _Now_, are you sorry you've come?"

"Not at all," I laughed. "Afterwards, when this is all over, I may have an opportunity of seeing Lobengula's fifty wives. That is one of my most important reasons for coming out to Africa. That and prowling lions; however, I think I've had more than enough of _them_."

He began to laugh.

"You won't find Lobengula's wives very enchanting, if you do succeed in seeing them; and there are only six, by the way. But where did you get your experience of lions?"

"Here!" said I, and told him something of what I had gone through; only _something_. I did not think it necessary to go into details about my terror, nor to tell him I had fainted. I left him to suppose that I had been asleep when he came to camp. He looked at me keenly at this part of my story, remembering, I suppose, his pleasant remarks about women.

But I returned his gaze with frank eyes.

"Ah! I heard those shots," he said at last. "I was about two miles off then, and supposed some one was camping round here, but I could not locate them at all; no sign or smell of fire anywhere; so on finding the river full I camped here, ready to cross the drift the first thing in the morning. I looked into the post-cart, but only casually, for naturally I didn't expect any one to be in it. I guessed that the driver had locked himself in with the mules--they usually do in such circ.u.mstances, but not when there are pa.s.sengers. Those were not lions, by the way. As soon as I got here I knew by the behaviour of my horse that there had been beasts of some kind about, and when I had made fires I looked for spoor and found traces of about half-a-dozen hyenas. They must have been hungry, too, for they had chewed the mule harness to ribbons."

He smiled at me gaily, but I felt myself turning pale.

"Hyenas! How horrible! How glad I am I did not know! I'd much rather they had been lions!"

"Thank G.o.d they were not," he said quietly. "I'm afraid your revolver would not have been much use. Hyenas, on the contrary, hardly ever touch a human being, and are easily scared off."

"But they laugh!" I cried, shuddering, and then sprang to my feet, for the most terrifying noise I had ever heard in my life suddenly split the stillness and rang around us. I have heard lions roar in the Zoo, and that is bad enough; but the cry of a caged lion is a dove-like call compared to the awe-inspiring, mournful, belching, hollow roar of the king of beasts when he makes his presence known to the wide and empty veldt. My companion was on his feet too.

"Don't be afraid," he said quietly, "but get into the cart again as quickly as possible."

I obeyed without the least delay, another roar, closer at hand, considerably accelerating my steps. In a moment I was back in my old place on the floor; and he was swiftly untethering the horse from the back of the cart, to fasten it in front, more fully in the glare of the fires. Then he stepped into the driver's place, and half-sitting, half-stooping, laid his rifle across the splash-board, right over the horse's head. We waited.

"Don't make a sound," he said over his shoulder. There was no alarm in his voice, but rather a kind of gay elation, and my fear immediately died away. I began to watch and listen with interest for what was to happen next. There were no more roars, only an ominous stillness, that was broken presently by the restless moving and shuddering of the horse.

The poor beast began to try to break loose and get away, but its master leaning forward, spoke to it in a soothing gentle voice, and the terrified creature was presently quiet, except for an occasional shudder that it could not control.

Silence again for a time that seemed hours, then at last the click of a broken twig that sounded to my straining ears like a pistol shot. There was just the faintest suspicion of a rustling of leaves. An instant later something in my companion's intent gaze and att.i.tude told me that the psychological moment had come. He could see something, and was taking aim. I glanced at the dim, shadowy ma.s.s of foliage towards which his rifle pointed, and for one moment saw nothing. Then something huge and pale and ma.s.sive came bounding high in the air out of the shadows, and the horse cried out like a human being. The Martini-Henry cracked twice and a blinding flash of gunpowder filled the air. Later I heard my friend's voice speaking to his leaping horse and as the smoke died away my dazed eyes saw lying stretched between the fires something that had not been there before. The only sounds to be heard were the creaking of the cart caused by the shudderings of the horse, and the chattering of my teeth. I don't know which was the louder. But I know that I crouched beside the man's knee and was grateful and glad for one of his strong brown hands on mine, and his crakey, thrilly voice saying close to my ear:

"There is no danger. Only we must be quiet. There's probably another of them about. I should like to pot him too."

Needless to say, I sat still with all my might. The great honey-coloured body fascinated my eyes, but there was something extraordinarily rea.s.suring in the scent of mingled gunpowder and tobacco that hung about the grey flannel sleeve so close to me. We sat in silence for what must have been nearly an hour and nothing happened: no more roars, no sound anywhere but the far cry of the jackal, and the rush of the river. It was my companion who at last broke the spell, speaking in a low, absent voice, almost like a man in a reverie.

"So you have come to Africa after all, Miss Saurin!"

I could hardly believe my ears were not playing me false. It seemed the strangest thing of all the strange things that had come to pa.s.s that night that he should know my name and speak it thus. He had recognised me after all, then! In the same voice of gentle reverie he spoke again, staring not at me but straight before him.

"--And this is the way she receives you!"

"You know my name?" I faltered.

"Of course. Do you think I could ever forget your face?"

I felt my cheeks grow hot. I was not unused to hearing men say charming, flattering things, and I knew very well how to parry them.

But there was something so unusual in the quiet serenity of this man's words and the vibration of his beautiful voice that I could not lightly turn aside his strange answer. I am all woman, too, and could not refrain from feeling a little thrill of pleasure in what he said. It is surely something rather sweet to be remembered for three years by a man to whom one has spoken only once, for a few minutes, in a crowded ball-room.

"And that dance--I think you remember the dance we had together--and our talk of Africa. You said you would love to come out here, and I told you then you surely would. I think you must remember?"

There was something so appealing and yet compelling in his question that I felt obliged to answer him sincerely, though such worldly wisdom as I possessed strongly counselled me to do otherwise.

"Yes, I have always remembered," I said, and found myself remembering other things, too, vividly: the way his words had moved me, the way my lids had fallen under his strong glance.

"And you are still Miss Saurin? _Deirdre Saurin_?"

It would be impossible to describe the beauty and gentleness of his voice as he so unexpectedly spoke my name. It sounded almost as if he were blessing me.

"You did not many Herriott after all? But you could not have, or he would be here. No man who married you would ever leave your side."

That was ridiculous, of course. I felt it was ridiculous, but he said it so convincingly that I almost believed it. In fact, I was obliged to recognise that this man was very convincing indeed. You could not treat his remarks with the indifference they deserved, even if you wanted to.

However, there was one thing I felt I ought to make clear to him, though it was rather embarra.s.sing to say these things.

"I think as you know so much," I stammered, "you ought to know a little more. I was never engaged to Lord Herriott."