A Frontier Mystery Part 32

An uncomfortable wave swept through me. The fact is that no white man, however well he is known to natives, ever gets really to the bottom of the darker mysteries of their superst.i.tions, which indeed remain utterly unsuspected in most cases, so well are they concealed. Who could say what might underlie this one! However I answered:

"I don't think there would have been danger of that sort. Ukozi would have shown him the performance we have witnessed, as something very wonderful. As a matter of fact it isn't wonderful at all, in that it resolves itself into a mere question of snake charming. Ukozi has half trained this brute by feeding it periodically as we have seen. That's all. Hallo!"

Well might I feel amazement, but the exclamation had escaped me involuntarily. We had come round the pool now, and here, very near the spot whereon Ukozi had gone through his strange performance-- instinctively we had kept a little back from the water--an odour struck upon my nostrils, and it was the same sickly overpowering effluvium that had filled the air when my horse had refused to proceed on that memorable night I had intended to ride back from Kendrew's.

"What is it?" exclaimed Aida, with a start.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. I've frightened you, and you are a little wound up already by that uncanny performance," I answered.

"Frightened? No. I don't believe I could be that when I'm with you. I always feel so safe. Otherwise it would seem strange that this witch doctor whom we have not seen for so long, and in fact whom we thought had left this part of the country, should have been here right in our midst all the time."

"He may not have been. He may only just have returned," I said.

"Worthies of his profession are inclined to be somewhat sporadic in their movements. Meanwhile if I were you, I wouldn't say anything about what we've just seen until I've had time to make a few inquiries."

She promised, of course, and as we took our way homeward in the splendour of the clear African night we thought no more of the uncanny episode we had just witnessed, except as something out of the common which had lent an element of unexpected excitement to our walk.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

INTO EMPTY AIR.

I had completed my purchase of the farm, and was well satisfied with my bargain. It was a nice place, and the homestead was in good repair and very picturesquely situated, commanding a beautiful view. Aida would revel in it. The veldt was good, and so were the faculties for stocking water. Game too was plentiful, though the dark bushy kloofs intersecting a high _rand_ on one side of the place gave promise of the more undesirable kind from the stock-raiser's point of view--such as leopards and wild dogs and baboons. However it would be hard if I couldn't manage to keep the numbers of these down, and if they took toll of a calf or two now and then, why one could take toll of them in the way of sport--so that the thing was as broad as it was long.

Yes, I was well satisfied, and as I rode homeward I fell castle building. The place would be a Paradise when I should take Aida there.

It was too marvellous. How could such a wealth of happiness come my way? There was no cloud to mar it. Even as the vivid, unbroken blue of the sky overhead so was this marvel of bliss which had come in upon my life. There was no cloud to mar it.

I was not rich but I had enough. I had done myself exceedingly well in the course of my ventures, and was beyond any anxiety or care for the future from a pecuniary point of view. I had always lived simply and had no expensive tastes. Now I was beginning to reap the benefit of that fortunate condition of things. I could afford the luxury of castle building as I cantered along mile after mile in the glorious sunlight.

I had not seen Aida for three whole days, it was that time since the uncanny episode of the waterhole. Now I was treasuring up the antic.i.p.ation of our meeting, the light of glad welcome that would come into her eyes, only a few hours hence, for I would call in at my own place to see that things were all right, and get a bit of dinner, and ride on immediately afterwards. So, mile upon mile went by and at last shortly after mid-day I walked my horse up the long acclivity that led to my trading store.

As I gained the latter I descried a horseman approaching from the other direction, and he was riding too--riding as if he didn't want to use his horse again for at least a week. By Jove! it was Kendrew, I made out as he came nearer, but--what the devil was Kendrew in such a cast-iron, splitting hurry about?

My boy Tom came out as I dismounted. I hardly noticed that he hadn't got on the usual broad grin of welcome.

"Where is Jan Boom?" I asked.

"He is out after the cattle, _Nkose_," answered Tom, rather glumly I thought. But I paid no attention to this, because Tom had taken it into his head to be rather jealous of Jan Boom of late, as a newcomer and an alien who seemed to be rather more in his master's confidence than he had any right to be--from Tom's point of view.

"Well, wait a bit," I said. "Here comes another _Nkose_, Nyamaki's nephew. You can take his horse at the same time."

Kendrew came racing up as if he were riding for his life.

"You back, Glanton?" he cried, as he flung himself off his panting, dripping steed. "Well, that's a devilish good job. I say. What does this mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"Man! Haven't you heard? They sent for me post-haste this morning.

Knew you were away."

"Quit jaw, Kendrew, and tell me what the devil's the row," I said roughly, for some horrible fear had suddenly beset me.

"Miss Sewin. She's disappeared," he jerked forth.

"What?"

I have an idea that I articulated the word, though speech stuck in my throat I felt myself go white and cold, and strong healthy man that I was, the surroundings danced before my eyes as though I were about to swoon. I remember too, that Kendrew ground his teeth with pain under the grip that I had fastened upon his shoulder.

"What do you say? Disappeared?" I gasped forth again. "How? When?"

I heard him as through a mist as he told me how the afternoon before she had gone for a walk alone with her dog. It was towards sundown. She had not returned, and a search had been inst.i.tuted, with the result that her dog had been found dead not very far from the waterhole, but of her no trace remained. "My G.o.d, Glanton," he ended up. "Buck up, man.

Pull yourself together or you'll go clean off your chump. Buck up, d'you hear!"

I daresay I had a look that way, for I noticed Tom staring at me as if he contemplated taking to his heels.

"I'm on my way down there now," said Kendrew.

I nodded. I couldn't speak just then somehow. I went into the house, slung on a heavy revolver, and crammed a handful of cartridges into my pocket. Then I remounted, Kendrew doing likewise, and so we took our way down that rocky bush path at a pace that was neither wise nor safe.

"Is that all they have to go upon?" I said presently, as soon as I had recovered my voice.

"That's all--I gather from the old man's note. I say, Glanton, what can be behind it all? It seems on all fours with my old uncle taking himself off. I'm beginning to think now there's some infernal foul play going on among the n.i.g.g.e.rs round us."

I was thinking the same. At first a thought of Dolf Norbury had crossed my mind, but I dismissed it. Ukozi was behind this, somewhere. The proximity to the waterhole a.s.sociated him in my mind with the outrage.

His beastly performance with the snake!--was he training it to seize human beings, in the furtherance of some devilish form of native superst.i.tion? Oh, good Heavens no! That wouldn't bear thinking about.

But Aida--my love--had disappeared--had disappeared even as Hensley had.

He had never been found; the mystery of his disappearance had never been solved. And she! Had she been hideously and secretly done to death? Oh G.o.d! I shall go mad!

When we arrived, the Major and Falkner had just returned, and their horses were simply reeking. They had scoured the whole farm, but utterly without result. As for Mrs Sewin and Edith their grief was pitiable--would have been only it was nothing by the side of mine.

"How was the dog killed?" was my first question, ignoring all greeting.

I had resolved to waste no time in grief. I had now pulled myself together, and was going to do all that man was capable of to find my loved one again.

"That's the strange part of it," said Falkner gruffly. "There's no wound of any kind about the beast, and he hasn't even been hit on the head, for his skull is quite smooth and unbroken. But, there he is--as dead as the traditional herring."

"You didn't move him, did you?"

"No. He's there still."

"Well let's go there. I may light on a clue."

"You'd better not come, uncle," said Falkner. "You're played out, for one thing, and there ought to be one man on the place with all this devilish mystery going about."

"Played out be d.a.m.ned, sir," retorted the Major fiercely. "I'd tire you any day. I'm going."

The dead dog was lying right in the path, just beyond where we had found the lost coin on that memorable day. The first thing I looked for were traces of a struggle, but if there had been any they were now completely obliterated by hoof marks and footmarks made by Falkner and the Major when they first made the discovery.

"The dog died before sundown," I said, after a momentary examination.