by L. T. Meade
*Chapter XIV.*
*POESKOP TO THE RESCUE.*
Upon the afternoon on which Guy Hardcastle had been so busily engagedwith the ostrich hunt, Mr. Blakeney and Tom had returned about fouro'clock. By six o'clock, when it was getting dark, they were--althoughexpecting him in camp at any moment--by no means anxious about him. Mr.Blakeney had heard from Poeskop that Guy had gone out after an ostrich,and ostrich hunting is always a difficult and oftentimes a long andtedious business. Night fell, supper was over, and still the ladtarried. A rifle was now discharged at intervals, and the fires werereplenished, so that the wanderer might be guided to the safe haven ofthe camp. Still no Guy. There was nothing more to be done that night.They imagined that he had wandered farther away than he had intended,and was camping out somewhere. The veldt was not a waterless one, andthere was therefore little anxiety on that score. Still, as morningcame, Mr. Blakeney was determined to lose no time in going out insearch. Something might have happened. The lad might have been thrown,or have suffered some other casualty.
After a hurried breakfast, taking with them Poeskop, Mr. Blakeney andhis son rode out, Poeskop carefully following the spoor made by Guy'spony on the previous day. It took them a long time to puzzle out theintricacies of the spoor, and trace the devious wanderings of theostrich hunt. But they came in time to the place where Guy had killedthe bird. Then they traced him to the valley among the hills where hehad camped. Here they at once discovered other spoor as well as Guy's.To the Englishmen, accustomed as they were to veldt life, it wasdifficult to understand what had actually happened. To Poeskop thewhole story was plain enough. He searched about quietly for a fewminutes, then he told his tale.
"Karl Engelbrecht has been here," he said suddenly.
"Karl Engelbrecht!" repeated Mr. Blakeney. "Surely you are mistaken,Poeskop?"
"No, baas," reiterated the Bushman; "there is no mistake. Karl has beenhere. I know his spoor too well. He and another white man, the manfrom Mossamedes, Antonio Minho, have been here."
Mr. Blakeney knew by experience the extraordinary powers of SouthAfrican natives, and especially those of Bushman blood, in readingspoor. But he was staggered.
"How can you know it is the spoor of Antonio Minho?" he asked.
"Baas," replied Poeskop, "I have followed Minho many a time in the soft,sandy streets of Mossamedes. There is no mistaking his spoor. Once Ihave seen a man's footprints, or an ox's, or a horse's, I can tell itanywhere. To you it may seem difficult; to a Bushman, no!"
"Well," rejoined Mr. Blakeney, "anything else?"
"Ja, baas," pursued the Bushman. "There are, as you see, two others.They are natives--Karl Engelbrecht's servants."
"This is bad news, Tom," said Mr. Blakeney, with a troubled brow."Wherever Karl Engelbrecht is there is mischief. Minho is a scoundrel,and we know that he had some inkling of what we were after. The Boerhas a grudge against us, which he would like to pay off. I don't halflike the look of things." Then, turning to Poeskop, he went on: "Well,what else?"
"You see, my baases," replied Poeskop, "there has been a bit of ascuffle here. These men have caught Baas Guy, tied him up, I think, andput him on his horse, and gone off with him. Now let us follow theirspoor."
They followed the tracks up the valley for half a mile, and then came onplain evidences of the Boer camp.
"Here's a pretty how-d'ye-do!" said Mr. Blakeney seriously. "What onearth are these villains doing in this part of the world, Poeskop? Wemust follow them up."
The Bushman took up the spoor, and they followed the Boer wagon trackswithout any difficulty. By afternoon they had cleared the forestregion, and were now halted in a small grove of giraffe-acacia trees bya pan of water, about twelve miles distant from the mountain range inwhich Engelbrecht and his party had ensconced themselves.
"Baas," said Poeskop, "you and Baas Tom must wait here. KarlEngelbrecht has trekked for the berg yonder. He cannot be far in; hisoxen could not have travelled much beyond the _poort_ [pass] which yousee there"--he pointed to a dark ravine giving entrance to thehills--"in the time. So soon as evening comes, I will ride on, tie upmy horse near the poort yonder, and creep about till I find what hasbeen done, and where Baas Guy is. What say you? Is not that the bestplan?"
"Yes, Poeskop," said Mr. Blakeney, "I think that is the best thing thatcan be done. You will have an hour or two's good moon to-night; and ifyou can't creep about and find out things, I don't know who can."
Poeskop grinned at the compliment.
"Baas, I will find out all right," he said eagerly. "I like BaasGuy--he is my baas; and I will, somehow or other, bring him away with meif I can. At all events, I will reach him. We Bushmen, you know, cancreep like the snake on his stomach. I shall becreep Baas Guy to-night.You will see. Poeskop knows. You stay here. I will come back bymorning. If I can bring Baas Guy, well and good. If not, we try someother plan."
"Very well," said Mr. Blakeney, "we will wait here. Do the best you can,but don't run Baas Guy into danger. Get him away if you think you havea fair chance. Now, how many cartridges have you, if these fellows comeout and we have to use our rifles?"
"I have seventeen," interrupted Tom, hastily running his fingers overhis bandolier.
"And I have fourteen myself," added his father.
Poeskop fingered his greasy old bandolier.
"Nine, baas!" he said, grinning.
"Why, you're as niggardly as a Boer with your cartridges," said Mr.Blakeney, with a laugh. "I've often told you that you don't carryenough for emergencies. Here, when we're in a tight place and may wantevery bullet we've got, you're short."
"The baas is right," said Poeskop apologetically. "I'll never come soshort again. Never mind. Perhaps I may find some more in KarlEngelbrecht's camp; who knows?"
"Well, don't play the fool and do anything rash," added his master."What we want to do is to rescue Baas Guy, and get away. At our owncamp we have plenty of rifles and cartridges, and, with our other men,can give a good account of Karl Engelbrecht and all his blackguards."
Guy, meanwhile, had passed the day by no means comfortably. He had beenduly fed, it is true, his hands being untied for the purpose; but whilethey trekked he had been fastened up again, and placed on Engelbrecht'skartel in the forepart of the Boer wagon. There he lay throughout thelong, hot day, wondering what his people were doing after discoveringhis absence, and what was to be the upshot of his captivity. At evening,after they had passed into the kloof and the entrance had beenbarricaded, he was taken down from the wagon and placed by the campfire, where, his hands being again unbound, he was supplied with meat,bread, and coffee. Having made a respectable meal, Guy felt somewhatmore cheerful; and the liberty of his hands being allowed him for halfan hour further, he was enabled to stretch himself, chafe his benumbedwrists, and restore the circulation.
He noticed various circumstances as he looked about him. KarlEngelbrecht and Minho kept themselves pretty much to themselves, sittingat their own fire, and engaging in a good deal of earnest conversation.Once the big Boer got up and stretched himself, and came over to thefire at which Guy sat. Here were gathered the five natives comprisingEngelbrecht's retinue--a villainous-looking Griqua, who had specialcharge of Guy, two Hottentots, and a couple of Bihe natives. The Boerlooked fixedly at the English lad, but said not a word to him. Headdressed a few sentences to his servants; told Thebus, the Griqua, tofasten up his captive's hands again, and look sharply after him duringthe night; and stalked back to his own fire.
Half an hour later he and Minho retired to their kartels, and were soonsound asleep. The natives sat talking round the fire for anotherquarter of an hour; and then, tired with their hard day's trek, and thelabour of barricading the poort, they made their way to Engelbrecht'swagon, beneath which, having ensconced themselves under their blankets,they were not long in following their master's example. There remainedby their camp fire, which lay farthest away from the
wagon, only Guy andthe Griqua. The latter threw a blanket carelessly over his captive, andthen settling himself comfortably under his kaross, a few feet away,went to sleep. Thebus was a light sleeper, he had by his side a loadedrifle, and he knew that the English lad was securely fastened.
Guy awoke very quietly some hours later. The moon had sunk; theSouthern Cross, which he had last seen glittering bolt upright in thedark, star-sown night sky, now lay well over on its side. What hadroused him? He knew that something had touched him; what exactly, hissenses could not inform him. Then he felt a quiet, almost caressingtouch upon his shoulder, and a voice whispered very softly in his ear,in Dutch, "Lie still, baas; it is Poeskop!" Guy did as he was told,and, immediately, he felt hands busy at the rawhide riem that bound hisankles. Then he became aware that a knife was at work; then his legswere free. A dark figure wormed itself up, towards his hands, and withthe same silence and expedition his wrists were set free.
"Now," whispered the voice in his ear again, "creep away to the otherside of the fire. Go very gently."
"But Thebus?" whispered Guy.
"Thebus all right; he'll not move again," returned Poeskop. "Come!"
Guy shuddered. He guessed what had happened, but did as he was told,and began to roll himself very gently over the sand towards the otherside of the fire. Suddenly a dog barked in its sleep. The threefigures--they appeared to be but two, for Poeskop lay crouched closealongside the Griqua--lay motionless as stones. Then all was silentagain.
"Now," whispered Poeskop, after a pause of three minutes. They creptaway, and after what seemed to Guy to be ages--so great was thestrain--had reached the farther side of the fire. Guy looked across.Thebus lay as if sleeping, and Poeskop had so arranged Guy's blanketthat it seemed as if he, Guy, were still beneath it. They crept yetfarther, and were beyond the light of the now fading fire. It was awarm night, and Guy, what with the labour of crawling and the intensenervous excitement, dripped with perspiration. Still farther they creptinto the darkness, and then Poeskop, taking Guy by the hand, led himvery softly round the camp towards the mouth of the kloof. They reachedthe inner end of the poort, now blocked with huge boulders, and began toclimb as softly as they could. The Bushman pulled himself over theobstacles with the lightness and the noiselessness of a cat. Guy didhis utmost to follow his example, but he was much heavier; and presentlya boulder, becoming dislodged under his weight, fell with some littlenoise. Instantly there rose from the stillness of the camp, sixty yardsaway, the furious barking of wagon dogs. Men stirred about the wagons.
"Quick!" cried Poeskop, in a hoarse whisper. "We must run!"
They were quickly over the litter of rocks, and running down the gorgeas fast as the semi-darkness would permit. The camp was astir; voiceswere heard calling to one another; they could even make out KarlEngelbrecht's deep tones shouting commands.
"Run, Baas Guy!" urged Poeskop, turning to his follower. "If Karlcatches us we are dead men."
They ran yet faster. They had a good start, and in fifteen minutes hadreached the mouth of the gorge. Here, in a snug corner among some bush,Poeskop had fastened up his horse. It was a risk. If a lion or aleopard had come that way, the Bushman's plans might have been easilyoverthrown. But the good nag was safe. Unfastening it in an instant,Poeskop led it out into the open.
"Now, Baas Guy," he said, "jump up. I hear them following us. We haveno time to waste."
Guy needed no persuasion. He, too, had heard the voices of theirpursuers; they could now even discern the beat of their footsteps. Hesprang up. Poeskop leaped lightly behind him.
"Ride for the light yonder," he whispered, pointing to a brilliant starright in front of them, low down towards the horizon. A kick fromPoeskop's bare heels, and away they went, the pony cantering alongsturdily in the semi-darkness, despite the burden of a double load.
"We shall be all right now," said Poeskop. "It will take them half anhour or more to pull down those boulders and make a passage for a horse;but we must push on. Karl Engelbrecht and the Portuguee will certainlyride after us, perhaps also some of their men. They will have blood forthe Griqua--if they can. And here comes daylight; we have no time tospare."
Guy looked towards the east, which lay nearly in front of them. It wastrue. Already the sky was paling. Dawn would be upon them in less thanhalf an hour.
"Poeskop," he said, without turning in the saddle, "did you kill theGriqua?"
"Ja, baas, I did," replied the Bushman. "It was his life or mine. As Icrept past him he stirred. I had my hand on his mouth. He struggled,and there was nothing for it but the knife."
"I'm sorry, very sorry," said Guy seriously. "You ought not to havedone it. I hate the idea of killing a man like that. I wish now youhadn't come after me!"
"Well, baas, it was, as I say, my life or his. If Engelbrecht hadcaught me in his camp trying to rescue you, I was a dead man. And youyourself--if it suited his plans best, he would have put a bulletthrough you as soon as looked at you. Besides, Thebus was my enemy.Many a time he has sjamboked me, and drawn blood, when I was in KarlEngelbrecht's service. He treated me as badly as Karl himself did. Ialways said I would be even with him, and now I am. Pas op!" he cried,as the horse stumbled in a meerkat hole.
The poor beast floundered, tried to save itself, but came down on itshead, bringing both riders to the ground. They were up in an instant,and, getting the pony to its feet again, remounted.
But, alas! it quickly became apparent that the pony had in some wayinjured its shoulder in the fall. It went very lame; and the lameness,as they rode on, increased instead of wearing off. Daylight was nowrapidly overtaking them. The eastern sky was becoming suffused withwondrous hues of gold and crimson and pale green; long shafts of rosypink were scattered upwards towards the zenith.
Poeskop turned and looked behind him.
"Baas," he said, "this is a bad job. They will all be coming after ussoon on their horses, and then, with this lame pony, we are done for,unless we can lie up somewhere and defend ourselves. I don't like it."
"How far away are we from Mr. Blakeney and Baas Tom?" asked Guy.
"About an hour and a half's ordinary riding," replied the Bushman; "lessthan an hour if we could gallop hard. We must get off, and runalongside."
They slipped off the pony. Poeskop, who had his own carbine slung athis back, handed Guy a rifle and bandolier.
"Why, these are mine!" exclaimed Guy. "How did you get them?"
"I found them by the Griqua," responded the Bushman, "and so broughtthem away with me. Now, baas, hartloup!"
Guy took hold of the pony by the bridle, and they trotted along oneither side at a good pace. For a little while the pony, relieved ofits burden, seemed to move more freely. The improvement was but afleeting one, however; the lameness grew worse. It became evident tothe two runners that their pace was rapidly decreasing.
"This will never do," said Guy, looking with dismay at Poeskop. "What'sto be done?"
"The pony is dead beat, baas," rejoined the Bushman. "We must just leavehim to take his chance, and push on. I'll take the water-bottle, and wemust run."
So speaking, and taking the water-bottle, they pressed on. They had nowcome some three miles from the mouth of the kloof where Poeskop hadfirst left the pony. Another nine or ten miles lay between them and thewoodland where Mr. Blakeney and Tom lay waiting the result of Poeskop'sexpedition of discovery. Guy was a first-rate runner, and had the paceof the Bushman. Poeskop, on the other hand, could go at a steady jogtrot during the whole of a long day, and had often compassed fifty milesin a journey of ten or twelve hours. They were encumbered with theirrifles and ammunition, and Poeskop carried the water-bottle, all ofwhich tended, of course, to increase their difficulties.
As they trotted across the open plain Poeskop looked behind him.
"They're not coming yet," he said. "We must make the most of ourstart."
Away they went, running steadily at a pace of rather better than
sevenmiles an hour, which, under all the circumstances, and seeing that theywere moving through longish grass, was excellent going. For a couple ofmiles they kept this up.
"Baas," said Poeskop presently, looking at Guy with a strange, comicalexpression on his yellow, pinched face, "your legs are too long for me.I can hardly keep up with you."
"All right," said Guy cheerfully; "I'll slacken off a bit."
But at that moment Poeskop looked round over his shoulder towards theentrance to the gorge.
"They're coming!" he cried. "I shall run your pace after all. Now wemust go till we drop. If I were only a hartebeest and you a springbok!Run, baas, run!"
Guy glanced back, and saw four mounted figures just emerging from thedark gorge on to the yellow plain. Broad daylight was upon the veldt.It was evident that their pursuers must have already sighted them. Thesituation was becoming serious indeed. They ran stoutly on, saying not aword, and directing their course for a clump of bush and low timberwhich, with two or three other similar patches, rose like islets uponthe sea of plain.
But their pursuers were now galloping hard, and were getting over theground just twice as fast as the two footmen toiling along in front ofthem. Already the hoof-strokes of the galloping horses could bedistinguished by the two runners.
"Baas," gasped Poeskop, "we shall just reach the timber, and that's all.We shall want three minutes to get breath and steady ourselves."
Well and stoutly as they ran, it seemed as if the last three hundredyards that separated them from the islet of bush never would beaccomplished. The haven was reached at last, and the two fugitivesplunging in, sank down behind a couple of trees having a low screen ofbush in front of them, and prepared for action.
The nearest of their pursuers, Karl Engelbrecht, was now but threehundred yards away. A hundred yards behind him galloped a nativeservant; then followed Minho, the Portuguese, and another mountednative. Engelbrecht drew rein, jumped from his horse, and taking quickaim, fired at the two runners just as they took shelter behind thetrees. The bullet whistled idly by. The Boer waited till his comradescame up, and then, spreading out a few yards apart, they advanced at awalk upon the islet, their plan evidently being to envelop it. By thetime they had approached within two hundred yards, the fugitives hadrecovered breath, and were prepared for them.
"Baas," whispered Poeskop, a fierce light gleaming in his set face, "youare the best shot. Fire first. Take plenty time."
Guy nodded. They were lying down; and resting his elbows on the groundand putting up his Martini rifle, he aimed at the big figure of theBoer, who, now mounted again, was advancing upon the patch of covert.Two hundred and fifty yards was the distance. The ivory rifle-sight wasupon the Boer's body, Guy's finger upon the trigger. Should he fire?No, the lad thought; he would not spill the man's blood if he could helpit. He lowered the rifle, and, taking aim at Engelbrecht's horse,pulled. It was a long shot, but a pretty good target. The result was,perhaps, most unexpected to Karl Engelbrecht himself, who had scarcelyanticipated much resistance. At the loud report of the Martini, hishorse fell instantly to the ground. In the next minute the poor beastwas choking in its death struggle. Karl stumbled to his feet with a bigDutch oath, dropped in the grass, and, taking aim for the place whencethe shot had been fired, let drive. It was a good shot; so good thatthe Westley-Richards .450 sporting bullet hit the tree behind which Guycrouched, striking it a terrific smack, within six inches of the lad'sface.
Guy shifted his position and prepared for another shot. Meanwhile,Poeskop had got the Boer within range, and had let drive threesuccessive shots in such close proximity to Engelbrecht's carcass thatthat worthy had deemed it wise to beat a hasty retreat. Worming himselfthrough the grass, therefore, Engelbrecht crawled back a hundred pacesor more, where he was joined by Antonio Minho, who, from thatcomparatively long range, now fired a shot or two at the patch of bushin front of them.
Meanwhile, one of the natives was riding round to the left, evidentlywith the object of getting a flanking shot into the defenders' position.Guy had no intention of being thus outflanked. He realized that hisopponents meant business, and that this was no time for leniency, or anyhalf-hearted measures. The mounted native came round within less thantwo hundred yards. As he turned and pulled up his horse, in order tofire from the saddle, Guy got a fair bead on him, and, pulling trigger,sent a bullet into the man's shoulder. The native staggered in hissaddle, dropped his rifle with a loud yell, and, sorely wounded, layforward upon the neck of his horse and rode off. Circling away from thedangerous proximity of the islet, the man rejoined his master, and fellfainting to the soil. Poeskop was delighted with the success of thedefence thus far. The group of assailants was now some three hundredand fifty yards away, but a well-judged bullet from the Bushman's riflestruck the wounded native's horse, and completed the discomfiture of theparty. Karl Engelbrecht, cursing the young Englishman and hisassistant, and swearing horrible vengeance at some future time, nowdeemed it well to retreat. A dead and wounded horse, and a badlyinjured native, was sufficient punishment for him. Tying up his man'swound, and putting him upon the spare horse, the Boer and his party nowdrew sullenly off, their retreat hastened by the figures of two horsemenwhich they descried far off upon the plain behind Guy and Poeskop. Onthe way back to their mountain retreat, Minho rode a little off theroute to secure the Englishman's unfortunate horse, which was nowgrazing on the veldt. Finding that the poor beast was too lame totravel, he shot it dead. This brutal act was witnessed by Poeskop froma tree into which he had climbed.
"Poor Blesbok," said Guy, at the intelligence. "I'll do my best to makethings level with the brutes. I'm sorry now I didn't shoot Engelbrechtinstead of his horse. I had a fair chance, and let it go. As for thatPortuguese cur, I'll be even with him, somehow or other."
"My baas," returned Poeskop, grinning in high contentment, "if you'lltake my advice, you'll never give Karl Engelbrecht another chance inthis world. You might as well offer a good joint of meat to a stinkinghyaena. If you don't watch it and kill Karl, he'll kill you. I knowhim. He'll never rest till he has another slap at us. Never mind;we've bested him this time, and we'll best him again...... Hurrah! herecome Baas Blakeney and Baas Tom. They'll be pleased, anyway."
Guy and the Bushman stepped out of the covert which had proved so timelya refuge for them, and, waving their rifles, drew the attention of thetwo horsemen, who were now cantering towards them. In twenty minutesthey were together once more.