CHAPTER THREE.
THE GIRL.
The girl sang softly to herself as she worked. The said work was of thehomeliest nature, being, in fact, the making of bread.
She looked up suddenly. A ray of the sun, coming round the angle of thehouse, had struck warm warning upon her uncovered head. Picking up thetable on which were the implements of her occupation, she shifted itwell into the shade. This involved no sort of an effort. Then,standing erect, she gazed forth upon the rolling waves of veldt whichfell away in front.
She was a splendid specimen of womanhood: tall and square-shouldered,and built on generous lines, and if she had just missed being beautifulshe was endowed with what was better--a rare power of attractiveness.She had clear hazel eyes, heavily lashed, and when these spoke, togetherwith the smile which displayed the strong white teeth, the face wouldlight up in a way that was dangerously irresistible.
Out on the sunlit expanse in front nothing moved, unless an odd threadof smoke mounting lazily from two or three kraals could be counted. Atthe back broken ground ran immediately up, in the shape of a dark kloof,bushy and rock hung, cleaving the heart of a mountain range, whose cragsand krantzes soared skyward above. Below stood Ben Halse's tradingestablishment, consisting of three or four native huts, a waggon shed,and two quite unpicturesque buildings of corrugated iron. One of thesewas used as a dwelling-house and store, the other as a stable, and inthe shade of the former the girl was working. And she was Ben Halse'sonly daughter.
A lonely position this, for a girl, away in one of the wildest parts ofZululand. But Verna Halse never felt lonely. She was always busy, forshe was her father's right hand, and no single detail of any branch ofhis somewhat ramificatory business was unknown to her. Moreover, shehad interests, the nature of some of which we shall see into anon. Andshe was healthy in mind and body, and utterly unspoiled. As for thepotentiality of danger attaching to the situation Verna would havebroken into one of her frank, winning laughs if anybody had suggestedsuch a thing. She knew abundantly how to take care of herself.
Now she called to a native servant, and bidding him go to the store andfetch another pannikin of flour, her thoughts reverted to her absentfather.
"He'll enjoy this, all hot," she said to herself. "I'll make some of itinto _roster-koekjes_ on the gridiron, Ah, there he is!"
But with the clink of stones a little way off arose the sound of nativevoices, deep-toned, sonorous. It was only some wandering Zulus, afterall. Yet it was time he was back.
Three Zulus came into sight, filing along the narrow path which led pastthe store. Two saluted and passed on, while he who walked foremost cameleisurely up, and, halting, gave the girl greeting in a pleasant voice.He was a magnificent sample of his race. Well over six feet, and builtin proportion, he stood erect as a palm-tree, with a perfectly natural,because unconscious, dignity of mien and movement. Even from a Europeanstandpoint the man was extremely handsome, the high, intellectualforehead, and the lustrous clear eyes, with their frank, straightglance, giving to the well-formed face an air of composure andreliability. His skin was of a rich red copper colour, which renderedhis short, pointed beard and the ring which crowned his shaven head themore jetty in contrast. For attire, besides the _mutya_, or kilt ofcatskins and hide, an ample kaross of dressed leopard skin was flunground him in graceful folds. It might have been noticeable that, unlikenearly all of his countrymen up to date, he wore no trace of Europeanclothing or ornament.
"Where is U' Ben?" began the Zulu. This was Ben Halse's name amongthem, being, of course, an adaptation of his Christian name.
She told him, and then went on to talk--and she spoke the Zulu languagefluently. This man, whose name was Sapazani, was the chief of one ofthe powerful septs which went to make up the Zulu nation, and whichoccupied the adjoining mountain fastnesses. He was on very friendlyterms with Ben Halse, a fact which might yet stand the latter in goodstead, for the secret heart of the nation was seething with unrest,although long since under British rule. Further, it ensured him themonopoly of a roaring trade.
"What is the news?" asked the chief at last.
"News?" echoed Verna, flashing at him a bright glance of merriment."Now what, I would ask, could have happened here that a great chief suchas Sapazani would care to hear about?"
"That I know not, unless that it came from the lips of _Izibu_," heanswered, with a merry twinkle in his eyes.
It is not as a rule respectful for a native to address the superiorwhite by his or her nickname. But "Izibu"--meaning water-lily--Vernaconsidered rather pretty and poetic, and did not discourage its use.Moreover, she had been accustomed to natives all her life, andunderstood them thoroughly. She appreciated, too, the position of herfather and herself among this once kingly race, where they dwelt inperfect security as to person and property, so much so that they nevertroubled to put a lock on anything, not even on the trading store. Nowshe laughed gaily at the compliment which had accompanied the use of thename, and went on chatting, easily, merrily, even banteringly--that toany one unaware of the stern and rigid line of demarcation in suchmatters, between white and coloured, which has ever saturated publicopinion throughout South Africa, it might have seemed that she wascarrying on a sort of mild flirtation with this splendid savage. Thelatter had produced his snuff-box, and was absorbing a portion of itscontents in grave silence.
"But I am forgetting!" exclaimed Verna. "The day is hot, and a visitormust not go away without food and drink."
"Why, as to the last it will be good," answered the chief, with asparkle in his fine eyes. "For the first, I am not hungry."
Herein again in this detail the man differed from his up-to-datecountryman, who will seldom, if ever, refuse anything offered.
Verna rose and went into the house, returning with a large bottle of theexcellent ale they brew in Maritzburg, and a long glass.
"Good!" exclaimed the guest, as he drained the foaming brew. "_Wou_!Our people cannot make such _tywala_ as this." The while he had beennoting, with calm approval, every movement of the girl: the fineerectness of her carriage, the firm walk, straight from the hips. As hetalked he noted, too, the quick movements of her floury hands and arms,for she had resumed her occupation. At last he rose to take leave. Thesun was getting low, he said, and he had still far to travel.
"Wait," said the girl. Then she walked round to the store, returningimmediately with a few unconsidered trifles, such as a largesheath-knife and belt, a packet of snuff and some brass buttons, alsostrings of beads.
"This is something that even a chief may find useful," she said, handinghim the knife, which he accepted with a pleasant murmur of thanks."These," she went on, handing him the smaller things, "will pleaseNonente and Malima," naming two of Sapazani's youngest and favouritewives.
These, too, he took. Verna, putting up both hands to adjust the pins inthe large and rather untidy knot of brown hair at the back of herwell-shaped head, stood contemplating him with a flash of roguishmischief in her eyes; the joke being that she was morally compelling sogreat a chief as Sapazani to carry something, however small, for acouple of mere women. But she reckoned without that potentate's powerof resource.
"Ho, Samhlu!" he called to the stable boy, who was passing, and nowturned hurriedly, obsequiously.
"Thou wilt bear these behind me," said Sapazani, handing him the otherthings. Then, unconcernedly belting the knife round his own exaltedperson, he took a pleasant farewell of his very attractive entertainer,and, followed by the boy, who was one of his own people, strode awayover the veldt.
Verna, looking after him, laughed to herself. Her guest had notmerely--and readily--cut the knot of his own dilemma, but had turned thetables on her by depriving her of the services of her boy for the restof the day. But she thoroughly enjoyed the joke. Soon the tramp ofhoofs struck upon her ear, and she turned with a smile of welcome tomeet her father.
"Well, girlie, and what have you been doing with yourself? Busy asusual?" sung out the
latter, as he swung himself from his horse andshouted for the boy.
"Yes; bread-making. But it's no use calling Samhlu, dear. You won'tsee him again to-day, because he's gone with Sapazani to carry fivestrings of beads and a couple of dozen brass buttons, which thatdebilitated weakling was too feeble to carry himself."
"Sapazani? Has he been here, then? Pity I missed him."
"Just gone." And then she told him about her little bit of innocentmischief, at which the trader threw back his head and roared withlaughter.
"You mustn't play tricks on these big swells, darling," he said,proceeding to do his own off-saddling. "But Sapazani's a real good 'un,bang the opposite of his crusty, slippery old father."
Ben Halse was a tall, fine-looking man, with a large beard; just thesort of man to command the respect of savages; in his dealings with whomhe was invariably straight and reliable. But as a setoff against thisthere were stories about him--stories of shady transactions in thegun-running and liquor-smuggling line, and those in charge of theadministration of the country held him in no very favourable regard.Indeed, it was whispered that there was one even darker count againsthim, which, though a thing of a tolerably remote past, the law mighttake cognisance of even yet. But all these things, although known toVerna, made no difference in the affection and confidence which existedbetween the two. Of her--his only child--he was inordinately fond andproud; and, so far as he was concerned, desired nothing more to completehis happiness in life.
But she? In the full vitality of her splendid youth, was she not boundto "pair"? This was a question he frequently asked himself, and--itneeded no answer.
Forging the Blades: A Tale of the Zulu Rebellion Page 3