Forging the Blades: A Tale of the Zulu Rebellion

by Bertram Mitford

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  DRAWING IN.

  "Mr Denham, I think we'll change the programme, shall we?" said Verna,as she came out, got up for the ride. "Instead of going down we'll goup, if you don't mind. Do you?"

  "Why, of course not. I am in your hands entirely."

  The horses were waiting, saddled, the boy walking them up and down.Verna was in a sort of khaki-coloured riding habit, with a hat to match.In it was a subtle combination of the fashionable and civilised buildwith the congruous costume of the locality and surroundings that sat heraltogether charmingly.

  "All right, then. I'll take you where you will get a beautiful view;and the road is delightful. If you feel like getting off to look for aspecimen, do so at any time. Now, will you put me into that saddle?"

  The smile she beamed at him recalled him to himself. The naked truth ofit was that Denham had about shed himself, as a snake sheds its skin.He was a hard-headed man of the world--a keen, successful financier, yetby now he was dimly realising that he scarcely knew himself.Experiences came back to him--crowded up galore; yet it seemed to bereserved for him that he should meet, in the wilds of Zululand--and thewilds of Zululand can be very wild indeed, even up to date--anexperience utterly outside of all that had gone before.

  "Thanks," she said, gathering up her reins. "Now we must go exactlywhere we like, and do exactly what we like. We are going to make aneasy afternoon of it."

  "Certainly," he answered. "I am very much in luck's way. I neverreckoned on being taken so much care of."

  "No? Well, you shall be. But I don't think you require much takingcare of after having picked your way all through the Makanya bushalone."

  That allusion again. Denham felt a droop all of a sudden. Yet it wasonly momentary. He had been alone with Verna practically the whole day.Ben Halse had not returned for the midday dinner, and they had gotthrough it _a deux_. Thus together alone, the situation had set himthinking a great deal. In fancy he had pictured her sitting oppositehim, as in that plain, rather primitive room, for any time, and the ideawas pleasing.

  Their way lay upward, the track so narrow in parts that they had to rideone behind the other, an arrangement fatal to conversation, for youcannot conveniently shout back over your shoulder. Now it led throughsome deep kloof, where the tall forest trees shut out the light of thesun, and the green depths were stirred by mysterious noises; now up arocky steep, but ever at a foot's pace. Verna was leading the way, andthe other was admiring with all his might the poise of her splendidfigure, sitting her horse so perfectly and gracefully; and though thesurrounding bush was teeming with all sorts of strange life, dear to thenaturalist, this one, for once, forgot to notice it, so engrossed was hein the contemplation of his guide.

  "This is where I wanted to bring you," said the latter at last. "We'llhitch up the horses here and walk the rest of the path."

  They had emerged upon an open gully, high up on the range. A shortclimb, and they gained a great natural window in a tooth-shaped rockwhich overlooked a vast, tumbled mass of crag and valley and crater.Forest and open country lay spread out beneath, extending away inbillowy roll for miles upon miles into dim, misty distance.

  "By Jove! but it's splendid!" cried Denham, as he gazed out over this."I vote we sit here a bit and look at it."

  "I thought you'd like it," she answered. "Yes, let's have a rest."

  They sat down within the great rock-window, drinking in the splendidair, the world, as it were, at their feet. But somehow, and all of asudden, a constraint, a silence, seemed to have fallen between them. Itwas perfectly unaccountable on any ground whatever, still it was thereall the same. Could it be that by some mysterious phase of telepathyboth were thinking the same thing? and that each knew that the otherknew it? For there existed a tremendous mutual "draw" between thesetwo, and yet they had only known each other a few days.

  Then by some equally sudden and unaccountable phase of telepathy theconstraint was mutually broken. The same idea had come into both theirminds. It would never do to let this sort of thing take a hold on themthus early. Verna began to point out various landmarks, near and far.

  "Look," she said, turning from the open view, and pointing to aparticularly tumbled and bushy range of hills about six miles off."That's where Sapazani's kraal is. We'll ride over some day and pay hima visit. How would you like that?"

  "Very much indeed. I'd like to study these fellows a bit. They seeminteresting. By the way, do you know what I've done, Miss Halse?"

  "What?"

  "Why, I've buried myself. I mean that I've put myself clean out ofcommunication with the old country, except on the part of oneconfidential man in my business, and even he can't communicate beyondDurban. How's that for a prime way of taking a change?"

  "Quite good. But what about the business side of it?"

  "Oh, that's all right. I've thoroughly fixed up all that. But it'srather a joke, you know, effecting a complete disappearance."

  Then he went on to tell her a good deal about himself, yet withoutseeming to do so egotistically, of his early struggles, of his nowassured position, of many an incident and more than one crisis in hislife. To all of which she listened with vivid interest, withappreciation and sympathy.

  "I am boring you, I'm afraid--" he broke off.

  "No, indeed. I am very much interested. What a hole and corner sort oflife mine must seem to you!"

  "Do you know you are a very great puzzle to me?"--he had nearly said"Verna."

  "Yes. Why?"

  "You might have been everywhere, seen everything, from the way in whichyou talk. How on earth did you pick it up?--and you say you have neverbeen outside Natal, except to the Rand."

  "Well, it's true," she answered, looking pleased. "I accept yourverdict--as another compliment--and feel only proud."

  The constraint was broken down between them now, and they talked on andfreely. There was that in the fact of her companion having told her somuch about his life that wonderfully fascinated Verna. What was thereabout her that this strong, capable man of the world should take herinto his confidence, especially on such short acquaintance? More andmore she felt drawn towards him. How strange it must have been, she wasthinking, before this new companionship had come into her life! And yetit was barely more than a week old.

  And Denham? As he sat there chatting easily, the rings of blue smokefloating off lazily upon the still air, he too was thinking--andthinking pretty much the same thing. Again this new experience had cometo him just at the right time. There was nothing to mar his enjoymentof it. A very short while earlier--well--there might have been. Butnot now. Yet while they talked he was studying his companion keenly.There was no posing, no little coquettish touches. She was perfectlynatural.

  "What a splendid thing it is to feel quite easy in one's mind!" he wenton, in pursuance of the subject of having, as he said, "buried" himself."I can afford to feel that way just now, and it's real luxury. Ihaven't always been able to, no, not by any means."

  He broke off suddenly, then, as though moved by some strange impulse,went on--

  "I wonder what moved me to tell you so much about myself. It wasn't forthe mere love of talking."

  "Of course not. I was so interested--_am_, I ought to have said."Verna's eyes grew wonderfully soft as they met his. "It might, too,have been a certain sympathy."

  "That's it," he answered. "There was one thing I did not tell you,though. I wonder if I ever shall."

  "That rests with yourself," she answered. "But why should you?"

  "Upon my soul I don't know."

  They were looking straight at each other. The atmosphere seemed highlycharged. To Verna, in her then frame of mind, the enigmatical nature ofthe remark opened all sorts of possibilities. She was strongly tauntedto reply, "Yes, tell me now, whatever it is." But she remembered theirshort acquaintance, and the fact that this man was only a passing guestto make whose stay a pleasant one was only a part of her duty. Thes
ympathetic vein cooled, then hardened.

  Somehow her mood communicated itself to the other, perhaps another signof the unconscious bond of sympathy between them. What had he so nearlydone? he asked himself. Let out one of the most momentous secrets thatcould lie on any man, and to an acquaintance of a few days. But somehowthe last expression rang hollow in his mind. Yet still, here was he, ahard-headed, experienced man of the world. He must not allow himself tobe thrown off his balance under the influences of sunlight and air, andthe drawing sympathy of a very rare and alluring personality. So theydrifted off upon ordinary topics again, and at last Verna suggested itwas time to be going home.

  "Well, you have brought me to a lovely spot, for a first ride," saidDenham, as they took their way down the hill. "If you go on as you havebegun I may be in danger of camping in these parts altogether. Hallo,"he broke off. "It's as well we came down when we did. That fellowmight have gone off with our horses."

  "He wouldn't have," answered Verna. "They are more like the old-timeZulus up here, when you could leave everything about and not a thingwould disappear. Now, of course, civilisation has spoiled most ofthem."

  The man referred to, who had been squatting with his back towards them,now rose. He was a tall Zulu, and ringed; and he carried a small shieldand a large assegai, the latter of which he had no business under thelaws of the ruling race to be carrying at all. And Denham could notrepress a start, for this was the same man he had run against twice atEzulwini--and once before. He felt thoughtful. There seemed to be somedesign behind the fellow's sporadic appearance.

  "Who are you?" said Verna. "Not of Sapazani? I know all his`children.'"

  "_Inkosazana_!"

  "What is your name?"

  "Mandevu."

  "Mandevu!" she echoed thoughtfully. "Ah, now I remember."

  "_Inkosazana_!"

  "Where from?"

  The man looked at her, and shook his head whimsically. He was rather agood-looking savage, decided Denham, especially now that he haddiscarded European clothing.

  "From nowhere," he answered, but with a curious glance at Denham, whichthe latter understood, and it set him thinking more deeply than ever.He remembered the bad character given him by Inspector James. Helikewise remembered something else. Things were thickening up a bit.Verna talked a little longer, and then the Zulu resumed his way, whenthey followed his example.

  "Is that your name among them?" asked Denham, as they rode along."Inkosazana?"

  "No," answered Verna, laughing merrily. "It's only a title. Inkosikaziis `chieftainess,' and would be used for the principal wife of a chief.Inkosazana is a diminutive of it, and would be used for a chief'sdaughters. In a word `Miss.'"

  "I see. I shall really have to learn--under your tuition."

  "You really will," she answered. And then they talked on as they rodehome in the drooping day; and the evening lights shed full and varyingupon the roll of landscape, the voices of wild Nature coming up frommysterious forest depths on either side, and the presence of thissplendid girl beside him set Denham again thinking that this first daywas nearly, if not quite, the most marvellous experience he had yetknown.

  Ben Halse had returned before they had. At table Verna was giving anaccount of their ride, mentioning, of course, their meeting with theZulu. Denham could not help noticing that his host's interest quickenedat once.

  "Mandevu!" he repeated. "What's he doing in these parts, I wonder? Didhe say, Verna?"

  "Not he. He was as close as an oyster."

  "Why, he was at Ezulwini the other day."

  "Who is he, Mr Halse?" asked Denham. "A chief?"

  "In a small way, yes. But--Well, this is a rum part of the world--farmore so than you'd think, coming in upon it from the outside, and thereare rum things done every other day that nobody knows anything about. Iwouldn't tell every one that, but, then, we seem to be standing intogether, you and I, or rather the three of us. So I don't mind lettingon that the presence of Mandevu in these parts just now does set methinking a bit."

  Denham didn't care to push his inquiries, not then, at any rate. Butthe appearance of the mysterious Zulu had set _him_ thinking too. Ofwhich, however, he said nothing to his host.