Diamond Dyke

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

  OUT OF PATIENCE.

  The wagon came slowly up as Dyke stood watching the roaring river, fullfrom side to side with the waters, which resulted from a cloud-burst inthe distant mountains, where storms had been raging on the previous day,that which they had encountered a short time before being the remains ofone of the drifts which had passed over the great plain.

  As he drove up, Jack sat grinning pleasantly upon the box, and of hisown will turned the bullocks into a meadow-like opening, whose freshherbage, sparkling still with clinging raindrops, set the animals lowingwith satisfaction before stooping from time to time to snatch a mouthfulof the grass.

  Jack evidently thought it would be a splendid place for a camp, andwithout waiting for orders, shouted to the bullocks to stop, anddescending from his seat, after laying aside his whip, began to outspan.

  Dyke took in every action, knowing that it was only an endorsement ofhis own thoughts that the full river meant in all probability a halt fordays. There was the possibility of his being able to swim his horseacross somewhere higher up or lower down; but after a few minutes'inspection he felt that this was quite hopeless, though, even if it hadbeen practicable, he knew that he could not leave his charge.

  So vexatious when so near home!

  "Might have known," he said to himself bitterly. "Everything was goingon too easily. But the rain might have stopped for another day or two."

  He tried hard to be philosophic and to take matters calmly, but it wastoo hard work, especially, too, when the Kaffir seemed in such highglee, and bustled about the outspanning, as if looking forward to somedays of rest, with nothing to do but eat and sleep.

  The boy thought hard as he dismounted, hobbled his cob, and let himbegin to graze in company with the draught oxen; but he soon gave thatup, and went and stood watching the rushing river, knowing full wellthat he was completely shut away from Kopfontein, and that he could donothing but wait patiently till the river sank to its old level.

  "And that," he said dismally, "will be quite a week."

  Things might have been worse. In fact, some people would have beendelighted with the position. For the spot was beautiful; the wagonformed a comfortable sleeping tent, provisions and water were plentiful,and there was ample opportunity for adding to the larder by tying inwait at early morning and late evening for the birds and animals whichcame from far out in the desert to drink.

  In fact, during his dreary wait, Dyke tried to amuse himself by watchingthe various animals that came down one deeply trampled track, on eitherside of which the place was thickly bushed and dotted with fine foresttrees, well grown, from their nearness to water.

  Antelopes of many kinds came down, from tiny gazelles up to the greateland. One morning he was delighted by the coming of a little herd ofabout a dozen giraffes, and he crouched among the bushes, watching themdrink; the towering bull of about eighteen feet in height began bystraddling out its forelegs in the most ungraceful way, till it couldlower itself enough to reach the water with its lips.

  Another time he was startled by the coming of a huge white rhinoceros,which careered through the bushes in a fierce, determined way,displaying its great power and indifference to every other beast of theforest.

  Lions, too, came once and pulled down an antelope, making the wagoncattle extremely uneasy, but going away after their banquet, andtroubling the camp no more.

  But the river remained as full as ever, the waters rushing furiouslydown, and Dyke grew angry at last against his brother.

  "Joe knows I'm overdue," he said, "and he ought to have come to see whyI am detained. Why, after that rain he ought to have known that theriver would be full. It's too bad. I thought better of him; butperhaps he'll come to-day."

  And with this hope the boy climbed one of the biggest rocks to where hecould gaze across the river and over the plain on the other side,looking out in expectancy of seeing the big weedy horse his brother rodecoming toward the ford, but he watched in vain day after day, while Jackkept the fire going, and cooked and ate and slept without a care, noteven seeming to give a thought to the wife waiting at Kopfontein, or,judging from appearances, to anything else but his own desires.

  "I should like to kick him--a lazy brute!" Dyke said to himself; "butthere's nothing to kick him for now. He does all there is to do. Isuppose I'm out of temper at having to wait so. Here's a whole weekgone, and the river higher than ever."

  Dyke had one other novelty to study--a novelty to him, for previously hehad seen but little of them. This novelty was a party of baboons of allsizes, from the big, heavy males down to the young ones, whichapproached from some distance on the other side, clinging to theirmothers' backs and necks. These strange, dog-like creatures came downfrom a high clump of rocks or kopje regularly every evening in the sameway; and though they had been heard and seen frequently during thedaytime, chattering, barking, and gambolling about, chasing one anotherin and out, and over the stones, as if thoroughly enjoying the sport,toward the time for their visit to the river all would be very silent,and in a cautious, watchful way a big old male, who seemed to be thecaptain or chief of the clan, would suddenly trot out on to a big block,and stand there carefully scanning the patch of forest and the plainbeyond for danger. Then he would change to a nearer naturalwatch-tower, and have another long scrutiny, examining every spot likelyto harbour an enemy, till, apparently satisfied, he would descend, godown to the river and drink, and then trot back to his lookout.

  After a few minutes' watch, he would then give a signal, a quick, short,barking sound, at which the rocks beyond, which the moment before hadappeared to be deserted, suddenly became alive with baboons of allsizes, which came running down to the water in perfect confidence thatall was well, and that their old chief high up on the rock would givethem fair warning of the approach of any of their feline enemies,leopard or lion, with a taste for the semi-human kind.

  Upon one occasion Dyke suddenly started up, shouted, and fired his gun,for the sake of seeing what effect it would have.

  Instant flight he felt sure; but he was not prepared for all thatfollowed.

  At the first sound there was a rush--a regular _sauve qui peut_; butthere was a method in it. Mothers caught up their little ones, whichfled to them for protection, and one big male made a kind ofdemonstration to cover the flight, while the old fellow on the rocksprang about, barking, shouting, and making little charges at theinterrupter, not leaving his post till all had reached their sanctuary,when he followed to the kopje, and turned with others to stand, barkinghoarsely, and picking up and throwing stones, with every sign of angrydefiance, till their persecutor disappeared.

  Nine days had passed, and then the river began to shrink rapidly.

  Dyke hailed the change with eagerness, for he had been growing terriblyanxious, and more and more convinced that something must be wrong, orEmson would have come down to the flooded ford; while at last histhoughts had taken a definite shape, one so full of horror, that hetrembled for the task he had to perform--that of going home to putmatters to the proof.

  He shivered at the idea, for now he could only place this terribleinterpretation upon his brother's silence--he must have come to meethim, tried to swim his horse across the river, and have been swept away.

  That last night was almost sleepless, for whenever the boy dropped off,with the light of the fire they kept up glancing on the canvas, hestarted back into wakefulness again, wondering whether the river wasstill going down, or some fancied sound meant a fresh accession to theflood-waters coming down from the mountains.

  The morning broke at last, and leaping out of the wagon, Dyke ran downtoward the river, closely followed by the dog, now nearly recovered,scaring away a buck which had been lurking in the covert, the gracefullittle creature bounding away before him giving pretty good proof of thesatisfactory state of the river by dashing over the thick bed ofintervening sand and stones, splashing through the water, and boundingup the other side.

 
The waters were down, leaving a deep bed of sand, and with a place toford that was evidently not knee-deep.

  Dyke ran excitedly back, gave his orders, and to Jack's great disgust hehad to inspan, mount on the wagon-box, and shout to the oxen to _trek_,the well-rested beasts willingly dragging the wagon through the heavyloose drift and down into the water, which did not rise to the naves ofthe wheels. It took rather a hard pull to get up the other side, butthe difficulty was soon mastered, the bullocks following Breezy, as hismaster led the way, and in half an hour after starting they were at lastwell on the road to Kopfontein, whose rocky mound stood up clearly inthe morning light.

  Dyke restrained his impatience a little longer--that is, till the wagonwas well on its way over the plain; then touching Breezy's sides he wenton ahead at a gallop, the roofing of the house and sheds graduallygrowing plainer; then there were the ostrich-pens, with a few dimly seenbirds stalking about, and object after object coming rapidly into sight.But there was no one visible: there appeared to be no blue thread ofsmoke rising in the morning air, where Tanta Sal was boiling the kettle;all looked wonderfully still, and had it not been for the ostriches hereand there, Dyke would have been disposed to think the place wasdeserted.

  On, still nearer and nearer, but no one appeared, and again stillnearer, and his lips parted to utter a loud shout to announce hiscoming.

  But somehow the cry froze in his throat, and he dared not utter it; theplace was deserted, he felt sure. Tanta Sal must have gone off to seekher tribe after the terrible catastrophe, for Dyke felt sure now thathis surmise was right, and that Emson had been drowned in trying to fordthe river and come to meet him.

  The boy's spirits sank lower and lower as he checked his horse's pace toa canter, hushing the beat of its feet upon the soft sand as he rode on,seeing no one stirring, and at last, in the deepest despair, feeling asif he dare go no farther. But just at that moment a low crooning soundfell upon his ear, and the reaction was so sudden and so great that Dykenearly shouted aloud as he pressed on to the door, feeling now that hehad been letting his imagination run riot, and that there was nothingwhatever the matter. In fact, that was his brother's tall gaunt horsegrazing where it had been hidden from his sight by one of the low,shed-like buildings.

  "What a lot of stuff one can fancy!" said Dyke to himself. "Why, it'searly yet, and poor old Joe hasn't got up. I'll give him such arouser."

  The next minute he had pulled up, thrown his rein over the cob's head,as he dismounted, and ran to the open doorway from whence came thecrooning sound.

  "Morning, Tant," he cried to the woman, who sat crouched together on thefloor.

  Then as his eyes caught sight of the pallet in the corner of the room,he shouted:

  "Joe, old man, what is it? Are you ill?"

  "No makee noisy," cried the woman; "shoo, shoo, shoo. Baas Joe go die."