Diamond Dyke

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER TWENTY.

  A SORE STRAIT.

  "Stop and watch," said Dyke; and leaving the dog in charge, he went outinto the glorious light of day, feeling strong now, but horribly weak.

  A contradiction, but a fact, for though he had drunk of the cool freshwater several times, he had taken nothing since the previous morning,and if he had to nurse Emson back to life, he knew that he must gatherforce by means of food.

  He had to carry on the work of the place still, he felt, as his brotherwas helpless; and as he walked round to the back of the premises, hebegan to feel something like wonder at the terrible despair from whichhe had suffered since his return. For everything looked so bright andcheery and home-like, and the world around him so beautiful, that hefelt ready for any new struggle in the great fight for life.

  "She's always squatting over a fire," said Dyke to himself, as he wentround to the back, for there was Tanta Sal down in a wonderfullyfrog-like attitude, turning herself into a very vigorous naturalbellows, to make the fire glow under the kettle.

  She looked up and smiled, drawing back her thick lips as the ladapproached.

  "Baas Joe die?" she said.

  "Look here!" roared Dyke fiercely: "don't you say that to me again.No--_No_--No--No!"

  Tanta Sal stared at him and shook her head.

  "Breakfast!" cried Dyke laconically.

  That she understood, and Dyke hurried away to take a sharp glance roundbefore going back to his brother's side.

  It was needed. The cows were not milked, and not likely to be; thehorses had not been fed, and the ostriches were clamouring for food.

  Just then he saw Jack peeping at him from round the corner of one of thesheds; but as soon as he caught sight of his young master, he drew back.

  Instead of going on, Dyke darted round to the other side of thebuilding, knowing full well that if he ran after him, Jack would dashoff more quickly than he could. So stopping and creeping on over thesand, he peeped round and saw the man before him just about to performthe same act. Consequently Dyke was able to pounce upon the Kaffir,whom he seized by the waist-cloth.

  "Here, I want you," he cried sternly, and in a gruff voice which hehardly knew for his own.

  "Baas want?"

  "Yes: go and begin milking the cows. I'll send Tant to you directly."

  The man showed his teeth, and stood shaking his head.

  To his utter astonishment Dyke shifted his grasp, and caught him by thethroat with one hand, and shook his fist in his face.

  "Look here," he said; "you can understand English when you like, andyou've got to understand it now. Baas Joe's sick."

  "Baas Joe go die," said the man.

  "Baas Joe go live," cried Dyke fiercely, "and he'll flog you well if youdon't behave yourself. You go and milk those two cows, and then feedthe ostriches and horses, or I'll fetch Duke to watch you, so look out."

  Jack's jaw dropped at the mention of the dog, and he hurried away; whileDyke, after a glance at the wagon, which stood just where it had beendragged with its load, was about to re-enter the house, when he caughtsight of three Kaffirs watching him from beyond one of the ostrich-pens.

  "Who are you?" he said to himself. "What do they want?"

  He went quickly toward them, but they turned and fled as hard as theycould go, assegai in hand, and the boy stopped and watched them for sometime, thinking very seriously, for he began to divine what it all meant.

  "They have heard from Tant that Joe is dying, and I suppose I'm nobody.They are hanging about to share everything in the place with our two;but--"

  Dyke's _but_ meant a good deal. The position was growing serious, yethe did not feel dismayed, for, to use his own words, it seemed to stirhim up to show fight.

  "And I will, too," he said through his teeth. "I'll let 'em see."

  He went back into the house to find Emson sleeping, and apparentlyneither he nor the dog had moved.

  "Ah, Duke, that's right," said Dyke. "I shall want you. You can keepwatch for me when I go away."

  Just then Tanta Sal came in, smiling, to tell him that breakfast wasready, and he began to question her about when his brother was takenill. But either from obtuseness or obstinacy, he could get nothing fromthe woman, and he was about to let her go while he ate his breakfast ofmealie cake and hot milk; but a sudden thought occurred to him. Hadthose Kaffirs been about there before?

  He asked the woman, but in a moment her smile had gone, and she wasstaring at him helplessly, apparently quite unable to comprehend thedrift of his questions; so he turned from her in a pet, to hurry throughhis breakfast, thinking the while of what he had better do.

  He soon decided upon his first step, and that was to try and get Jackoff to Morgenstern's with his letter; and after attending to Emson andrepeating the medicine he had given the previous day, he went out, tofind that the animals had been fed, and that Jack was having his ownbreakfast with his wife.

  There was a smile for him directly from both, and he plunged into hisbusiness at once; but as he went on, the smiles died out, and all hesaid was received in a dull, stolid way. Neither Jack nor his wifewould understand what he meant--their denseness was impenetrable.

  "It's of no use to threaten him," said Dyke to himself, as he went back;"he would only run away and take Tant with him, and then I should be tentimes worse off than I am now. I must go myself. Yes, I could take twohorses, and ride first one and then the other, and so set over the roundfaster. I could do it in a third of the time."

  But he shook his head wearily as he glanced at where Emson lay.

  "I dare not leave him to them. I should never see him again alive."

  It was quite plain: the Kaffirs had marked down the baas for dead, andunless watched, they would not trouble themselves to try to save him bymoving a hand.

  Dyke shuddered, for if he were absent he felt the possibility of one ofthe strangers he had seen, helping them so as to share or rob. No: hedared not go.

  But could he not have the wagon made comfortable, store it withnecessaries, get Emson lifted in, and then drive the oxen himself?

  It took no consideration. It would be madness, he felt, to attempt sucha thing. It would be fatal at once, he knew; and, besides, he dared nottake the sick man on such a journey without being sure that he would bereceived at the house at the journey's end.

  No: that was impossible.

  Another thought. It was evident that Jack was determined not to go backalone to Morgenstern's, but would it be possible to send a more faithfulmessenger--the dog? He had read of dogs being sent to places withdespatches attached to their collars. Why should not Duke go? He knewthe way, and once made to understand--

  Dyke shook his head. It was too much to expect. The journey was toolong. How was the dog to be protected from wild beasts at night, andallowing that he could run the gauntlet of those dangers, how was thepoor brute to be fed?

  "No, no, no," cried the boy passionately; "it is too much to think. Itis fate, and I must see Joe through it myself. He is better, I amsure."

  There was every reason for thinking so, and nurturing the hope that hisbrother had taken the turn, Dyke determined to set to work and go on asif all was well--just as if Emson were about and seeing to thingshimself.

  "You know I wouldn't neglect you, old chap," he said affectionately, ashe bent over the couch and gazed in the sunken features; "I shall beclose by, and will keep on coming in."

  Then a thought struck him, and he called the watchful dog away and fedhim, before sending him back to the bedside, and going out to examinethe ostriches more closely.

  Dyke's heart sank as he visited pen after pen. Either from neglect ordisease, several of the birds had died, and were lying about the place,partly eaten by jackals; while of the young ones hatched from the nestof eggs brought home with such high hopes, not one was left.

  "Poor Joe!" sighed Dyke, as he looked round despondently, and thought ofhis brother's words, which, broken and incoherent as they were,
told ofthe disappointment and bitterness which had followed the long, wearytrial of his experiment.

  And now, with the poor fellow broken down and completely helpless, themiserable dead birds, the wretched look of those still living, and thegeneral neglect, made Dyke feel ready to turn away in despair.

  But he set his teeth hard and went about with a fierce energyrearranging the birds in their pens, and generally working as if thiswere all a mere accident that only wanted putting straight, foreverything to go on prosperously in the future.

  It was hard work, feeling, as Dyke did, that it was a hopeless task, andthat a complete change--a thorough new beginning--must be made for thereto be the slightest chance for success. But he kept on, the taskbecoming quite exciting when the great birds turned restive or showedfight, and a disposition to go everywhere but where they were wanted.

  Then he fetched Jack, who came unwillingly, acting as if he believedsome new scheme was about to be tried to send him off to the oldtrader's. But he worked better when he found that he was only to dragaway the remains of one or two dead birds, and to fetch water and do alittle more cleaning.

  Dyke divided his time between seeing that the work was done, and goingto and fro to his brother's couch, now feeling hopeful as he fanciedthat he was sleeping more easily. At the second visit, too, his hopesgrew more strong; but at the third they went down to zero, for to hishorror the heat flush and violent chill returned with terrible delirium,and the boy began to blame himself for not doing something more aboutgetting a doctor, for Emson seemed to be worse than he was at hisreturn.

  By degrees, though, it dawned upon him that this might not be a sign ofgoing back, only a peculiarity of malarial fever, in some forms of whichhe knew that the sufferer had regular daily fits, which lasted for acertain time and then passed away, leaving the patient exhausted, butbetter.

  This might be one of these attacks, he felt, and he sat watching andtrying to give relief; but in vain, for the delirium increased, and thesymptoms looked as bad as they could be, for a man to live.

  And now once more the utter helplessness of his position came upon Dyke,and he sat there listening to his brother's wild words, trying to fitthem together and grasp his meaning, but in vain. He bathed the burninghead and applied the wet bandages, but they seemed to afford no reliefwhatever; and at last growing more despondent than ever, he felt that hecould not bear it, and just at dusk he went outside the door to try tothink, though really to get away for a few minutes from the terriblescene.

  Then his conscience smote him for what he told himself was an act ofcowardice, and he hurried back to the bedside, to find that, short ashad been his absence, it had been long enough for a great change to takeplace.

  In fact, the paroxysm had passed, and the poor fellow's brow was coveredwith a fine perspiration, his breathing easier, and he was evidentlysinking into a restful sleep.

  Dyke stood watching and holding his brother's hand till he couldthoroughly believe that this was the case, and then tottered out oncemore into the comparatively cool evening air, to find Jack or his wife,and tell them to bring something for him and the dog to eat, for he hadseen nothing of either of them for many hours.

  He walked round to the back, but there was no fire smouldering, and noone in the narrow, yard-like place; so he went on to the shed in whichthe servants slept, and tapped at the rough door.

  But there was no answer, and upon looking in, expecting to see Jacklying there asleep, neither he nor his wife was visible.

  How was that? Gone to fetch in fuel from where it was piled-up in astack? No: for there was plenty against the side of one of the sheds.

  What then--water? Yes, that would be it. Jack and Tanta Sal had gonetogether to the kopje for company's sake to fetch three or four bucketsfrom the cool fresh spring, of whose use he had been so lavish duringthe past day. They had gone evidently before it was quite dark; and,feeling hungry and exhausted now, he walked round to where the wagonstood, recalling that there was some dry cake left in the locker, andmeaning to eat of this to relieve the painfully faint sensation.

  He climbed up into the wagon, and lifted the lid of the chest, but therewas no mealie cake there; Jack or Tant must have taken it out. So goingback to the house where Emson was sleeping quietly, the boy dipped apannikin into the bucket standing there, and drank thirstily beforegoing outside again to watch for the Kaffir servants' return, feelingimpatient now, and annoyed that they should have neglected him for solong.

  But there was no sign of their approach. The night was coming on fast,and a faint star or two became visible, while the granite kopje rose up,softly rounded in the evening light, with a faint glow appearing frombehind it, just as if the moon were beginning to rise there.

  He waited and waited till it was perfectly plain that the man could notbe coming from fetching water, and, startled at this, he shouted, andthen hurriedly looked about in the various buildings, but only to findthem empty.

  Startled now, more than he cared to own to himself, Dyke ran back to theKaffir's lodge, and looked in again. There were no assegais leaningagainst the wall, nothing visible there whatever, and half-stunned bythe thought which had come upon him with terrible violence, the boy wentslowly back to the house, and sat down by where Duke was watching thesleeping man.

  "Alone! alone!" muttered Dyke with a groan; "they have gone and left us.Joe, Joe, old man, can't you speak to me? We are forsaken. Speak tome, for I cannot even think now. What shall I do?"