“Nkose!”
“Whatever have you and old Undhlawafa been yarning about all this time, dear?” asked Verna, as they sat at table.
“He says there’s a thundering big koodoo bull down in the Lumisana, one with record horns. We are going after him to-night.”
Verna half started from her chair and her eyes sparkled.
“What fun! Why, so we will.”
“Hallo! We! Now my ‘we’ didn’t include a girl.”
“No? It included this girl, though,” was the tranquil reply.
“Did it? I’ve only got one girl, and I’m not going to have her breaking her neck over stones, or scratching her eyes out in the dark, in that infernal tangle, or getting bitten by some beastly black mamba, or something of that sort.”
Verna’s eyes danced.
“Since when have you discovered that I was made of sugar, dear?” she said sweetly. “I’ve never been into the bush with you before, have I? Never helped you to defy the game laws of – I was going to say our country, but it’s hard to tell exactly whose country it is. Never – have I?”
“Oh well, I’m getting old now, and the part we are going into isn’t adapted to a skirt. Besides – ”
“Besides – what?”
“Nothing.”
Perhaps that other consideration had occurred to him. Decidedly she would be in the way – under certain circumstances.
“Oh well, it doesn’t matter,” rejoined Verna tranquilly. “I’m going, anyhow.”
Chapter Five.
The Temptation
Tall tree-trunks, straight standing or curved; a tangle of creepers and undergrowth; long rank grass, and a general effluvium of decay and stuffiness unpleasantly suggestive of fever – such were the general features of the Lumisana forest.
Its depths were gloomy and desolate to the last degree, and seldom penetrated. The natives carefully avoided the place, and if they did enter it would never do so except in groups. It was the haunt of dangerous snakes, of fierce and aggressive specimens of the mamba tribe, and of abnormal size, they held; and these there was no avoiding among the long grass and tangled undergrowth. Further, it was the especial haunt of the Inswelaboya– a species of hairless monster, half ghost, half human, given to strangling its victims on sight; and this was a more weighty consideration even than the fear of venomous reptiles.
This feeling on the part of the natives had its advantages, for the forest constituted part of one of the large tracts utilised as game preserves. Here koodoo were plentiful, with a sprinkling of the splendid sable antelope. Buffalo, too, haunted its gloomy depths, where the reed-fringed pools in the clearing afforded them a wallowing-place – and there was even a specimen or two of the rare white rhino. All these, of course, were rigidly protected, so far as it was possible to police so wild and difficult a tract of country at all. But the larger kind of game flourished. The natives, as we have said, shunned this gloomy wilderness, nor were the means of destruction at their disposal adequate. White men seldom came here, for permits were rarely given, and, failing such, the very act of getting the spoils away would have led to certain detection. But with Ben Halse the case was altogether different. He had exceptional advantages. He was resident on the spot, and knew every corner of those remote fastnesses. Then, too, he was hand in glove with the powerful chief of the district, and not a man of that chief’s following would have dreamed of giving him away.
Now he was making his way along a narrow game path. Verna walked immediately behind him – they had left their horses at a kraal on the high ground, for this stuffy, forest-covered valley bottom was not altogether devoid of the tsetse fly. Behind her again walked Undhlawafa, followed by several Zulus in single file.
“I’m going to have first shot, dear,” whispered Verna, over her father’s shoulder.
“Don’t know. What if you miss?” he returned. “Those horns’ll be worth a devil of a lot.”
“But I shan’t miss. No, you must let me have first shot. I so seldom get a look in at anything big.”
She carried a light, sporting .303, its magazine loaded with Dum-dum cartridges. She knew how to use it, too, and hand and nerve were steady as rock. She was arrayed in just the costume for an expedition of the kind, a plain blouse and short bicycle skirt, and looked exceedingly ready and sportsmanlike; and after some couple of hours’ walk over anything but easy ground, her step was as elastic as though she had just sallied forth.
Night had fallen, and though a glorious moon was sailing in the clear sky, so thick were the tall tree-tops that, meeting overhead, they plunged the pathway into gloom, networked here and there by the penetrating moonbeams. But here was none of the stillness of night. Large owls hooted loud and spectrally, and the nursery-like squall of the “bush-baby” – a species of lemur – was thrown forth, and echoed and answered from near and far. Now and then a sudden scuffle and rumbling retreat told that a buck had been disturbed and was making himself hurriedly scarce; or, not so harmless, perchance, a stealthy rustle in the grass would bring the party to a standstill.
“That’s the worst of this walking in the dark,” said Ben Halse. “You never know when some infernal black mamba may jump up and hit you bang in the face. Then – good-night! Or you may tread on his tail while he’s getting out of the way. Which amounts to the same thing.”
There was always the risk of this, of course, but risks have to be taken. Verna, for her part, was keenly enjoying this clandestine night-poaching expedition. There was that about it which appealed powerfully to her, and every fibre of her strong, healthy being thrilled with the sheer joy of life. Then, suddenly, the moonlight burst in through the trees in front. They had come to the edge of an open space.
Undhlawafa whispered caution. Then he ordered his followers to remain where they were – if anything to retire a little way back. He did not want to set up any more scent than was necessary. Then, cautiously, they advanced to the edge and peered forth.
In front lay an open space. It was swampy ground, caused by the trickle of a small stream which here expanded into reed-fringed pools. These were barely a hundred yards from where the stalkers lay concealed. At present there was no sign of life in the clearing, unless it were the occasional croak of a frog. Then something moved, and a small shape came stealing across the open to the water. It lapped a little, but was evidently uneasy, for it kept lifting its head and listening. Then, having hurriedly completed its drink, the jackal made for dark cover as last as its legs could carry it.
“Wonder if it could have winded us,” whispered Ben Halse. “Yet we are on the right side for wind, too.”
“I’m to have first shot, remember,” returned Verna. Her father nodded.
A large owl floated across the open, hooting loudly and dismally. There was a hot stuffiness in the still, yellow, moonlit air, which was depressing. Then two hyenas came out to drink at the pool. They, at any rate, were under no misgivings, for, having drunk, they sat on their haunches and bayed the moon long and hideously. This performance concluded they began chasing each other, to the accompaniment of much snarling, till they, too, disappeared within the depths of the farther forest.
Now came a period of tense waiting, during which nothing stirred. Conversation, even in the faintest of whispers, was of course out of the question. Then a sound, unmistakable to these, bred among the sounds of the wilderness, was borne to their ears, the tramp of approaching hoofs.
“More than one,” whispered Ben Halse.
He was right. Advancing from the upper end of the open space were three large animals. Nearer – and lo! standing forth in the moonlight the splendid koodoo bull paced slowly down to the water. He was leading the way – half as large again as the two cows. A thrill of irrepressible eagerness ran through the watchers, the younger of them especially.
At the edge of the water the noble