“Yes. But the worst of it is there’s nothing to shoot.”
“There never is where there are Kafir locations,” rejoined Harley Greenoak.
On either side of the road lay spread the green, undulating plains of British Kaffraria, open, or dotted here and there with mimosa. The sky, dazzling in its vivid blue, was without a cloud, and the air of the winter midday warm and yet exhilarating. The Cape1 cart had just left behind the steep slope of the Gonubi Hill, and was bowling2 along the Kei Road, facing eastward3.
“Think the Kafirs really do mean to kick up a row, Greenoak,” said Dick, as three ochre-smeared samples of that race strode by, favouring those of the dominant4 one with a defiant5 stare.
“I’m dead sure of it. You see, they haven’t had a fight for nearly a quarter of a century, and now they’re spoiling for one. I didn’t care to say so while we were down in the Colony though, for fear of setting up a scare. It’s simply the Donnybrook spirit. This squabble about the Fingoes is a mere6 pretext7.”
“Well, I’m jolly glad,” rejoined Dick Selmes. “It would have been a proper sell to have come all this way and there to be no war after all.”
“Sell? I’m hoping that same sell may be ours.”
“What? You’re hoping there’ll be no war?”
“Certainly. Think what a row I should get into with your dad for countenancing9 your taking part in it, Dick.”
“Oh, don’t you bother about that, old chap,” was the breezy rejoinder. “Didn’t the dad leave me here to see all there was to be seen, and if there was a jolly war and I didn’t see something of it, why, I shouldn’t be seeing all there was to be seen? Besides, I’ve seen nothing of the Kafirs yet.”
“You’ll see enough and to spare of them directly. Meanwhile you’re about to begin, for here we are at Draaibosch.”
Our friend Dick had about recovered his normal spirits, the enjoyment10 of travel, the ever-changing novelty of it at every turn, and the prospect11 of excitement ahead had done that for him. But he could not banish12 the recollection of that bright, sweet personality from his mind, nor had he any wish to. When he had done with his experiences he would find out Hazel Brandon in her own home, and would speak out boldly and in no uncertain manner. Meanwhile, advised by common-sense and Harley Greenoak, he decided13 to make the best of things at present, and to let the future take care of itself.
As they topped a rise the wayside inn and canteen came into view just beneath. Before the latter squatted14 or lounged in groups quite a number of red-blanketed figures, and the deep bass15 hum of their voices, and an occasional laugh, rose not unmelodiously upon the still air.
“Well, MacFennel, and how’s trade?” said Greenoak, shaking hands with the innkeeper, who had come out to meet them.
“Oh, so so. What’s the latest thing in scares?”
“You ought to know that better than me. You’re nearest the spot.”
“All the more reason why I shouldn’t. More than half these scares are cooked up down in the Colony. We don’t hear much of ’em up here.”
“That won’t be good news for my young friend there”—with a nod in the direction of Dick Selmes, who had strolled away to inspect nearer the groups of Kafirs by the canteen. “He’s just spoiling for war.”
“Haw—haw!” guffawed16 the other. “But who is he?”
Greenoak told him, and just then Dick returned.
“Faugh!” he exclaimed. “Those chaps are a bit ‘strong’ when you get too near them.”
“Yes, stale grease and red clay don’t make a fragrant17 combination,” laughed Harley Greenoak. “I hope you can get us some dinner directly, MacFennel; for I can tell you we both feel like it.”
“Yes, it’s ready now. Come on in. Bring the shooters inside. It isn’t safe to leave them in the cart with all these loafers about.”
The while they had been outspanning, and now, handing over the horses to a native stable-boy, they entered.
“I say, what about the war?” said Dick to the hotel-keeper, as the latter came in to see how they were getting on. “Think there’ll be one?”
“Well, Mr Selmes, I don’t know what to say. But one can only hope not.”
Dick dropped his knife and fork, and stared.
“Hope not?” he echoed. “But think what a lot of fun we shall be done out of.”
The hotel-keeper laughed good-naturedly.
“Fun?” he said. “Well, it may be fun to you, but it’ll be death to some of us, as some fable-mongering feller said about something else—I forget what. It may be all very well for young gentlemen with plenty of money, wandering about the world on the look-out for excitement; but for us ordinary chaps who’ve got to make a living—and not an easy one at that—it spells anything but fun I can tell you. What price my place being sacked and burnt to the ground some fine night? I’ve got a wife and kiddies too—what if we didn’t get long enough warning to clear them off to Komgha quick enough? Well, that’s what war spells to us.”
“By George! I never thought of it in that light,” cried Dick Selmes, to whom the other’s quiet but good-natured reproof18 appealed thoroughly19. “But—surely you’d get warning in time, wouldn’t you?”
“Warning. Look at those chaps out there”—designating the groups of Kafirs, now momentarily increasing, in front of the canteen, some of them visible from the window. “Some fine day they come along just as you see them now, only with businesslike assegais hidden under their blankets. Then, a sudden signal and a rush, and—where do we come in? Kafirs don’t give warning, they take you on the hop8; ain’t I right, Greenoak?”
Greenoak nodded. Dick Selmes was conscious of feeling rather small. Just then, as though to emphasise20 the hotel-keeper’s remarks, a considerable hubbub21 arose outside, voices were raised—many of them, and all talking at once, and through them running a note of anger; and a lot of angry and excited Kafirs all talking at once are capable of raising a very considerable hubbub indeed.
“Why, they’re going to have a row, I do believe,” cried Dick, springing to the door, and looking out. But MacFennel never turned a hair.
“Oh, it’s only some feller got too drunk in the canteen,” he said. “Been chucked out by my assistant. It often happens, but they blow off steam in no time.”
In this case, however, no such safety-valve seemed to be in working order. A rush of excited Kafirs surged round the further end of the building. Blankets were thrown off, and with a tough kerrie in each hand, they fell to. Shouts and vociferations, the clash and splintering of hard-wood, and the more sickening crunch22, as the latter fell in upon skull23 or shoulder—the moving mass swayed and leaped. At the same time, as though magically evolved, lines of Kafirs, some mounted on rough ponies24, some afoot, came pouring along the hillside, shrilling25 war whistles or uttering loud whoops26, and, arriving on the scene of action, flung themselves into the fray27 with a whole-heartedness that left nothing to be desired. The fight became one roaring general melée.
“It’s only a faction28 rumpus,” said the hotel-keeper, who had dived into an inner room to arm himself with a revolver, which, however, he didn’t show. “Sandili’s and Ndimba’s chaps are always getting ’em up. Rotten for me too, for it gives my place a bad name.”
The stoep, railed off, stood about four feet above the ground. In front the said ground, perfectly29 open, sloped away gently to a sluit, constituting a first-rate arena30 for a rough-and-tumble. Round on to this now, the warring savages32 swirled33, mad with fury and blood lust34, some with drink. The three white men—four now—for they had been joined by MacFennel’s assistant, who had prudently35 locked the canteen door—stood on the stoep watching the tumult36.
“How about the rifles, Greenoak?” said Dick Selmes, in hardly to be repressed excitement.
“No. We mustn’t show sign of scare,” was the quiet answer. “We’ve got our pistols, but we needn’t show them unless absolutely necessary.”
The struggling crowd now had broken up into groups. No attempt at forming sides had been made, twos and threes they fought, and as soon as one individual went down the victors proceeded to batter37 the life out of him as he lay, unless others sprang to the rescue, which was often the case. Then there would be a renewed scrimmage, with slashings and parryings, and soon the ground was scattered38 with writhing39, struggling bodies, and others, indeed, deadly still; the while the strident war whistles rent the air. Black, striving demons40, eyes blazing and white teeth bared, seemed to have taken the place of the careless laughing groups of a few minutes ago.
On the left, some thirty yards away from the stoep, where stood the white spectators, was a small orchard41, bounded by a low sod wall. For this, one Kafir, hardly pressed, was seen to make, with three others hot on his heels. He gained it, but his foot caught, tumbling him headlong into the ditch on the other side. With a yell his pursuers were on him, and although the spectators could not see him, the nasty crunch of the knob-kerries battering42 out his brains and his life, told its own tale. Dick Selmes, who had never seen any real bloodshed before, began to feel rather sick.
“Can’t we stop this, Greenoak?” he said, rather quaveringly, as a big savage31, hotly pursued by four or five others, came staggering up to the stoep itself, to fall, almost at their very feet, the blood pouring from a wound in his skull.
“It’s their own quarrel,” answered Greenoak, decisively. But paying no heed43 to the words, the impetuous Dick had sprung down the steps and was standing44 over the prostrate45 Kafir, his revolver pointed46.
“Stand back, you cowardly dogs!” he roared. “Hit a man when he’s down, would you? I’ll let daylight into you.”
Of this they understood, of course, not one word. But there was no sort of misunderstanding the pointed pistol, the flashing eyes, and the pale, determined47 face of the young Englishman. Growling48, ferocious49, like the disappointment of hungry beasts, they halted—calling to those behind them. Many of those swarmed50 up, kerries raised. This was no white man’s business, they roared. Let the white men interfere51 and they would kill the lot. All of which, of course, Dick Selmes, for his part, did not understand one word. But Harley Greenoak did.
Quickly he called out to them in their own tongue, urging that it was not worth while their losing many lives for the sake of one, which in all probability was already gone; that they themselves were well armed, and that Dick Selmes would certainly never be frightened into giving way; and further, that the sound of firing would be sure to bring the Mounted Police down upon them.
For a moment his words seemed to produce the desired effect, then a roar of defiance52 went up from those further back. The savages were in an ugly and dangerous mood, and their fighting blood was roused. They were armed only with sticks it was true, but they had already demonstrated what a formidable weapon an ordinary hard-wood kerrie can be in the hand of one who knows how to use it; and there were upwards53 of a hundred of them on the ground already, while more and more were still pressing up along the veldt paths. They seemed to have laid aside their mutual54 feud55, and now with a scowl56 of hate and defiance upon each grim countenance57 they crowded up before the white men. And these were but four.
Harley Greenoak had his finger upon the pulse of the crowd. His keen glance in particular took in the expression of those nearest to Dick. His hand was closed round the butt58 of his revolver, but not yet had he drawn59 it. The while Dick, still pointing his, stood over the fallen man, his eyes upon the savage threatening faces which fronted him, but shining from them the steeliness of a deadly determination.
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1
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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bowling
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| n.保龄球运动 | |
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eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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5
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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6
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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7
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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8
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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9
countenancing
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| v.支持，赞同，批准( countenance的现在分词 ) | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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12
banish
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| vt.放逐，驱逐；消除，排除 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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14
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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15
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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16
guffawed
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| v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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emphasise
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| vt.加强...的语气，强调，着重 | |
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hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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ponies
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| 矮种马，小型马( pony的名词复数 )； ￡25 25 英镑 | |
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shrilling
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的现在分词 )； 凄厉 | |
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whoops
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| int.呼喊声 | |
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fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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prudently
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| adv. 谨慎地，慎重地 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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41
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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45
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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48
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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50
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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51
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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52
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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56
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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58
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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