"Shut up, man; go to sleep!"

"I say! The ideal white man--'a possible enemy and a certain nuisance.'"

"For Heaven's sake, man, shut up! They'll hear you sn.i.g.g.e.ring.

Good-night!"

TWO.

It was a dark night and still--the stillness that often precedes a thunderstorm. The clouds were banked up thick, and only here and there on the outer fringes, where cuts in the hills gave a glimpse nearer the horizon, was there a faint lighting of the gloomy canopy.

Low's Creek runs through one of Nature's perfect amphitheatres and finds its outlet at the Poort. If that were blocked, there would be a lake many hundred feet deep; but as it is not blocked, there is only a very clear, sparkling stream rippling over stony bottoms, or swirling under the overhanging thorns and fig-trees--the one constant babbler on such nights as this. The road through this valley is not over-good at the best of times, and it is something worse than bad on a really dark night--which was exactly what the driver of the spider-and-four thought as he pulled up with his near fore-wheel foul of a dead tree-stump.

There was no damage done, for the horses were pleased to take the sudden check as an excuse, if not indeed a hint, to stop; and when by the light of matches the size of the obstacle was determined, and means were found to free the wheel, the driver said, "Come!" and the horses toiled on again up the hill towards the Neck. Every now and then, as they climbed slowly up, the ladies--there were two ladies in the spider--would point out the camp-fires of the prospectors at various heights and distances on the tops or slopes of the surrounding hills, and their companion would tell them which was French Bob's, and which the Cascade, and point out, high and far, the famous Kimberley Imperial; and the Hottentot driver would peer out in front, silently intent upon the road.

Toiling, swaying, and straining, they at last reached the Neck, and gave the horses a blow. Behind them, or rather below them, black as the bottomless pit, lay the valley out of which they had risen. In front lay the broader, shallower, furrowed basin, through which the road winds, cross-cut by Honeybird and Fig-tree Creeks; and beyond Avoca, where the waters meet, they could see, through the gap of the Queen's River Poort, the lightning playing in the distance--silent, clear, and not too vivid.

Down the easy slope the horses trotted out freely, swinging their heads and snorting as the faint, cool breeze, the sure precursor of the storm, fanned and freshened them. On they went gaily for a couple of miles till the deep, dry donga was reached, where the road dips down suddenly into a black, murky, impenetrable darkness. Above, the trees on either side of the high banks intertwine their branches; beneath, the soft dead leaves lie upon a sandy bottom, and the road is flanked by jungle, pure and simple. It is like a tunnel. It is not possible to leave it except at the ends.

The driver gave the leaders their heads, and trusted to their knowing that he couldn't see, whilst they might. The heavy grating of the brake, hard pressed, sounded loud on the night air as the leaders disappeared into the dark trough. Down went the trap and horses with a diver's plunge at first, and then more steadily and slowly they neared the bottom; but before it was reached, the leaders shied violently to the off, the spider swung down the slope, slid a little, poised for a moment on two wheels, and turned slowly over on its side on the bed of leaves and sand. The horses, with their heads jammed in the bush, were effectually stopped.

The ladies did not scream!

It seems wrong--unnatural; but they did not. Urgent need and sudden danger, as they overwhelm and stupefy some, so do they brace and brighten others; and when one of the horses whinnied in a friendly way, it seemed odd that it should be a girl's voice that exclaimed quickly:

"Listen! they're not frightened. It must be another horse!"

"Are you hurt?" "Where are you?" and, "Are you all right?" were exchanged in the darkness; and then someone struck a match, and, making a dark lantern of his hat, threw the light on the late occupants of the spider.

The girls were dusty, pale, and frightened, and the men looked anxious.

The Hottentot driver was swearing to himself in a discontented undertone, and endeavouring concurrently to loosen the wheelers'

harness.

"I am the culprit," said the man with the light. "I can only say I am very delighted that no one is hurt, and awfully sorry that I gave you such a fright. I'm sure I never meant it. I did not know there was a soul within miles until the sound of your brake frightened my horse into backing into the bush here. The brute wouldn't budge, so I sat still, hoping that you would pa.s.s without seeing me."

"Oh, it really doesn't matter in the least!" came from one of the girls, as the match died out. "You don't know how relieved, how grateful we are to you for not being a lion or a highwayman."

The driver Piet had rummaged out a stump of candle, and lighted it. It flickered uncertainly on the capsized spider, on the scattered cushions and shawls, on the faces of the two young girls and their companion, and faintly lighted up the lank form and the dark bearded face of the enemy.

"I thought I knew your voice, Heron!" said the latter quietly.

"Nairn! By all that's great and wonderful! What on earth were you--"

"Well, I wasn't waylaying you with evil intent, and I do hope that the ladies--"

"Oh, I forgot. My sisters," said Heron, with an explanatory wave.

"Girls, this is Mr Nairn, a friend of mine. Very much in disguise, you must admit, Nairn!"

"Indeed I do. I confess, I repent, and I beg for mercy; and, to give practical proof of my sincerity, let me help you. Come on, Heron; let's right the trap first."

No damage had been done to the trap, and the three men soon succeeded in getting it on its wheels again. The boy drove through the donga and up the other bank without further difficulty, the others preferring to walk; but out there, when he had room to move round his team, the driver found that the off-leader had gashed his shoulder badly in the bush, and would have to be turned out.

Heron's heart sank, for it would be a serious matter to attempt the four drifts of the Queen's River in a heavy spider with only a pair. He looked at the overcast sky, and turned in despair to Nairn, who had remained with the ladies, and knew nothing of the injury to the horse.

"Nairn, you know the road best. Is there _any_ place where we can stay the night? We can't tackle the rivers. One of the leaders has cut his shoulder badly and won't face the harness. We must put up somewhere for the night!"

"There's Clothier's," the other answered; "but I'm afraid that won't do--a gra.s.s hut, and sardines, gin, and rough customers. Charlie Brandt's--ditto! There's the Queen of Sheba's at Eureka City; but, then, you'd never reach there alive--at night. Let's see! No; there's no fit place between this and Barberton."

"There!" said Heron, "we'll spend a pleasant night in the veld, rain and all. I wish we'd come on a bit further with the waggons. It will be rough on you girls."

But they did not seem dismayed at the prospect; in fact, they considered it a romantic sort of picnic adventure. Heron, who had had malarial fever, took no count of the romance.

While the matter was being discussed, Nairn went forward and carefully examined the injured horse. Heron had decided to outspan where they were, under a big Dingaan apricot-tree, and the ladies were busy making plans for the disposal of cushions, wraps, and rugs to fend off the coming rain.

"That horse will be worse to-morrow than he is to-night. He won't be well for weeks," said Nairn coolly. "How do you propose getting on at all, even if you do stay here to-night? What do you gain by the delay?"

Heron was somewhat taken aback.

"Well," he answered, "we gain the daylight, anyway; that's something."

"Something--yes; but daylight won't take you through the rivers with one pair of horses. They'll be pretty fall, too, after to-night's rain."

"That's true," said Heron gloomily; "and it's raining like old Harry now up at the headwaters. Look at the lightning over the Kaap Valley!"

They looked, and the quick play of the distant flashes left no room for doubt. Then Nairn spoke again--without impulse, without enthusiasm, but deliberately, as though he had considered the matter and reluctantly but finally made his decision.

"You will have to put my horse in place of the injured one, and go on to-night. I can walk."

He did not affect that the idea was the happy thought of the moment, or that it was from all points of view a good one. He seemed from his tone to be making the best of a bad job, and Heron saw that so distinctly that he could only stammer out weakly:

"Oh, really, it's awfully good of you, but we couldn't allow you to walk."

But the taller of the two girls came to her brother's a.s.sistance.

"I think it's a _capital_ idea! Don't you see, Jack, Mr Nairn wants 'to give a practical proof of his sincerity'?"

The lazy, mischievous imitation of Nairn's tone and manner in quoting his own words brought a hearty laugh from the others against Nairn, for he had "given himself away"; and once or twice as they were changing horses and preparing to start, Nairn found himself looking curiously at the girl who had "let him down."

They were nearly ready to start when she came over to him, and said:

"You are not going to walk. You will come with us, won't you?"

He shook his head.

"My way is not your way, Miss Heron."

"No, no; you express it wrongly. _My_ way is _your_ way. We have room for you and you must come."