"Well, what of Jemalee!" asked Considine.

"You know dat him's a slave--a _real_ slave?"

"Yes, I know that, poor fellow."

"You never hear how him was brought up here?"

"No, never--tell me about it."

Hereupon the Hottentot related the following brief story.

Abdul Jemalee, a year or two before, had lived in Capetown, where his owner was a man of some substance. Jemalee had a wife and several children, who were also the property of his owner. Being an expert waggon-driver, the Malay was a valuable piece of human goods. On one occasion Jan Smit happened to be in Capetown, and, hearing of the Malay's qualities, offered his master a high price for him. The offer was accepted, but in order to avoid a scene, the bargain was kept secret from the piece of property, and he was given to understand that he was going up country on his old master's business. When poor Jemalee bade his pretty wife and little ones goodbye, he comforted them with the a.s.surance that he should be back in a few months. On arriving at Smit's place, however, the truth was told, and he found that he had been separated for ever from those he most loved on earth. For some time Abdul Jemalee gave way to sullen despair, and took every sort of abuse and cruel treatment with apparent indifference, but, as time went on, a change came over him. He became more like his former self, and did his work so well, that even the savage Jan Smit seldom had any excuse for finding fault. On his last journey to the Cape, Smit took the Malay with him only part of the way. He left him in charge of a friend, who agreed to look well after him until his return.

Even this crushing of Jemalee's hope that he might meet his wife and children once more did not appear to oppress him much, and when his master returned from Capetown he resumed charge of one of the waggons, and went quietly back to his home in the karroo.

"And can you tell what brought about this change?" asked Considine.

"Oh ja, I knows," replied Ruyter, with a decided nod and a deep chuckle; "Jemalee him's got a powerful glitter in him's eye now and den--bery powerful an' strange!"

"And what may that have to do with it?" asked Considine.

Ruyter's visage changed from a look of deep cunning to one of childlike simplicity as he replied--"Can't go for to say what de glitter of him's eye got to do wid it. Snakes' eyes glitter sometimes--s'pose 'cause he can't help it, or he's wicked p'raps."

Considine smiled, but, seeing that the Hottentot did not choose to be communicative on the point, he forbore further question.

"What a funny man Jerry Goldboy is!" said Jessie McTavish, as she sat that same evening sipping a pannikin of tea in her father's tent.

From the opening of the tent the fire was visible.

Jerry was busy preparing his supper, while he kept up an incessant run of small-chat with b.o.o.by and Jemalee. The latter replied to him chiefly with grave smiles, the former with shouts of appreciative laughter.

"He _is_ funny," a.s.serted Mrs McTavish, "and uncommonly noisy. I doubt if there is much good in him."

"More than you think, Mopsy," said Kenneth (by this irreverent name did the Highlander call his better-half); "Jerry Goldboy is a small package, but he's made of good stuff, depend upon it. No doubt he's a little nervous, but I've observed that his nerves are tried more by the suddenness with which he may be surprised than by the actual danger he may chance to encounter. On our first night out, when he roused the camp and smashed the stock of his blunderbuss, no doubt I as well as others thought he showed the white feather, but there was no lack of courage in him when he went last week straight under the tree where the tiger was growling, and shot it so dead that when it fell it was not far from his feet."

"I heard some of the men, papa," observed Jessie, "say that it was Dutch courage that made him do that. What did they mean by Dutch courage?"

Jessie, being little more than eight, was ignorant of much of the world's slang.

"Cape-smoke, my dear," answered her father, with a laugh.

"Cape-smoke?" exclaimed Jessie, "what is that?"

"Brandy, child, peach-brandy, much loved by some of the boers, I'm told, and still more so by the Hottentots; but there was no more Cape-smoke in Jerry that day than in you. It was true English pluck. No doubt he could hardly fail to make a dead shot at so close a range, with such an awful weapon, loaded, as it usually is, with handfuls of slugs, buckshot, and gravel; but it was none the less plucky for all that. The old flint-lock might have missed fire, or he mightn't have killed the brute outright, and in either case he knew well enough it would have been all up with Jerry Goldboy."

"Who's that taking my name in vain?" said Jerry himself, pa.s.sing the tent at the moment, in company with Sandy Black.

"We were only praising you, Jerry," cried Jessie, with a laugh, "for the way in which you shot that tiger the other day."

"It wasn't a teeger, Miss Jessie," interposed Sandy Black, "it was only a leopard--ane o' thae wee spott.i.t beasts that they're sae prood o' in this country as to _ca'_ them teegers."

"Come, Sandy," cried Jerry Goldboy, "don't rob me of the honour that is my due. The hanimal was big enough to 'ave torn you limb from limb if 'e'd got 'old of you."

"It may be sae, but he wasna a teeger for a' that," retorted Black.--"D'ee know, sir," he continued, turning to McTavish, "that Mr Pringle's been askin' for 'ee?"

"No, Sandy, but now that you've told me I'll go to his tent."

So saying the Highlander rose and went out, to attend a council of "heads of families."

Hitherto we have directed the reader's attention chiefly to one or two individuals of the Scotch party, but there were in that party a number of families who had appointed Mr Pringle their "head" and representative. In this capacity of chief-head, or leader, Mr Pringle was in the habit of convening a meeting of subordinate "heads" when matters of importance had to be discussed.

While the elders of the party were thus engaged in conclave at the door of their leader's tent, and while the rest were busy round their several fires, a man with a body much blacker than the _night_ was secretly gliding about the camp like a huge snake, now crouching as he pa.s.sed quickly, but without noise, in rear of the thick bushes; now creeping on hands and knees among the waggons and oxen, and anon gliding almost flat on his breast up to the very verge of the light thrown by the camp-fires. At one and another of the fires he remained motionless like the blackened trunk of a dead tree, with his glittering eyes fixed on the settlers, as if listening intently to their conversation.

Whatever might be the ultimate designs of the Kafir--for such he was-- his intentions at the time being were evidently peaceful, for he carried neither weapon nor shield. He touched nothing belonging to the white men, though guns and blankets and other tempting objects were more than once within reach of his hand. Neither did he attempt to steal that which to the Kafir is the most coveted prize of all--a fat ox.

Gradually he melted away into the darkness from which he had emerged.

No eye in all the emigrant band saw him come or go in his snake-like glidings, yet his presence was known to one of the party--to Ruyter the Hottentot.

Soon after the Kafir had taken his departure, Ruyter left his camp-fire and sauntered into the bush as if to meditate before lying down for the night. As soon as he was beyond observation he quickened his pace and walked in a straight line, like one who has a definite end in view.

The Hottentot fancied that he had got away unperceived, but in this he was mistaken. Hans Marais, having heard Considine's account of his talk with Ruyter about Jemalee, had been troubled with suspicions about the former, which led to his paying more than usual attention to him. These suspicions were increased when he observed that the Hottentot went frequently and uneasily into the bushes, and looked altogether like a man expecting something which does not happen or appear. When, therefore, he noticed that after supper, Ruyter's anxious look disappeared, and that, after looking carefully round at his comrades, he sauntered into the bush with an overdone air of nonchalance, he quietly took up his heavy gun and followed him.

The youth had been trained to _observe_ from earliest childhood, and, having been born and bred on the karroo, he was as well skilled in tracking the footprints of animals and men as any red savage of the North American wilderness. He took care to keep the Hottentot in sight, however, the night being too dark to see footprints. Lithe and agile as a panther, he found no difficulty in doing so.

In a few minutes he reached an open s.p.a.ce, in which he observed that the Hottentot had met with a Kafir, and was engaged with him in earnest conversation. Much however of what they said was lost by Hans, as he found it difficult to get within ear-shot un.o.bserved.

"And why?" he at length heard the savage demand, "why should I spare them for an hour?"

He spoke in the Kafir tongue, in which the Hottentot replied, and with which young Marais was partially acquainted.

"Because, Hintza," said Ruyter, naming the paramount chief of Kafirland, "the time has not yet come. One whose opinion you value bade me tell you so."

"What if I choose to pay no regard to the opinion of any one?" demanded the chief haughtily.

Ruyter quietly told the savage that he would then have to take the consequences, and urged, in addition, that it was folly to suppose the Kafirs were in a condition to make war on the white men just then. It was barely a year since they had been totally routed and driven across the Great Fish River with great slaughter. No warrior of common sense would think of renewing hostilities at such a time--their young men slain, their resources exhausted. Hintza had better bide his time. In the meanwhile he could gratify his revenge without much risk to himself or his young braves, by stealing in a quiet systematic way from the white men as their herds and flocks increased. Besides this, Ruyter, a.s.suming a bold look and tone which was unusual in one of his degraded race, told Hintza firmly that he had reasons of his own for not wishing the Scotch emigrants to be attacked at that time, and that if he persisted in his designs he would warn them of their danger, in which case they would certainly prove themselves men enough to beat any number of warriors Hintza could bring against them.

Lying flat on the ground, with head raised and motionless, Hans Marais listened to these sentiments with much surprise, for he had up to that time regarded the Hottentot as a meek and long-suffering man, but now, though his long-suffering in the past could not be questioned, his meekness appeared to have totally departed.

The Kafir chief would probably have treated the latter part of Ruyter's speech with scorn, had not his remarks about sly and systematic plunder chimed in with his own sentiments, for Hintza was pre-eminently false-hearted, even among a race with whom successful lying is deemed a virtue, though, when found out, it is considered a sin. He pondered the Hottentot's advice, and apparently a.s.sented to it. After a few moments'

consideration, he turned on his heel, and re-entered the thick jungle.

Well was it for Hans Marais that he had concealed himself among tall gra.s.s, for Hintza chanced to pa.s.s within two yards of the spot where he lay. The kafir chief had resumed the weapons which, for convenience, he had left behind in the bush while prowling round the white man's camp, and now stalked along in all the panoply of a savage warrior-chief; with ox-hide shield, bundle of short sharp a.s.sagais, leopard-skin robe, and feathers. For one instant the Dutchman, supposing it impossible to escape detection, was on the point of springing on the savage, but on second thoughts he resolved to take his chance. Even if Hintza did discover him, he felt sure of being able to leap up in time to ward off his first stab.

Fortunately the Kafir was too much engrossed with his thoughts. He pa.s.sed his white enemy, and disappeared in the jungle.

Meanwhile the Hottentot returned to the camp--a.s.suming an easy-going saunter as he approached its fires--and, soon after, Hans Marais re-entered it from an opposite direction. Resolving to keep his own counsel in the meantime, he mentioned the incident to no one, but after carefully inspecting the surrounding bushes, and stirring up the watch-fires, he sat down in front of his leader's tent with the intention of keeping guard during the first part of the night.