Mampitizili and Kungaye were faint from hunger, so the goat-flesh was soon cut into strips, roasted upon the embers, and eaten as a sort of sacrament of reunion. Then Sobede fetched water in a broken earthen pot from the little streamlet that babbled down the gully at the side of the ledge, and they washed out their mouths, Kafir fashion, and drank of the icy-cold water, which seemed to taste more delicious than the best calabash-milk.

It was long before they could find words to express all that made big their hearts. Sobede heard of the death of his father with equanimity; the natives, with true philosophy, look upon the visitation of death to the old and infirm without regret. Bit by bit--the little boy sleeping peacefully at their feet as they talked--the whole shameful story of Manciya's conduct was told. But Sobede was too happy to be angry for long even under this provocation. His wife and child were safe with him, and he knew that Manciya dared not refuse to give up his cattle,-- the headman and the magistrate would see to that. They decided to remain at the old kraal, and to commence repairing the huts on the following day.

Of all the myriad dwellings of men upon which the snowy peaks of the Drakensberg glanced down that night in cold disdain of man and his destinies, none held such happy human hearts as did this hut without a door, with the wall falling down in ruin, and through the gaping roof of which the frost fell from a wintry sky.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

THE QUICK AND THE DEAD.

"O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" _Romans_ VII, 24.

_One_.

Omfunda sat smoking his pipe alongside the fire he had lit close to the spring gushing out at the foot of the big cliff at the upper end of Krantz Vogel Kloof. The cliff arose sheer three hundred feet, and at each side of it the steep, broken terraces of the mountain, covered with huddled patches of immense boulders, swelled out into mighty flanks.

From between the boulders gnarled and stunted trees grew, rooted in soil so deep down in the fissures that it could not be seen. Here and there dark, ragged-edged chasms yawned. These boulder-patches were bordered by fringes of scrubby forest, outside which grew coa.r.s.e, matted gra.s.s.

It was a hot day in late spring, and Nomfunda felt drowsy. The bleatings of a flock of sheep came faintly to his ear. His dog lay curled up at his feet. The day was at noon. A light breeze hushed faintly through the tree-tops, soothing as the whisper of Somnus, and then died away. Nomfunda slept.

Nomfunda was the shepherd of Sarel Marais, the proprietor of the farm which took its name from the thickly-wooded kloof at the head of which he, Nomfunda, lay sleeping. Sarel Marais had over and over again warned him not to come with his sheep to this neighbourhood, for the reason that animals were so apt to get lost in the broken ground through falling into the fissures; and Sarel's eldest son "Rooi Jan"--so called on account of his red hair--had sworn to have Nomfunda's life if he ever again disobeyed in this respect. However, on the present occasion Nomfunda felt safe, for old Sarel was absent from home, and "Rooi Jan"

had only a few hours previously departed on horseback for a farm several "hours" distant, where the girl he meant to marry in a few months' time resided.

The foot of the cliff where the spring gushed out had a peculiar fascination for Nomfunda. It was cool on the hottest day. The water plashed from under a jutting ledge and scattered moisture over luxuriant ma.s.ses of fern. The "umgwenya," or "Kafir plum," grew plentifully in the forest close at hand, and the holes in the porous cliff were full of bees' nests br.i.m.m.i.n.g with the storage of industrious years. These bees were of the small, black, forest variety, which is celebrated as being extremely savage when interfered with; this fact, and the inaccessibility of the nests, accounted for their still being in existence. However, Nomfunda was an expert and daring honey-hunter, and was extremely pachydermatous; he hardly ever came to this spot without plundering a nest and feeding on honey to repletion.

Moreover, an antelope known as the "klipspringer" was to be found in large numbers in the neighbourhood, and Nomfunda's dog thoroughly understood the way to circ.u.mvent this animal. Sometimes, quite on its own account, the dog would drive a buck to the point of some rock-pinnacle in the vicinity, and there hold it prisoner until Nomfunda, guided by the dog's baying, would hurry to the spot and knock the buck over with his k.n.o.b-kerrie. This dog was an utter mongrel showing traces of extremely diverse canine types. Its enemies declared they could even see a great deal of the jackal in it. The dog was, however, utterly faithful to its master, and had a wonderful knack of bailing up "klipspringers." One peculiarity of the animal's was that it never barked.

When Nomfunda awoke it was to find "Rooi Jan," gun in hand, watching him. Nomfunda instinctively grasped his k.n.o.b-kerrie, which lay on the ground next to him, and sprang to his feet. The dog ran behind its master and crouched, showing its teeth. "Rooi Jan" regarded Nomfunda in silence for some seconds, and Nomfunda returned his gaze. Then "Rooi Jan" spoke, using the Dutch language, which Nomfunda, who had worked among the Boers for several years, understood fairly well.

"Did I not tell you never to bring the sheep up here?"

"Ja, Baas." ["Yes, Master."]

"Did I not tell you that if ever you did, I would shoot you for the d--d Kafir dog that you are?"

"Ja, Baas."

"Then," uttered "Rooi Jan," his face distorted with fury, and his voice coming in husky gasps, as he deliberately, one after the other, drew back the hammers of his double-barrelled gun, "to-day will I do it; to-day you are dead; to-day will your black carcase lie down among the rocks with the bones of the sheep that you--"

Nomfunda had all this time kept his eyes on the face of the enraged Boer, and when, blind and quivering, "Rooi Jan" lifted the gun to his shoulder, Nomfunda sprang to one side, whilst the charge of buck-shot pa.s.sed so close to his head that he felt the wind of it. Then, as "Rooi Jan," cursing his own clumsiness, was again raising the gun to his shoulder, Nomfunda lifted his k.n.o.b-kerrie and flung it with all his force. The heavy k.n.o.b caught "Rooi Jan" on the left temple, and he fell backwards, and lay on the ground motionless.

Nomfunda had no idea that "Rooi Jan" was seriously injured. The first thing he did was to seize the gun and pitch it down the kloof into a very thick patch of fern. Then he picked up his kerrie, returned to the seat he had occupied when "Rooi Jan" arrived, and sat down to await developments. He knew he had done wrong, and was prepared, as natives generally are, to take his punishment like a man. The dog became very uneasy; it began to whine and cowered against its master, with ears c.o.c.ked, tail tucked under, and hair on end all along the back.

Nomfunda sat for a long time wondering why "Rooi Jan" did not move.

Then he stood up and examined the injured man, who had fallen on his back across a flat stone. His head lay back and his mouth was wide open. A very small trickle of blood came from his left temple, and dabbled his hair. Nomfunda plucked a delicate frond of fern and held it in front of "Rooi Jan's" gaping mouth and nostrils. It moved only to the trembling of the hand that held it.

For a long time Nomfunda could not realise what had happened; surely, he thought, a little wound like that could not cause death. Then the shadows began to fall the other way, the brown hawks came screaming out of their nests in the cliff, and the bees came up the kloof in a steady stream. Still "Rooi Jan" lay motionless, the ghastly pallor of his face and stretched throat contrasting forcibly with the vivid red of his hair and beard. Large, blue flies buzzed round in ever-increasing numbers, and eventually a few of them settled on the nostrils and lips of the corpse. Then Nomfunda realised that his master's son was dead and that he had killed him.

The wretched man already felt the strangling rope around his neck. He was young and he loved his life. A flush of hope pa.s.sed through him.

No one saw the deed--he would hide the body down one of the clefts. No, that would not do; a search was sure to be made about here, and the smell would betray the hiding-place. The body must be hidden far away, high up on the mountain, in some secret place where it would never be discovered.

Nomfunda was of powerful build, and "Rooi Jan" had not been a very big man. The blood had long since ceased trickling, so after carefully removing the small quant.i.ty that had stained the stones, Nomfunda lifted the corpse upon his shoulder and began ascending the steep mountain-side. His course laid for the most part through cover, but he had now and then to emerge into comparatively open s.p.a.ces. Each time, before doing this, he carefully reconnoitred, but not a human being was in sight in any direction. At length he reached the bleak and broken top of the mountain, and then he made straight for a small cavern he knew of, the mouth of which was concealed by shrubs. Here he laid the body, and after carefully re-adjusting the shrubs at the entrance, he returned to his sheep by a different course. The flock was scattered along the flanks of the mountain; he at once collected it and drove it down to the kraal at the homestead, where he arrived at the usual time.

Then he joined the other servants in the hut wherein they dwelt together, cooked and ate his supper and laid himself down wrapped in his blanket,--just as though nothing had happened. But he lay awake during the whole night, thinking of "Rooi Jan," whilst the dogs howled weirdly beneath the unregarding stars.

_Two_.

The disappearance of "Rooi Jan" caused great surprise and uneasiness.

He had left the homestead early in the morning after an early breakfast, with the avowed intention of visiting the farm of Jacob Venter, which was situated about fifteen miles away, and where the girl lived to whom he was engaged to be married. He meant to return during the afternoon of the same day. It now transpired that he had not reached Venter's farm. Each one of the servants, including Nomfunda, was closely questioned, but apparently nothing had been seen of the missing man since he disappeared riding along the road which scarped round the bluff just below the homestead, early in the morning. The spoor of his horse was traced along the road from here by an old Hottentot named Gezwint, who was celebrated as a tracker. This spoor was found to lead along the road for some distance, and then turn abruptly to the left towards the wooded kloof, at the upper end of which, four miles away, "Rooi Jan" had met his doom. It was late in the afternoon when the fact of the spoor turning out of the road was discovered, and night fell before it could be traced to any distance worth speaking of from this point.

Next morning at daylight the tracking was resumed. Old Sarel Marais had been sent for, but had not yet arrived. Several of the neighbouring farmers had been sent for to come and a.s.sist in the search. The party on the spoor consisted of old Gezwint, "Rooi Jan's" younger brothers Piet and Willem--aged, respectively, fifteen and fourteen years--six young farmers, and several native farm servants. Old Gezwint worked like a bloodhound, deciphering almost invisible signs upon the rough, stony ground, and casting back whenever at fault. On again verifying the spoor after a check, he would call out "Hier's hij" ("Here he is"), and again run forward on the slot, followed at a respectful distance by the others, who left the real business of the tracking to his well-known skill. It was at about noon that they came upon "Rooi Jan's" grey mare, saddled and bridled, and tied to a tree deep in the bush. From this point they followed swiftly and without a check the slot of a boot up the kloof to the spring under the cliff. Here the spoor ceased. They found the remains of a recent fire, and the tracks of naked human feet, and of a dog. Beyond this point a spoor was hardly to be hoped for because of the nature of the ground. They spent the rest of the day in searching among the rocky chasms, but when night fell they had found no further track, nor any sign of the missing man. Upon the search party reaching the homestead an hour later, it was found that the flock of sheep had not been brought back to the kraal, and that Nomfunda, the shepherd, was missing.

_Three_.

Nomfunda was herding his sheep on the open, gra.s.sy slope to the left-hand side of the kloof when the search party was at work. The day was clear and still, and he could tell the whereabouts of the trackers from the shouts which arose from time to time. As the trackers advanced towards the head of the kloof, Nomfunda drove his flock along the hill-side by a parallel course until the broken ground was almost reached. Then he darted past the flock, and taking a course still further to the right, through some scrub, he worked his round-about way to the top of the cliff overhanging the scene of the tragedy. Here he lay down just above a jutting bush, through the branches of which he could see without being seen.

He saw the party emerge from the forest and disappear out of the range of his vision under the ledge where the spring gushed out. He could faintly hear the sound of voices, but without being able to distinguish the words. After a while he saw the men emerge and scatter about among the rocks, searching. He made sure they had found the gun, but had no fear just then of their being able to trace the body. It was almost dark when the party withdrew, but Nomfunda had been so absorbed in watching their operations that he had lost all recollection of his sheep. He had been in a state of complete fascination during the whole afternoon. Sometimes one or other of the searchers would take more or less the course along which the body had been carried up the mountain.

When such happened, the unfortunate culprit would give himself up for lost: the cavern would inevitably be found and searched. Then the man who caused his uneasiness would proceed in another direction, and a joyous, unreasoning relief would take possession of the watcher, only to be dissipated when one of the others would accidentally take the former course.

The stars came out one by one, and at length the last shred of daylight died out of the sky. Then Nomfunda sat up and considered. He had lain on the same spot and in the same position for hours and hours. He began to collect his wandering wits. He suddenly remembered his sheep. Why had he come up on the mountain at all? he asked himself in desperation.

He could not now return, for it would be impossible for him to give an explanation of his absence. Why had he not returned with his flock at sundown? Fool, fool--thus to tie the rope around his own neck. No, it would never do to return. He must escape;--but where to? The alarm had been given; he was known to everybody in the neighbourhood, and all would now be on the watch after he had practically admitted his guilt by remaining away from the homestead just when he ought to have been most particular to avoid any conduct calculated to cause suspicion. No, he must remain on the mountain,--for some time at all events. He had his day's ration with him, but it was still untouched, for all day long he had been unable to eat. He was now hungry, but he determined to keep the food for the morrow. The dog had lain quietly next to him all day; its ears were c.o.c.ked, its dilated nostrils were continuously working, and the ridge of hair along the back was still erect.

Next morning's dawn found Nomfunda still lying at the edge of the cliff, and the searchers again at work among the fissures. It was, they made sure, in one or the other of these that the body of "Rooi Jan" would be found concealed. Since the disappearance of Nomfunda, everybody was certain he had murdered the "Klein Baas," ["Little Master"], as "Rooi Jan" was called. The whole forenoon was wasted on the lower parts of the mountain. Nomfunda still lay on the top of the cliff and watched the searchers. He now suffered from a burning thirst, but until nightfall he must endure this physical, in addition to his mental misery.

Early in the afternoon a shrill yell of "Hier's hij" arose from Gezwint, the old sleuth-Hottentot. He had again found the spoor. All that could be seen was a frayed pad of lichen on a sloping stone, higher up than any of the other searchers had reached. From this stone the spoor was taken on slowly and with difficulty until sundown, by which time it had been verified to the very top of the mountain, and within about four hundred yards of where the haggard watcher lay, enduring more than the agonies of death, at his post on the edge of the cliff.

But the spoor could then be traced no further, and the nature of the ground rendered it extremely unlikely that any more tracks would be found. The top of the mountain was composed of flat stones lying closely together, and bare even of lichen.

At nightfall the searchers again returned to the homestead, and Nomfunda hurried down the mountain to the spring, from which he drank his fill of the pure, cold, delicious water, the dog lapping next to him. Then he again ascended the mountain, stepping carefully from stone to stone so as to avoid making a spoor. In places where the stones were not continuous he carried the dog in his arms. He knew the animal was a source of danger to him, and he thought of tying its mouth up and its legs together and cutting its throat, but he remembered that the signs of the deed would be so much more to conceal, and, moreover, he could not endure the thought of the utter loneliness which would be his lot without the dog's companionship.

At midnight Nomfunda was sitting on a stone near the very summit of the mountain. The place where the body was concealed was about half-a-mile from him. The night was cold, but he did not feel any inconvenience although clothed only in a threadbare cotton blanket. He had been for two days almost without food, and for three nights he had not slept, yet he knew neither hunger nor fatigue. Just then he felt fairly comfortable. He was quite easy in his mind about the body; it would never be found--none of the searchers would ever dream of looking in that cave--probably none of them even knew of its existence... Nomfunda sprang to his feet and gasped for breath, whilst his very heart seemed to freeze in his breast. Had he not _himself_ shown this very cave to young Piet, "Rooi Jan's" brother, one day when they together were seeking strayed horses about two years ago? Fool, and again fool! Why had he hidden the body there? Talking over the events of the day down at the homestead, young Piet had probably by this told the others about the cave. It was certain to be visited next day--probably early in the morning. What was there to be done? An unspeakable solution of the difficulty kept suggesting itself, but he drove the frightful notion from him over and over again. At length it overwhelmed him like the slime of a serpent that drenches a crushed victim about to be swallowed.

He must enter the charnel cave, and remove the body to some other hiding-place. But the horror of it! There is nothing so horrifying to a native as having to handle a dead body... "Rooi Jan" had been dead nearly three days... He felt through every fibre of his tortured being that he could _not_ do this thing. But he _must_. The body must not be found. Until the body were found there was only suspicion against him; not proof. Yes, _it_ must be done, so get it over quickly and then laugh at danger. He caught up the dog again in his arms and fled, leaping from stone to stone, towards the cave. Before he reached it he had made up his mind as to what he should do with the corpse. There was another cave in an adjoining mountain about four miles away, and in a very inaccessible place. Fool, and again fool, not to have thought of this spot in the first instance.

Nomfunda readied the mouth of the cave and, throwing down the dog, burst through the bushes into the charnel-house. He tore a strip off his blanket and tied it over his mouth and nostrils. Then he caught up the body, which lay horribly limp in his arms. He seemed to be endowed with more than human strength. The frightful _thing_ seemed to cling to him as it lay across his shoulders, and one loosely-hanging hand patted him gruesomely on the bare flesh of his flank with rhythm corresponding to his steps. His course led over bare, flat, rocky ledges. Here and there he sat down to rest. He noticed that the dog, although it followed, did not come near him. Day was just breaking when he reached the other cave. He entered at once, and placed the body in a cleft at the further extremity, piling up stones, which he felt for in the darkness, against it. One of these slipped down, and Nomfunda thought he heard the body move. He gave a wild shriek and rushed outside. It was broad daylight. The dog heard his steps and ran forward to meet him. When it caught sight of his face the dog stopped short and stood rigid with uplifted paw, and a tingling ridge of hair erected along its back. Then it gave a terrible howl, turned, and fled. It never returned to him.

All day long the wretched Nomfunda lay beneath the undermined bank of a donga. Reeds and long gra.s.s concealed his hiding-place. When night fell, he again visited the spring, drank his fill of water, and plundered a bees' nest in the cliff, from which he had only recently removed nearly all the honey. The combs were now full of bee-bread and young bees. These were better as food for him just then than mere honey would have been. After this he re-ascended the mountain and again concealed himself in the donga, where he fell into a deep sleep. This was the first time he had slept since the death of "Rooi Jan." He was awakened early in the forenoon of the next day by voices. The speakers stood so close that he could hear what they were saying. Their speech was to the effect that in the event of the present day's search proving unsuccessful they would on the following day overhaul the adjacent mountain, in which it was known that several caves existed. The wretched listener nearly expired from sheer terror. When night fell he emerged from his den and hurried to the second sepulchre of "Rooi Jan."

The body must again be removed. The moon was new and sank soon after the sun. He reached the cave and grovelled upon the ground before the entrance in terror and anguish. But the awful deed had to be done. He entered; the air was horribly foetid. One by one, with dreadful groanings, he dragged away the piled-up stones, and then, trying to hold his breath, he bore the corpse out into the pure air of the spring night. Then, shutting his teeth tight, he lifted the swollen horror to his shoulders and carried it in the direction of its former resting-place. He knew of another secret spot--a deep cleft near the edge of the clift overhanging the spring. He reached this spot with his ghastly burthen just before dawn. He rolled the body into the cleft and covered it with small bushes and handfuls of gra.s.s which he pulled out.

After this he concealed himself in another cleft in the vicinity.

Shortly after daybreak he saw the searchers again ascending the kloof, one of them leading his dog by a rein fastened to its neck. They pa.s.sed over the mountain to his left, and he did not again see them until they returned in the evening. About mid-day he saw his dog, which had evidently escaped, running as hard as ever it could down the mountain towards the homestead, with the rein trailing from its neck.

Nomfunda remained three weeks upon the mountain, and nine separate times he took the body of "Rooi Jan" on his shoulders at the last hiding-place, and, limping on lacerated and bleeding feet, removed it to another. The moon grew night by night in soft splendour, and looked down upon the awful spectacle of a putrid human corpse being carried from place to place by a human being. The tempest wrapped the mountain in flame and roarings, and the rain-charged wind buffeted the quick and the dead thus linked together by a gruesome prank of Fate. The pure breath of the midnight mountain breeze hurried on to rid itself of the taint left by the gross gases of mortality which the earth should have sealed up in its trans.m.u.ting alembic, and the clear mountain height, sacred to the most cleanly influences of Nature, was polluted by the ghoul-wanderings of a terrific creature bearing an unspeakable burthen, whom horror had deprived of the semblance of humanity.

The sequel to this narrative may be found in the records of a certain Circuit Court and the (more or less) thirty-year-old files of some Colonial newspapers. It may therein be read how old Gezwint was perplexed by the fresh spoors which he found from time to time; these sometimes showing signs of blood. Further, how the searchers eventually determined to remain on the mountain by night, where they then scattered about in pairs; how two of the searchers, concealed one night near a certain footpath, were startled by the sound of heavy groanings, followed by the rustle of staggering footsteps and an awful stench; how they then captured Nomfunda carrying what had once been the body of "Rooi Jan" Marais. He made no resistance, and they led him away to prison. His aspect was such as to strike dread into all who beheld him.

It may also be ascertained from the same sources how Nomfunda was tried for murder by a jury composed of Dutch farmers, found guilty without any recommendation to mercy, and sentenced to be hanged by the neck till he was dead; how a certain minister of the United Presbyterian Church obtained access to the condemned man, heard his story, believed it, went to the scene of the initial tragedy, and found "Rooi Jan's" gun where it was still concealed, with one barrel empty and one yet loaded; how representations were made to the proper quarter with the effect that the death-sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life. One somehow fails to see clearly either the justice or mercy of this particular commutation. Possibly Nomfunda is still serving out his sentence.