The moon was waning fast, but the stars still held the curtains of night over the wide-stretched whispering veldt, when the victorious party of Amaxosa, accompanied by the slave-gang, was heard approaching from the north, and upon their arrival it was found that the little band had not suffered further in any way, having satisfactorily "rushed" the remaining slavers, and disposed of them every one.

The anger of Leigh and Amaxosa, however, knew no bounds when the cunning escape of the arch-enemy was made known to them, and both bitterly repented that they had not made sure of the fox by knocking him on the head, and registered a solemn vow to commit no further mistakes of the kind, should Zero fall into their hands again. Clearly, however, nothing could be done until dawn of day, and it was decided, therefore, to let the rescued slaves sleep in their irons, and to wait for daylight, in order that their captors might gain some little insight into the character of their new charges. So, having set a watch of Zanzibaris, overlooked by Grenville himself, the tired army laid itself down, and was soon fast asleep, whilst the rescued slaves, who had been told the good news that they would be liberated in the morning, chattered to one another throughout the livelong night, like a troop of monkeys in the forest. With the first gleam of daylight, Leigh and Amaxosa were afoot, and without even staying to dispatch a mouthful of food, threw themselves upon the bloodstained trail of the Slaver-Chief, and were almost instantly lost to sight amongst the dense fog-banks which overhung the surrounding veldt in every direction.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

"THE PEOPLE OF THE STICK."

First thing in the morning the slaves were unshackled, and, after all had breakfasted, they were interviewed through the medium of one of the native "guides," and our friends found to their horror that Zero and his band of fiends had fallen upon this people, in the night, and after picking out 300 of the finest among the men, had effectually stamped out the remainder of the tribe, both root and branch, by _fastening them all, young men and maidens, old men and children, in their huts, and then setting fire to the village_, lining the palisades with their rifles meantime, lest any should break out and escape, to bring down upon the murderers swift and unsparing vengeance at the hands of a great and warlike native people, who lived near at hand, and who were closely related to the stricken tribe.

They seemed an intelligent and brave people, and would no doubt have given a good account of themselves if Zero had not taken them utterly unawares in their huts by night; and the men, who were as a rule fine, athletic-looking fellows, declared that they would follow the white men to the death, if they would but lead their party on and entirely eat up these slavers, whom they denounced as monsters of cruelty--one man stating that the great bloodhounds had been deliberately fed by Zero himself _with the flesh of several baby boys, who had been roasted alive_, and he added that, if the white men would not go with them, his own people would carry on the war, even if they had to fight with empty hands.

This was so far good, but our friends were utterly at their wits' end regarding arms for their new allies, who clearly did not understand the use of guns, whilst the few spears and axes saved from the slavers deceased in the fight of the previous day, would not equip one-fourth of their number.

On being asked, however, what weapons they would prefer to use, the men replied proudly that they were called "Atagbondo" or "the People of the Stick," in consequence of their habit of fighting only with long-handled clubs, which they could cut for themselves as soon as forest land, similar to their own, was reached by the party.

These clubs, it appeared, formed their sole weapon of offence, but they also used--as our friends found at a later date--an instrument of a most peculiar nature, and of which their white leaders could not at first comprehend the utility.

The instrument referred to, was a neatly-fashioned piece of extremely hard wood, from a yard to a yard and a half in length, thick in the centre, where it contained a cavity to protect the hand, and tapering to both of its slender-looking extremities. At its widest part it was but some few inches broad, was fitted with a thong in which to slip the hand, and generally gave one the idea of a modified quarter-staff with an elongated bulb in the middle. The instrument was called a "quayre;"

and when this people went into battle the warriors tapped the quayre against the shaft of the club and produced a rattling volume of sound, which could be heard a mile away, and was supposed to strike terror into the heart of the foe; whilst the quayre itself, which they handled in a most expert fashion, was used not only to ward off blows struck at the persons of the men with native axes, clubs, or similar weapons, but even in parrying spear-thrusts--a difficult operation, which they performed, however, with no little dexterity, whilst the quayre was at the same time less than one-third of the weight of a very ordinary fighting shield.

On being informed that the white men were about to hold a council of war, and would like them to be represented, the chief of the Atagbondo stepped forward. Probably forty years of age, this man was a magnificent specimen of his race, who are all very much above the average height of Englishmen. He stood, probably, six feet two inches, but whilst he was not quite so tall as Amaxosa he possessed a more heavily built frame, being broader and deeper in the chest, and more ma.s.sive in his appearance generally. Taken all through, he was, perhaps, the more powerful of the two men, but what the Zulu lacked in point of muscle was more than compensated for by the symmetry of his build, and his consequently superior activity; besides, this was relatively speaking, a man of peace, whilst the fierce Zulu was a man of war from his youth up, trained in every art and artifice, and inured to hardships and dangers by the experiences of many a well-fought field.

The Chieftain of the Stick had an intensely "Negro" face, but without its ordinary stolidity, and, in common with his warriors, had his head shaved with the exception of a sort of central tuft, which somewhat resembled the "scalp lock" of the North American Indians, and through this tuft was thrust, in the case of every man, a miniature quayre, beautifully carved in ivory, standing, in point of fact, for the "totem"

of his tribe, and proudly indicating the race from which he sprang.

The chief--whose name, by the way, was "Barad," or "The Hailstorm"--in a few well-chosen words, thanked the white men for releasing himself and his people, and then declared his intention of putting his party entirely into the hands of our friends, until vengeance had been taken upon the wicked men "who dwelt on the frontier of the far north, and amongst the mountains of Muzi Zimba the Ancient." Our friends were more than surprised to find that their new allies both knew and reverenced the friendly hermit who overlooked Zero's location, but found that beyond sending the old man a yearly "hongo," or tribute, they knew nothing of him, but regarded him as a "very big fetish."

Amaxosa and Leigh now returning empty-handed and disgusted from their search after Zero, a council was called to receive their report. This was as short as it was unsatisfactory. The slaver had been unquestionably wounded by Grenville's bullet, but it was, unfortunately, one of those wounds which act upon a flying foe as they do upon a running deer, and simply make him leap the faster.

The pair had followed the track of the fugitive for close upon ten miles, beyond which it was useless to go, as they now knew positively from the "sign" that Zero had unearthed a canoe from its hiding-place amongst some rocks near the river, and had gone off down stream, and was, therefore, completely out of reach for the time being.

Smarting with fury at the crushing defeat he had sustained, and maddened by the loss of both friends and plunder, the party might safely reckon upon the slaver delivering a crushing attack upon their position at no distant date, and it only now became a question as to whether they were sufficiently strong to go out and meet him in the open, or had better choose out a likely place on the mountain side, and make it good, until the loss on the side of the foe provided them with a chance of wiping him out "one time," as the natives say, with a well-delivered sortie.

True, the little band had now the not-to-be-despised support of three hundred able-bodied men, all thirsting for vengeance upon the common foe; but then, these men were entirely unarmed, whilst Zero, besides mustering close upon a thousand of his own rogues, well supplied with guns, would in all probability be supported by the native King already referred to, backed by several thousands of his followers, all armed with bow and spear, in the use of which they were said to be both bold and skilful.

Ultimately, therefore, our friends decided to stay where they were, or, rather, to select a strong position on the mountain capable of a sustained defence, and in the interval which they might calculate upon prior to an attack, they determined to employ themselves in an endeavour to arm, after their own peculiar fashion, the warlike People of the Stick, and to induct the most intelligent amongst them into the mysteries of the rifle. This last would necessitate some little expenditure in the way of ammunition; but, as the party had abundance of powder taken from the vanquished slavers, they were fortunately in a position to afford this outlay.

Towards evening, the indefatigable Amaxosa, who had gone out on a tour of inspection, returned with an exceptionally favourable report, and the first thing on the morrow the whole band removed to the rocky fastness selected for their occupation by the keen-eyed Zulu chief, and all hands were at once set to work to excavate, to build earthworks, and in many other ways to amplify the already considerable natural defences of the place, whilst the Atagbondo flayed every bush and tree within a scoro of miles, to furnish themselves with offensive clubs and defensive quayres.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

FIGHTING THE FLAMES.

For fully three days did our friends occupy themselves in the very necessary work of perfecting the defences of their stronghold on the mountain, and in teaching a picked dozen of the Atagbondo the use of the rifle, with which weapon they soon became fair marksmen, in the native acceptance of the term.

On the fourth day, however, a discovery, trifling in itself, convinced the party that, so far from having been forgotten by Zero, they were at present occupying the whole of his earnest attention.

The incident in question was the accidental notice taken by Kenyon of a small bird wheeling round and round their position; closer and closer it came, until all could see perfectly well that it was a white carrier pigeon, bearing a message. Finding, however, that the party did not whistle it in, the bird grew shy, and quickly took to flight Leigh raised his rifle with the intention of bringing it down, but Kenyon stopped him just in time.

"Don't shoot, old fellow," he said; "I've a fancy to let that bird severely alone. I want to know just where it's bound for at the present moment."

Watching very carefully, the pigeon was at last seen to enter a clump of bush about half a mile up the mountain side, and scarcely ten minutes later, either it, or a similar bird, left the same cover, and winged its rapid way due north.

The inference was plain, and our friends looked blankly at one another; but, ere they could speak, the Zulu chief had summoned Umbulanzi and directed him to take two men, thoroughly search the suspected spot, and put to the a.s.segai anyone they might find lurking there.

Grenville and Kenyon would have much preferred taking the spy--if spy there was--alive, but the fear that his presence would cause the injured People of the Stick to overstep all restraint and become guilty of some fearful act of barbaric cruelty, decided them to let the man fight it out to the bitter end for his own life, rather than to permit him to fall into the hands of a raging mob of naked savages, whose tenderest mercies, maddened as they were by their frightful wrongs, would be cruel indeed.

Anxiously our friends watched the progress of the three Zulus up the mountain, and all at once Leigh took a fancy to follow them, and was soon swinging up the slant with rapid steps, accompanied by Amaxosa and Kenyon.

The Zulus reached the spot and plunged into the cover, from which there instantly arose a tremendous hubbub, and a moment later all three reappeared, fairly driven out by half a score of white men, and fighting furiously with their spears against several of the slavers, who were armed with axes, whilst the remainder stood by eagerly seeking an opportunity to use their guns.

Promptly Leigh and Kenyon pitched forward their rifles, and two of the slavers instantly rolled head over heels down the mountain side, whilst at the same moment, uttering a wild shout of encouragement, Amaxosa dashed forward like an arrow from the bow, and in another second was side by side with his warriors, their nervous arms dealing out death and disaster with every sweeping blow. When Leigh and Kenyon reached the platform upon which this tragedy had been enacted, there was but one of the enemy left alive, and he was engaged in a terrific hand-to-hand combat with Amaxosa. All at once the Zulu's axe broke off short in the haft, and the ruffian slaver rushed at him with a victorious shout.

Springing lightly to one side, however, the active chief easily avoided the deadly stroke aimed at him by his opponent, whom he seized the next instant from behind, with his powerful hands pinning the man's arms to his side, and before anyone could interfere, or even speak, with one mighty effort the fierce Zulu fairly swung his hapless foe from the ground, and then dashed him down full upon the rock, on his bare skull, which was crushed in like an egg-sh.e.l.l, the awful blow, of course, killing him on the spot, and an instant later the mountain side echoed to the triumphant notes of the famous Undi war-chant.

"Oh, my father," said the great Zulu, contemplating his handiwork with satisfaction, and speaking to Leigh, "it was a great fight; few could have slain the man with empty hands. Sleep softly, ye evildoers; the Lion of the Undi bids you sleep!"

Carefully examining the cover from which the discomfited foe had sprung, our friends found that it consisted of a shallow cave in the face of the rock, the entrance being masked by low bushes, and a thick undergrowth of wild vines. In this hiding-place Kenyon discovered a basket containing three white and two black pigeons, whilst a note, evidently the one just received, lay upon the rocky floor. Eagerly pouncing upon this, the detective quickly mastered its contents, which were simply as follows:--

"The second detachment will arrive at midnight to-night.--

"Zero."

Clearly it was not, therefore, a mere question of spying upon their position; but the evident intention of the cunning slaver was to send in small drafts of men to conceal themselves upon the mountain; and these, when his own army moved up to the attack, would, at a given signal, doubtless fall upon our friends in the rear, and thus effect a very serious diversion in favour of Zero, at a most critical moment.

The scheme was well thought-out, but the watchfulness of Kenyon had completely ruined it; and if the further suggestions which he now made should prove workable, the little band might be relied upon to read Master Zero another very severe and humiliating lesson, when he made his intended final onset.

Briefly, Kenyon's idea consisted of an attempt to lure the second detachment of slavers on to their utter destruction, but in view of their prematurely taking the alarm in consequence of our friends possibly failing to understand and correctly to answer their secret signals, a large party was to be slipped into the long gra.s.s of the veldt to intercept the slavers in the event of their making a push to escape, and an endeavour was to be made to capture some of the men alive, and force them to give up the secrets of their curious system of aerial correspondence.

Finally it was decided that Amaxosa should set out with ten of his own men and fifty of the warriors of the Atagbondo at moonrise, and lie in ambush about three miles to the north of the mountain, but this party was on no account to make any movement, except in the event of a rocket being fired from the camp, giving them the direction of the escaping slavers. The Zulu was especially cautioned against making fire signals of any kind, as it was calculated that the enemy would, themselves, probably employ these.

Little, however, did our friends know, as yet, of the devilish ingenuity of Master Zero, who had but to suspect the very remotest possibility of the existence of a trap to guard against it in most effectual fashion, and that night our friends received a peculiarly unpleasant proof of his dangerous capabilities in this direction.

The matter fell out thus:--As Kenyon, Leigh, and a party of fifty picked men were lying noiselessly in wait in the cover from which they had that morning driven the enemy, they were suddenly and viciously attacked, without a moment's warning, by Zero's forerunner, in the shape of an enormous jaguar, which severely mauled a number of the men ere he was settled by Kenyon, who drove a Zulu a.s.segai through the beast's spine, whereupon his roarings woke every living echo in the country side, and a moment later a moving ma.s.s of dark forms could be seen gliding out from the friendly shadows cast by the mountain, and stringing themselves across the veldt in a vain effort to escape from their active foes.

Quickly Grenville sent up his rocket, and as the glittering thread of fire traced its way across the heavens, Leigh and his eager party dashed down the mountain, and followed the flying foe at speed across the veldt, fearing from their apparent strength that the slavers might prove too heavy for Amaxosa and his little band.

A mile from the rocks, finding their retreat cut off, the slavers formed in square and stood at bay between two fires. Leigh called to them to surrender, and lay down their arms, but the answer was hurled back in the shape of a contemptuous curse and a rattling volley, which stretched several of the Atagbondo upon the ground.

Not one moment after this could Leigh or Amaxosa restrain their men, who simply flung themselves upon the very muzzles of the slavers. Nothing short of a triple line of bayonets could have withstood such a magnificently audacious charge, and in less time than it takes to tell, the "People of the Stick" had literally wiped their hated foes off the face of the earth.

Five minutes covered the whole ghastly affair from beginning to end, and in that short s.p.a.ce of time, Zero, in addition to the loss of his pet tiger, had suffered to the extent of fifty-three men, whilst our friends had on their side eleven killed outright and seventeen wounded, two of these last, dying the next day.

"Haow Inkoos," said the Zulu chief approvingly; "it is indeed a brave people, and fights well, almost as well as the Amazulu, but I would they used the a.s.segai or the axe and made cleaner work of it. Well, what is done is done, my father, and these evil witch-finders will never trouble us again," and the great Zulu philosophically took a mighty pinch of snuff and offered one to Leigh in token of his entire satisfaction with the result of the night's work.