 After dinner, we thoroughly inspected all the outbuildings and grounds of the station. Which I consider the most successful, as well as the most beautiful place of the sort, that I have seen in Africa. We then returned to the veranda, where we found Umslopogas taking advantage of this favorable opportunity to clean all the rifles thoroughly. This was the only work that he ever did or was asked to do, for as a Zulu chief, it was beneath his dignity to work with his hands. But such as it was, he did it very well. It was a curious sight to see the great Zulu sitting there upon the floor, his battle-axe resting against the wall behind him, whilst his long aristocratic-looking hands were busily employed, delicately and with the utmost care, cleaning the mechanism of the breech loaders. He had a name for each gun. One, a double-four bore belonging to Sir Henry, was the thunderer. Another, my five hundred express, which had a peculiarly sharp report, was the little one who spoke like a whip. The Winchester repeaters were the women who talked so fast you could not tell one word from another. The six martinis were the common people, and so on, with them all. It was very curious to hear him addressing each gun as he claimed it, as though it were an individual, and in the vein of the quaintest humor. He did the same with his battle-axe, which he seemed to look upon as an intimate friend, and to which he would at times talk by the hour, going over all his old adventures with it, and dreadful enough some of them were. By a piece of grim humor he had named this axe Encosicas, which is the Zulu word for chieftainess. For a long while I could not make out why he gave it such a name, and at last I asked him. When he informed me that the axe was very evidently feminine, because of her womanly habit of prying very deep into things, and that she was clearly of chieftainess because all men fell down before her, struck dumb at the sight of her beauty and power. In the same way he would consult Encosicas, if in any dilemma, and when I asked him why he did so, he informed me it was because she must needs be wise having looked into so many people's brains. I took up the axe and closely examined this formidable weapon. It was, as I have said, of the nature of a pole-axe. The haft, made out of an enormous rhinoceros horn, was three feet three inches long, about an inch and a quarter thick, and with a knob at the end as large as a malty's orange, left there to prevent the hand from slipping. This horn haft, though so massive, was as flexible as cane, and practically unbreakable. But to make assurance doubly sure, it was whipped round at intervals of a few inches with copper wire, all the parts where the hands grip being thus treated. Just above where the haft entered the head were scored a number of little knicks, each knick representing a man killed in battle with the weapon. The axe itself was made of the most beautiful steel, and apparently of European manufacturer, though Umslopogas did not know where it came from, having taken it from the hand of a chief he had killed in battle many years before. It was not very heavy, the head weighing two and a half pounds as nearly as I could judge. The cutting part was slightly concave in shape, not convex, as is generally the case with savage battle axes, and sharp as a razor, measuring five and three-quarter inches across the widest part. From the back of the axe sprang a stout spike four inches long, for the last two of which it was hollow and shaped like a leather punch, with an opening for anything forced into the hollow at the punch end to be pushed out above. In fact, in this respect it exactly resembled a butcher's pole axe. It was with this punch end, as we afterwards discovered, that Umslopogas usually struck when fighting, driving a neat round hole in his adversary's skull, and only using the broad cutting edge for a circular sweep, or sometimes in a melee. I think he considered the punch a neater and more sportsman-like tool, and it was from his habit of pecking at his enemy with it that he got his name of Woodpecker. Certainly in his hands it was a terribly efficient one. Such was Umslopogas' axe in Kosikas, the most remarkable and fatal hand-to-hand weapon that I ever saw, and one which he cherished as much as his own life. It scarcely ever left his hand except when he was eating, and then he always sat with it under his leg. Just as I returned his axe to Umslopogas, Miss Flossy came up and took me off to see her collection of flowers, African liliums, and blooming shrubs, some of which are very beautiful, many of the varieties being quite unknown to me, and also I believe to botanical science. I ask her if she had ever seen or heard of the Goya lili, which Central African explorers have told me they have occasionally met with, and whose wonderful loveliness has filled them with astonishment. This lili, which the natives say blooms only once in ten years, flourishes in the most arid soil. Compared to the size of the bloom, the bulb is small, generally weighing about four pounds. As for the flower itself, which I afterwards saw under circumstances likely to impress its appearance fixedly in my mind, I know not how to describe its beauty and splendor or the indescribable sweetness of its perfume. The flower, for it only has one bloom, rises from the crown of the bulb on a thick, fleshy, and flat-sided stem. The specimen that I saw measured fourteen inches in diameter, and is somewhat trumpet-shaped like the bloom of an ordinary longiflorum set vertically. First there is the green sheath, which in its early stage is not unlike that of a water lily, but which as the bloom opens splits into four portions and curls back gracefully toward the stem. Then comes the bloom itself, a single dazzling arch of white, enclosing another cup of richest velvety crimson, from the heart of which rises a golden-colored pistol. I have never seen anything to equal this bloom in beauty or fragrance, and as I believe it is but little known I take the liberty to describe it at length. Looking at it for the first time I well remember that I realized how, even in a flower, there dwells something of the majesty of its maker. To my great delight Miss Fosse told me that she knew the flower well, and had tried to grow it in her garden, but without success, adding, however, that as it should be in bloom at this time of year she thought that she could procure me a specimen. After that I fell to asking her if she was not lonely up here, among all these savage people, and without any companions of her own age. Lonely, she said, oh indeed no, I am as happy as the day is long, and besides I have my own companions. Why, I should hate to be buried in a crowd of white girls all just like myself so that nobody could tell the difference. Here, she said, giving her head a little toss, I am I, and every native for miles around knows the water lily, for that is what they call me, and is ready to do what I want. But in the books that I have read about little girls in England it is not like that. Everybody thinks them a trouble, and they have to do what their school mistress likes. Oh, it would break my heart to be put in a cage like that, and not to be free. Free is the air. Would you not like to learn? I asked. So I do learn. Father teaches me Latin and French and arithmetic. Are you never afraid, among all these wild men? Afraid? Oh no, they never interfere with me. I think they believe that I am the guy of the divinity, because I am so white and have fair hair. And look here, in diving her little hand into the bodice of her dress, she produced a double-barrel nickel-plated derringer. I always carry that loaded, and if anybody tried to touch me I should shoot him. Once I shot a leopard that jumped upon my donkey as I was riding along. It frightened me very much, but I shot it in the ear, and it fell dead. And I have its skin upon my bed. Look there! she went on in an altered voice, touching me on the arm and pointing to some faraway object. I said just now that I had companions, there is one of them. I looked, and for the first time there burst upon my sight the glory of Mount Kenya. Hither too the mountain had always been hidden and missed, but now its radiant beauty was unveiled for many thousand feet. Although the base was still wrapped in vapor so that the lofty peak, or pillar, towering nearly twenty thousand feet into the sky, appeared to be a fairy vision hanging between earth and heaven and based upon the clouds. The solemn majesty and beauty of this white peak are together beyond the power of my poor pen to describe. There it rose straight and sheer, a glittering white glory, its crest piercing the very blue of heaven, as I gazed at it with that little girl I felt my whole heart lifted up with an indescribable emotion, and for a moment great and wonderful thoughts seemed to break upon my mind, even as the arrows of the setting sun were breaking upon Kenya's snows. Mr. McKenzie's natives call the mountain the finger of God, and to me it did seem eloquent of immortal peace and of the pure high comb that surely lives above this fevered world. Somewhere I had heard a line of poetry, a thing of beauty is a joy forever, and now it came into my mind, and for the first time I thoroughly understood what it meant. Bass, indeed, would be the man who could look upon that mighty snow-reathed pile, that white old tombstone of the years, and not feel his own utter insignificance, and, by whatever name he calls him, worship God in his heart. Such sights are like visions of the Spirit. They throw wide the windows of the chamber of our small selfishness, and let in a breath of that air that rushes round the rolling spheres, and for a while illumine our darkness with a far-off gleam of the white light which beats upon the throne. Yes, such things of beauty are indeed a joy forever, and I can well understand what little floss he meant when she talked of Kenya as her companion. Azum Slopogas, savage old Zulu that he was, said when I pointed out to him the peak hanging in the glittering air. A man might look there on for a thousand years and yet be hungry to see, but he gave rather another color to his political idea when he added in a sort of chant, and with a touch of that weird imagination for which the man was remarkable, that when he was dead he should like his spirit to sit upon that snow-clad peak for ever, and to rush down the steep white sides in the breath of the whirlwind or on the flash of the lightning, and slay and slay and slay. Slay what, you old bloodhound? I asked. This rather puzzled him, but at length he answered the other shadows. So thou wouldst continue thy murdering even after death? I said. I murder not, he answered hotly. I kill in fair fight. Man is born to kill. He who kills not when his blood is hot is a woman and no man. The people who kill not are slaves. I say I kill in fair fight, and when I am in the shadow, as you white men say, I hope to go on killing in fair fight. May my shadow be accursed and chilled to the bone for ever if it should fall to murdering like a bushman with his poisoned arrows, and he stalked away with much dignity and left me laughing. Just then the spies, whom our host had sent out in the morning to find out if there were any traces of our Maasai friends about, returned and reported that the country had been scoured for fifteen miles round without a single elmaran being seen, and that they believed that those gentry had given up the pursuit and returned once they came. Mr. Mackenzie gave a sigh of relief when he heard this, and so indeed did we, for we had quite enough of the Maasai to last us for some time. Indeed the general opinion was that finding we had reached the mission station in safety they had, knowing its strength, given up the pursuit of us as a bad job. How ill judged that view was, the sequel will show. After the spies had gone, and Mrs. Mackenzie and Flossie had retired for the night, Alphonse the little Frenchman came out, and Sir Henry, who was a very good French scholar, got him to tell us how he came to visit Central Africa, which he did in a most extraordinary lingo, that for the most part I shall not attempt to reproduce. My grandfather, he began, was a soldier of the guard, served under Napoleon. He was in the retreat from Moscow, and lived for ten days on his own leggings, and a pair he stole from a comrade. He used to get drunk, he died drunk, and I remember playing at drums on his coffin. My father, here we suggested that he might skip his ancestry and come to the point. Be him, monsieur," replied this comical little man with a polite bow. I did only wish to demonstrate that the military principle is not hereditary. My grandfather was a splendid man, six feet too high, broad in proportion, a swallower of fire and gators. Also he was remarkable for his moustache. To me there remains the moustache, and nothing more. I am, monsieur, a cook, and I was born at Marseille. In that dear town I spent my happy youth. For years and years I washed the dishes at the hotel continental. Ah, those were golden days, and he sighed. I am a Frenchman, indeed I say, monsieur, that I admire beauty. May I adore the fair. Monsieur, we admire all the roses in a garden, but we pluck one. I plucked one. And alas, monsieur, it pricked my finger. She was a chambermaid, her name and net, her figure ravishing, her face and angels, her heart alas, monsieur, that I should have to own it. Black and slippery is a patent leather boot. I loved desperation, I adored her to despair. She transported me, and ever since she inspired me. Never have I cooked as I cooked, for I had been promoted at the hotel, when Annette, my adored Annette, smiled on me. Never, and hear his manly voice broken to a sob, never shall I cook so well again. Here he melted into tears. Come, cheer up! said Sir Henry in French, smacking him smartly on the back. There's no knowing what may happen, you know. To judge from your dinner today, I should say you were in a fair way to recovery. Alphonse stopped weeping and began to rub his back. Monsieur, he said, doubtless means to console, but his hand is heavy. To continue, we loved, and were happy in each other's love. The birds in their little nest could not be happier than Alphonse and his Annette. Then came the blow, saprestie, when I think of it. Monsieur wouldn't forgive me if I wipe away a tear. Mine was an evil number. I was drawn for the conscription. Fortune would be avenged on me for having won the heart of Annette. The evil moment came. I had to go. I tried to run away, but I was caught by brutal soldiers, and they banged me with the butt-end of muskets till my mustachios curled with pain. I had a cousin, a linen draper, well-to-do, but very ugly. He had drawn a good number and sympathized when they thumped me. To thee, my cousin, I said, to thee, in whose veins flows the blue blood of our heroic grandparent. To thee I can sign Annette. Watch over her whilst I hunt for glory in the bloody field. Make your mind easy, said he, I will. As the sequel shows, he did. I went. I lived in barracks, on black soup. I am a refined man, and a poet by nature, and I suffered tortures from the course horror of my surroundings. There was a drill sergeant, and he had a cane. Ah, that cane, how it curled! Alas, never can I forget it! One morning came the news. My battalion was ordered to Tonkin. The drill sergeant and the other course monsters regained. I, I made inquiries about Tonkin. They were not satisfactory. And Tonkin are savage Chinese, who rip you open. My artistic tastes, for I am also an artist, recoiled from the idea of being ripped open. The great man makes up his mind quickly. I made up my mind. I determined not what to do. He makes up his mind quickly. I made up my mind. I determined not to be ripped open. I deserted. I reached Marseille disguised as an old man. I went to the house of my cousin. He in whom runs my grandfather's heroic blood. And there set Annette. It was the season of cherries. They took a double stalk, and each end was a cherry. My cousin put one into his mouth, and Annette put the other in hers. Then they drew the stalks in till their eyes met. And alas, alas that I should have to say it, they kissed. The game was a pretty one, but it filled me with fury. The heroic blood of my grandfather boiled up in me. I rushed into the kitchen. I struck my cousin with the old man's crutch. He fell. I had slain him. Alas, I believed that I did slay him. Annette screamed. The gendarmes came. I fled. I reached the harbour. I hid aboard a vessel. The vessel put to sea. The captain found me and beat me. He took an opportunity. He posted a letter from a foreign port to the police. He did not put me ashore, because I cooked so well. I cooked for him all the way to Zanzibar. When I asked for payment, he kicked me. The blood of my heroic grandfather boiled within me, and I shook my fist in his face, and vowed to have my revenge. He kicked me again. At Zanzibar there was a telegram. I cursed the man who invented telegraphs. Now I curse him again. I was to be arrested for desertion, for murder, and causez-je. I escaped from the prison. I fled. I starved. I met the men of Monsieur Le Cure. They brought me here. I am full of woe, but I return not to France. Better to risk my life in these horrible places than to know the banya. He paused, and we nearly choked with laughter having to turn our faces away. Are you weep, Monsieur? he said. No wonder it is a sad story. Perhaps, said Sir Henry, the heroic blood of your grandparent will triumph after all. Perhaps you will still be great. At any rate, we shall see. And now I vote we go to bed. I am dead tired. And we had not much sleep on that confounded rock last night. And so we did. And very strange the tidy rooms and clean white sheets seemed to us after our recent experiences. End of Chapter 4 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information and to find out how you can volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Alan Quattermane by H. Ryder Haggard Chapter 5 Umslopogas makes a promise. Next morning at breakfast I missed Flossie and asked where she was. Well, said her mother. When I got up this morning I found a note put outside my door in which, but here it is, you can read it for yourself. And she gave me this lip of paper on which the following was written. Dearest M, it is just dawn and I am off to the hills to get Mr. Q a bloom of the lily he wants. So don't expect me till you see me. I have taken the white donkey and nurse and a couple of boys are coming with me. Also something to eat as I may be away all day for I am determined to get the lily if I have to go twenty miles for it. Flossie, I hope she will be all right, I said a little anxiously. I never met her to trouble after the flower. Oh, Flossie can look after herself, said her mother. She often goes off in this way like a true child of the wilderness. But Mr. Mackenzie, who came in just then and saw the note for the first time, looked rather grave, though he said nothing. After breakfast was over I took him aside and asked him whether it would not be possible to send after the girl and get her back, having in view the possibility of there still being some messiah hanging about, at whose hands she might come to harm. I fear it would be of no use, he answered. She may be fifteen miles off by now and it is impossible to say what path she has taken. There are the hills, and he pointed to a long range of rising ground, stretching almost parallel with the course followed by the river Tana, but gradually sloping down to a dense bush-clad plain about five miles short of the house. Here I suggested that we might get up the great tree over the house and search the country round with a spy-glass. And this, after Mr. Mackenzie had given some orders to his people to try and follow Flossy's spore, we did. The ascent of the mighty tree was rather an alarming performance, even with a sound rope ladder fixed at both ends to climb up, at least to a landsman, but good came up like a lamp-lider. On reaching the height at which the first fern-grinder and reaching the height at which the first fern-shaped boughs sprang from the bowl, we stepped without any difficulty upon a platform made of boards, nailed from one bow to another, and large enough to accommodate a dozen people. As for the view, it was simply glorious. In every direction the bush rolled away in great billows for miles and miles, as far as the glass would show, only here and there broken by the brighter green of patches of cultivation, or by the glittering surface of lakes. To the northwest, Kenya reared his mighty head, and we could trace the Tana River curling like a silver snake almost from his feet and far away beyond us towards the ocean. It is a glorious country, and only wants the hand of civilized man to make it a most productive one. Look as we would, we could see no signs of flossy and her donkey. So at last we had to come down, disappointed. On reaching the veranda, I found Umslopogas sitting there, slowly and lightly, sharpening his axe with a small whetstone he always carried with him. What do us thou, Umslopogas? I asked. I asked. I smell blood, was the answer, and I could get no more out of him. After dinner, we again went up the tree and searched the surrounding country with a spyglass, but without result. When we came down, Umslopogas was still sharpening in Kosikas, although she already had an edge like a razor. Standing in front of him and regarding him with a mixture of fear and fascination was Alphonse. And certainly he did seem an alarming object. Sitting there, Zulu fashion, on his hunches, a wild look upon his intensely savage and yet intellectual face, sharpening, sharpening, sharpening at the murderous looking axe. Oh, the monster, the horrible man, said the little French cook, lifting his hands in amazement. See but the hole in his head, the skin beats on it up and down like a baby's. Who would nurse such a baby? And he burst out laughing at the idea. For a moment, Umslopogas looked up from his sharpening, and a sort of evil light played in his dark eyes. What does the little buffalo heifer, so named by Umslopogas, on account of his mustachios and feminine characteristics, say, Let him be careful, or I will cut his horns. Beware, little man monkey, beware. Unfortunately, Alphonse, who was getting over his fear of him, went on laughing. C'est drôle de monsieur noir. I was about to warn him to desist when suddenly the huge Zulu bounded off the veranda onto the open space where Alphonse was standing. His features alive with a sort of malicious enthusiasm, and began swinging the axe round and round over the Frenchman's head. Stand still, I shouted. Do not move as you value your life. He will not hurt you. But I doubt if Alphonse heard me, being fortunately for himself, almost petrified with horror. Then followed the most extraordinary display of sword, or rather of axemanship, that I ever saw. First of all, the axe went flying round and round over the top of Alphonse's head with an angry whirl and such extraordinary swiftness that it looked like a continuous band of steel, ever getting nearer and yet nearer to that unhappy individual skull, till at last it grazed it as it flew. Then suddenly the motion was changed and it seemed to literally flow up and down his body in limbs, never more than an eighth of an inch from them, and yet never striking them. It was a wonderful sight to see the little man fixed there, having apparently realized that to move would be to run the risk of sudden death, while his black tormentor towered over him and wrapped him round with the quick flashes of the axe. For a minute or more this went on till suddenly I saw the moving brightness travel down the side of Alphonse's face and then outwards and stopped. As it did so, a tuft of something black fell to the ground. It was the tip of one of the little Frenchman's curling mustachios. Umslopogas lent upon the hand a living Kosikas and broke into a long, low laugh, and Alphonse, overcome with fear, sank into a sitting posture on the ground. While we stood astonished at this exhibition of almost superhuman skill and mastery of a weapon. In Kosikas is sharp enough, he shouted. The blow that clipped the buffalo heifer's horn would have split a man from the crown to the chin. Few could have struck it but I, none could have struck it and not taken off the shoulder too. Look, thou little heifer, am I a good man to laugh at, thinkest thou? For a space has thou stood within a hare's breath of death. Laugh not again, lest the hare's breath be wanting. I have spoken. What meanest thou by such mad tricks? I ask of Umslopogas indignantly. Surely thou art mad. Twenty times didst thou go near to slaying the man. And yet Makumazan I slew not. Thrice, as in Kosikas flew, the spirit entered into me to end him and send her crashing through his skull. But I did not. Nay, it was but a jest, but tell the heifer that it is not well to mock at such as I. Now I go to make a shield, for I smell blood, Makumazan, of a truth I smell blood. Before the battle has thou not seen the vulture grow of a sudden in the sky? They smell the blood, Makumazan, and my scent is more keen than theirs. There is a dry ox-hide down yonder. I go to make a shield. That is an uncomfortable retainer of yours, said Mr. Mackenzie, who had witnessed this extraordinary scene. He has frightened Alphonse out of his wits. Look! And he pointed to the Frenchman, who with a scared white face and trembling limbs was making his way into the house. I don't think that he will ever laugh at Loumas-sur-Noir again. Yes, answered I, it is ill-gesting with such as he. When he is roused he is like a fiend, and yet he has a kind heart in his own fierce way. I remember years ago seeing him nurse a sick child for a week. He is a strange character, but true as steel and a strong stick to rest on in danger. He says he smells blood, said Mr. Mackenzie. I only trust he is not right. I am getting very fearful about my little girl. She must have gone far or she would be home by now. It is half past three o'clock. I pointed out that she had taken food with her, and very likely would not in the ordinary course of events return till nightfall. But I myself felt very anxious and feared that my anxiety betrayed itself. Shortly after this, the people whom Mr. Mackenzie had sent out to search for Flossie returned, stating that they had followed the spore of the donkey for a couple of miles, and had then lost it on some stony ground, nor could they discover it again. They had, however, scoured the country far and wide, but without success. After this the afternoon wore drearily on, and towards evening there still being no signs of Flossie. Our anxiety grew very keen. As for the poor mother, she was quite prostrated by her fears, and no wonder, but the father kept his head wonderfully well. Everything that could be done was done. People were sent out in all directions, shots were fired, and a continuous outlook kept from the great tree, but without a veil. And then it grew dark, and still no sign of fair-haired little Flossie. At eight o'clock we had supper. It was but a sorrowful meal, and Mrs. Mackenzie did not appear at it. We three also were very silent. For in addition to our natural anxiety as to the fate of the child, we were weighed down by the sense that we had brought this trouble on the head of our kind host. When supper was nearly at an end, I made an excuse to leave the table. I wanted to get outside and think the situation over. I went on to the veranda, and having lit my pipe, sat down on a seat about a dozen feet from the right-hand end of the structure, which was, as the reader may remember, exactly opposite one of the narrow doors of the protecting wall that enclosed the house and flower garden. I had been sitting there, perhaps six or seven minutes, when I thought I heard the door move. I looked in that direction, and I listened. But being unable to make out anything concluded that I must have been mistaken. It was a darkish night, the moon not having yet risen. Another minute passed, when suddenly something round fell with a soft but heavy thud upon the stone flooring of the veranda, and came bounding and rolling along past me. For a moment I did not rise, but sat wondering what it could be. Finally I concluded it must have been an animal. Just then, however, another idea struck me, and I got up quickly enough. The thing lay quite still a few feet beyond me. I put down my hand towards it, and it did not move. Clearly it was not an animal. My hand touched it. It was soft, and warm, and heavy. Hurriedly I lifted it, and held it up against the faint starlight. It was a newly severed human head. I am an old hand, and not easily upset, but I own that that ghastly sight made me feel sick. How had the thing come there? Whose was it? I put it down and ran to the little doorway. I could see nothing, hear nobody. I was about to go out into the darkness beyond, but remembering that to do so was to expose myself to the risk of being stabbed, I drew back, shut the door, and bolted it. Then I returned to the veranda, and in as careless a voice as I could command, called Curtis, I fear, however, that my tones must to betrayed me for not only Sir Henry, but also Good and Mackenzie rose from the table, and came hurrying out. What is it? said the clergyman anxiously. Then I had to tell them. Mr. Mackenzie turned pale as death under his red skin. We were standing opposite the hall door, and there was a light in it so that I could see. He snatched the head up by the hair, and held it against the light. It is the head of one of the men who accompanied Flossy, he said with a gasp. Thank God it is not hers. We all stood and stared at each other aghast. What was to be done? Just then there was a knocking at the door that I had bolted, and a voice cried, Open, my father, open! The door was unlocked, and in sped a terrified man. He was one of the spies who had been sent out. My father, he cried, the Messiah are on us. A great body of them have passed round the hill, and are moving towards the old stone corral down by the little stream. My father makes strong thy heart. In the midst of them I saw the white ass, and on it sat the water lily, Flossy. An El Moran young warrior led the ass, and by its side walked the nurse, weeping. The men who went with her in the morning, I saw not. Was the child alive? asked Mr. Mackenzie, hoarsely. She was white as the snow, but well, my father. They passed quite close to me, and looking up from where I lay hid, I saw her face against the sky. God help her and us, grown the clergyman. How many are there of them, I ask? More than two hundred. Two hundred and half a hundred. Once more we looked, one on the other. What was to be done? Just then there rose a loud, insistent cry outside the wall. Open the door, white man, open the door. A herald, a herald to speak with thee. Thus cried the voice. Umslopogas ran to the wall, and reaching with his long arms to the coping, lifted his head above it and gazed over. I see but one man, he said. He is armed, and carries a basket in his hand. Open the door, I said. Umslopogas, take thine axe and stand there by. Let one man pass. If another follows, slay. The door was unbarred. In the shadow of the wall stood Umslopogas, his axe raised above his head to strike. Just then the moon came out. There was a moment's pause, and then in stalked a messiah El Moran. Clad in the full war panoply that I have already described, but bearing a large basket in his hand. The moonlight shone bright upon his great spear as he walked. He was physically a splendid man, apparently about thirty-five years of age. Indeed, none of the messiah that I saw were under six feet high, though mostly quite young. When he got opposite to us, he halted, put down the basket, and stuck the spike of his spear into the ground so that it stood upright. Let us talk, he said. The first messenger we sent to you could not talk, and he pointed to the head which lay upon the paving of the stoop. A ghastly sight in the moonlight. But I have words to speak if ye have ears to hear. Also I bring presents. And he pointed to the basket and laughed with an Arab swaggering insolence that is perfectly indescribable, and yet which one could not but admire seeing that he was surrounded by enemies. Say on, said Mr. McKenzie, I am the Ligonani war-captain of a party of the messiah of the Guasa Amboni. I and my men followed these three white men, and he pointed to Sir Henry, Good, and myself. But they were too clever for us and escaped hither. We have a quarrel with them and are going to kill them. Are you, my friend? said I to myself. In following these men we this morning caught two black men, one black woman, a white donkey, and a white girl. One of the black men we killed. There is his head upon the pavement. The other ran away. The black woman, the little white girl, and the white ass we took and brought with us. In proof thereof have I brought this basket that she carried. Is it not thy daughter's basket? Mr. McKenzie nodded, and the warrior went on. Good! With thee and thy daughter we have no quarrel, nor do we wish to harm thee, save as to thy cattle, which we have already gathered, two hundred and forty head, a beast for every man's father. End note. The messiah El Moran, or young warriors, can own no property, so all the booty that they may win in battle belongs to their fathers alone. Alan quatter me. Here Mr. McKenzie gave a groan, as he greatly valued this herd of cattle, which he had bred with much care and trouble. So save for the cattle, thou mayest go free. More especially, he added frankly, glancing at the wall, as this place would be a difficult one to take. But as to these men it is otherwise. We have followed them for nights and days, and must kill them. Were we to return to our corral without having done so, all the girls would make a mock of us. So however troublesome it may be, they must die. Now I have a proposition for thee. We would not harm the little girl. She is too fair to harm, and has besides a brave spirit. Give us one of these three men, a life for a life, and we will let her go and throw in the black woman with her also. This is a fair offer, white man. We ask but for one, not for the three. We must take another opportunity to kill the other two. I do not even pick my man, though I should prefer the big one, pointing to Sir Henry. He looks strong, and would die more slowly. And if I say I will not yield a man, said Mr. McKenzie. Nay, say not so, white man, answered the Messiah. For then thy daughter dives at dawn, and the woman with her says, Thou hast no other child. Were she older, I would take her for a servant. But as she is so young, I will slay her with my own hand. I with this very spear. Belkens to come and see, and I wilt. I give thee safe conduct, and the fiend laughed aloud as his brutal jest. Meanwhile, I had been thinking rapidly, as one does in emergencies, and had come to the conclusion that I would exchange myself against Flossy. I scarcely like to mention the matter, for fear it should be misunderstood. Pray did not let anyone be misled into thinking that there was anything heroic about this, or any such nonsense. It was merely a matter of common sense, and common justice. My life was an old and worthless one, hers was young and valuable. Her death would pretty well kill her father and mother also, whilst nobody would be much the worse for mine. Indeed, several charitable institutions would have cause to rejoice there at. It was indirectly through me that the dear little girl was in her present position. Lastly, a man was better fitted to meet death in such a peculiarly awful form than a sweet young girl. Not, however, that I meant to let these gentry torture me to death. I am far too much of a coward to allow that, being naturally a timid man. My plan was to see the girl safely exchanged and then to shoot myself, trusting that the Almighty would take the peculiar circumstances of the case into consideration and pardon the act. All this and more went through my mind in very few seconds. All right, MacKenzie, I said. You can tell the man that I will exchange myself against Flossie. Only I stipulate that she shall be safely in this house before they kill me. Eh? said Sir Henry, and good simultaneously. That you don't. No, no, said Mr. MacKenzie. I will have no man's blood upon my hands. If it please God that my daughter should die this awful death, his will be done. You are a brave man, which I am not by any means. And a noble man, Quatermaine, but you shall not go. If nothing else turns up, I shall go, I said decidedly. This is an important matter, said MacKenzie, addressing the Ligonani. And we must think it over. You shall have our answer at dawn. Very well, white man, answered the savage indifferently. Only remember, if thy answer is late, thy little white bud will never grow into a flower. That is all, for I shall cut it with this, and he touched the spear. I should have thought that thou wouldst play a trick and attack us at night. But I know from the woman with the girl that your men are down at the coast, and that thou hast but twenty men here. It is not wise, white man, he added with a laugh, to keep so small a garrison for your aboma-crow. Well, good night, and good night to you also, other white man, whose eyelids I shall soon close once and for all. At dawn, thou will bring me word. If not, remember it shall be as I have said. Then turning to Umslopogas, who had all the while been standing behind him, and shepherding him as it were. Open the door for me, fellow. Quick now! This was too much for the old chief's patience. For the last ten minutes his lips had been figuratively speaking, positively watering over the Maasai Lagunani. And this he could not stand. Placing his long hand on the El-Maran's shoulder, he gripped it and gave him such a twist as brought him face to face with himself. Then thrusting his fierce countenance to within a few inches of the Maasai's evil feather-framed features. He said in a low, growling voice, Seeest thou me? I, fellow, I see thee. And seeest thou this? And he held in Kosakos before his eyes. I, fellow, I see the toy. What of it? Thou Maasai dog. Thou boasting windbag. Thou capturer of little girls. Where this toy will I hew thee limb from limb. Well for thee that thou art a herald. Or even now I would strew thy members about the grass. The Maasai shook his great spear and laughed loud and long as he answered. I would that thou stoodest against me, man to man, and we would see. And again he turned to go, still laughing. Thou shalt stand against me, man to man, be not afraid, replied Umslopogas, still in the same ominous voice. Thou shalt stand face to face with Umslopogas of the blood of Chaka, of the people of the Amazulu, a captain in the regiment of the Enkuma Bakosi, as many have done before, and bowed thou self to Enkosi Kas, as many have done before. I laugh on, laugh on. Tomorrow night shall the jackals laugh as they crunch thy ribs. When the Lago Nani had gone, one of us thought of opening the basket he had brought as a proof that Flossie was really their prisoner. On lifting the lid, it was found to contain a most lovely specimen of both bulb and flower of the Goya Lily, which I have already described, in full bloom and quite uninjured, and what was more, a note in Flossie's childish hand written in pencil upon a greasy piece of paper that had been used to wrap up some food in. Dearest father and mother, ran the note. Then Masai caught us when we were coming home with the Lily. I tried to escape, but could not. They killed Tom. The other man ran away. They have not hurt nurse and me, but they say they mean to exchange us against one of Mr. Quatermane's party. I will have nothing of the sort. Do not let any of the other men have anything of the sort. Do not let anybody give his life for me. Try and attack them at night. They are going to feast on three bullocks they have stolen and killed. I have my pistol, and if no help comes by dawn I will shoot myself. They shall not kill me. If so, remember me always, dearest father and mother. I am very frightened, but I trust in God. I dare not write any more as they are beginning to notice. Goodbye. Flossy. Scrawled across the outside of this was love to Mr. Quatermane. They are going to take the basket so he will get the Lily. When I read those words, written by that brave little girl in an hour of danger, sufficiently near and horrible to have turned the brain of a strong man, I own I wept. And once more in my heart I vowed that she should not die while my life could be given to save her. Then eagerly, quickly, almost fiercely, we fell to discussing the situation. Again I said that I would like to go, and Mr. McKenzie negative it, and Curtis, and Good, like the true man that they are, vowed that if I did they would go with me to back with me. It is, I said at last, absolutely necessary that an effort of some sort should be made before the morning. Then let us attack them with what force we can muster and take our chance, said Sir Henry. I, I, growled, in Zulu, spoken like a man in Kubu. What is there to be afraid of? 250 Maasai, for sooth. How many are we? The chief there, Mr. McKenzie, has twenty men, and thou, Makumazan, hast five men. And there are also five white men, that is, thirty men in all. Enough, enough. Listen now, Makumazan, thou who art very clever and old in war. What says the maid, and eat, and make merry? Let it be their funeral feast. What said the dog, whom I hoped to hew down at daybreak? That he feared no attack, because we were so few. Knows thou the old corral where the men have camped? I saw it this morning. It is thus. And he drew an oval on the floor. Here is the big entrance, filled up with thorn bushes going on to a steep rise. Why, inkaboo, thou and I, with axes, will hold it against a hundred men, striving to break out. Look now, thus shall the battle go. Just as the light begins to glint upon the oxen's horns, not before, or it will be too dark, and not later, or they will be awakening and perceive us. Round with ten men to the top end of the corral where the narrow entrance is. Let them silently slay the sentry there so that he makes no sound and stand ready. Then, inkaboo, let thee and me, and one of the ascari, the one with the broad chest, he is a brave man, creep to the wide entrance that is filled with thorn bushes, and there also slay the sentry. And armed with battle axes take our stand, also one on each side of the pathway, and one a few paces beyond to deal with such as pass the twain at the gate. It is there that the rush will come. That will leave sixteen men. Let these men be divided into two parties with one of which shall thou go, makumazan, and with one the praying man, Mr. McKenzie and all armed with rifles, let them make their way one to the right side of the corral and one to the left. And when thou makumazan, lowest like an ox, all shall open fire with the guns upon the sleeping men, being very careful not to hit the little maid. Then shall Bu'guan at the far end and his ten men blaze the war cry and springing over the wall put them aside there to the sword. And it shall happen that being yet heavy with food and sleep and bewildered by the firing of the guns the falling of men and the spears of Bu'guan the soldiers shall rise and rush like wild game towards the thorn-stopped entrance. And there the bullets from either side shall plow through them and there shall Incubu and the Ascari and I wait for those who break across. Such is my plan, Makumazan. If thou hast a better, name it. When he had done I explained to the others such portions of his scheme as they had failed to understand and they all joined with me in expressing the greatest admiration of the acute and skillful program devised by the old Zulu who was indeed in his own savage fashion the finest general I ever knew. After some discussion we determined to accept the scheme as it stood it being the only one possible under the circumstances and giving the best chance of success that such a forlorn hope would admit of which, however, considering the enormous odds and the character of our foe was not very great. Ah, old lion I said to Umslopogas Thou knowest how to lie and wait as well as how to bite where to seize as well as where to hang on. I I Makumazan he answered for thirty years have I been a warrior and have seen many things it will be a good fight I smell blood I tell the I smell blood end of chapter 5 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information and to find out how you can volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Allen Quatterman by H. Ryder Haggard chapter 6 The Night Wears On as may be imagined at the very first sign of a Maasai the entire population of the mission station had sought refuge inside the stout stone wall and were now to be seen men, women and countless children huddled up together in little groups and all talking at once in odd tones of the awfulness of Maasai manners and customs and of the fate that they had to expect if those bloodthirsty savages succeeded in getting over the stone wall immediately after we had settled upon the outline of our plan of action as suggested by Umslopogas Mr. McKenzie sent for four sharp boys from twelve to fifteen years of age and dispatched them to various points where they could keep an outlook upon the Maasai camp with others to report from time to time what was going on other lads and even women were stationed at intervals along the wall in order to guard against the possibility of surprise after this the twenty men who formed his whole available fighting force were summoned by our host into the square formed by the house and there standing by the bowl of the great conifer he earnestly addressed them and our four a scurry indeed it formed a very impressive scene one not likely to be forgotten by anybody who witnessed it immediately by the tree stood the angular form of Mr. McKenzie one arm outstretched as he talked and the other resting against the giant bowl his hat off and his plain but kindly face clearly betraying the anguish of his mind next to him was his poor wife who seated on a chair had her face hidden in her hand on the other side of her was Alphonse looking exceedingly uncomfortable and behind him stood the three of us with him slopogas's grim and towering form in the background resting as usual on his axe in front stood and squatted the group of our men some with rifles in their hands and others with spears and shields following with eager attention every word that fell from the speaker's lips the white light of the moon peering in beneath the lofty boughs through a strange wild glamour over the scene whilst the melancholy slewing of the night wind passing through the room the melancholy slewing of the night wind passing through the millions of pine needles overhead added a sadness of its own to what was already a sufficiently tragic occasion men said Mr. McKenzie after he had put all the circumstances of the case fully and clearly before them and explained to them the proposed plan of our forlorn hope men for years I have been a good friend to you protecting you guarding you and yours from harm and you have prospered with me you have seen my child the water lily as you call her grow year by year from tenderest infancy to tender childhood and from childhood on towards maidenhood she has been your children's playmate she has helped to tend you when sick and you have loved her we have said a deep voice and we will die to save her I thank you from my heart I thank you sure am I that now in this hour of darkest trouble now that her young life is like to be cut off by cruel and savage men who of a truth know not what they do you will strive your best to save her and to save me and her mother from broken hearts think too of your own wives and children if she dies her death will be followed by an attack upon us here and at the best even if we hold our own your houses and gardens will be destroyed and your goods and cattle swept away I am as you well know a man of peace never in all these years have I lifted my hand to shed man's blood but now I say strike strike in the name of God who bait us protect our lives and homes swear to me he went on with added fervor swear to me that whilst a man of you remains alive you will strive your uttermost with me please brave white men to save the child from a bloody and cruel death say no more my father said the same deep voice that belonged to a stalwart elder of the mission we swear it may we in the hours die the death of dogs and our bones be thrown to the jackals and the kites if we break the oath it is a fearful thing to do my father so few to strike it so many yet we will do it or die in the doing we swear I thus say we all chimed in the others thus say we all said I it is well went on Mr. McKenzie ye are true men and not broken reeds to lean on and now friends white and black together let us kneel and offer up our humble supplication to the throne of power praying that he in the hollow of whose hands lie all our lives who giveth life and giveth death may be pleased to make strong our arms that we may prevail in what awaits us at the morning's light and he knelt down an example that we all followed except Umslopogas who stood still in the background grimly leaning on Incosikas the fierce old Zulu had no gods and worshiped not unless it were his battle acts O God of gods began the clergyman his deep voice tremulous with emotion echoing up in the silence of life protector of the oppressed refuge of those in danger guardian of the helpless hear thou our prayer Almighty Father to thee we come in supplication hear thou our prayer behold one child has thou given us an innocent child nurtured in thy knowledge and now she lies beneath the shadow of the sword in danger of a fearful death at the hands of savage men be with her now O God and comfort her save her O Heavenly Father O God of battle who teaches our hands to war and our fingers to fight in whose strength or head the destinies of men be thou with us in the hour of strife when we go forth into the shadow of death make thou us strong to conquer breathe thou upon our foes and scatter them turn thou their strength to water and bring their high blown pride to naught compass us about with thy protection throw over us the shield of thy power forget us not now in the hour of our sore distress help us now that the cruel man would dash our little ones against the stones hear thou our prayer and for those of us who kneeling now on earth in health before thee shall at the sunrise adore thy presence on thy throne hear our prayer make them clean O God wash away their offenses in the blood of the lamb and when their spirits pass O receive thou them into the haven of the judge go forth O Father go forth with us into the battle as with the Israelites of old O God of battle hear thou our prayer he ceased and after a moment's silence we all rose and then began our preparations in good earnest as Umslopogas said it was time to stop talking and get to business the men who were to form each little party were carefully selected and still more carefully and minutely instructed as to what was to be done after much consideration it was agreed that the ten men led by good whose duty it was to stampede the camp were not to carry firearms that is with the exception of good himself who had a revolver as well as a short sword the Maasai Sime which I had taken from the body of our poor servant who was murdered in the canoe we feared that if they had firearms the result of three crossfires carried on at once would be that some of our own people would be shot besides it appeared to all of us that the work they had to do would best be carried out with cold steel especially to Umslopogas who was indeed a great advocate for cold steel we had with us four Winchester repeating rifles besides half a dozen martinis I armed myself with one of the repeaters my own an excellent weapon for this kind of work her great rapidity of fire is desirable and fitted with ordinary flap sights instead of the cumbersome sliding mechanism which they generally have Mr. McKenzie took another and the two remaining ones were given to two of his men who understood the use of them and were noted shots the martinis and some rifles of Mr. McKenzie's were served out together with a plentiful supply of ammunition to the other natives who were to form the two parties whose duty it was to be to open fire from separate sides of the corral on the sleeping Maasai and who were fortunately all more or less accustomed to the use of a gun as for Umslopagas we know how he was armed with an axe it may be remembered that he, Sir Henry and the strongest of the Ascari were to hold the thorn-stopped entrance to the corral against the anticipated rush of men striving to escape of course for such a purpose as this guns were useless therefore Sir Henry and the Ascari proceeded to arm themselves with the action it so happened that Mr. McKenzie had in his little store a selection of the very best and English-made hammer-backed axe heads Sir Henry selected one of these weighing about two and a half pounds and very broad in the blade and the Ascari took another a size smaller after Umslopagas had put an extra edge on these two axe heads we fixed them to three feet six helves of which Mr. McKenzie fortunately had some in stock made of a light but exceedingly tough native wood something like English ash only more springy when two suitable helves had been selected with great care and the ends of the halves notched to prevent the hand from slipping the axe heads were fixed on them as firmly as possible and the weapons immersed in a bucket of water for half an hour the result of this was to swell the wood in the socket in such a fashion that nothing short of burning would get it out again when this important matter had been attended to by Umslopagas I went into my room and proceeded to open a little tin-lined deal case which contained what do you think nothing more or less than four male shirts it had happened to us three to owe our lives to iron shirts of native make and remembering this I had suggested before we started on our present hazardous expedition that we should have some made to fit us there was a little difficulty about this as armor making is pretty well an extinct art but they can do most things in the way of steel work and Birmingham if they are put to it and you will pay the price it turned out the loveliest steel shirts it is possible to see the workmanship was exceedingly fine the web being composed of thousands upon thousands of stout but tiny rings of the best steel made these shirts are rather steel-sleeved in high-neck jerseys were lined with ventilated washed leather were not bright but brown like the barrel of a gun they were simply seven pounds and fitted me so well that I found I could wear it for days next to my skin without being chafed Sir Henry had two one of the ordinary make that is to say a jersey with little dependent flaps meant to afford some protection to the upper part of the thighs and another of his own design fashioned on the pattern of the garments advertised as combinations and weighing twelve pounds this combination shirt of which the seat was made of washed leather protected the whole body down to the knees but was rather more cumbersome in as much as it had to be laced up at the back and of course involved some extra weight with these shirts were what looked like four brown cloths traveling caps with earpieces each of these caps were the most valuable protection for the head it seems almost laughable to talk of steel shirts in these days of bullets against which they are of course quite useless but where one has to do with savages armed with cutting weapons such as asagais or battle axes they afford the most valuable protection being if well made quite invulnerable to them I have often thought that the government had in our savage wars and more especially in the Zulu war thought fit to serve out light steel shirts there would be many a man alive today who as it is is dead and forgotten to return on the present occasion we blessed our foresight in bringing these shirts and also our good luck and that they had not been stolen when they ran away with our goods as Curtis had too and after considerable deliberation had made up his mind to where his combination won himself the extra three or four pounds weight being a matter of no account to so strong a man and the protection afforded to the thighs being a very important matter to a fighting man not armed with a shield of any kind I suggested that he should lend the other to Umslopogas who was to share the danger and the glory of his post he readily consented and called the Zulu who came bearing Sir Henry's axe which he had now fixed up to his satisfaction with him when we showed him the steel shirt and explained to him that we wanted him to wear it he had first declined saying that he had fought and that he was not going to begin now to fight in an iron one thereupon I took a heavy spear and spreading the shirt upon the floor drove the spear down upon it with all my strength the weapon rebounding without leaving a mark upon the tempered steel this exhibition half converted him and when I pointed out to him how necessary it was that he should not let any old fashion prejudices he might possess stand in the way of a precaution which might preserve a valuable life at a time when men were scarce and also that if he wore this shirt he might dispense with a shield and so have both hands free he yielded it once and proceeded to invest his frame with the iron skin and indeed although made for Sir Henry it fitted the great Zulu like a skin the two men were almost of a height and though Curtis looked the bigger man I am inclined to think that the difference was more imaginary than real the fact being that although he was plumper and rounder he was not really bigger except in the arms Umslopogos had comparatively speaking thin arms but they were as strong as wire ropes at any rate when they both stood axe in hand invested in the brown male which clung to their mighty forms following the swell of every muscle and the curve of every line they formed a pair that any ten man might shrink from meeting it was now nearly one o'clock in the morning and the spies reported that after having drunk the blood of the oxen and eaten enormous quantities of meat the messiah were going to sleep around their watch fires but that centuries had been posted at each opening of the corral flossy they added was sitting not far from the wall in the center of the western side of the corral and by her were the nurse and the white donkey which was tethered to a peg her feet were bound with a rope and warriors were lying all around her as there was absolutely nothing further that could be done then we all took some supper and went to lie down for a couple of hours I could not help admiring the bulldoom slope of us flung himself upon the floor and unmindful of what was hanging over him instantly sank into a deep sleep I do not know how it was with the others but I could not do as much indeed as is usual with me on these occasions I am sorry to say that I felt rather frightened and now that some of the enthusiasm had gone out of me and I began to calmly contemplate what we had undertaken to do truth compels me to add that I did not like it we were but 30 men all told a good money of whom were no doubt quite unused to fighting and we were going to engage 250 of the fiercest, bravest and most formidable savages in Africa who to make matters worse were protected by a stone wall it was indeed a mad undertaking and what made it even matter was the exceeding improbability of our being able to take up our positions without attracting the notice of the centuries of course if we once did that and any slight accident such as the chance discharge of a gun might do it we were done for for the whole camp would be up in a second and our only hope lay in surprise the bed whereupon I lay indulging in these uncomfortable reflections was near an open window that looked out onto the veranda through which came an extraordinary sound of groaning and weeping for a time I could not make out what it was but at last I got up and putting my head out of the window stared about presently I saw a dim figure kneeling on the end of the veranda in which I recognized Alphonse not being able to understand his French talk or what on earth he was at I called to him and asked what he was doing ah monsieur he sighed I do make prayer for the souls of those whom I shall slay tonight indeed I said then I wished that you would do it a little more quietly treated and I heard no more of his groans and so the time passed till a length Mr. McKenzie called me in a whisper through the window for of course everything had now to be done in the most absolute silence three o'clock he said we must begin to move at half past I told him to come in and presently he entered and I am bound to say but if it had not been that just then I had not got a laugh anywhere about me I should have exploded at the site he presented armed for battle to begin with he had on a clergyman's black swallowtail and a kind of broad-rimmed black felt hat both of which he had dawned on account he said of their dark color in his hand was the Winchester repeating rifle we had lent him and stuck in an elastic cricketing belt like those worn by English boys were first a huge Buckhorn handled carving knife with a guard to it and next a long barreled Colts revolver my friend he said seeing me staring at his belt you are looking at my carver I thought it might come in handy if we came to close quarters it is excellent steel and many is the pig I have killed with it the time everybody was up in dressing I put on a light Norfolk jacket over my male shirt in order to have a pocket handy to hold my cartridges and buckled on my revolver Good did the same but Sir Henry put on nothing except his male shirt steel lined cap and a pair of veltscoons or soft hide shoes his legs being bare from the knees down his revolver he strapped in the middle outside the armored shirt meanwhile Umslopogas was mustering the man in the square under the big tree and going the rounds to see that each was properly armed etc at the last moment we made one change finding the two of the men who were to have gone with the firing parties knew little or nothing of guns but were good spearsmen we took away their rifles supplied them with shields and long spears of the Maasai pattern and took them off to join Curtis Umslopogas and the Ascari in holding the wide opening having become clear to us that three men however brave and strong were too few for the work and