 CHAPTER 7 PART 1 OF HILDA WADE For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, reading by Lars Rolander. Hilda Wade, a woman with tenacity of purpose by Grant Allen, CHAPTER 7 PART 1, The episode of the stone that looked about it. Hilda took me back with her to the embryo farm where she had pitched her tent for the moment, a rough, wild place. It lay close to the main road from Sorsboro to Cimoyo, setting aside the inevitable rawness and newness of all things, Rhodesian. However, the situation itself was not fully unpicturesque. A ramping rock or tore of granite, which I should judge at a rough guess to extend to an acre in size, sprang abruptly from the brown grass of the upland plain. It rose like a juge boulder. Its summit was crowned by the covered grave of some old cover chief, a rude cairn of big stones under a thatched awning. At the foot of this jagged and cliff-drop the farmhouse nestled. Four square walls of wattle and doubt sheltered by its mass from the sweeping winds of the South African plateau. A stream brought water from a spring close by. In front of the house, rare sight in that thirsty land, spread a garden of flowers. It was an oasis in the desert, but the desert itself stretched grimly all round. I could never quite decide how far the oasis was caused by the water from the spring and how far by Hilda's presence. Then you live here? I cried gazing round, my voice, I supposed, betraying my latent sense of the unworthiness of the position. For the present? Hilda answered, smiling. You know you, but I have no abiding city anywhere till my purpose is fulfilled. I came here because Rudisha seemed the farthest spot on earth where a white woman just now could safely penetrate in order to get away from you and Sebastian. That is an unkind conjunction, I exclaimed, reddening. But I mean it, she answered with a wayward little nod. I wanted breathing space to form fresh plans. I wanted to get clear away for a time from all who knew me, and this promised best, but nowadays really one is never safe from intrusion anywhere. You are cruel, Hilda. Oh no, you deserve it. I asked you not to come, and you came in spite of me. I have treated you very nicely under the circumstances, I think. I have behaved like an angel. The question is now, what ought I to do next? You have upset my plan so. Upset your plans? How? Dear you, but she turned to me with an indulgent smile. For a clever man you are really too foolish. Can't you see that you have betrayed my whereabouts to Sebastian? I crept away secretly, like a thief in the night, giving no name or place, and having the world to ransack. He might have found it hard to track me, for he had not your clue of the basing-stoke letter, nor your reason for seeking me. But now that you have followed me openly, with your name blazed forth in the company's passenger lists, and your traces left plain in hotels and stages across the map of South Africa, why the spore is easy. If Sebastian cares to find us, he can follow the scent all through, without trouble. I never thought of that, I cried aghast. She was forbearance itself. No, I knew you would never think of it. You are a man, you see. I counted that in. I was afraid from the first you would wreck all by following me. I was mutely penitent. And yet you forgive me, Hilda? Her eyes beam tenderness. To know all is to forgive all, she answered. I have to remind you of that so often. How can I help forgiving when I know why you came? What spur it was that drove you? But it is the future we have to think of now, not the past. And I must wait and reflect. I have no plan just at present. What are you doing at this farm? I gazed round at it dissatisfied. I bored here, Hilda answered amused at my crestfallen face. But of course I cannot be idle, so I have found work to do. I ride out on my bicycle to two or three isolated houses about and give lessons to children in this desolate place who would otherwise grow up ignorant. It fills my time and supplies me with something besides myself to think about. And what am I to do? I cried oppressed with a sudden sense of helplessness. She laughed at me outright. And is this the first moment that that difficulty has occurred to you? She asked gaily. You have hurried all the way from London to Rhodesia without the slightest idea of what you mean to do now you have got here. I laughed at myself in turn. Upon my word, Hilda, I cried. I set out to find you. Beyond the desire to find you I had no plan in my head. That was an end in itself. My thoughts went no farther. She gazed at me half-sorcily. Then don't you think, sir, the best thing you can do? Now you have found me is to turn back and go home again? I am a man, I said promptly, taking a firm stand. And you are a judge of character. If you really mean to tell me you think that likely, well, I shall have a lower opinion of your insight into men than I have been accustomed to harbor. Her smile was not fully without a touch of triumph. In that case, she went on. I suppose the only alternative is for you to remain here. That would appear to be logic, I replied. But what can I do, set up in practice? I don't see much opening, she answered. If you ask my advice, I should say there is only one thing to be done in Rudisha just now. Turn farmer! It is done, I answered with my usual impetuosity. Since you say the word, I am a farmer already. I feel an interest in oats that is simply absorbing. What steps ought I to take first in my present condition? She looked at me all brown with the dust of my long ride. I would suggest, she said slowly, a good wash and some dinner. Hilda, I cried surveying my boots or what was visible of them. That is really clever of you, a wash and some dinner. So practical, so timely, the very thing I will see to it. Before night fell I had arranged everything. I was to buy the next farm from the owner of the one where Hilda lodged. I was also to learn the rudiments of South African agriculture from him for a valuable consideration. And I was to lodge in his house while my own was building. He gave me his views on the cultivation of oats. He gave them at some length, more length than perspicuity. I knew nothing about oats, save that they were employed in the manufacture of porridge, which I detest. But I was to be near Hilda once more. And I was prepared to undertake the superintendence of the oat from its birth to its reaping, if only I might be allowed to live so close to Hilda. The farmer and his wife were bowers, but they spoke English. Mr. John Willem Klass himself was a fine specimen of the breed, tall, erect, broad-shouldered, and genial. Mrs. Klass, his wife, was mainly suggestive in mind and person or sweat-pudding. There was one prattling little girl of three years old by name Sanny, a most engaging child, and also a chubby baby. You are betrothed, of course, Mrs. Klass said to Hilda before me, with a curious tacklessness of a race, when we made our first arrangement. Hilda's face flushed. No, we are nothing to one another, she answered, which was only true formally. Dr. Cambridge had a post at the same hospital in London where I was a nurse, and he thought he would like to try Rhodesia, that is all. Mr. Klass gazed from one to other of us suspiciously. You English are strange, she answered with a complacent little shrug, but there, from Europe, your ways, we know, are different. Hilda did not attempt to explain. It would have been impossible to make the good soul understand. Her horizon was so simple. She was a harmless housewife, given mostly to Ducepsia and the care of her little one. Hilda had won her heart by unfaithful admiration for the chubby baby, to a mother that covers a multitude of eccentricities, such as one expects to find in an incomprehensible English. Mrs. Klass put up with me, because she liked Hilda. We spent some months together on Klass's farm. It was a dreary place, save for Hilda. The bare dub and wattle walls, the clumps of mishappen and dusty prickly pears, that girt run, that thatched huts of the cuffee-work people, the stone-pen sheep-crawls, and the corrugated iron roof of the bald stable. For the wagon oxen, all was crude and ugly as a new country can make things. It seemed to me a desecration that Hilda should live in such an unfinished land. Hilda, whom I imagined as moving by nature through broad English parks, with Elizabethan cottages and immemorial oaks. Hilda, whose proper atmosphere seemed to be one of coffee-colored laces, ivy-clad abbeys, lichen-encrusted walls, all that is beautiful and gracious in time-honored civilizations. Nevertheless, we lived on there in a meaningless sort of way. I hardly knew why. To me it was a puzzle. When I asked Hilda, she shook her head with her sibling air and answered confidentially. You do not understand Sebastian as well as I do. We have to wait for him. The next move is his. Till he plays his piece, I cannot tell how I may have to checkmate him. So we waited for Sebastian to advance upon. Meanwhile, I toyed with South African farming. Not very successfully, I must admit. Nature did not design me for growing oats. I am no judge of oxen, and my views on the feeding of kafir sheep raised broad smiles on the black faces of my Mashauna laborers. I still lodged at Tant Mettis where everybody called Mrs. Klaas. She was courtesy out to the community at large, while Uum Jan Willem was its courtesy uncle. They were simple, homely folk who lived up to their religious principles on an unvary diet of stewed ox-peaf and bread. They suffered much from chronic dysepsia due in part, at least, no doubt, to the monotony of their food, their life, their interests. One could hardly believe one was still in the nineteenth century. These people had the calm, the local seclusion of the prehistoric epoch. For them, Europe did not exist. They knew it merely as a place where settlers came from. What the Tsar intended, what the Kaiser designed, never disturbed their rest. A sick ox, a rattling tile on the roof, meant more to their lives than war in Europe. The one break in the sameness of their daily routine was family prayers, the one weekly event going to church at Salisbury. Still, they had a single enthusiasm. Like everybody else for fifty miles around, they believed profoundly in the future of Rhodesia. When I gazed about me at the raw new land, the wary flat of red soil and brown grasses, I felt at least that, with a present like that, it had need of a future. I'm not by disposition a pioneer. I belong instinctively to the old civilizations. In the midst of rudimentary towns and incipient fields, I yearn for grey houses, a Norman church, an English thatched cottage. However, for Hilda's sake I braved it out and continued to learn the ABC of agriculture on an unmade farm with great acidity from Om Jan Willem. We had been stopping some months at class together when business compelled me one day to ride into Salisbury. I had ordered some goods for my farm from England, which had at last arrived. I had now to arrange for their conveyance from the town to my plot of land, a potentious matter. Just as I was on the point of leaving classes and was tightening the saddle girth on my sturdy little pony, Om Jan Willem himself sidled up to me with a mysterious air. His broad face all wrinkled with anticipatory pleasure. He placed a sixpence in my palm, glancing about him on every side as he did so, like a conspirator. What am I to buy with it? I asked much puzzled and suspecting tobacco. Tantmeti declared he smoked too much for a church elder. His finger to his lips nodded and peered round. Lollipops for sunny, he whispered low at last with a guilty smile. But he glanced about him again, give them to me place when Tantmeti isn't looking. His nod was all mystery. You may rely on my discretion, I replied, throwing the time honoured prejudice of the profession to the winds, and well pleased to aid and abet the simple-minded in his nefarious designs against little Sanny's digestive apparatus. He patted me on the back, peppermint lollipops mind. He went on in the same solemn undertone. Sanny likes them best, peppermint. I put my foot in the stirrup and vaulted into my saddle. They shall not be forgotten, I answered with a quiet smile at this pretty little evidence of fatherly feeling. It was early morning before the heat of the day began. Hilda accompanied me part of the way on her bicycle. She was going to the other young farm some eight miles off across the Redbrown Plateau, where she gave lessons daily to the ten-year-old daughter of an English settler. It was a labour of love, for settlers in Rudisha cannot afford to pay for what are beautifully described as finishing governesses. But Hilda was the sort who cannot eat the bread of idleness. She had to justify herself to her kind by finding some work to do which should vindicate her existence. I parted from her at a point on the monotonous plane where one rubbly road brushed off from another. Then I jogged on in the full morning sun over that scorching plain of loose red sand all the way to Salisbury. Not a green leaf for a fresh flower anywhere. The eye ached at the hot glare of the reflected sunlight from the sandy level. My business detained me several hours in the half-built town with its flaunting stores and its rough new offices. It was not till towards afternoon that I could get away again on my sorrel across the blazing plain once more to classes. I moved on over the Plateau at an easy trot of thoughts of Hilda. What could be the step she expected Sebastian to take next? She did not know herself, she had told me. There her faculty failed her. But some step he would take until he took it she must rest and be watchful. I passed the great tree that stands up like an obelisk in the midst of the plain beyond the deserted Matabile village. I passed the low clumps of the dry Karubushris by the rocky copter. I passed the fork of the rubbly roads where I had parted from Hilda. At last I reached the long rolling ridge which looks down upon classes and could see in the slant sunlight the mud farmhouse and the corrugated iron roof where the oxen were stable. The place looked more deserted, more dead alive than ever. Not a black boy moved in it. Even the cattle and calfishy were to be seen. But then it was always quiet and perhaps I noticed the obtrusive air of solitude and sleepiness even more than usual because I had just returned from Salisbury. All things are comparative. After the lost loneliness of classes farm even brand new Salisbury seemed busy and bustling. I hurried on ill at ease but Aunt Metty would doubtless me as soon as I arrived and Hilda would be waiting at the gate to welcome me. I reached the stone enclosure and passed up through the flower garden. To my great surprise Hilda was not there. As a rule she came to meet me with her sunny smile but perhaps she was tired or the sun on the road might have given her a headache. I dismounted from my mare and called one of the cuffee boys to take her to the stable. I answered. I called again still silence. I tied her up to the post and strode over to the door astonished at the solitude. I began to feel there was something weird and uncanny about this homecoming. Never before had I known classes so entirely deserted. I lifted the latch and opened the door. It gave excess at once to the single plain living room. The door was huddled. For a moment my eyes hardly took in the truth. There are sights so sickening that the brain at the first shop fully fails to realize them. On the stone slab floor of the lone living room Tantmetti lay dead. Her body was pierced through by innumerable thrusts which I somehow instinctively recognized as as a guy wounds. By her side lay Sanny of three, my constant playmate whom I had instructed in cat's cruddle and taught the tales of Cinderella and red riding-hood. My hand grasped the lollipops in my pocket convulsively. She would never need them. Nobody else was about what had become of Umjan Willem and the baby. I wandered out into the yard, sick with the sight I had already seen. There Umjan Willem self-laced stretched at full length. A bullet had pierced his left temple. His body was also riddled through with as a guy thrusts. I saw at once what this meant, a rising of the Matta Bihile. I had come back from Salisbury unknowing it into the midst of a revolt of bloodthirsty savages. Yet even if I had known, I must still have hurried home with all speed of classicists to protect Hilda. Where was Hilda? A breathless sinking crept over me. I staggered out into the open. It was impossible to say what horror might not have happened. The Matta Bihile might even now be lurking about the crowd, for the bodies were hardly cold. But Hilda, Hilda, whatever came, I must find Hilda. Fortunately I had my loaded revolver in my bell. Though we had not in the least anticipated this sudden revolve, it broke like a thunderclap from a clear sky. The unsettled state of the country made even women go armed about their daily evocations. I strode on half-maddened. Beside the great block of granite which sheltered the farm, there rose one of those rocky little hillocks of loose boulders, which are locally known in South Africa by the Dutch name of Kopsjes. I looked about rarely. Its round brown iron stones lay piled irregularly together, almost as if placed there in some earlier age by the mighty hands of prehistoric giants. My gaze on it was blank. I was thinking not of it, but of Hilda, Hilda. I called the name aloud Hilda, Hilda, Hilda. As I called to my immense surprise one of the smooth round boulders on the hillside seemed slowly to uncurl and to peer about it cautiously. Then it raised itself in the slant sunlight, put a hand to its eyes, and gazed out upon me with a human face for a moment. After that it descended, step by step among the other stones with a white object in its arms. As the boulder uncurled and came to life, I was aware by degrees. Yes, yes, it was Hilda with Tantmetis baby. In the first joy of that discovery, I rushed forward to her, trembling and clasped her in my arms. I could find no words but Hilda, Hilda. Are they gone? She asked staring about her with a terrified air, though strangely preserving her wanted composure of manner. Who gone? The Matabeela? Yes, yes. Did you see them, Hilda? For a moment, with black shields and asagais all shouting madly, you have been to the house, Hubert? You know what has happened? Yes, yes, I know, a rising. They have massacred the classes. She nodded. I came back on my bicycle and when I opened the door, Funtant Metis and little Sanny dead. Poor, sweet little Sanny. Ohm Jan was lying shocked in the yard outside. I saw the cradle overturned and looked under it for the baby. They did not kill her, perhaps did not notice her. I caught her up in my arms and rushed out to my machine thinking to make for Salisbury and give the alarm to the men there. One must try to save others from coming, Hubert. Then I heard horses' hooves, the Matabeela returning. They dashed back, mounted, stolen horses from other farms. They have taken poor Ohm Jan's and they have gone on shouting to murder elsewhere. I flung down my machine among the bushes as they came. I hope they have not seen it and I crouched here between the boulders with the baby in my arms trusting for protection on my dress, which is just like the iron stone. It is a perfect deception, I answered admiring her instinctive cleverness even then. I never so much as noticed you. No, nor the Matabeela either for all their sharp eyes. They passed by without stopping. I clasped the baby hard and tried to keep it from crying. If it had cried, all would have been lost, but they passed just below and swept on toward ruse and booms. I lay still for a while, not daring to look out. Then I raised myself warily and tried to listen. Just at that moment I heard the horses hoofs ring out once more. I couldn't tell of course whether it was you returning or one of the Matabeela left behind by the others. So I crouched again. Thank God you are safe, you butch. All this took a moment and I was less said than hinted. Now what must we do? I cried, bolt back again to Salisbury. It is the only thing possible if my machine is unhurt. They may have taken it or ridden over and broken it. End of Chapter 7 Part 1 Read by Lars Rolander Chapter 7 Part 2 of Hilda Wait This is a LibriVox recording for LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org reading by Lars Rolander. Hilda Wait A Woman with Tenacity of Purpose by Grant Allen Chapter 7 Part 2 We went down to the spot and picked it up where it lay half concealed among the brittle dry scrub of milk bushes. I examined the bearings carefully. Though there were hoof marks close by it had received no hurt. I blew up the tire which was somewhat flabby and went on to untie my sturdy pony. The moment I looked at her I saw the poor little brute was wear it out with her two long rides in the sweltering sun. Her flanks quivered. It is no use I cried patting her as she turned to me with appealing eyes that asked for her. She can't go back as far as Salisbury. At least till she has had a feed of corn and a drink. Even then it will be rough on her. Give her bread, Hilda suggested. That will harden her more than corn. There is plenty in the house that might be baked this morning. I crept in reluctantly to fetch it. I also brought out from the dresser a few raw eggs to break into a tumbler and swallow for Hilda and I needed food almost as sorely as the poor beast herself. There was something gruesome in dust rummaging about for bread and meat in the dead woman's cupboard while she herself lay there on the floor. But one never realizes how one will act in these great emergencies until they come upon one. Hilda still calm with unearthly calmness, took a couple of loaves from her to go and draw water for her, she said simply, while I give her the bread, that will save time. Every minute is precious. I did as I was speed, not knowing each moment but that the insurgents would return. When I came back from the spring with a bucket, the mare had demolished the whole two loaves and was going on upon some grass which Hilda had plucked for her. She hasn't had enough poor deer, a couple of loaves are penny buns to her appetite. Let her drink the water while I go in and fetch out the rest of the baking. I hesitated, you can't go in there again, Hilda. I cried, wait and let me do it. Her white face was resolute. Yes, I can, she answered. It is a work of necessity and in works of necessity a woman I think should flinch at nothing. Have I not seen the every buried aspect of death at Nathanios and in she went undaunted to that chamber of horrors still clasping the baby. The pony made short work of the remaining loaves which she devoured with great zest, as Hilda had predicted they seemed to hearten her. The food and drink with the bucket of water dashed on her hoofs gave her new vigor like wine. We got down our eggs in silence. Then I held Hilda's bicycle. She vaulted lightly on to the seat, white and tired as she was, with the baby in her left arm and her right hand on the handlebar. I must take the baby, I said. She shook her head. Oh no, I will not trust her to you. Hilda, I insist. And I insist too. It is my place to take her. But can you write so? I asked anxiously. She began to peddle. Oh dear yes, it is quite, quite easy. I shall get there all right if the matabile don't burst upon us. Tired as I was with my long day's work, I jumped into my saddle. I saw I should only lose time if I disputed about the baby. My little horse seemed to understand that something grave had occurred for where as she must have been she set out with a will once more over that great red level. Hilda peddled bravely by my side. The road was bumpy, but she was well accustomed to it. I could have ridden faster than she went, for the baby waited her. Still we rode for dear life. It was a grim experience. All round by this time the horizon was dimmed with clouds of black smoke which went up from burning farms and plundered homesteads. The smoke did not rise high. Suddenly over the hot plain in long smoldering masses like the smoke of steamers on foggy days in England. The sun was nearing the horizon. His slant red rays lighted up the red plain. The red sand, the brown red grasses with a murky spectra glow of crimson. After those red pools of blood this universal burst of redness appalled one. It seemed as though all nature was buried in one unholy lee with a matabile. We rode on without a word. The red sky grew redder. They may have sacked Salisbury, I exclaimed at last, looking out towards the brand new town. I doubted it, Hilda answered. Her very doubt reassured me. We began to mount a long slope. Hilda peddled with difficulty. Not a sound was heard saved the lightfall of my pony's feet on the soft new road and the shrill cry of the Cicalas. Then suddenly we started. What was the noise in our rear? Once, twice, it rang out the loud ping of a rifle. Looking behind us we saw eight or ten mounted matabile. Stole what warriors they were half-naked and riding stolen horses. They were coming our way. They had seen us. They were pursuing us. Put on all speed, I cried in my agony. Hilda, can you manage it? She peddled with a will. But as we mounted the slope I saw they were gaining upon us. A few hundred yards were all our star. They had the descent of the opposite hill as yet in their favor. One man stride on a better horse than the rest galloped on in front and came within range of us. The rifle in his hand he pointed it twice and covered us. But he did not shoot. Hilda gave a cry of relief. Don't you see, she exclaimed, it is Umdian Willem's rifle that was their last cartridge. They have no more ammunition. I saw she was probably right for class was out of cartridges and was waiting for my new stock to arrive from England. If that were correct they must get near enough to attack us with Asagais. They are more dangerous so I remembered what an old boar had said to me at Pulavayo. The Sula with his Asagai is an enemy to be feared. With a gun he's a bungler. We pounded up on the hill. It was deadly work with those brutes at our hills. The child on Hilda's arm was visibly wearing her. It kept on whining. That baby will lose your life. You cannot go on carrying it. She turned to me with a flash of her eyes. What? You are a man, she broke out. And you ask a woman to save her life by abandoning a baby. You but you shame me. I felt she was right. If she had been capable of giving it up she would not have been Hilda. There was but one other way left. Then you must take the pony I called out and let me have the bicycle. You couldn't ride it. She called back. It is a woman's machine, remember? Yes, I could. I replied without slowing. It is not much too short and I can bend my knees a bit. Quick, quick, no words. Do as I tell you. She hesitated a second. The child's weight distressed her. We should lose time in changing. She answered at last doubtful but still peddling. Though my hand was on the rain she stopped the pony. Not if we manage it right. Obey orders. The moment I say hold I shall slacken my mare's pace. When you see me leave the saddle jump off instantly, you and mount her. I will catch the machine before it falls. Are you ready? Hold then. She obeyed the word without one second's delay. I slipped off, held the bridle, caught the bicycle and led it instantaneously. Then I ran beside the pony in the other till Hilda had sprung with a light-boned into the stirrup. At that a little leap and I mounted the bicycle. It was all done nimbly in less time than the telling takes, for we are both of us naturally quick in our movements. Hilda rode like a man astride her short bicycling skirt unobtrusely divided in front and at the back made this easily possible. Looking behind me with a hasty glance I could see the horses taken aback had reigned in to deliberate at our unwanted evolution. I feel sure that the novelty of the iron horse with the woman riding it played not a little on their superstitious fears. They suspected no doubt this was some ingenious new engine of war devised against them by the unaccountable white man. It might go off unexpectedly in their faces at any moment. Most of them I observed carried on their backs black oxide shields interlaced with white thongs. They were armed with two or three asegais apiece and a knob carry. Instead of losing time by the change as it turned out we had actually gained it. Hilda was able to put on my sorrel to her full pace which I had not dared to do for fear of outrunning my companion. The wise little beast for her part seemed to rise to the occasion and to understand that we were pursued for she stepped up gravely. On the other hand in spite of the low seat and the short crank of a woman's machine I could pedal up the slope with more force than Hilda for I am a practiced hill climber so that in both ways we gained besides having momentarily disconcerted and checked the enemy. Their ponies were tired and they rode them full tilt with savage recklessness making them counter uphill and so needlessly fatiguing them. The matabela indeed are unused to horses and managed them but ill. It is as foot soldiers creeping stealthily through bush or long grass that they are really formidable. Only one of their mounts was tolerably fresh the one which had once already almost overtaken us. As we neared the top of the slope Hilda glancing behind her exclaimed with a sudden thrill he is spurting again, Hubert. I drew my revolver and held it in my right hand using my left for staring. I did not look back time was far too precious I set my teeth hard tell me when he draws near enough for a shot I said quietly Hilda only nodded being mounted on the mare she could see behind her more steadily now than I could from the machine and her eye was trustworthy. As for the baby rocked by the heave and fall of the pony's withers it had fallen asleep placidly in the very midst of this terror. After a second I asked once more with baited breath is he gaining she looked back yes gaining a pause and now still gaining he is poising an asagai ten seconds more passed in breathless suspense the thud of their horses hooves alone told me their nearness my finger was on the trigger I awaited the word fire she said at last in a calm unflinching voice he is well within distance I turned half round and levelled as true as I could at the advancing black man he rode nearly naked showing all his teeth and brandishing his asagai the long white feather stuck upright in his hair a wild and terrifying barbaric aspect it was difficult to preserve one's balance keep the way on and shoot all at the same time but spurred by necessity I somehow did it I fired three shots in quick succession my first bullet missed my second knocked the man over my third graced the horse with a ringing shriek the matabeela fell in the road his horse, terrified dashed back with maddened snorts into the midst of the others its plunging disconcerted the whole party for a minute we did not wait to see the rest taking advantage of this momentary diversion in our favor we rode on at full speed to the top of the slope I never knew before how hard I could pedal and began to descend at a dash into the opposite hollow the sun had set by this time there is no twilight in those latitudes it grew dark at once we could see now in the plain all round where black clouds of smoke had rolled before one lurid red glare of burning houses mixed with the sullen haze of tawny light from the columns of prairie fire kindled by the insurgents we made our way still onward across the open plain without one word to watch salt spring the mare was giving out she strode with a will but her flanks were white with froth her breath came short foam flew from her nostrils as we mounted the next ridge still distancing our pursuers I saw suddenly on its crest defined against the livid red sky like a silhouette two more mounted black men it is all uphill now I cried losing heart at last we were on both sides of a snow the mare is spent we are surrounded she drew rain and gazed at them for a moment suspense spoke in all her attitude then she burst into a sudden deep sigh of relief no, no, she cried these are friendless how do you know, I gasped but I believed her they are looking out this way with hands shading their eyes with a red glare they are looking away from salt spring in the direction of the attack they are expecting the enemy they must be friendless see, see, they have caught sight of us as she spoke one of the men lifted his rifle and half pointed it don't shoot, don't shoot I shrieked aloud we are English, English the men let their rifles drop and rode down towards us I cried they saluted us military fashion matabele polisa the leader answered recognizing me you are flying from classes yes, I answered they have murdered Klaus with his wife and child some of them are now following us the spokesman was a well educated Cape Town Negro all right, sir, he answered I have forty men here right behind the copche, let them come we can give a good account of them ride on straight with the lady to Salisbury the Salisbury people know of this rising then? I asked yes, sir, them know since five o'clock kafir boy from classes brought in the news and a white man escaped from rose and bones confirm it we have pickets all around you is safe now you can ride on into Salisbury without fear of the matabele put on relieved mechanically my feet worked to and fro on the pedals it was a gentle downgradient now towards the town I had no further need for special exertion suddenly Hilda's voice came wafted to me as through a mist what are you doing, Hubert? you'd be off in a minute I started and recovered my balance with difficulty then I was aware at once that one second before the dog tired on the bicycle worn out with my long day and with a nervous strain I began to dose off with my feet still moving round and round automatically the moment the inside of the chase was relieved and an easy downgrade gave me a little respite I kept myself awake even then with difficulty riding on through the lurid gloom we reached Salisbury at last and found the town already crowded with refugees from the plateau however we succeeded in securing two rooms at a house in the long street and were soon sitting down to a much needed supper as we rested an hour or two later in the ill furnished back room discussing this sudden turn of affairs with our host and some neighbors for of course old Salisbury was eager for news from the scene of the massacres I happened to raise my head and so to my great surprise a haggard white face peering in attas through the window it peered round the corners stealthily it was an ascetic face very sharp and clear cut it had a stately profile the long and wiry grizzled moustache the deep set hawk like eyes the acute intense intellectual features all were very familiar so was the outer setting of long white hair straight and silvery as it fell and just curled in one way like inward sweep where it turned and rested on the stooping shoulders but the expression on the face was even stranger than the sudden apparition it was an expression of keen and poignant disappointment as of a man whom fate has bought of some well-planned end is due by right which mere chance has evaded they say there is a white man from of all this trouble our host had been remarking one second earlier the niggers know too much and where did they get their rifles people at Rosenboom's believe some black liver traitor has been stirring up the matapela for weeks and weeks an enemy of Rodeses of course jealous of our advance a French agent perhaps but more likely one of these confounded transvaal Dutchmen as the words fell from his lips I saw the face I gave a quick little start then recovered my composure but Hilda noted it she looked up at me hastily she was sitting with her back to the window and therefore of course could not see the face itself which indeed was withdrawn with a hurried movement yet with a certain strange dignity almost before I could feel sure of having seen it still she caught my startled expression and the gleam of surprise and recognition in my eye she laid one hand upon my arm you have seen him? she asked quietly almost below her breath seen whom? Sebastian it was useless denying it to her yes I have seen him I answered in a confidential aside just now this moment at the back of the house at the window upon us you are right as always she drew a deep breath he has played his game she said low to me in an aimed undertone I felt sure it was he I expected him to play though what peace I knew not and when I saw those poor dead souls I was certain he had done it indirectly done it the matabela are his pawns a blow at me and this was the way he chose to aim it do you think he is capable of that? I cried for in spite of all I had still a sort of lingering respect for Sebastian it seems so reckless like the worst of anarchists when he strikes at one head to involve so many irrelevant lives in one common destruction Hilda's face was like a drowned man's to Sebastian she answered shuddering the end is all the means are unessential who wills the end wills the means that is the sum and substance of his philosophy of life from first to last he's always acted upon it did I not tell you once he was a snow-clad volcano? till I'm lost to believe I cried I knew it, she said I expected it beneath that cold exterior the fires of his life burn fiercely still I told you we must wait for Sebastian's next move though I confess even from him I hardly dreamt of this one but from the moment when I opened the door on poor Tantmeti's body lying there in its red horror I felt it must be he who started just now I said to myself in a flash of intuition Sebastian has come he has come to see how his devil's work has prospered he sees it has gone wrong so now he will try to devise some other I thought of the Malin expression on that cruel white face as it stared in at the window from the outer gloom and I felt convinced she was right she had read her man once more for it was the desperate contorted face of one Paul to discover that a great crime attempted and successfully carried out has failed by mere accident of its central intention. End of Chapter 7 Part 2 read by Lars Rolander Chapter 8 Part 1 of Hilda Wade This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org reading by Lars Rolander Hilda Wade A Woman with Tenacity of Purpose by Grant Allen Chapter 8 Part 1 The Episode of the European with a Café Heart Unfashionable as it is to say so I am a man of peace I belong to profession whose province is to heal not to destroy. Still, there are times which turn even the most peaceful of us perforce into fighters times when those we love those we are bound to protect and in danger of their lives and at moments like that no man can doubt what is his plain duty. The Matabela Revolt was one such moment in the conflict of race we must back our own color. I do not know whether the natives were justified in rising or not most likely yes for we had stolen their country but when once they rose when the security of white women depended upon repelling them I felt I had no alternative. For Hilda's sake for the sake of every woman and child in Salisbury and in all Rhodesia I was bound to bear my part in restoring order for the immediate future it is true we were safe enough in the little town but we did not know how far the Revolt might have spread we could not tell what had happened at Charter, at Pulavayo at the outlaying stations The Matabela perhaps had risen in force over the whole vast area which was once Lubenguala's country so their first object would certainly be to cut us off from communication with the main body of English settlers at Pulavayo I trust to you Hilda I said on the day after the massacre at classes to divine for us where these savages are next likely to attack us she cooed at the mother's baby raising one bent finger and then turned to me with a white smile then you asked too much of me she answered just think what the correct answer would imply first a knowledge of these savages is Charter next a knowledge of their mode of fighting can't you see that only person who possessed my trick of intuition and who had also spent years in warfare among the Matabela would be really able to answer your question and yet such questions have been answered before now by people far less intuitive than you I went on why I've read somewhere how when the war between Napoleon I and the Prussian broke out in 1806 Germany predicted that the decisive battle of the campaign would be fought near Jena and near Jena it was fought are not you better than many Jominis Hilda tickled the baby's cheek smile then baby smile she said pouncing one soft finger on a gathering dimple and who was your friend Jominis the greatest military critic and tactician of his age I answered one of Napoleon's generals I fancy he wrote a book don't you know a book on war the grand operation military or something of that sort well there you are then that's just it your Jominis or Omini or whatever you call him not only understood Napoleon's temperament but understood war and understood tactics it was all a question of the lie of the land and strategy and so forth if I had been asked I could never have answered a quarter as well as Jominis Piccolomini could I baby Jominis would have been worth a good many Mies there there dear motherless darling why she crows just as if she hadn't lost all her family but Hilda we must be serious I count upon you to help us in this matter we are still in danger even now these Matabile may attack and destroy us she laid the child on her lap and looked grave I know it you but but I must leave it now to you men I'm no tactician don't take me for one of Napoleon's generals still I said we have not only the Matabile to reckon with recollect there is Sebastian as well and whether you know your Matabile or not you at least know your Sebastian she shuddered I know him yes I know him but this case is so difficult we have Sebastian complicated by a rabble of savages whose habits and manners I do not understand it is that that makes the difficulty but Sebastian himself I urged take him first in isolation she paused for a full minute with her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table her brow gathered Sebastian she repeated ah there I might guess something well of course having once begun this attempt and being definitely committed as it were to a policy of killing us he will go through to the bitter end no matter how many other lives it may cost that is Sebastian's method you don't think having once found out that I so on recognized him he would consider the game lost and slink away to the coast again Sebastian oh no that is the absolute antipodes of his type and temperament he will never give up because of a temporary check you think no never the man has a will or share steal it may break but it will not bend besides consider he's too deeply involved you have seen him you know and he knows you know he's doing this thing home to him then what is his plain policy why to egg on the natives whose confidence he has somehow gained into making a further attack and cutting off all salt spray if he had succeeded in getting you and me massacred at classes he as he hoped he would no doubt have slunk off to the coast at once leaving his black dupes to be shot down at leisure by Rhodes' soldiers I see you failed in that then he's bound to go through with it and kill as if he can even if he has to kill all salt spray with us that I feel sure is Sebastian's plan whether he can get the matter billet to back him up in it or not is a different matter but taking Sebastian himself alone oh Sebastian himself alone would naturally say never mind concentrate round salt spray and kill off all there first when that is done then you can move on at your ease and cut them to pieces in Charter and Bulavayo you see he wouldn't have no interest in the movement himself once he had fairly got rid of us here the matter billet are only the pieces in his game it is me he wants not salt spray he would clear out of Rhodesia as soon as he had carried his point but he would have to give some reasonable ground to the matter billet for his first advice and it seems a reasonable ground to say don't leave salt spray in your rare so as to put yourself between two fires capture the outpost first that down march on undistracted to the principal stronghold who is no tactician I murmured half aloud she laughed that's not tactics you but plain common sense and knowledge of Sebastian still it comes to nothing the question is not what would Sebastian wish it is could Sebastian persuade these angry black men to accept his guidance Sebastian I cried Sebastian could persuade the very devil I know the man's fiery enthusiasm his contagious eloquence thrilled me through myself with his electric personality so that it took me six years and your aid to find him out at last his very abstractness tells why even in this war you may be sure he will be making notes all the time on the healing of wounds in tropical climates contrasting the African with the European constitution oh yes of course whatever he does forget the interests of science he is true to his lady love to whomever else he plays false that is his saving virtue and he will talk down the matabele I went on even if he doesn't know their language but I suspect he does for you must remember he was three years in South Africa as a young man on a scientific expedition collecting specimens he can ride like a trooper and he knows the country his masterful ways his austere face will cow the natives then again he has the air of a prophet and prophets always stir the negro I can imagine with what air he will bid them drive out the intrusive white men who have usurped their land and draw them flattering pictures of a new matabele empire about to arise under a new chief too strong for these gold-grubbing diamond hunting mobs over sea to meddle with she reflected once more do you mean to say anything of our suspicions in Salisbury Hubert? she asked at last it is useless I answered the Salisbury folk believe there is a white man at the bottom of this trouble already they will try to catch him that's all that is necessary if we said it was Sebastian people would only laugh at us they must understand Sebastian as you I understand him before they would think such a moot credible as a rule in life if you know anything which other people do not know better keep it to yourself you will only get laughed at as a fool for telling it I think so too that is why I never say what I suspect or interfere from my knowledge of types except to a few who can understand and appreciate you but if they all arm for the defense of the town you will stop here I suppose to tend the wounded her lips trembled as she spoke and she gazed at me with a strange wistfulness no dearest I answered at once taking her face in my hands I shall fight with the rest Salisbury has more need today of fighters than of healers I thought you would she answered slowly and I think you do right her face was set white maybe I would not urge you but I am glad you say so I want you to stop yet I could not love you so much if I did not see you ready to play the man at such a crisis I shall give in my name with the rest I answered you but it is hard to spare you hard to send you to such danger but for one other thing I am glad you are going they must take Sebastian alive they must not kill him they will shoot him red-handed if they catch him I answered confidently a white man who cites with the blacks in an insurrection then you must see that they do not do it they must bring him in alive and try him legally for me and therefore for you that is of the first importance why so Hilda you but you want to marry me I nodded vehemently well you know I can only marry you on one condition that I have succeeded first in clearing my father's memory now the only man living who can clear it is Sebastian if Sebastian were to be shot it could never be cleared and then law or midis and persons I could never marry you but how can you expect Sebastian of all men to clear it Hilda I cried he is ready to kill us both merely to prevent your attempting a revision is it likely you can force him to confess his crime still less induce him to admit it voluntarily she placed her hands over her eyes and pressed them hard with a strange prophetic air she often had about her when she gazed into the future I know my man she answered slowly without uncovering her eyes I know how I can do it if the chance ever comes to me but the chance must come first it is hard to find I lost it once at Nathaniel's I must not lose it again if Sebastian is killed skulking here in Rhodesia my life's purpose will have failed I shall not have vindicated my father's good name and then we can never marry so I understand Hilda my orders are these I am to go out and fight for the women and children if possible that Sebastian shall be made prisoner alive and on no account to let him be killed in the open I give you no orders you but I tell you how it seems best to me but if Sebastian is shot dead then you understand it must be all over between us I never can marry you until or unless I have cleared my father Sebastian shall not be shot dead I cried with my youthful impetuosity he shall be brought in alive though all soul sprees one man tried best to lynch him I went out to report myself as a volunteer for service within the next few hours the whole town had been put in a stage of sea and all available men armed to oppose the insurgent Matabele hasty preparations were made for defense the ox wagons of settlers were drawn up outside in little circles here and there so as to form lagers which acted practically as temporary force for the protection of the outskirts in one of these I was posted with our company were two American scouts named Coolbro and Doolittle irregular fighters whose value in South African campaigns had already in the old Matabele war against Lubbengula Coolbrook in particular was an odd-looking creature, a tall spare man bodied like a weasel he was red-haired, ferret-eyed and an excellent scout but scrappier and more inarticulate in his manner of speech than any human being I had ever encountered his conversation was a series of rapid interactions jerked out at intervals by a running play of gesture and attitude while yes, he said when I tried to draw him out on the Matabele mode of fighting, not on the open never grass if you like or bushes, the eyes of them the eyes he leaned eagerly forward as if looking for something see here doctor, I'm telling you spots claiming among the grass, long grass and armed two, a pair of meach one to throw he raised his hands as if launching something the other for close fighting as a guys you know that's the name of it, only the eyes creeping, creeping, creeping no noise one raised wagons drawn up in lager oxen outspent in the middle trekking all day tied out, dog-tied crawl, crawl, crawl hands and knees, might be snakes a wriggle men sitting about the campfire smoking, gleam of their eyes under the wagons nearer, nearer, nearer then the throwing ones in your midst shower of them, right and left hello, stand by boys look up, see him swarming black leg ants over the wagons inside the lager snatch up rifles all up, oxen stampeding running, black sticking them like pigs in the back with their ass guys, bad job the whole thing, don't care for it myself, very tough ones to fight if they once break lager then you should never let them get too close quarters, I suggested catching the general drift of his inarticulate swift pictures you are a square man you are doctor there you touch the spot never let them get at close quarters centuries, creep past them outpost, crawl between had four percent wilson like that, cut him off, perdition but maxims will do it maxims, never let them get nearer, sweep the ground all round, dirnd hard though, to know just when they are coming and night, two nights all clear only waste ammunition third, they swarm like beasts break lager all over this was not exactly an agreeable picture what we had to expect the more so as our particular lager happened to have no maxims however, we kept a sharp look out for those gleaming eyes in the long grass of which coalbrook warned us their flashing light was the one thing to be seen, at night above all when the black bodies could crawl and perceive through the tall dry herbage on our first night out we had no adventures, we watched by turns outside, relieving sentry from time to time while those of us who slept within the lager slept on the bare ground with our arms beside us nobody spoke much, the tension was too great every moment we expected an attack of the enemy next day news reached us by all the other lagers none of them had been attacked but in all there was a deep half instinctive belief that the matabeal in force were drawing step by step closer and closer around us Lo Bengula's old impiss or native regiments had gathered together once more under their own indunas, men trained and drilled in all the arts and ruses of savage warfire on their own ground and among their native scrub those rude strategists are formidable they know the country and how to fight in it we had nothing to oppose to them but a handful of the new matabeal and police an old regular soldier or two and a raw crowd of volunteers most of whom like myself had never before really handled a rifle that afternoon the majoring command decided to send out the two driven scouts to score the grass and discover if possible how near our lines the matabeal had penetrated I begged hard to be permitted to accompany them I wanted if I could to get evidence against Sebastian or at least to learn whether he was still directing and assisting the enemy at first the scouts laughed at my request but when I told them privately that I believed I had a clue against the white traitor and that I wished to identify him they changed their tone and began to think there might be something in it experience Colbrook asked in his brief short hand of speech running his ferret eyes over me none I answered but a noiseless tread and a capacity for crawling through holes in hedges which may perhaps be useful he glanced inquiry at Doolittle who was a shorter and stouter man with a knack of getting over obstacles by sheer forcefulness hands and knees he said abruptly in the imperative mood pointing to a clump of dry grass with thorny bushes ringed about it I went down on my hands and knees and threaded my way through the long grasses and matted boughs as noiselessly as I could the two old hands watched me when I emerged several yards off much to their surprise Colbrook turned to Doolittle he said curtly made your says, choose your own men anyhow if they catch him nobody's fault but his once to go, we'll do it we set out through the long grass together walking erected first till we had got some distance from the lager and then creeping as the mattabela themselves creep without displacing the grass flowers for a mere wave on top would have betrayed us at once the guys of those observant savages we crept on for a mile or so at last Colbrook turned to me one finger on his lips his ferret eyes gleamed we were approaching a wooded hill all interspersed with boulders kaffir's here he whispered low as if he knew by instinct how he knew I cannot tell he seemed almost to scent them and of chapter eight part one read by Lash Rolander chapter eight part two of Hilda Wade this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org reading by Lash Rolander Hilda Wade a woman with tenacity of purpose by Grant Allen chapter eight part two we stood on father going more furtively than ever now I could notice by this time that there were wagons in front and could hear men speaking in them I wanted to proceed but Colbrook held up one warning hand one toe he said shortly in a low tone only myself danger ahead stop here wait for me too little and myself waited Colbrook kept on cautiously squirming his long body in sinuous waves like a lizards through the grass and was soon lost to us no snake could have been litter we waited with ears intent one minute two minutes many minutes passed we could catch the voices of the cavers in the bush all round they were speaking freely but what they said I did not know as I had picked up only a very few words of the Matabile language it seemed ours while we waited still as mice in our ambush and alert I began to think Colbrook must have been lost or killed so long was he gone and that we must return without him at last we leaned forward a muffled movement in the grass ahead a slight wave at the base then it divided below bit by bit while the tops remained stationary a weasel-like body slank noiselessly through finger on lips once more Colbrook glided beside us we turned and crawled back stifling our very pulses for many minutes none of us spoke what we heard in our rear a loud cry and the shaking of us agais the waffers behind us were yelling frightfully they must have suspected something seen some movement in the tufted heads of grass for they spread a broad shouting we halted holding our breath after a time however the noise died down they were moving another way we crept on again stealthily when at last after many minutes we found ourselves beyond the sheltering belt of brushwood captured to rise and speak well, I asked of Colbrook did you discover anything he nodded a scent couldn't say him, he said shortly but he's there right enough white man heard him talk of him what did they say, I asked eagerly said he had a white skin but his heart was a caffiers great indona leader of many impis prophet wise weather doctor friend of old moselle cutses destroy the white men from over the big water restore the land to the matabela kill all in saucepary especially the white women witches, all witches they give charms to the men cook lions hearts for them make them brave with love drinks they said that I exclaimed taken aback kill all the white women and they said kill all the white women yes, kill all white witches every one the young ones worst word of the great indona and you could not see him creep near wagons close fellow himself inside hurries a boy spoke english with a little matabela caffier boy who was servant at the mission interpreted what sort of boys like this and I imitated Sebastian's cold clear cut tone as well as I was able the man that's him doctor you've got him down to the ground the very voice heard him giving orders that settled the question I was certain of it now Sebastian was with the insurgents we made our way back to our lager flung ourselves down and slept a little on the ground before taking our turn in the fatigues of the night watch our horses were loosely tied ready for any sudden alarm about midnight we three were sitting with others about the fire talking low to one another all at once too little sprang up alert and eager look out boys he cried pointing his hands under the wagons what's wriggling in the grass there I looked and saw nothing our centres were posted outside about a hundred yards apart walking up and down till they met and exchanging all swell allowed at each meeting they should have been stationary one of our scouts exclaimed looking out at them it's easier for the matabile to see them so when they woke up and down moving against the sky the major ought to have posted them where it wouldn't have been so simple for a calf to see them and creep in between them to light now boys cold broke burst out with a rare effort of articulateness call back the centrist major the blacks have broken line hold there they rean upon us even as he spoke I followed his eager pointing hand with my eyes and just described among the grass two gleaming objects seen under the hollow of one of the wagons two then two then two again and behind the sails of them they looked like twin stars but there were eyes black eyes reflecting the starlight and the red glare of the campfire they crept on torturously in serpentine curse through the long dry grasses I could feel rather than see that they were matabile crawling prone on their bellies and trailing their snake like way between the dark jungle quickest thought I raised me at the foremost so did several others but the major shouted angrily who fired don't shoot boys till you hear the word of command back centrist to lager not a shot till they are safe inside you'll hit your own people almost before he said it the centrist started back the matabile crouching on hands and knees in the long grass had passed between them unseen a wild moment followed I could hardly describe it the whole thing was so new to me and to play so quickly hordes of black human aunts seemed to search up all at once over and under the wagons as a guys whisked through the air or gleam brandished around one our men fell back to the centre of the lager and formed themselves hastily under the major's orders then a force a deadly fire once twice thrice we volled the matabile fell by dozens but they came on by hundreds as fast as we fired and moved down one swarm fresh swarm seemed to spring from the earth and stream over the wagons others appeared to grow up almost beneath our feet as they wormed their way on their faces along the ground between the wheels squirmed into the circle and then rose suddenly erect and naked in front of us meanwhile they yelled and shouted clashing their spears and shields the oxen bellot the rifles volleyed it was a pandemonium of sound in an orgy of gloom darkness lurid flame blood wounds death horror yet in the midst of all this hubbub I could not help admiring the cool military calm and self control of our major his voice rose clear about the confused to mouth steady boy steady random pick each your likelist man and aim at him deliberately that's right easy easy shoot at leisure and don't waste ammunition he stood as if he were on parade in the midst of this palpitating turmoil of savages some of us encouraged by his example mounted the wagons and shot from the tops at our approaching assailants how long the hurly-burly went on I cannot say we fired fired fired and kafirs fell like sheep yet more kafirs rose fresh from the long grass to replace them they swarmed with greater ease now over the covered wagons across the mangled and breathing bodies of their fellows for the dead outside made an inclined plane for the living to mount by but the enemy were getting less numerous I thought and less anxious to fight told on them by and by with a little halt for the first time they wavered all our men now mounted the wagons and began to fire on them in regular volleys as they came up the evil effects of the surprise were gone by this time we were acting with coolness and obeying orders but several of our people dropped close beside me pierced through with assagais all at once as if a panic had burst over them the matabele with one mind stopped dead short in their advance and ceased fighting till that moment no number of this seemed to make any difference to them men fell disabled others sprang up from the ground by magic but now of a sudden their courage flag they faltered gay way broke and shumbled in a body at last as one man they turned and fled many of them left up with a loud cry from the long grass where they were skulking flung away their big shields with their white thongs interlaced and ran for dear life black crouching figures through the dense dry jungle they held their assagais still but did not dare to use them it was a flight, hell-mell and the devil take the hint most not until then had I leisure to think and to realize my position this was the first and only time I had ever seen a battle I'm a bit of a coward I believe like most other men though I have courage enough to confess it and I expected to find myself terribly afraid when it came to fighting instead of that to my immense surprise once the matabele had swarmed over the lager and were upon us in their thousands I had no time to be frightened the absolute necessity for keeping cool for loading and reloading for aiming and firing for beating them off at close quarters all this so occupied one's mind and steal more one's hands that one couldn't find room for any personal terrors they are breaking over there they will overpower us they are faltering now those thoughts were so uppermost in one's head and one's arms were so alert only after the enemy gave way and began to run at full pelt could a man find breathing space to think of his own safety then the thought occurred to me I have been through my first fight and come out of it alive after all I was a deal less afraid than I expected that took but a second however next instant awakened to the altered circumstances we were after them at full speed accompanying them on their way back to their crawls in the uplands with a running fire as a farewell attention as we broke lager in pursuit of them by the uncertain starlight we saw a sight which made us boil with indignation a mountain man turned and fled before them he seemed their leader unseen till then he was dressed like a European tall thin unbending in a grayish white suit he rode a good horse and sat it well his air was commanding even as he turned and fled in the general route from that lost battle I seized Coldbrook's arm almost speechless with anger the white man I cried the traitor he did not answer a word but with a set face a white rage loosed his horse from where it was tethered among the wagons at the same moment I loosed mine I loosed it do little quick as thought but silently we led them out all three where the lager was broken I clutched my mare's mane and sprang to the stirrup to pursue our enemy my sorrel bounded off like a bird the fugitive had a good two minutes start of us but our horses were fresh while his had probably been ridden all day I patted my pony's neck she responded with a ringing ney of joy we tore after the outlaw all three of us abreast I felt a sort of fierce delight in the reaction after the fighting our ponies galloped wildly over the plane we burst out into the night never heeding the matabile whom we passed on the open in panic-stricken retreat I noticed that many of them in their terror had even flung away their shields and their asegais it was a mad chase across the dark veldt we three neck to neck against that one desperate runaway we rode all we knew I dug my heels into my sorrel's flanks and she responded bravely the tables were turned now on our traitor since the afternoon of the massacre he was the pursued and we were the pursuers we felt we must run him down and punish him for his treachery at a breakneck pace we stumbled over low bushes we grazed big boulders we rolled down the sides of steep ravines but we kept him in sight all the time dim and black against the starry sky slowly slowly yes yes we gained upon him my pony led now the mysterious white man rode and rode head bent neck forward but never looked behind him bit by bit we lessened the distance between us as we drew near him at last do little called out to me in a warning voice take care doctor have your revolvers ready he's driven to bay now as we approach he'll fire at us then it came home to me in a flash I felt the truth of it he dare not fire I cried he dare not turn towards us he cannot show his face if he did we might recognize him on we rode still gaining now now I cried we shall catch him even as I leaned forward to seize his reign the fugitive without checking his horse without turning his head drew his revolver from his belt and raising his hand fired behind him at random he fired towards us on the chance the bullet whisked past my ear not hitting anyone we scattered right and left still galloping free and strong we did not return his fire I told the others of my desire to take him alive we might have shot his horse but the risk of hitting the rider coupled with the confidence we felt of eventually hunting him to earth restrained us it was the great mistake we made he had gained a little by his shots but we soon caught it up once more I said we are on him a minute later we were pulled up short before an impenetrable thicket of prickly shrubs through which I sought once it would have been quite impossible to urge our staggering horses the other man of course reached it before us with his mare's last breath he must have been making for it indeed of set purpose for the second he arrived at the edge of the thicket he slipped off his tight pony and seemed to dive into the bush as a swimmer dives off the rock into the water we have him now I cried in a voice of triumph coldbrook echoed we have him we sprang down quickly take him alive if you can I exclaimed remembering Hilda's advice let us find out who is and have him properly tried and hanged at Pulavayo don't give him a soldier's death all he deserves is a murderer's you stop here coldbrook said briefly flinging his bridle to do little to hold doctor and I follow him thick bush now's the way of it revolvers ready I handed my sorrel to do little he stopped behind holding the three foam bespattered and panting horses while coldbrook and I dived after a fugitive into the matted bushes the thicket as I have said was impenetrable above but it was borrowed at its base by overground runs of some wild animal not I think a very large one they were just like the runs which rabbits make among gorse and heather only on a bigger scale bigger even than a foxes or a badgers by crouching and bending our backs we could crawl through them with difficulty into the scrubby tango it was hard work creeping the runs divided soon coldbrook felt with his hands on the ground I can make out the spore he muttered after a minute he's gone on this way we tracked him a little distance in crawling at times and rising now and again where the runs opened out onto the air for a moment the spore was doubtful and the tunnels torches I felt the ground from time to time but could not be sure of the tracks with my fingers I was not a train scout like coldbrook or do little we wriggled deeper into the tango something stirred once or twice it was not far from me I was uncertain whether it was him Sebastian or a kafir earthhog the animal which seemed likely to have made the burrows was he going to elude us even now would he turn upon us with a knife if so, could we hold him at last when we had pushed away some distance in we heard a wild cry from outside it was too little's voice quick, quick out again the man will escape he has come back on his tracks and rounded I saw our mistake at once we had left our companion out there alone rendered helpless by the care of all three horses coldbrook said never a word he was a man of action he turned with instinctive haste and followed our spore back again with his hands and knees to the opening in the thicket by which we had first entered before we could reach it however two shots rang out clear in the direction we left poor Doolittle and the horses then a sharp cry broke the stillness the cry of a wounded man we redoubled our pace we knew we were outwitted when we reached the open we saw at once by the uncertain light what had happened the fugitive was riding away on my own little sorrel riding for dear life not back the way we came from Salisbury but sideways across the belt towards Shimoyo and the port of East Seaports the other two horses riderless and terrified were scampering with loose heels over the dark plain Doolittle was not to be seen he lay a black lump among the black bushes about him we looked around for him and found him he was severely I may even say dangerously wounded the bullet had lodged in his right side we had to catch our two horses and ride them back with our wounded man leading the fugitive's mare in tow all blown and breathless I stuck to the fugitive's mare it was the one clue we had now against him but Sebastian, if it was Sebastian had ridden off scot-free I understood his game at a glance he had got the better of us once more he would make for the coast by the nearest road give himself out as a settler escape from the massacre and catch the next ship for England or the Cape now this coop had failed him Doolittle had not seen the traitor's face the man rose from the bush he said shot him, seized the pony and rode off in a second with ruthless haste he was tall and thin but erect that was all the wounded scout could tell us about his assailant and that was not enough to identify Sebastian all danger was over we rode back to Salisbury the first words Hilda said when she saw me were well, he has got away from you yes, how did you know? I read it in your step but I guessed as much before he's so very keen and you started too confident End of chapter 8 part 2 read by Lars Rolander Chapter 9 part 1 of Hilda Wade this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org reading by Lars Rolander Hilda Wade, a woman with tenacity of purpose by Grant Allen Chapter 9 part 1 the episode of the lady who was very exclusive the Matabele revolt gave Hilda a prejudice against Rhodesia I will confess that I shared it I may be hard to please but it somehow sets one against a country when one comes home from a ride to find all the other occupants of the house one lives in, massacred so Hilda decided to leave South Africa by an odd coincidence I also decided on the same day to change my residence Hilda's movements and mine indeed coincided curiously the moment I learned she was going anywhere I discovered in a flash that I happened to be going there too I commend this strange case of parallel thought and action to the consideration of the society for psychical research so I sold my farm and had done with Rhodesia a country with a future which is very well in its way but I'm quite ebsanish in my preference for a country with a past oddly enough I had no difficulty in getting rid of my white elephant of a farm people seem to believe in Rhodesia nonetheless firmly because of this slight disturbance they treated massacres as necessary incidents in the early history of a colony with a future and I do not deny that native risings add picturesqueness but I prefer to take them in a literary form you will go home of course I said to Hilda when we came to talk it all over she shook her head to England? oh no I must pursue my plan Sebastian will have gone home he expects me to follow and why don't you? because he expects it you see he's a good judge of character he will naturally infer from what he knows of my temperament that after this experience I shall want to get back to England and safety so I should if it were not that I know he will expect it as it is I must go elsewhere I must draw him after me where? why do you ask you but? because I want to know where I'm going myself wherever you go I have reason to believe what happened to be going also she rested her little chin on her hand and reflected a minute does it occur to you she asked at last that people have tongues if you go on following me like this they will really begin to talk about us now upon my word Hilda I cried that is the very first time I have ever known you show a woman's want of logic I do not propose to follow you I propose to happen to be travelling by the same steamer I ask you to marry me you want, you admit you are fond of me yet you tell me not to come with you it is I who suggest a course which would prevent people from chattering by the simple device of a wedding it is you who refuse and then you turn upon me like this admit that you are unreasonable my dear you but have I ever denied that I was a woman besides I went on ignoring her delicious mine I don't intend to follow you I expect on the contrary to find myself beside you when I know where you are going I shall accidentally turn up on the same steamer accidents will happen nobody can prevent coincidences from occurring you may marry me you may not but if you don't marry me you can't expect to curtail my liberty of action can you you had better know the worst at once if you won't take me you must count upon finding me at your elbow all the world over till the moment comes when you choose to accept me dear you but I'm ruining your life an excellent reason then but you wonder from the question where are you going that is this you now before the house you persist in evading it she smiled and came back to earth oh if you must know to India by the east coast changing steamers at Aden extraordinary I cried do you know Hilda as luck will have it I also shall be on my way to Bombay by the very same steamer but you don't know what steamer it is no matter that only makes the coincidence all the order whatever the name of the ship may be when you get on board I have a press sentiment that you will be surprised to find me there she looked up at me with a gathering film in her eyes you but you are irrepressible I am my dear child so you may as well spare yourself the needless trouble of trying to repress me if you rub a piece of iron on a lodestone it becomes magnetic so I think I must have begun to acquire some part of Hilda's own prophetic strain for sure enough a few weeks later we both of us found ourselves on the German East African steamer Kaiser Wilhelm on our way to Aden exactly as I had predicted which goes to prove that there is really something after all in press sentiments since you persist in accompanying me Hilda said to me as we sat in our chairs on deck the first evening out I see what I must do I must invent some plausible and ostensible reason for our traveling together we are not traveling together I answered we are traveling by the same steamer that is all exactly like the rest of our fellow passengers I declined to be dragged into this imaginary partnership now do be serious you but I am going to invent an object in life for us what object how can I tell yet I must wait and see what turns up when we transship at Aden and find out what people are going on to bombay with us I shall probably discover some nice married lady to whom I can attach myself and am I to attach myself to her too? my dear boy I never asked you to come you came unbidden you must manage for yourself as best you may but I leave much to the chapter of accidents we never know what will turn up till it turns up in the end everything comes at last you know to him that whites and yet I put in with a meditative air I have never observed that waiters are so much better off than the rest of the community they seem to me don't talk nonsense it is you who are wondering from the question now please return to it I returned at once so I am to depend on what turns up yes leave that to me when we see our fellow passengers on the Bombay steamer I shall soon discover some ostensible reason why we too should be travelling through India with one of them well you are a witch Hilda I answered I found that out long ago but if you succeed between here and Bombay in inventing a mission I shall begin to believe you are even more of a witch than I ever thought you at Aiden we changed into a P&O steamer our first evening out on our second cruise was a beautiful one the bland Indian ocean wore its sweetest smile for us we sat on deck after dinner a lady with a husband came up from the cabin while we sat and gazed at the placid sea I was smoking a quiet digestive cigar Hilda was seated in her deck chair next to me with a husband looked about her for a vacant space on which to place the chair a steward was carrying for her there was plenty of room on the quarter deck I could not imagine why she gazed about her with such obtrusive caution she inspected the occupants of the various chairs around with deliberate scrutiny through a long handled tortoise shell optical abomination none of them seemed to satisfy her what remaining effort during which she also muttered a few words very low to her husband she selected an empty spot midway between our group and the most distant group on the other side of us in other words she sat as far away from everybody present as the necessarily restricted area of the quarter deck permitted Hilda glanced at me and smiled I snatched a quick look at the lady again she was stressed with an amount of care and a smartness of detail that seemed somewhat uncalled for on the Indian Ocean a cruise on a P&O steamer is not a garden party her chair was most luxurious and had her name painted on it back and from in very large letters with undue obtrusiveness I read it from where I sat Lady Meadowcroft the owner of the chair was tolerably young not bad looking and most expensively a tired her face had a certain vacant languid half NUAR which I have learned to associate with women of the Novorich type women with small brains and restless minds habitually plunged in a vortex of gait and miserable when left for a passing moment to their own resources Hilda rose from her chair slightly forward towards the bow of the steamer I rose to and accompanied her well she said with a faint touch of triumph in her voice when we had got out of airshot well what I answered unsuspecting I told you everything turned up at the end she said confidentially look at the lady's nose it does turn up at the end certainly I answered but I hardly see you but you are growing dull you were not so at Nathaniel's it is the lady herself who has turned up not her nose though I grant you that turns up too the lady I require for our tour in India the not impossible chaperone her nose tells you that her nose in part but her face as a whole too her dress her chair her mental attitude to things in general my dear Hilda you can't mean to tell me you have divined her whole nature at a glance by magic not fully at a glance I saw her come on board you know she transcribed from some other line at the Aiden as we did and I have been watching her ever since yes I think I have unraveled her you have been astonishing quick I cried perhaps but then you see there is so little to unravel some books we all know you must chew and digest they can only be read slowly but some you can glance at skim and skip the mere turning of the pages tells you what little worth knowing there is in them she doesn't look profound I admitted casting an eye at her meaningless small features as we paced up and down I inclined to agree you might easily skim her skim her and learn all the table of contents is so short you see in the first place she's extremely exclusive she prides herself on her exclusiveness it and her shoddy title are probably all she has to pride herself upon and she works them both hard she is a sham great lady as Hilda spoke Lady Meadowcroft raised a feebly quarrelous voice Steward this won't do I can smell the engine here move my chair I must go on further if you go on further that way the steward answered could humbly but with the manservants difference for any sort of title you'll smell the galley where they're cooking the dinner I don't know which your ladyship would like best the engine or the galley the languid figure leaned back in the chair with an air of resignation I'm sure I don't know why they cook the dinners up so high she murmured petishly to her husband why can't they stick the kitchens underground in the hold I mean instead of bothering us up here on deck with them the husband was a big burly rough and ready Yorkshire man stout somewhat pompous about 40 with hair wearing bald on the forehead the personification of the successful businessman my dear Amy he said in a loud voice with a north country accent the cooks have got to live they've got to live like the rest of us I can never persuade you that the hands must always be humor if you don't humor them they won't work for you it's a poor tale when the hands won't work even with galleys on deck the life of a sea cook is not generally thought an enviable position it's not a happy one not a happy one as the fellow says in the opera you must humor your cooks if you stuck them in the hold you'd get no dinner at all that's the long and short of it the languid lady turned away with a sickly disappointed air then they ought to have a conscription or something she said poting her lips the government ought to take it in hand and manage it somehow it's bad enough having to go by these beastly steamers to India at all without having one's breath poisoned by the rest of the sentence died away inaudibly in a general murmur of ineffective grumbling why do you think she's exclusive I asked Hilda as we strolled on towards the stern out of the spoiled child's hearing why didn't you notice she looked about her when she came on deck to sea whether there was anybody who was anybody sitting there whom she might put her chair near but the governor of Madras hadn't come up from his cabinet and the wife of the chief commissioner of Uda had three civilians hanging about her seat and the daughters of the commander in chief drew their skirts away as she passed so she did the next best thing sat as far apart as she could from the common herd meaning all the rest of us if you can't mingle at once with the best people you can at least assert your exclusiveness negatively by declining to associate with a mere multitude now Hilda that is the first time I have ever known you to show any feminine ill nature ill nature, not at all I am merely trying to arrive at the lady's character for my own guidance I'd rather like her poor little thing don't I tell you she will do? so far from objecting to her I mean to go the round of India with her you have decided quickly well, you see, if you insist upon accompanying me I must have a chaperone and Lady Meadowcraft will do as well as anybody else in fact being belated she will do a little better from the point of view of society so that is a detail the great matter is to fix upon a possible chaperone at once and get her well in hand before we arrive at Bombay but she seems so complaining, I interposed I'm afraid if you take her on you'll get terribly bored with her if she takes me on, you mean she's not a lady's maid though I intend to go with her and she may as well give in first as last for I'm going now, see how nice I am to you, sir I provided you too with a post in her suite as you will come with me no, never mind asking me what it is just yet all things come to him who waits and if you will only accept the post of waiter I mean all things to come to you all things, Hilda? I asked meaningly with a little tremor of delight she looked at me with a sudden passing tenderness in her eyes yes, all things, Hubert all things but we mustn't talk of that though I begin to see my way clearer now you shall be rewarded for your constancy at last, dear knight errant as to my chaperone I'm not afraid of her boring me she bores herself, poor lady one can see that, just to look at her but she will be much less bored if she has us too to travel with what she needs is constant companionship right talk, excitement she has come away from London where she swims with a crowd she has no resources of her own, no work, no head, no interests accustomed to a whirl of foolish gaites she wears her small brain thrown back upon herself she bores herself at once because she has nothing interesting to tell herself she absolutely requires somebody else to interest her she can't even amuse herself with a book for three minutes together see, she has a yellow-backed French novel now and she is only able to read five lines at a time then she gets tired and glances about her listlessly what she wants is someone gay laid on to divert her all the time her own inanity Hilda, how wonderfully quick you are at reading these things I see you are right but I could never have guessed so much myself from such small premises well, what can you expect my dear boy a girl like this brought up in a country rectory a girl of no intellect busy at home with the fouls and the pastry and the mother's meetings suddenly married off and to a wealthy man and depred of the occupations which were her salvation in life to be plunged into the whirl of a London season and stranded at its end for want of the diversions which by dint of use have become necessaries of life to her now, Hilda, you are practicing upon my credulity you can't possibly tell from her look that she was brought up in a country rectory of course not, you forget there my memories comes in I simply remember it you remember it? how? why, just in the same way as I remembered your name and your mother's when I was first introduced to you I saw a notice once in the births, deaths and marriages at St. Alphages, Millington, by the Rev. Jude Clithero M.A. Father of the Bride, Peter Goebbins' Squire of the Laurel Middlestons to Emilia Francis third daughter of the Rev. Jude Clithero, Rector of Millington Clithero Goebbins, what on earth has that to do with it? that would be Mrs. Goebbins, this is Lady Meadowcroft the same article as the shopman say only under a different name a year or two later I read a notice in the times that I, I were the course in Meadowcroft of the Laurel Middleston, Mayor-elect of the Borough of Middleston hereby give notice that I have this day discontinued the use of the name Peter Goebbins by which I was formally known and have assumed in lieu thereof the style and title of I were the course in Meadowcroft by which I desire in future to be known a month or two later again I happened to light upon a notice in the telegraph that the Prince of Wales had opened a new hospital for incurables at Middleston and that the Mayor, Mr. Ivor Meadowcroft had received an intimation of Her Majesty's intention of conferring upon him the honour of knighthood now what do you make of it? putting two and two together I answered with my eye on our subject and taking into consideration the Lady's face and manner I should incline to suspect that she was the daughter of a poor person with the usual large family in inverse proportion to his means that she unexpectedly made a good match with a very wealthy manufacturer who had raised himself and that she was puffed up accordingly with a sense of self-importance exactly, he is a millionaire or something very like it and being an ambitious girl as she understands ambition she got him to stand for the mayoralty I don't doubt in the year when the Prince of Wales was going to open the royal incurables on purpose to secure him the chance of a knighthood then she said very reasonably I won't be Lady Gabbins, Sir Peter Gabbins there is an aristocratic name for you and by a stroke of his pen he straight away dis-gabinised himself and emerged as Sir Ivor Decorsi Meadowcroft Really Hilda, you know everything about everybody and what do you suppose they're going to India for? Now you've asked me a hard one I haven't the faintest notion and yet let me think how is this for a conjecture? Sir Ivor is interested in steel rails I believe and in railway plant generally I'm almost sure I've seen his name in connection with steel rails in reports of public meetings there's a new government railway now being built on the Nepal Frontier one of these strategic railways I think they call them it's mentioned in the papers we got at Aidan he might be going out for that we can watch his conversation and see what part of India he talks about they don't seem inclined to give us much chance of talking I objected No, they are very exclusive but I'm very exclusive too and I mean to give them a touch of my exclusiveness I venture to predict that before we reach Bombay they'll be going down on their knees and imploring us to travel with them at table as it happened from next morning's breakfast the Meadowcroft sat next to us Hilda was on one side of me Lady Meadowcroft on the other and beyond her again Bluff Yorkshire Sir Ivor with his cold heart on his blue north country eyes and his dignified pompous English breaking down at times into a north country colloquialism they talked chiefly to each other acting on Hilda's instructions I took care not to engage in conversation with our exclusive neighbor except so far as the absolute necessities of the table compelled me I traveled her for the salt in the most fridgy voice May I pass you the potato salad became on my lips a barrier of separation Lady Meadowcroft marked and wondered people of her sort are so anxious to ingratiate themselves with all the best people that if they find you are fully unconcerned about the privilege of conversation with the title person they instantly judged you to be a distinguished character as the days rolled on Lady Meadowcroft's voice began to melt by degrees once she asked me quite civilly to send round the eyes she even saluted me on the third day out with a polite good morning doctor still I maintained by Hilda's advice my dignified reserve and took my seat severely with a cold good morning I behaved like a high class consultant who expects to be made physician in ordinary to her majesty