women and children in Matabeleland, a sure sign that your settlers are here to stay at last. All the land grants have been taken up, and many of the farms are already being worked. The blood stock from the Cape is taking to the local conditions and breeding well with the captured Matabele cattle.' 'What about the minerals, Ballantyne?' 'Over ten thousand claims have been registered, and I have seen some very rich crushings.'
Zouga hesitated, glanced at Ralph, and when he nodded, turned back to Rhodes. 'Within the last few days, my son and I have rediscovered and pegged the ancient workings I first stumbled on in the sixties.' 'The Harkness Mine,' Rhodes nodded heavily, and even Ralph was impressed by the range and grasp of his mind. 'I remember your original description in The Hunter's Odyssey. Did you sample the reef?' In reply, Zouga placed a dozen lumps of quartz upon the table in front of him, and the raw gold glistened so that the men around the table craned forward in rapt fascination. Mr. Rhodes turned one of the samples in his big mottled hands before passing it to the American engineer.
'What do you make of these, Harry?' 'It will go fifty ounces a ton,' Harry whistled softly. 'Perhaps too rich, like Nome and Klondike.' The American looked up at Ralph. 'How thick is the reef?
How broad is the strike?' Ralph shook his head. 'I don't know, the workings are too narrow to get into the face.' 'This is quartz, of course, not the ban ket reef like we have on the Witwatersrand,' Harry Mellow murmured.
The ban ket reef was named after the sweetmeat of toffee and nuts and almonds and cloves which the conglomerated reef so much resembled.
It was made up of the thick sedimentary beds of ancient buried lakes, not as rich in gold as this chip of quartz, but many feet thick and extending as wide as the broad lakes had once stretched, a mother lode which could be mined for a hundred years without exhausting its reserves.
'It's too rich,' Harry Mellow repeated, fondling the sample of quartz. 'I can't believe that it will be more than a stringer a few inches thick.' 'But if it isn't?' Rhodes demanded harshly.
The American smiled quietly. Then you will not only control nearly all the diamonds in the world, Mr. Rhodes, but most of the gold as well.' His words were a sharp reminder to Ralph that the British South Africa Company owned fifty per cent royalty in every ounce of gold mined in Matabeleland, and Ralph felt his resentment return in full force. Rhodes and his ubiquitous BSA Company were like a vast octopus that smothered the efforts and the fortunes of all lesser men.
'Will you allow Harry to ride with me for a few days, Mr. Rhodes, so that he can examine the strike?' Ralph's irritation sharpened the tone of his request, so that Rhodes' big shaggy head lifted quickly and his pale blue eyes seemed to search out his soul for a moment before he nodded, and then with a mercurial change of direction abandoned the subject of gold and shot his next question at Zouga.
'The Matabele indunas how are they behaving themselves?' This time Zouga hesitated. 'They have grievances, Mr. Rhodes.' Yes? 'The swollen features coagulated into a scowl.
'The cattle, naturally enough, are the main source of trouble,' Zouga said quietly, and Rhodes cut him off brusquely.
'We captured less than 125,000 head of cattle, and we returned 40,000 of those to the tribe.' Zouga did not remind him that the return was made only after the strongest representation by Robyn St. John, Zouga's own sister. Robyn was the missionary doctor at Khami Mission Station and she had once been Lobengula's closest friend and adviser.
'Forty thousand head of cattle, Ballantyne! A most generous gesture by the Company! 'Rhodes repeated portentously, and again he did not add that he had made this return in order to avert the famine which Robyn St. John had warned him would decimate the defeated Matabele nation, and which would have surely brought the intervention of the Imperial government in Whitehall, and possibly the revocation of the Royal Charter under which Rhodes' Company ruled both Mashonaland and Matabeleland. Not such an outstanding act of charity, after all, Ralph thought wryly.
'After giving back those cattle to the indunas, we were left with less than eighty-five thousand head, the Company barely recouped the cost of the war.' 'Still the indunas claim they were given back only inferior beasts, the old and barren cows and scrub bulls.' 'Damn it, Ballantyne, the volunteers earned the right to first pick from the herds. Quite naturally, they chose the prime stock.' He shot out his right fist with the forefinger aimed like a pistol at Zouga's heart.
'They do say that our own herds, chosen from the captured cattle, are the finest in Matabeleland.' 'The indunas don't understand that' Zouga answered. 'Well then, the least they should understand is that they are a conquered nation. Their welfare depends on the goodwill of the victors. They extended no such consideration to the tribes that they conquered when they lorded it across the continent. Mzilikazi slew a million defenceless souls when he devastated the land south of the Limpopo, and Lobengula, his son, called the lesser tribes his dogs, to kill or cast into slavery as the whim took him. They must not whine now at the bitter taste of defeat.' Even gentle Jordan, at the end of the table, nodded at this. 'To protect the Mashona tribes from Lobengula's depredations was one of the reasons why we marched on Bulawayo,'he murmured.
'I said that they had grievances,' Zouga pointed out. 'I did not say that they were justified.' 'Then what else do they have to complain about?' Rhodes demanded.
'The Company police. The young Matabele bucks whom General St. John has recruited and armed are strutting through the kraals, usurping the power of the indunas, taking their pick of the young girL---' Again Rhodes interrupted. 'Better that than a resurrection of the fighting imp is under the indunas. Can you imagine twenty thousand warriors in impi under Babiaan and Gandang and Bozo? No, St. John was right to break the power of the indunas. As Native Commissioner, it is his duty to guard against resurgence of the Matabele fighting tradition.'
'Especially in view of the events that are in train south of where we now sit.' Dr. Leander Starr Jameson spoke for the first time since he had greeted Ralph, and Rhodes turned to him swiftly.
'I wonder if this is the time to speak of that, Doctor Jim.' 'Why not? Every man here is trustworthy and discreet. We are all committed to the same bright vision of Empire, and the Lord knows, we are in no danger of being overheard. Not in this wilderness. What better time than now to explain why the Company police must be made even stronger, must be better armed and trained to the highest degree of readiness?'Jameson demanded.
Instinctively Rhodes glanced at Ralph Ballantyne, and Ralph raised one eyebrow, a cynical and mildly challenging gesture that seemed to decide Rhodes.
'No, Doctor Jim,' he spoke decisively. 'There will be another time for that.' And when Jameson shrugged and capitulated, Rhodes turned to Jordan. 'The sun is setting,' he said, and Jordan rose obediently to charge the glasses. The sundowner whisky was already a traditional ending to the day in this land north of the Limpopo.
The brilliant white gems of the Southern Cross hung over Ralph's camp, dimming the lesser stars, and sprinkling the bald domes of the granite kopjes with a pearly light as Ralph picked his way towards his tent. He had inherited his father's head for liquor, so that his step was even and steady. It was ideas, not whisky, which had inebriated him.
He stooped through the fly of the darkened tent and sat down on the edge of the cot. He touched Cathy's cheek.
'I am awake,' she said softly. What time is it?' 'After midnight.' 'What kept you so long?' she whispered, for Jonathan slept just beyond the canvas screen.
'The dreams and boasts of men drunk with power and success.' He grinned in the dark and dragged off his boots. 'And by God, I did my fair share of dreaming and boasting.' He stood to strip off his breeches. 'What do you think of Harry Mellow?'he asked, with an abrupt change of pace.
'The American? He is very- Cathy hesitated. 'I mean, he seems to be manly and rather nice.' 'Attractive?' Ralph demanded. 'Irresistible to a young woman?' 'You know I don't think like that,' Cathy protested primly.
'The hell you don't,' Ralph chuckled, and as he kissed her, he covered one of her round breasts with his cupped hand. Through the thin cotton nightdress it felt taut as a ripening melon. She struggled genteelly to free her lips from his and to prise his fingers loose, but he held her fast and after a few seconds she struggled no more, and instead she slipped her arms around the back of his neck.
'You smell of sweat and cigars and whisky.' 'I'm sorry.' 'Don't be, it's lovely,' she putted. 'Let me take off my shirt.' 'No, I'll do it for you.' Much later Ralph lay upon his back with Cathy snuggled down against his bare chest.
'How would you like to have your sisters come down from Khami?' he asked suddenly. 'They enjoy camp life, but even more, they like to escape from your mother.' 'It was I who wanted to invite the twins,' she reminded him sleepily. 'You were the one who said they were too unsettling.' 'Actually, I said they were too rowdy and boisterous,' he corrected her, and she raised her head and looked at him in the faint moonlight that filtered through the canvas.
'A change of heart-' She thought about it for a moment, aware that her husband always had good reason for even his most unreasonable suggestions.
'The American,' she exclaimed, with such force that behind the canvas screen Jonathan stirred and whimpered. Instantly, Cathy dropped her voice to a fierce whisper. 'Not even you would use my own sisters you wouldn't, would you?' He pulled her head down
