As soon as he entered the courtyard he saw that the preparations for departure were well advanced. On the loading ramp of the warehouse Tom Courtney was in his shirt-sleeves giving orders to the men who were packing the last chests of goods into the wagon beds.
'What is in that chest?' he demanded of one. 'I don't recognize it.'
The mistress told me to load it. I do not know what is in it.' The man shrugged. 'Woman's things, perhaps.'
Tut it into the second wagon.' Tom turned, and spotted Bakkat as he entered the yard. 'I saw you as soon as you came over the hill. You grow taller every day, Bakkat.'
Bakkat grinned with pleasure, squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest a little. 'I see your plan has worked, Klebe?' It was more a question than a statement.
'Within a few hours of Bomvu taking the wagons out along the west coast, Keyser and all his men were after them.' Tom laughed. 'But I don't know how soon he will realize that he is following the wrong game, and come rushing back. We have to get clear as soon as we can.'
'Klebe, I bring evil tidings.'
Tom saw the little man's expression and his own smile faded. 'Come! We will go where we can talk privately.' He led Bakkat into the warehouse, and listened seriously as the little man related all that had happened during his foray into the mountains. He exclaimed with relief when he heard that their guess had proved correct and Bakkat had found Tom at Majuba.
'So Somoya, Zama and the girl will already have left Majuba, and will be riding to the meeting place on the frontier at the Hill of the Baboon's Head,' Bakkat went on.
'This is good news,' Tom declared. 'So why do you wear such a gloomy countenance?'
'I was followed,' Bakkat admitted. 'Somebody followed me to Majuba.'
'Who was it?' Tom could not disguise his alarm.
'A San,' said Bakkat. 'An adept of my tribe, one who could unravel my spoor. One who was watching for me to leave High Weald.'
'Keyset's hunting dog!' Tom exclaimed furiously.
'Xhia,' Bakkat agreed. 'He tricked me and even now he must be hurrying back to his master. Within the next day he will lead Keyser to Majuba.'
'Does Somoya know he has been discovered by Xhia?'
'I only discovered Xhia's sign when I was half-way back from Majuba. I came on to warn you first,' Bakkat said. 'Now I can go back to find Somoya, warn him also, and lead him out of danger.'
'You must reach him before Keyser catches up with him.' Tom's bluff features were twisted with anxiety.
'Xhia must return to Majuba again before he can pick up Somoya's outgoing tracks. Keyser and his men will travel slowly for they are unaccustomed to the mountain paths,' Bakkat explained. 'He will be forced to make a wide loop to the south. On the other hand, I can cut through the mountains further north, get ahead of them and find Somoya before they do.'
'Go swiftly, old friend,' Tom told him. 'I place the life of my son in your hands.'
Bakkat bobbed his head in farewell. 'Somoya and I will be waiting for you at the Hill of the Baboon's Head.'
Bakkat turned to leave, but Tom called him back. 'The woman--' He broke off, unable to look at the little man's face. 'Is she still with him?' he asked gruffly, and Bakkat nodded.
'What is she--' Tom stopped, then tried to rephrase his question. 'Is she... ?'
Bakkat took pity on him. 'I have named her Welanga, for her hair is like sunlight.'
'That is not what I wanted to know.'
'I think that Welanga will walk beside him for a long, long time. Perhaps for the rest of his life. Is that what you wanted to know?'
'Yes, Bakkat, that is exactly what I wanted to know.'
From the loading ramp he watched Bakkat trot out of the gateway, and take the path back towards the mountains. He wondered when last
the little man had rested or slept, but the question was irrelevant. Bakkat would keep on as long as his duty beckoned him.
'Tom!' He heard Sarah call his name, and turned to see her hurrying towards him from the kitchens. To his surprise he saw that she was wearing breeches, riding boots and a wide brimmed straw hat tied down with a red bandanna under her chin. 'What was Bakkat doing here?'
'He has found Jim.'
'And the girl?'
'Yes.' He nodded reluctantly. 'The girl also.'
'Then why aren't we ready to leave yet?' she demanded.
'We?' he asked. 'We are going nowhere. But I will be ready to leave within the next hour.'
Sarah placed her clenched fists on her hips. He knew that that was the equivalent of the first rumbling of an active volcano about to erupt. 'Thomas Courtney,' she said coolly, but the light of battle shone in her eyes, 'James is my son. My only child. Do you think for one moment that I will sit here in my kitchen while you ride off to bid him farewell, possibly for ever?'
'I will give him your maternal love,' he offered, 'and when I return, I will describe the girl to you in minute detail.'
He argued a little longer, but when he rode out through the gates of High Weald Sarah rode at his side. Her chin was up, and she was trying not to smile triumphantly. She glanced sideways at him and said sweetly, 'Tom Courtney, you are still the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes upon, except when you are sulking.'
'I am not sulking. I never sulk,' he said sulkily.
'I will race you to the ford,' she said. 'Winner may claim a kiss.' She tickled the mare's rump with the switch she carried, and bounded forward. Tom tried to hold the stallion, but he danced in a circle, eager to be after them.
'Damn it! All right then.' Tom let him have his head. He had given the mare too much of a start, and Sarah was an expert horsewoman.
She was waiting for him at the ford, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. 'Where is my kiss?' she asked. He leaned out of the saddle to take her in a bear-hug. 'That is just an instalment,' he promised, as he set her back in the saddle. 'You will get the main payment tonight.'
Jim had a well-developed sense of direction, but Bakkat knew it was not infallible. He remembered the time when Jim had slipped away from camp while everyone else was sleeping in the heat of noon. Jim had seen a small herd of gems buck on the horizon, and as they were short of meat he had ridden after them. Three days later, Bakkat had found him wandering in circles through the trackless hills, leading a lame horse, and half crazed with thirst.
Jim hated to be reminded of that episode, and before they parted at Majuba he had listened with full attention while Bakkat gave him detailed directions on how to find his way through the mountains, following the well-defined game trails used for centuries past by the elephant and eland herds. One of these would lead him to a ford on the Gariep river where it debouched on to the plains at the frontier where the wilderness began. From that point the Hill of the Baboon's Head stood out clearly on the horizon to the east. Bakkat could rely on Jim to follow those directions accurately, so he had a clear picture in his mind of where Jim might be now, and what route he must take to intercept him.
Bakkat cut through the foothills and was well out to the north before he turned back into the main range, and went up between tall umber coloured cliffs into the high valleys. On the fifth day after leaving High Weald he cut their sign. With two steel-shod horses and six heavily laden mules they had left a well-trodden spoor. Before noon he had caught up with Jim's party. He did not announce himself, but instead circled out ahead of them to wait beside the path they must follow.
Bakkat watched Jim coming down the path at the head of the file. As Drumfire came level with his hiding-place, he popped up from behind his boulder like the ajinni from the lamp and shouted shrilly, 'I see you, Somoya!' Drumfire was so startled that he shied wildly. Jim, also taken by surprise, was thrown on to his neck, and Bakkat shrieked with laughter at the joke. Jim recovered his balance instantly and rode after him as Bakkat darted away down the game path, still hooting with laughter. Jim snatched off his hat, leaned out of the saddle and slapped him with it round the head and shoulders.
'You horrible little man! You are so small, so tiny, so minute that I did not even see you.' These insults sent Bakkat into such paroxysms of mirth that he fell and rolled on the earth.
When Bakkat had recovered sufficiently to stand up again, Jim looked him over carefully while they greeted each other with a little more
formality. Now it was apparent how finely drawn Bakkat was. Even though his tribe were famous for their fortitude and endurance, over the past week Bakkat had run over a hundred leagues through mountainous terrain, without allowing himself time to eat or drink adequately, or to sleep for more than a few hours. Instead of being golden and glossy, his skin was as grey and dusty as the ashes of last night's campfire. His head looked like a skull, and his gaunt cheekbones stood proud. His eyes had sunk deeply into their sockets. A Bushman's buttocks are like the camel's hump: when he is well-fed and rested they are majestic, and sway independently as he walks. Bakkat's backside had collapsed into folds of loose skin that dangled out of the back of his kilt. His legs and arms were as
