front of the defences, and laid a line of white river stones
to mark the most effective range and spread patterns of the goose-shot. He impressed on his men that they must not open fire until the first rank of the attackers crossed this line.
When he had completed all his preparations, they settled down to wait. This was the worst time, and the slow drag of the hours was corrosive to their spirits. Jim took advantage of this delay by spending time with Tegwane, learning more about the enemy from him.
'Where do they keep their women and children?'
'They do not bring them to war. Perhaps they leave them in their homeland.'
'Do they have a great store of plunder and riches?'
'They have many cattle, and they love the ivory teeth of the elephant and the hippopotamus.'
'Tell me of their cattle.'
'They have huge herds. The Nguni love their cattle like their own children. They do not slaughter them to eat their meat. Instead they tap off their blood and mix it with the milk. This is their main food.'
A calculating look came into Jim's eyes as he listened. A prime ox fetched a hundred guilders in the colony.
Tell me of their ivory.'
'They love ivory very much,' Tegwane replied. 'Perhaps they need it for trade with the Arabs of the north or with the Bulamatari.' The name meant Breakers of Rock, a reference to the Portuguese, whose prospectors chipped the reef for traces of gold. Jim was surprised that here, in the deep interior, Tegwane had heard of these nations. He questioned him on this, and Tegwane smiled. 'My father's father knew of you crocodile wizards, and his father before him.'
Jim nodded. It was naive of him. The Omani Arabs had been trading and slaving in Africa since the fifth century. It was a hundred and fifty years ago that Vasco da Gama landed at Mozambique island and the Portuguese had begun building their forts and trading stations on the mainland. Of course rumours of these events must have penetrated even to the most primitive tribes in the remotest corners of this vast land.
Jim showed the old man the tusks of the bull he had killed, and Tegwane was amazed. 'I have never seen teeth of this size before.'
'Where do the Nguni find the ivory? Do they hunt the elephant?'
Tegwane shook his head. 'The elephant is a mighty beast, and even the Nguni cannot kill him with their assegais.'
'Where, then, does the ivory come from?'
'I have heard that there are some tribes who dig pits to trap them, or hang a spear weighted with stones in a tree over the pathway they frequent. When the elephant touches the trip-rope the spear drops and
pierces him to the heart.' Tegwane paused and glanced at Bakkat who was asleep under one of the wagons. 'I have also heard that those little yellow monkeys of the San sometimes kill them with their poisoned arrows. But they can kill few by these methods.'
Then where do the Nguni get their ivory?' Jim persisted.
'Each season, especially in the time of the rains, some of the great beasts die of age or sickness or they flounder in mud holes or fall from the mountain passes. The ivory tusks lie there for any man to gather up. During my lifetime my own tribe has gathered up many.'
'What happened to the tusks of your tribe?' Jim leaned forward eagerly.
'When they slaughtered our young men, the Nguni stole them from us, as they steal them from every tribe they attack and massacre.'
'They must have a great store of ivory,' Jim said. 'Where do they keep it?'
'They carry it with them,' Tegwane replied. 'When they move they load the tusks on to the backs of their cattle. They have as much ivory as they have cattle to carry it. They have many cattle.'
Jim repeated the story to Louisa. 'I should like to find one of these herds, each beast with a fortune in ivory strapped to its back.'
'Would it belong to you?' she asked innocently.
'The spoils of war!' he said, with righteous indignation. 'Of course it would be mine.' He looked to the hills over which he expected the imp is of the Nguni to appear. 'When will they come ?' he wondered.
The longer they had to wait, the more it played on all their nerves. Jim and Louisa passed much of the time over the chessboard, but when that palled she painted his portrait again. While he posed for her, he read aloud Robinson Crusoe. It was his favourite book. Secretly he saw himself as the resourceful hero. Although he had read it many times, he still chuckled and exclaimed at Crusoe's adventures, and bewailed his misfortunes.
Two or three times during the day they rode out to inspect the lookouts on the hilltop and make sure the herd-boys were awake and alert, and had not wandered off in search of honey or some other childish distraction. Then they scouted the lie of the land around the laager to make certain the Nguni pickets were not creeping up on them through the gullies and the light forests that were interspersed in the grassy veld.
On the twelfth day after the massacre of the Bakwato, Jim and Louisa rode out alone. The herd-boys on the hilltop were bored and disgruntled, and Jim had to speak to them sternly to make them stay at their posts.
They came back down the hill and crossed the river at the ford. They
rode out almost to the site of the massacre, but turned back before they reached it. Jim wanted to spare Louisa the harrowing memories associated with that place.
They returned to within sight of the laager, and Jim stopped to examine the defences through the lens of the telescope to see if he could pick out any weak spot he had overlooked. While he was preoccupied Louisa dismounted and looked around for some place where she could go about her private business. The ground was open here, and the grass had been grazed down by the game herds until it reached only half-way to her knees. However, she saw that close by ran a don ga a natural gully cut out by the rainwaters draining towards the river. She handed Trueheart's reins to Jim.
'I will not be gone long,' she said, and started towards the gully. Jim opened his mouth to caution her, then thought better of it and looked away to preserve her modesty.
As Louisa approached the lip of the gully she became aware of a strange sound, a whisper, a susurration, that seemed to tremble in the air. She kept on walking, but more slowly, puzzled but not alarmed. The sound grew louder, like running water or the hum of insects. She was not certain from which direction it came.
She glanced back at Jim, but he was gazing through the lens, not looking in her direction. It was clear that he had not heard the sound. She hesitated then stepped to the lip of the don ga and looked down into it. As she did so, the sound rose to an angry buzz as though she had disturbed a nest of hornets.
The gully below her was closely packed with rank upon rank of Nguni warriors. They were sitting on their shields, but each man had his stabbing assegai in his right hand and they were pointing the blades at her, and at the same time shaking the weapons, a slight trembling movement that agitated the war rattles on each wrist. This gave off the buzzing sound that had troubled her. The small movement also set the glossy black feathers in their headdresses dancing. Their naked torsos were anointed with fat so that they shone like washed coal. The whites of their eyes staring up at her were the only contrast in this seething expanse of black. It seemed to Louisa that she was gazing down on an enormous dragon coiled in its lair, black scales glittering, angry and venomous, poised to strike.
She whirled and ran. 'Jim! Beware! They are here!'
Jim looked back, startled by her cry. He saw no sign of danger, only Louisa racing towards him with her face working with terror.
'What is it?' he called, and at that moment the ground seemed to open behind the running girl and from it erupted a mass of warriors.
Their bare feet beat upon the hard earth and the war rattles on their ankles crashed in unison. They drummed on their black war-shields with the assegais, a deafening roar, and they shouted, 'Bulala! Bulala. amathagatii Kill! Kill the wizards!'
Louisa fled before this rolling tide. She ran like a whippet, nimble and quick, but one of her pursuers was quicker still. He was tall and lean, made taller by the headdress. The muscle started proud in his belly and shoulders, as he bounded after her. He threw aside his shield to unburden himself. Although Louisa had a lead of twenty paces or more, he was overhauling her swiftly. The haft of his assegai rested lightly on his shoulder, but the long blade was pointed forward, poised for the thrust between her shoulder-blades. Jim had a fleeting memory of the Bakwato girl run through in this way, the blade appearing magically out of the middle of her breast, smeared pink with her heart's blood.
He sent Drumfire into full gallop and, dragging Trueheart on the rein behind him, raced to meet Louisa. But he saw that the leading warrior was already too close. She would not have time to mount before he was on her, his blade transfixed through her body. He did not slow or check Drumfire's charge. They brushed past Louisa so closely that her hair fluttered in the wind of their passing. Jim tossed her Trueheart's reins.
'Get up and away!' he shouted as he went by. He had only one musket with him, for he had not expected a fight. He could not afford to waste that single shot. The light
