The Ivory Child, H. Rider Haggard [ereader that reads to you TXT] 📗

of goats with long silky hair, some of which he seemed to be engaged in herding. He replied that these goats were sacred, being the food of “one who dwelt in the Mountain who only ate when the moon changed.”

When I inquired who this person was he said with his unpleasant smile that I had better go through the tunnel and see for myself, an invitation which I did not accept.

That evening Har�t appeared unexpectedly, looking very grave and troubled. He was in a great hurry and only stayed long enough to congratulate me upon the excellent effects of his ointment, since “no man could fight Jana on one leg.”

I asked him when the fight with Jana was to come off. He replied:

“Lord, I go up to the Mountain to attend the Feast of the First-fruits, which is held at sunrise on the day of the new moon. After the offering the Oracle will speak and we shall learn when there will be war with Jana, and perchance other things.”

“May we not attend this feast, Har�t, who are weary of doing nothing here?”

“Certainly,” he answered with his grave bow. “That is, if you come unarmed; for to appear before the Child with arms is death. You know the road; it runs through yonder cave and the forest beyond the cave. Take it when you will, Lord.”

“Then if we can pass the cave we shall be welcome at the feast?”

“You will be very welcome. None shall hurt you there, going or returning. I swear it by the Child. Oh! Macumazana,” he added, smiling a little, “why do you talk folly, who know well that one lives in yonder cave whom none may look upon and love, as Bena learned not long ago? You are thinking that perhaps you might kill this Dweller in the cave with your weapons. Put away that dream, seeing that henceforth those who watch you have orders to see that none of you leave this house carrying so much as a knife. Indeed, unless you promise me that this shall be so you will not be suffered to set foot outside its garden until I return again. Now do you promise?”

I thought a while and, drawing the two others aside out of hearing, asked them their opinion.

Ragnall was at first unwilling to give any such promise, but Hans said:

“Baas, it is better to go free and unhurt without guns and knives than to become a prisoner once, as you were among the Black Kendah. Often there is but a short step between the prison and the grave.”

Both Ragnall and I acknowledged the force of this argument and in the end we gave the promise, speaking one by one.

“It is enough,” said Har�t; “moreover, know, Lord, that among us White Kendah he who breaks an oath is put across the River Tava unarmed to make report thereof to Jana, Father of Lies. Now farewell. If we do not meet at the Feast of the First-fruits on the day of the new moon, whither once more I invite you, we can talk together here after I have heard the voice of the Oracle.”

Then he mounted a camel which awaited him outside the gate and departed with an escort of twelve men, also riding camels.

“There is some other road up that mountain, Quatermain,” said Ragnall. “A camel could sooner pass through the eye of a needle than through that dreadful cave, even if it were empty.”

“Probably,” I answered, “but as we don’t know where it is and I dare say it lies miles from here, we need not trouble our heads on the matter. The cave is our only road, which means that there is no road.”

That evening at supper we discovered that Hans was missing; also that he had got possession of my keys and broken into a box containing liquor, for there it stood open in the cooking-hut with the keys in the lock.

“He has gone on the drink,” I said to Ragnall, “and upon my soul I don’t wonder at it; for sixpence I would follow his example.”

Then we went to bed. Next morning we breakfasted rather late, since when one has nothing to do there is no object in getting up early. As I was preparing to go to the cook-house to boil some eggs, to our astonishment Hans appeared with a kettle of coffee.

“Hans,” I said, “you are a thief.”

“Yes, Baas,” answered Hans.

“You have been at the gin box and taking that poison.”

“Yes, Baas, I have been taking poison. Also I took a walk and all is right now. The Baas must not be angry, for it is very dull doing nothing here. Will the Baases eat porridge as well as eggs?”

As it was no use scolding him I said that we would. Moreover, there was something about his manner which made me suspicious, for really he did not look like a person who has just been very drunk.

After we had finished breakfast he came and squatted down before me. Having lit his pipe he asked suddenly:

“Would the Baases like to walk through that cave to-night? If so, there will be no trouble.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, suspecting that he was still drunk.

“I mean, Baas, that the Dweller-in-the-cave is fast asleep.”

“How do you know that, Hans?”

“Because I am the nurse who put him to sleep, Baas, though he kicked and cried a great deal. He is asleep; he will wake no more. Baas, I have killed the Father of Serpents.”

“Hans,” I said, “now I am sure that you are still drunk, although you do not show it outside.”

“Hans,” added Ragnall, to whom I had translated as much of this as he did not understand, “it is too early in the day to tell good stories. How could you possibly have killed that serpent without a gun—for you took none with you—or with it either for that matter?”

“Will the Baases come and take a walk through the cave?” asked Hans with a snigger.

“Not till I am quite sure that you are sober,” I replied; then, remembering certain other events in this worthy’s career, added; “Hans, if you do not tell us the story at once I will beat you.”

“There isn’t much story, Baas,” replied Hans between long sucks at his pipe, which had nearly gone out, “because the thing was so easy. The Baas is very clever and so is the Lord Baas, why then can they never see the stones that lie under their noses? It is because their eyes are always fixed upon the mountains between this world and the next. But the poor Hottentot, who looks at the ground to be sure that he does not stumble, ah! he sees the stones. Now, Baas, did you not hear that man in a night shirt with his head shaved say that those goats were food for One who dwelt in the mountain?”

“I did. What of it, Hans?”

“Who would be the One who dwelt in the mountain except the Father of Snakes in the cave, Baas? Ah, now for the first time you see the stone that lay at your feet all the while. And, Baas, did not the bald man add that this One in the mountain was only fed at new and full moon, and is not to-morrow the day of new moon, and therefore would he not be very hungry on the day before new moon, that is, last night?”

“No doubt, Hans; but how can you kill a snake by feeding it?”

“Oh! Baas, you may eat things that make you ill, and so can a snake. Now you will guess the rest, so I had better go to wash the dishes.”

“Whether I guess or do not guess,” I replied sagely, the latter being the right hypothesis, “the dishes can wait, Hans, since the Lord there has not guessed; so continue.”

“Very well, Baas. In one of those boxes are some pounds of stuff which, when mixed with water, is used for preserving skins and skulls.”

“You mean the arsenic crystals,” I said with a flash of inspiration.

“I don’t know what you call them, Baas. At first I thought they were hard sugar and stole some once, when the real sugar was left behind, to put into the coffee—without telling the Baas, because it was my fault that the sugar was left behind.”

“Great Heavens!” I ejaculated, “then why aren’t we all dead?”

“Because at the last moment, Baas, I thought I would make sure, so I put some of the hard sugar into hot milk and, when it had melted, I gave it to that yellow dog which once bit me in the leg, the one that came from Beza-Town, Baas, that I told you had run away. He was a very greedy dog, Baas, and drank up the milk at once. Then he gave a howl, twisted about, foamed at the mouth and died and I buried him at once. After that I threw some more of the large sugar mixed with mealies to the fowls that we brought with us for cooking. Two cocks and a hen swallowed them by mistake for the corn. Presently they fell on their backs, kicked a little and died. Some of the Mazitu, who were great thieves, stole those dead fowls, Baas. After this, Baas, I thought it best not to use that sugar in the coffee, and later on Bena told me that it was deadly poison. Well, Baas, it came into my mind that if I could make that great snake swallow enough of this poison, he, too, might die.

“So I stole your keys, as I often do, Baas, when I want anything, because you leave them lying about everywhere, and to deceive you first opened one of the boxes that are full of square-face and brandy and left it open, for I wished you to think that I had just gone to get drunk like anybody else. Then I opened another box and got out two one-pound tins of the sugar which kills dogs and fowls. Half a pound of it I melted in boiling water with some real sugar to make the stuff sweet, and put it into a bottle. The rest I tied with string in twelve little packets in the soft paper which is in one of the boxes, and put them in my pocket. Then I went up the hill, Baas, to the place where I saw those goats are kraaled at night behind a reed fence. As I had hoped, no one was watching them because there are no tigers so near this town, and man does not steal the goats that are sacred. I went into the kraal and found a fat young ewe which had a kid. I dragged it out and, taking it behind some stones, I made its leg fast with a bit of cord and poured this stuff out of the bottle all over its skin, rubbing it in well. Then I tied the twelve packets of hard poison-sugar everywhere about its body, making them very fast deep in the long hair so that they could not tumble or rub off.

“After this I untied the goat, led it near to the mouth of the cave and held it there for a time while it kept on bleating for its kid. Next I took it almost up to the cave, wondering how I should drive it in, for I did not wish to enter there myself, Baas. As it happened I need not have troubled about that. When the goat was within five yards of the cave, it stopped bleating, stood still and shivered. Then it began to go forward with little jumps, as though it