The Settler and the Savage, R. M. Ballantyne [best way to read ebooks .txt] 📗

have not the means of knowing the true state of the case. Be this as it may, however, Dragoener with his banditti soon took ample revenge on the colonists for the sjamboking he had received.

Not long previous to the period of which we write he had been reinforced by Ruyter, Jemalee, Booby, and several other runaway slaves, besides some “wild Bushmen,”—men who had never been in service, and were so called to distinguish them from men who had been caught, like our friend Booby, and “tamed.” A few deserters from the Cape Corps, who possessed fire-arms, had also joined him.

Thus reinforced, Dragoener and his lieutenant had become bolder than ever in their depredations. One of his bands had recently carried off a large number of cattle and horses from the Tarka boers, who had called out a commando and gone in pursuit. Driven into a forest ravine, and finding it impossible to retain possession of their booty, the robbers had cut the throats of all the animals, and, scattering into the jungle, made their escape. Another band had frequently annoyed the Scotsmen at Baviaans River.

When therefore the band under Ruyter heard of the approach of their comrades with booty, and of the pursuit by colonists, they went to the rescue, somewhat emboldened by recent successes. On meeting their comrades, who were driving the cattle and horses before them in frantic haste, they were told that the pursuers were in strong force, and numbered among them several of the boldest men and best shots on the frontier.

There was no time for holding a council of war. Ruyter at once divided his men into two bands. With the larger, well armed, and having two or three deserters with muskets, he crept into the woods to lay an ambush for the enemy. The other band was ordered to continue driving the cattle with utmost speed, and, in the event of being overtaken, to cut the animals’ throats and each man look out for himself.

If Ruyter’s men had been as bold and cool as himself they might have checked the pursuit, but when the hunter Van Dyk, who knew their ways, advanced in front of his comrades by a path known to himself, discovered their ambush and sent a bullet through the head of one of their number, they awaited no further orders but rose en masse, fled through the jungle, and made for the mountains.

Van Dyk, reloading in hot haste, followed swiftly, but he had not taken three steps when Charlie Considine was at his heels. He had dismounted and followed Van Dyk. The other pursuers made a détour on horseback to cut off the robbers as they passed over some open ground in advance. In attempting this they came on a spot where the ground was strewn with the dead or dying cattle. With a yell of rage they pushed on, but utterly failed, for the bandits had headed in another direction and gained the cliffs, where pursuit on horseback was impossible. Knowing that it would have been equally fruitless to continue the chase on foot, they returned to the point where Van Dyk and Considine had entered the jungle, fully expecting to find them there, as it would have been madness, they thought, for two unsupported men to follow up the flying band. To their surprise they found no one there.

“We must follow their spoor, boys,” said Conrad Marais, with an anxious look; “they cannot be far off, but we must not leave them unsupported in the jungle with such a lot of black villains flying about.”

Action was at once taken. The most experienced men dismounted and traced the spoor, with the unerring certainty of bloodhounds. But they shouted and searched in vain till night compelled them to desist.

Meanwhile Van Dyk and Considine had been captured by the Bergenaars.

When Charlie overtook the hunter, as already described, his ardent spirit and strong supple limbs enabled him to outrun his more massive though not less enthusiastic companion. A short run soon convinced the hunter that there was no chance of a clothed white man overtaking a more than half-naked native in a thorny jungle. Indeed, he was already well convinced by former experience of this fact, and had intended to engage in pursuit for only a short time, in order if possible to obtain a flying shot at one or two of the robbers, but his young comrade’s resolute continuance of the chase forced him to hold on longer than he desired.

“Stop! stop, young fellow,” he shouted with stentorian voice; “stop, I say! You’ll only waste your breath for no good,” he shouted.

But Considine heard him not. He had caught sight of one of the bandits who seemed to be losing strength, and, being himself sound in wind and limb, he recklessly determined to push on.

“I’ll leave you to your fate,” roared Van Dyk, “if you don’t stop.”

He might as well have roared to a mad buffalo. Considine heeded or heard not.

“It won’t do,” growled the hunter in a stern soliloquy as he stopped a moment to tighten his belt. “Well, well, I little thought, Van Dyk, that you’d be brought to such a miserable fix as this, in such a stupid way too. But he mustn’t be left to the Bushmen’s tender mercies.”

The hunter’s swart countenance grew darker as he spoke, for he well knew the extremity of danger into which the reckless youth was compelling him to run, but he did not hesitate. Instead, however, of following in the steps of one who was fleeter of foot than himself, he made a détour to the right. In an hour he reached a cliff under which, he knew, from the form of the valley up which the pursuit had been conducted, his young companion must needs pass. The route he had taken was a short cut. He had headed Considine and saw him, a few minutes later, in the gorge below, in full pursuit of the robber.

“H’m!” grunted Van Dyk, as he sat down on a rock and examined the priming of his great elephant-gun, “I thought as much! The black scoundrel is just playing with him—decoying the young idiot on till he gets him surrounded by his comrades; but I’ll spoil his game, though it’s like to be the last shot I’ll ever fire.”

A low quiet sigh escaped from the hunter as he watched the two men and awaited the proper moment.

He was evidently right in his conjecture, for, as they drew near the cliff, the black man looked over his shoulder once or twice and slackened his pace. The next moment he gave a shout which proved to be a signal, for two of the robbers sprang out from the bushes and seized Considine, almost before he had seen them. Vigorously he struggled, and would perhaps have thrown off both, had not the man he had been chasing turned and run to aid the others.

Quickly but steadily Van Dyk raised his gun and covered this man. Next moment the muzzle was struck aside, the ball flew harmlessly into the jungle, and the hunter was pinioned, overthrown, and rendered helpless by four of the robbers, who had been watching his motions all the time.

Van Dyk was not taken much by surprise. He knew that such danger was probable, and had done his best to avoid it. With that self-command which a life of constant danger in the woods had taught him, he bowed to the inevitable, and quietly submitted to be bound and led away.

Mean while Ruyter, for it was he who had been chased, came up in time to assist in securing his victim.

“What, Ruyter, is it you?” exclaimed Considine in amazement.

When the robber-chief became aware who he had captured, an expression of deep annoyance or regret crossed his face, but it quickly passed into one of stern almost sulky determination, as he ordered the two men, in Dutch, to make the bonds secure. He deigned no reply to the prisoner’s question. He did not even appear to recognise him, but strode on in front, while the two robbers drove the youth up into the rocky fastnesses of the mountains.

That night our hero found himself seated in the deepest recesses of a cavern by the side of his comrade Van Dyk. The arms of both were firmly bound behind their backs, but their legs were free, their captors knowing well that a scramble among such giddy and rugged heights without the use of the hands was impossible. In the centre of the cavern sat the robbers round a small fire on which some of them were cooking a few scraps of meat.

“A pretty mess you’ve led yourself and me into, young fellow!” said the hunter sternly.

“Indeed I have,” replied Considine, with a very penitent air, “and I would give or do anything to undo the mischief.”

“Ja—always the same with wild-caps like you,” returned the other,—“ready to give anything when you’ve got nothing, and to do anything when you’re helpless. How much easier it would have been to have given a little heed and shown a little common sense when you had the chance!”

There was a touch of bitterness, almost fierceness, in the hunter’s tone, which, knowing the man’s kindly nature, Considine could not quite understand.

“Do you know what them reptiles there are saying?” continued Van Dyk after a brief pause.

“No, their language is mere gibberish to me.”

“They’re discussin’ the best method of puttin’ us out of existence,” said the hunter, with a grim smile. “Some of ’em want to cut our throats at once and have done with it; some would like to torture us first; others are in favour of hangin’, but all agree that we must be killed to prevent our tellin’ the whereabouts of their hiding-place up here,—all except one, the one you gave chase to this afternoon. He advises ’em to let us go, but he don’t seem very earnest about it.”

“I think I know the reason of his favouring us,” said Considine, with a look of hope.

“Indeed?”

“Yes; he once journeyed with me from Capetown to the karroo, and probably he feels a touch of regard for his old travelling companion.”

“H’m! I wouldn’t give much for his regard,” growled Van Dyk. “The reed is slender, but it’s the only one we have to lean on now. However, we’ve got a reprieve, for I heard ’em say just now that they’ll delay executing us till to-morrow, after reaching one of their other and safer retreats in the mountains.”

The prisoners were put into a smaller cave, close to the large one, that night. Their bonds were made more secure, and, as an additional precaution, their legs were tied. Two men were also appointed to guard the entrance of their prison.

About midnight the camp was perfectly still, and the only sounds that broke the silence were the tinkling of a neighbouring rill and the footfall of the sentinels. Van Dyk and Considine were lying uneasily on the bare ground, and thinking of the tragic fate that awaited them on the morrow, when they observed the dim figure of a man approaching from the innermost end of the cavern with a drawn knife in his right hand. Both started up and leant on their elbows; more than this they could not do. They felt some alarm, it is true, but both came to the same conclusion—that it is foolish to cry out before you are hurt.

The figure bent over Van Dyk, and whispered in his ear. Next moment the hunter stood on his feet with his limbs free.

“You were right, young sir,” he said to Considine as he stooped over him and cut his bonds; “there is a touch of humanity in the rascally Hottentot after all. Come; he bids us follow him. Knows a secret passage out o’ the cave, no doubt.”

The black-bearded huntsman turned as he spoke, and followed the dim figure, which melted into the depths of the cavern as if it had been a spirit. A