They would not have long to wait. As night came down, large fires were observed in the distance. The Matabili had evidently arrived, and were probably waiting for day, to obtain a knowledge of their position before they should commence the attack. Before taking their stand by the river, Macora had called for four volunteers to proceed by stealth from the spot, and if possible reach some neutral tribe that might come to his rescue. He was now in a position from which he could not move without the certainty of being defeated and of course destroyed. He might be able to maintain it for several days; and knowing that his enemies would not raise the siege until compelled to do so, his only hope was that of obtaining aid from some neighbouring chief, jealous of the encroachments of the Matabili.
Anxious to become fully reinstated in the good opinion of his chief, Sindo was the first who had offered to go upon this perilous scout. Three others having also volunteered, they had been despatched in couples,—one pair leaving an hour after the departure of the first. This division of the embassy was to insure a greater chance of its being successful. If one couple should have the ill luck to get captured, the other might escape.
By the earliest hour of day the enemy began to show himself, not far from the fortified camp. From the top of the fallen nwana our hunters could see a large crowd of dusky warriors, that appeared to number at least six hundred. To oppose these, Macora had not more than two hundred and fifty men who were capable of taking part in the fight.
At either end of the great trunk, as already stated there was an open space that would require to be carefully watched. At both points Macora had placed some of his bravest warriors, while the others were distributed along the barricade, with instructions to spear any of the enemy that should attempt to scale it.
The Matabili had already examined the position and appeared confident of success. They had at last brought their game to bay, and were only resting from the fatigue of the long chase before taking steps to “carry the fortress.”
It was bright daylight as they advanced to the assault. Dividing themselves into two parties, they made a rush at the open spaces by the ends of the barricade. A fierce conflict came on which lasted for some ten minutes, and at length resulted in the assailants being forced to retreat, after leaving several of their warriors dead in the gaps.
But this temporary victory was not obtained without loss. Eight of the Makololo had also fallen dead, while several others were severely wounded.
Macora’s features began to assume an anxious and troubled expression. Knowing that an enemy of superior force to his own was before him, that all means of retreat was now cut off, and that an attempt to enter the enclosure had nearly proved successful, he could not avoid feeling a gloomy foreboding for the fate of his people.
He knew too well the disposition of the Matabili to suppose that they would easily relinquish their design.
Fear of Moselekatse’s displeasure on account of the losses they had already sustained, as well as the prospect of plunder, would inspire them with the determination to fight on as long as there was the slightest hope of obtaining a victory.
No assistance could be expected from other tribes of the Makololo in less than three days. Could his position be maintained for that time?
As the chief looked at the dead and wounded lying around him, this question could not be answered in a satisfactory manner. His foes were too numerous, and repeated attempts would in the end enable them to succeed.
This was the belief of the Makololo chief; and, notwithstanding his confidence in the wisdom and strategic prowess of the white hunters, he was now in a state of great anxiety.
Two hours after the attack the only Matabili in sight were those they had killed, but for all that it was well known that the survivors were not far off.
Night descended over the scene. The camp-fires of the enemy could be distinguished through the darkness; but that signified nothing.
Morning found our adventurers still undisturbed. To all appearance Moselekatse’s warriors, yielding to despair, had returned to their chief, to suffer the punishment that would certainly follow from their permitting themselves to be defeated.
This was the belief of the white hunters, who now earnestly urged Macora to make no further delay, but hasten on towards his countrymen.
This advice the chief positively refused to follow. He admitted the superiority of his allies in the arts of hunting and even war, but in a knowledge of the character of Moselekatse and his warriors he knew himself to be their superior. He was now in a position where he and his people might successfully sustain themselves, and he disliked leaving it, lest they should fall into some ambuscade of the enemy. Had he not had reasons for expecting assistance, the case might have been different, but confident that aid would be immediately sent to him, he thought it better to remain where they were.
Believing that there was a possibility of the chief being in the right, Groot Willem and his companions of course consented to remain; not, however, without stipulations.
If within thirty-six hours there was no appearance of either friends or enemies, Macora promised that he would continue the march towards his country.
Chapter Thirty Seven.
Not quite too late.
The stipulated time passed, and nothing was seen of the Matabili; neither was anything known of the result of the mission of Sindo and his companions.
The young hunters were now quite certain that their enemies had relinquished the idea of conquering a band protected by the intellects and weapons of white men, and that they had returned home.
With this opinion, that of the chief did not quite coincide. Nevertheless, according to the agreement, he commenced making preparations for departure.
The cattle were driven out of the enclosure, and again started along the track, all acting as drovers, and urging the animals onward with as much energy as if they believed that the enemy was in close pursuit. To Groot Willem and his companions there was something very inconsistent in the conduct of the Makololo.
They fought like brave men when forced to face the foe but now that no enemy was near, they exhibited every sign of cowardice!
At Willem’s request, Congo asked the chief for an explanation of this unaccountable behaviour.
Macora admitted the truth of what was said, but added that his white friends would see nothing strange in it, if they were only better acquainted with the strategy of Moselekatse and his warriors.
The precaution of keeping scouts in the rear was not neglected; and, a few hours after the march had commenced, one of these brought the news that the Matabili were in pursuit.
As Macora had supposed, they had been waiting for him to forsake a position so favourable for defence.
As the white hunters had now experienced the advantage of receiving the pursuers in a fortified place, Hendrik and Arend, spurring their horses, rode some distance in advance of the herds, for the purpose of selecting a second battle-field.
In finding this, fortune refused to favour them for the second time. The country through which they were now passing was an open plain, presenting no natural advantages for anything but a “fair field and no favour.” This was not what they required.
“We have gone far enough,” said Hendrik, after galloping about a mile. “Our friends can hardly reach this place before being overtaken. We must turn back to them.”
“Of course we must,” mechanically replied Arend, who was earnestly gazing across the plain.
Hendrik turned his eyes in the same direction, and to his surprise saw from twenty to thirty men coming rapidly towards them.
“We are going to be surrounded!” said Arend, as he turned his horse to retreat.
Without further speech, the two galloped back to their companions.
“Macora was right,” said Hendrik, as he joined Groot Willem and Hans. “We should not have left the place where we were able to keep these Matabili at bay. We have made a mistake.”
While Macora was being informed that warriors had been seen ahead, several of the scouts driven in reported that a large body of the Matabili was rapidly approaching from the rear. For a moment Hans, Hendrik, and Arend were not quite certain that the white traders they had met the day before were much to blame for withdrawing from the scene of danger. To them life seemed of too much value to be relinquished without some powerful reason.
Hopes long and dearly cherished were now before the minds of our young adventurers. They could not avoid thinking of their own safety. But they had too much honour to think of deserting the brave Makololo, whom they themselves had been instrumental in bringing into trouble.
They all looked to Groot Willem, who would not abandon the brave chief, to whom they were so much indebted,—not even to save his own life. They faltered no longer. Macora’s fate should be theirs.
The chief was now urged to order a halt of his people; and, in compliance with the request, he gave a shout that might have been heard nearly a mile off.
It was answered by several of those in advance, who were driving the cattle; but amongst the many responsive voices was one that all recognised with a frenzied joy.
The sound of that particular voice was heard at a great distance, and only indistinctly, but on hearing it the Makololo commenced leaping about the ground like lunatics, several of them shouting, “Sindo! Sindo!”
All hastened forward as fast as their limbs could carry them, and in a few minutes after were met by a large party of Makololo warriors, who communicated the pleasing intelligence that more were coming up close behind.
Sindo and his companions had succeeded in the accomplishment of their mission.
Ma-Mochisane, just at that crisis, chanced to be on a visit to the southern part of her dominions, and to have with her many warriors of different tribes of her people.
Macora, a friend of her childhood, was remembered. The desire of aiding him was backed by the hereditary hatred for the Matabili, and not a moment was lost in despatching a party of chosen fighting men to his assistance.
They had arrived just in time. Two hours later, and those they had been sent to rescue would have been engaged with their enemies without the advantage of a position favourable for defence.
The result was that, instead of encountering a small band of outcast and wearied Makololo, Moselekatse’s men found themselves opposed by a large force of warriors fresh and vigorous for any fray,—men who had often been led to victory by the noble chief Sebituane.
Moselekatse’s soldiers saw that there was but one way of saving themselves from the disgrace that threatened them; that was by a sudden change in the tactics they had been hitherto pursuing. They resolved on an immediate onslaught.
They made it, only to be repulsed.
After a short conflict they were completely routed, and retreated in a manner that plainly expressed their intention to discontinue the campaign.
From that hour the young hunters never heard of them again.
Three days after the retreat of the Matabili our adventurers were introduced at the court of Ma-Mochisane by Macora, who made formal declaration of his fidelity to his new sovereign.
On the return of the chief from his long exile he was enthusiastically received by his countrymen,—the more as from his having incurred the resentment of the Matabili.
Chapter Thirty Eight.
A Talk about Home.
“I have a favour to ask of you, my friends,” said Hendrik, the day after they had been introduced at court. “I want a little information, if either of you can give it.”
“Very well,” said Willem; “I, for one, will do all in my power to instruct you. What do you wish to know?”
“If we are to stay in this part of the world any longer,” continued Hendrik, “I wish some one to give me a good reason for our doing so. I am ready to return home.”
“And so am I,” said Arend.
“And I also,” added Hans. “The last three or four weeks have given me quite enough of hunting giraffes, or anything else. We have been hunted too much ourselves.”
“I’m sorry to hear you talking in this way,” said Groot Willem, “for I am not ready to return yet. We have not accomplished the purpose for which we set forth.”
“True,” replied Hendrik, “and I believe we never shall.”
“Why do you think so?” asked Willem, with a look of surprise.
“Tell me why I should not think so,” answered Hendrik. “To begin with general principles, people are rarely successful in every undertaking in life. We have been fortunate on our two former expeditions, and we have no great cause to complain should we be disappointed in this one. We cannot always expect to win. Fortune is fickle; and my chief desire now is that we may reach home in safety.”
“I am not prepared to go home yet,” rejoined Willem, in a way that told his companions he was in earnest. “We have only been in the neighbourhood of the Limpopo for a few short weeks; and we have been successful in getting a good many hippopotamus teeth. We have made but one attempt to capture giraffes; and I have not come more than a thousand miles, to relinquish an undertaking because I have met with one failure. What are we here for? The journey from Graaf Reinet to this place should not be made for nothing. We must have something to show for the loss of our time, besides the loss of our horses; and when we have made four or five more unsuccessful attempts at procuring what we came for, then I’ll listen patiently to your talk about returning,—not before.”
Hendrik and Arend were thinking of the many narrow escapes from death they had met within the last few weeks, but perhaps more of their sweethearts. Hans could not withdraw his thoughts from the anticipated voyage to Europe but these motives for action would have been powerless as arguments with Groot Willem, even had they made use of them. He had come to the north for two young giraffes. Both time and money had been lost in the expedition, and his companions could give no substantial reason why they should not make some further attempt to accomplish the object for which it had been undertaken.
Willem was generally inclined to yield to the wishes of his companions. On trivial affairs, he never made them unhappy by any spirit of opposition, nor did he suffer himself to be made so. But they could not control him now. It was not in the nature of either Hans, Hendrik, or Arend to return home and leave him alone; and since he continued, as Hendrik said, “obstinate as a vlacke varke” they were reluctantly compelled to remain.
They were told that within one day’s journey to the west, there was a large forest of cameel-doorn, where giraffes were often seen, and they determined to pay this forest a visit.
Macora had become a great favourite at court; and, having the business on hand of establishing his tribe in a new home, he could not accompany them. He assured them, however that there was no fear of their not finding giraffes in the aforesaid forest, as well as a convenient place for constructing a trap to capture them. They would also have men to assist them.
