Adventure stories; Clergy -- Fiction; Scots -- South Africa -- Fiction; South Africa -- Fiction; Zulu (African people) -- Fiction
Some demon’s subterranean cave,
Who, prisoned by enchanter’s spell,
Shakes the dark rock with groan and yell.”
While I was standing awestruck at the sound, I observed a figure moving
towards the cliffs. I was well in cover, so I could not have been
noticed. It was a very old man, very tall, but bowed in the shoulders,
who was walking slowly with bent head. He could not have been thirty
yards from me, so I had a clear view of his face. He was a native, but
of a type I had never seen before. A long white beard fell on his
breast, and a magnificent kaross of leopard skin covered his shoulders.
His face was seamed and lined and shrunken, so that he seemed as old as
Time itself.
Very carefully I crept after him, and found myself opposite the fold
where the gully was. There was a clear path through the jungle, a path
worn smooth by many feet. I followed it through the undergrowth and
over the screes till it turned inside the fold of the gully. And then
it stopped short. I was in a deep cleft, but in front was a slab of
sheer rock. Above, the gully looked darker and deeper, but there was
this great slab to pass. I examined the sides, but they were sheer rock
with no openings.
Had I had my wits about me, I would have gone back and followed the
spoor, noting where it stopped. But the whole thing looked black magic
to me; my stomach was empty and my enterprise small. Besides, there was
the terrible moaning of the imprisoned river in my ears. I am ashamed
to confess it, but I ran from that gully as if the devil and all his
angels had been following me. Indeed, I did not slacken till I had put
a good mile between me and those uncanny cliffs. After that I set out
to foot it back. If the horses would not come to me I must go to them.
I walked twenty-five miles in a vile temper, enraged at my Dutchmen, my
natives, and everybody. The truth is, I had been frightened, and my
pride was sore about it. It grew very hot, the sand rose and choked me,
the mopani trees with their dull green wearied me, the “Kaffir queens”
and jays and rollers which flew about the path seemed to be there to
mock me. About half-way home I found a boy and two horses, and roundly
I cursed him. It seemed that my pony had returned right enough, and the
boy had been sent to fetch me. He had got half-way before sunset the
night before, and there he had stayed. I discovered from him that he
was scared to death, and did not dare go any nearer the Rooirand. It
was accursed, he said, for it was an abode of devils, and only wizards
went near it. I was bound to admit to myself that I could not blame
him. At last I had got on the track of something certain about this
mysterious country, and all the way back I wondered if I should have
the courage to follow it up.
[1] Baboon.
[2] Schelm: Rascal.
CHAPTER V
MR WARDLAW HAS A PREMONITION
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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