Chapter VIII: Part 8

All four now being safely landed at the bottom of the kloof, the question which instantly absorbed their attention was, Where was the gold? Poeskop led the way, and, walking swiftly, at a pace certainly exceeding four miles an hour, they hastened towards the far end of the valley.

"Hullo!" cried Tom, as a handsome little reddish antelope, spotted and lined with white, bounded away from one patch of bush to another. "Bushbuck, by all that's wonderful! We've seen pallah. I wonder what other kind of game is shut up in this kloof."

Almost as the words came out of his mouth he was answered, for a magnificent bull koodoo strolled out of a thorn grove by the river a hundred yards away, and, with a family party of hornless cows and young animals, stood staring at the intruders, who now in their turn halted to gaze at the spectacle.

"You beauties!" said Mr. Blakeney enthusiastically. "It seems a shame almost to intrude upon you! And, indeed, we won't shoot here unless we are absolutely driven to it. It's a place of enchantment, and we ought not to bring death here if we can help it."

Forward they went again. After walking twenty minutes, Poeskop crossed the river at a shallow ford where a sandbank ran out into the stream, and stopping, said, "Baas, I think we shall find the gelt here."

*Chapter XVI.*

*GATHERING GOLD.*

Instantly they all set to work with a feverish intensity which almost surprised themselves. Poeskop was hunting about on the big spit of sand and shingle, quartering the surface very much as a pointer quarters its ground in search of game. In less than five minutes he had found what he expected, and, holding up between his right finger and thumb a flattish object, which shone perceptibly in the strong sunlight, exclaimed,--

"_Here so, baas! Here is de gelt!_"

One and all of the trio searching near him forsook their task and rushed up to him. Mr. Blakeney took the piece of metal from the Bushman's outstretched hand. It was a flattish nugget, pale yellow in colour, smooth and rounded as to its edges, manifestly much water-worn, and measuring about three inches in length by one in breadth. He examined it very closely, weighed it in his open palm, and said quietly,--

"Yes, that's gold, right enough. Where that came from there ought to be lots more. Guy, I congratulate you. We have accomplished our object, and I think the search is likely to be a very profitable one." Then, glancing at Poeskop's delighted expression, he added in Dutch, "Well done, Poeskop; you were quite right. The gold is here. We must now set to work and find all we can. I suppose there's plenty of it?"

"_Banje_ [plenty]!" replied the Bushman, his odd yellow face expanded into the widest grin of which it was capable. "_Banje!_"

"Well, now," said Mr. Blakeney, "what we have to do is to explore this place carefully and systematically. To-day, and for the next week, we'll go over the surface and work our way upstream towards the ravine at the head of the kloof. When we've gone over the surface, we'll set to work with pick and shovel, and wash the gravel and soil. We shall have to knock up some kind of cradle, but I know how to do that. I was on the Lydenburg alluvial fields, in the Eastern Transvaal, in 1875, and saw a good deal of rough mining. I knew at once that this was a real gold nugget. We'll have a test at the wagon to-night, but I haven't the least doubt in the world that this nugget, which weighs about four ounces, is the genuine metal. That, at L3, 15s. per ounce, means L15--not by any means a bad result for about five minutes' work."

"Splendid, pater!" put in Tom enthusiastically. "Why, I feel like a millionaire already." As he spoke, he was turning over some gravel with the tip of his boot. "Hullo!" he said, suddenly stooping and picking up something small and bright. "Here's another!"

And so in truth it was. Tom's nugget was smaller than that found by Poeskop, and was rounder in shape. But a nugget it was, of pure gold, free from any trace of quartz, and weighing about an ounce and a half; and the party were proportionately delighted. They now set to work, and, arming themselves with sticks, cut from the neighbouring bush, for the purpose of turning over the gravel, hunted with minute care over the big spit and in the clear shallows of the stream flowing by. By twelve o'clock, when they knocked off for half an hour's rest, and ate some lunch under the grateful shade of an adjacent acacia tree, they had all been more or less lucky. Poeskop had gathered up nine nice nuggets of varying size. Next to him Guy had been most successful, having picked up seven; while Mr. Blakeney and Tom followed with five each.

"I'm going to keep my best nugget and give it to mother, to make a brooch or a bracelet of," said Tom, as he dived into his pockets and examined his spoil.

"All right, Tom," added Guy; "I'll do the same by Ella. There's a fine nugget, which ought to make her a real good necklet."

"And I'll provide for Marjory," said Mr. Blakeney, laughing at the lads' eagerness. "But where does Arthur come in?"

"Oh, I'll look after Arthur," said Tom. "I feel such a bloated capitalist that I can provide for anybody. There," he went on, selecting a good nugget, "is Arthur's _dot_ or dowry, or whatever you like to call it."

Lunch over, and Mr. Blakeney's pipe finished, they went to work again. From half-past twelve till three o'clock they steadily pursued their investigations. At two o'clock the greatest and most amazing discovery of the day was made by Guy. While turning over some gravel, just at the edge of the stream, he came upon what he took to be a submerged, rounded stone, of which there were plenty scattered about the bed and edges of the rivulet. In trying to push this out of its cradle of sand and gravel he found it unexpectedly heavy. At last he shifted it from the soil in which it lay, and lifted it out. Its weight astonished him. Suddenly a thought flashed across his mind. He whipped his hunting-knife from the sheath, and scraped away a coating of what looked like rusty soil which covered it. Then, cutting into the stone, a streak of bright yellow showed instantly. The lump was solid gold. His shouts brought the rest of the party running up to him.

"Here's something like a nugget!" said the lad, with flushed face. "Look, uncle, it's gold right enough; and it weighs, I should think, at least ten pounds. It's certainly the weight of a light pair of dumb-bells!"

Mr. Blakeney stooped and picked up the stone, and carefully examined it. Then, taking out his knife, he cut into it as Guy had done. Again there showed a streak of bright yellow.

"Yes, that's gold right enough," he said, in answer to Guy's intense look; "and it must weigh well over ten pounds. I see there's just a thin skin, apparently of quartz, on one side. Deduct, say, a couple of pounds for that and quartz further inside, and you have something like eight or nine pounds of virgin gold. A magnificent find, indeed! I congratulate you, Guy, with all my heart."

Leaving the big nugget, they worked till three, and then knocked off for the day. The occupation was so exciting, so entrancing a one, that it was difficult to tear themselves away. But, as Mr. Blakeney pointed out, they had the climb out of the kloof before them, and an hour's walk to camp, and they would scarcely reach the wagon much before sunset.

The valley, as they walked down it on their way to the ladder, looked marvellously fair. Flights of wild duck, geese, widgeon, and teal flew up and down stream. A big troop of guinea-fowl, at least fifty or sixty strong, was making its way to some favourite roosting-place; the sharp, metallic cry of the various members of the flock, calling to one another, sounded curiously resonant in this rock-engirdled kloof. Many birds of lovely plumage flitted hither and thither; occasionally a small steinbuck, duyker, or bushbuck would dart away in front of them. The flowers and flowering shrubs starring the green of the kloof and climbing the cliffsides added not a little to the beauty of the scene.

"What a lovely spot, uncle!" said Guy, as they marched steadily forward. "I feel almost as if I should like to throw up gold-digging, and settle for life in such a paradise."

"I'm afraid, Guy," replied his uncle, "you would soon grow tired of the place. It's very beautiful, certainly; but it's mighty lonely. And you would have a rare business to keep yourself supplied with even the bare necessaries of life. Think of the long trek from Mossamedes--six weeks' travel before your tea and coffee, and sugar and other small luxuries, can reach you. Take my word for it. No one has enjoyed the life of the hunter and explorer more than I have done. I knocked about, as you know, for years in South Africa before I settled down. After a time, even the most inveterate wanderer begins to sigh for rest and some of the comforts of civilization. I speak of what I know. I dislike town life; and the huddling together of huge populations, with an immense deal of misery for two-thirds of the poorer folk, is to me absolutely hateful. I believe the system, for which machinery is largely answerable, is absolutely wrong, and will lead to untold misfortunes to the so-called civilized nations in the future, if persisted in. But on the other hand, fascinating as is the life of the wilderness for a time--say a year or two at a spell--you would become weary of it if you had to settle down in such a place as this, fair though it is, for the rest of your existence. The fact is, mankind is to a great extent gregarious, and you would want some kind of company as an occasional relief from the monotony of too much solitude."

"Besides," broke in Tom, who had been listening quietly to his father's ideas, "I should say this kloof, jolly as it looks, would be pretty feverish--wouldn't it, pater?--especially after the rains."

"Yes, Tom; I think it would. This country is a good deal nearer the equator than British Bechuanaland, which I take to be the healthiest part of South Africa; and where you get the combination of moisture and heat you are bound to have fever. That reminds me, we shall have to look after our health on the homeward trek. The rains haven't fairly set in yet, but they will soon, and I shall have to put you fellows on a course of quinine. I don't want to take you home mere pallid spectres, like men who have been suffering from Zambesi fever."

They reached the rope-ladder at length, and then began the upward climb. As Mr. Blakeney had warned them, the ascent was a very different matter from the journey down. For the first fifty feet or so, as the ladder swung and swayed in empty air, it was by no means pleasant progression; and by the time they had reached the top, all were out of breath and exhausted.

"My word, pater!" gasped Tom, as he threw himself on the ground and lay panting. "Shall we have to do this often? It's a beast of a climb, and our gold will be jolly hardly won if we're to have much of this sort of thing."

Mr. Blakeney sat up. Evidently he was thinking hard.

"Well," he said, "it is a terribly tough, as well as a very nasty, climb. I for one don't want to attempt it very often. It's worse than I bargained for. I think we'll have to camp in the kloof till we've finished our gold search."

Poeskop, who had stayed behind to make the ends of the ladder fast to two stout bushes which grew near the foot, and so prevent the unpleasant oscillation of the last fifty odd feet, now made his appearance. The sight of his queer little sharp-chinned face (now streaming from the toil of the climb), as it appeared over the edge of the cliff, sent Guy and Tom, and indeed Mr. Blakeney himself, into fits of laughter, to which the good-humoured Bushman freely responded.

"What ho! Poeskop!" cried Tom; adding in Dutch, "How do you like the climb?"

"Hard work, Baas Tom," responded Poeskop cheerily, as he squatted on his hams to rest, and wiped the sweat from his face with his usual handkerchief, a jackal's tail. "But I've seen harder jobs even than this. If you had lived the life of a wild Bushman, as I did till I was a grown man, you'd soon understand that a day like this is mere child's play. Nowadays I know that I get two good meals every single day of my life, rain or shine. When I was a lad the great puzzle of my life was to find or catch food at all. When your skorf comes to you as easily as it does to me now, a day's work is just nothing at all. Why, baas, as a lad of ten or twelve, I've travelled three days at a stretch, fifty miles a day, without food or water, and thought nothing much about it."

"Yes," said Tom reflectively; "I quite see your point. A hard day's work to a well-fed, healthy man, who gets his breakfast and dinner 'regular,' is a mere healthy exercise canter. Still, Poeskop, it was a tough climb, eh?"

"Ja, baas," responded the Bushman, grinning; "but think of what you have in your pockets."

Tom looked down at his breeches pockets, bulging with nuggets, and roared with laughter.

"Quite so, Poeskop," he said; "it's worth it all."

They now started with Seleti and September, who had spent a quiet and perfectly uneventful day at the cliff top, and made their way rapidly down to the wagon. There, after their supper, they turned to their treasure, which meanwhile reposed in a Kaffir blanket, and Mr. Blakeney, having got out his scales, began to estimate the value of the day's find. Altogether, not counting Guy's big nugget, which they christened "Poeskop's Pride," they had gathered forty-nine nuggets, giving a total weight of ninety-eight ounces. This amount of gold, at the value of L3, 15s. per ounce, would figure out therefore at a total of L367. These nuggets, varying in size and weight from a pea to more than five ounces, had scarcely any indication of quartz or other extraneous substance about them, and were manifestly nearly all pure and solid metal. Deducting L17 for wastage, Mr. Blakeney estimated their value at not less than L350.

Then came Guy's monster nugget to be dealt with. It weighed exactly twelve pounds ten ounces. At a liberal estimate the thin coating of quartz running down one side, and other impurities with which it was coated, could not possibly exceed two pounds. This would leave a weight of gold of nine pounds ten ounces, or, reduced to ounces, one hundred and eighteen ounces. At L3, 15s. per ounce, then, "Poeskop's Pride" was worth L442 at the least. Adding this sum to the L350, the value of the smaller nuggets, a total of L792 would represent the value of the day's work.

"Not by any means a bad day's work, even for four hard-working men like ourselves," said Mr. Blakeney, with a smile, as he looked round at his audience--the two lads and Poeskop.

"I should think not, indeed," added Guy.

Mr. Blakeney now went to the wagon, and produced a bottle of champagne which, with five others, he had brought for such high occasions as the present; and as medicine, if occasion needed. Opening the bottle--it was Giesler 'eighty-nine, a first-rate brand--he poured out a tot all round in the _kommetjes_, or little earthenware basins, used by the Boers and most up-country trekkers for coffee. Then they pledged one another, and drank to the complete success of the expedition. Poeskop, as pioneer of the grand discovery, was served out with a drink of the same excellent liquor. He had never tasted or even seen champagne before, and the effervescing wine, getting into his broad nostrils, set him off in so violent a fit of sneezing that he upset the remainder of his tot.

"My baas," he said presently, after he had somewhat recovered, "I don't think I like this medicine. It is not so good as 'pain-killer' [a drug beloved of all African natives], and I would much rather have a _soupje_ of Cango brandwein."

The Bushman's struggles with his champagne, and his plaintive speech after the mishap, were received with much laughter.

"All right, Poeskop," said Mr. Blakeney, "you shall have the Cango."

Going to the locker of the wagon, he brought out a bottle of the good Cape brandy of that name, and, pouring out a dram, handed it to the Bushman. Poeskop, smacking his broad lips over this liquor, was at once satisfied, and expressed himself as more than well pleased at the exchange. The rest of the men were, in honour of the evening, also each served out with a tot of the same spirit. At ten o'clock a merry evening beneath the stars came to an end, and all sought their resting places.

Next morning Mr. Blakeney announced his intention of trying to get the wagon up to the cliff, near where they had let down the rope-ladder. It would be a hard and difficult trek, and some trees and bush would have to be cut down. But he had carefully surveyed the ascent by which they reached the place, and he thought it could be accomplished. His chief reason for getting the wagon up was, that he disliked very greatly the idea of maintaining two separate camps at some distance apart from each other. He knew that it was by no means improbable that Karl Engelbrecht, and any allies he might get together, would make another attack on them. A strong camp might be formed near the ladder. There was a fountain in the hill close by; and it would be much more convenient to load the wagon there than to have to carry every ounce of gold they won each day down to their present camping ground.

All parties, including Poeskop and the other native servants, heartily approved of the scheme; and the whole of that day, therefore, was spent in clearing a road up the long and steep mountain ascent, over the nek, and on to the plateau overlooking the Gold Kloof. Next day they inspanned the oxen, now much refreshed and recruited by their rest and good feeding, and ascended the long mountain slope. It was, as Mr. Blakeney had anticipated, a tough trek, but it was accomplished. They passed the nek, gained the plateau, and made a permanent camp within a hundred yards of the cliff edge overlooking the Gold Kloof. The position was an excellent one against attack. Their rear rested against the base of a mountain peak above them; they had a secure water supply; and any assault delivered against them must be made across the open plateau. There was plenty of good grazing for the cattle and horses among the long grass which here covered the plateau. Occasionally the oxen were taken down to the valley, where they had first outspanned, for change of diet. At night they were kraaled in a strong thorn scherm, which effectually protected them against the raids of leopards, lions, or other Carnivora.

This matter having been arranged satisfactorily, the gold-seekers turned their attention entirely to the work of denuding the kloof of as much of its treasure as they could find and make their own within a given time. For three days they descended the ladder at early morning, climbing up to their camp each night with loads of gold. But the labour entailed in this process seemed so great and so unnecessary, that Mr. Blakeney finally made up his mind to take down food and necessaries for a week, and camp in the kloof near the gold they sought. They found that this plan obviated much labour and saved much time. Jan Kokerboom was left in command of the main camp, with the strictest commands to keep the most vigilant watch and ward. Seleti, Mangwalaan, and September were each sent out during the week to take a glance round the country, to inspect the pass, and to ascertain whether any foes were approaching the kloof. Once in three days Poeskop was sent up the ladder to receive Jan Kokerboom's report.

For six days on end the four diggers, now living in the Gold Kloof, stuck resolutely to their task. Each day they worked steadily up the stream, unearthing nuggets, plying pick and shovel, and washing soil in a rough cradle which Mr. Blakeney constructed. Their success was wonderful. Poeskop had spoken truly when he had affirmed that the kloof was full of gold. During the first six days' work, after the day of the opening search, they gathered never less than four hundred ounces; on two of these, thanks to some large nuggets, their finds totalled close on six hundred and a little over eight hundred ounces respectively. Each night they camped under the shelter of some bush, close to the ladder. They slept in their blankets, with a good fire at their feet; and the weather remaining fine and open, with little dew, they were perfectly comfortable. They had with them a kettle in which to boil their coffee, a three-legged Kaffir pot, which served them for baking and stewing, and a saucepan. They had brought down a supply of meal and some baking powder, from which Tom or Guy each day made and baked sufficient bread for their wants. The kloof, a magnificent natural game preserve, provided them with as much game, furred or feathered, as they cared to shoot; and their stew-pot each night furnished them with a savoury meal of the flesh of buck or guinea-fowl, or wild pigeon or partridge. Sometimes they shot a couple or two of fat wild duck, mostly _geelbek_ (yellow-bill), the best of all South African wildfowl, which, baked in the three-legged pot, with embers above and below, and basted with a little fat occasionally, afforded them a delicious banquet.

These were delightful days, which are likely to remain for ever marked in letters of red in the memories of the two young adventurers and of Mr. Blakeney. The toil was hard, but healthy; the kloof was wonderfully beautiful; the weather was magnificent; the gipsy-like existence was fascinating; the daily excitement and anticipation of seeking and unearthing great quantities of the most valuable mineral in the world kept them one and all at concert pitch.

The following Sunday, having climbed up their ladder on the Saturday night, they enjoyed as a day of rest in the main camp. After their work of the preceding six days, they were all glad enough to spend the day quietly about the wagon--resting, reading, writing up their diaries, and listening to the reports of Jan Kokerboom and his subordinates. Nothing had happened to disturb the quiet tenor of life in camp during the absence of the gold-seekers. Nothing had been seen or heard of Engelbrecht or his followers, although a vigilant watch had been maintained, and the neighbouring country occasionally patrolled. Jan Kokerboom had shot a leopard one night, close to the camp fire, as it clawed down the venison of a koodoo which had been recently slain. The brute, stretching itself up to the low branch of a tree on which the venison hung, within fifteen feet of the camp fire, had been observed by Jan. Snatching up his rifle he shot it in the throat, breaking its spine, and instantly ending its predatory career.

For three weeks the gold-diggers steadily pursued their search. Thoroughly exploring the river-side, they were occasionally delayed for several days together by the finding of some unexpectedly rich deposit in the banks of the stream, or some smooth spit of sand, left bare during the absence of the rains. The heap of gold which they were accumulating each day near the foot of the ladder was steadily assuming large proportions. In another week or two, Mr. Blakeney, who had carefully weighed their finds every evening, calculated that they would literally have made their pile, and be ready to trek for the coast and home.

*Chapter XVII.*

*THE SHADOWERS' ATTACK.*

Towards the end of the fourth week of the search, while the diggers were at work at the far end of the kloof, they were startled one morning by the figure of a man running up the valley towards them.

"Hallo!" cried Guy excitedly, as he paused from his work with the pick and stretched his back; "who on earth is this coming our way? Look, uncle! I believe it's Jan!"

Mr. Blakeney shaded his eyes and looked down the kloof.

"Yes," he said, after regarding the figure attentively, "it's Jan. What can he want? He must have news of importance. I suppose it's Karl Engelbrecht again."

Jan Kokerboom, who presently trotted up, had news undoubtedly, and news that was disturbing. On the previous afternoon, Seleti (who had, under Mr. Blakeney's instructions, been exploring the country for any signs of Engelbrecht and his gang) had come across the spoor of two mounted men, who had evidently tracked the wagon up to the entrance of the mountains, noted the valley up which it had passed, and, turning rein again, had cantered away.

"Well, I expected this," said Mr. Blakeney, his brow knitted in thought. "I never imagined that Karl Engelbrecht, who knows what we are after, and is writhing under two nasty rebuffs, would give up his revenge or leave his thirst for plunder unsatisfied. These men, who have shadowed us all the way from the coast, are shadowing us still. We shall have to look out for their next assault, which, I believe, will be a desperate one. The business now is to find out how many there are of them, and what their plans may be.

"Sit down, lads," he continued, filling and lighting his pipe; "we'll knock off for a spell.--Poeskop," he went on, speaking in Dutch, "you must go back with Jan, climb the ladder, take two or three days' supplies of biltong with you, and go and look up Karl Engelbrecht. If they are still shadowing us, you must just shadow them. Find out, if you can, when they mean to have a shot for us, and then cut back as fast as your legs can carry you and give us warning. We must be prepared for them, and I've no doubt we shall be able to give them a pretty hot reception."

The curious wrinkling of the yellow skin of Poeskop's face, and the humorous twinkle that showed in his Mongol-like eyes, convinced the three white men that the task proposed was thoroughly to the Bushman's liking. His splendid white teeth gleamed expressively as he broke into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"Ja, baas," he said; "I shall becreep them. Poeskop was not bred a Bushman for nothing; and he will spy out Karl Engelbrecht's camp, and find out what he means to do, and when he is going to attack. He has had two hard knocks already; we shall give him a third, which will make him what you call 'sit up.' But baas must have a care: this time Karl will do his hardest to kill us all and take the gelt."

The two natives now started back for the ladder and the main camp. Mr. Blakeney and the two boys continued the work of digging till afternoon, when, taking with them the gold they had found that day, they made their way back to the foot of the cliff. Here, adding their nuggets to the heap already accumulated, they climbed the ladder, and found themselves once more in the security of their own camp. Nothing further had happened that day, and Poeskop had long since started away on his journey of reconnaissance.

Meanwhile it is necessary to return to Karl Engelbrecht and his proceedings. After the escape of Guy from his camp, the death of the Griqua, his own repulse by Guy and Poeskop, and the wounding of another of his men, the Boer, although raging furiously at the ill-success of his schemes, had felt himself scarcely strong enough to attack a party who were evidently quite capable of defending themselves. In this feeling he was strengthened by his colleague in rascality, Antonio Minho, who by no means relished the business of attacking the English party, except with a much superior force.

Engelbrecht knew of a commando of Boers who had been away in the country to the north, engaged on a punitory and marauding expedition against a tribe of natives. He calculated that, by trekking steadily for ten days, he would intercept this party on their return journey. His calculations were rightly made, and he fell in with his freebooting fellow-countrymen returning to Humpata in triumph and great spirits. They had had, from their point of view, a first-rate time, having thoroughly subdued the tribe against which they had marched, killed a number of unfortunate natives, burnt their corn and crops, and captured some two thousand head of cattle.

Karl, who was hand and glove with these men, whom he had often himself led on commando, had no great difficulty in persuading some of them to accompany him on a fresh expedition of plunder. He held out high inducement in the shape of gold, which, it was known, the Englishmen were in search of; and the plan of inflicting revenge and humiliation on men of that accursed nation had, in addition, no small weight with the British-hating filibusters. Eight stalwart Boers, then, with two wagons and a number of well-armed native servants, signified their intention of aiding Karl Engelbrecht in his new campaign, and sharing the rich booty which they counted on lifting from the Englishmen. Halting for a few days to rest and recruit their trek oxen and horses, the party returned upon Engelbrecht's wagon spoor, and presently found themselves at the place where the Englishmen had last been sighted.

It was not difficult to hit off the wagon spoor of the gold-seekers' party; and now, eager to come to grips with their opponents, of whom they counted on making an easy prey, the Boers presently came in sight of the mountains wherein the Englishmen were so busily engaged in gathering the fortune that lay awaiting them.

Halting at this point, Engelbrecht with one of his Boer allies had ridden into the valley and convinced himself that here, at last, he had run the hated Englishmen to ground. Somewhere in these rude hills his foes were at work. It would be his business to trace them to their gold deposits, to locate accurately their camp, and then, descending upon them some morning at early dawn, attack them in such overwhelming force as to effectually beat down all opposition. Revenge--a bloody revenge, Karl meant it to be--was within his grasp; and gold--plenty of it, captured from his enemies--would, he firmly believed, make a man of him for the remainder of his life.

Already Karl saw himself back in the good Transvaal country, the owner of some of the richest farms in Marico, with a great, a palatial, farmstead of his own, surrounded by vast flocks and herds, and a wielder of much power in the national Volksraad. Why, indeed--his broad chest dilated as he thought of it--should he not aspire to like power and prominence with Paul Kruger himself! Paul was growing old; in a few years his course would be run, and some strong man would be needed to take his place. Thus dreamed Karl Engelbrecht, as he rode back to his wagon that day after spooring his adversaries to their mountain retreat, where, as he rightly calculated, they had been now some weeks at work in their hunt for gold.

Karl, after consultation with Antonio Minho, had soon laid his plans. That afternoon he dispatched his most trusted spy--a Hottentot man, Quasip by name--to spend a couple of days in exploring the interior of the mountain and spying out the land. Quasip was to keep off the wagon track, to creep about quietly, and to find out exactly what the Englishmen were doing and where their camp lay.

Quasip returned at the end of two days and nights, having perfectly accomplished his mission. He had located the English camp, observed its situation and defensive advantages, peered over into the Gold Kloof, noted the rope-ladder, and also the pile which the Englishmen had accumulated, without attracting the notice or suspicion of those within the camp. The Hottentot had entered the valley and made himself acquainted with the Gold Kloof before Mr. Blakeney's boy Seleti had discovered the approach of the Boers; and he had been able to accomplish his mission and make his report to his master without detection--a clear gain for Karl Engelbrecht and his party.

But Poeskop meanwhile, on his part, had been by no means idle. He had located the freebooters' camp, and ascertained the strength of the Boers and their men. Returning from his expedition, and wandering, as he always did, hither and thither in search of any spoor or sign that might tell of danger, he had encountered a footprint that was unknown to him: a spy had entered the valley since the two horsemen reported by Seleti had ridden in. Poeskop spoored the Hottentot's tracks to the vicinity of his master's camp, and satisfied himself that his rival--for he saw at once that he had a rival, and a very clever one--had made himself acquainted with all their doings. He had, in fact, convinced himself that now indeed danger threatened speedily. Returning to camp, he made his report on the very afternoon on which Quasip the Hottentot had told his own master of his discoveries. Both spies had accomplished their tasks to admiration: neither had encountered the other. Yet Poeskop had scored, inasmuch as he knew what the Boer spy knew; while the Hottentot and his master were ignorant, thus far, that they themselves had been spied upon.

Poeskop entered the camp, and at once unburdened himself of his information. Mr. Blakeney was scarcely surprised. He was anticipating attack, and had long since taken means to repel it. But it was a serious matter to know that eight fresh Boers--men who could shoot, and were thoroughly used to veldt fighting--were now with Karl Engelbrecht. These, with Karl himself and Minho, would raise the white attacking force to ten men. Add to this some six or seven natives, who could shoot more or less well, and it was clear that the little garrison above the Gold Kloof would have to confront almost overwhelming odds.

Still their situation was a very strong one. Any assault made upon them must be delivered from the front. Already, behind the thick and impenetrable fence of thorns, they had raised stone breastworks, through or over which they could shoot while they themselves were almost perfectly concealed. Their water supply was just behind them; and for food, if the siege should last more than a day or two, which was very improbable, they must sacrifice one of their spare oxen. As for arms, they possessed enough to furnish six of their whole party with two rifles apiece; two others would each have a rifle. There remained one over, which would bring up their total weapons of defence to fifteen. To these might be added four shot-guns, which, loaded with buckshot and used at close quarters, would be of sensible assistance.

Poeskop, after a night's rest, was again dispatched on a journey of investigation. The little Bushman was now thoroughly in his element. He craved excitement, of which hunting and warfare represented to him the highest forms; and he craved, and saw with prophetic eyes, revenge--a final revenge--upon Karl Engelbrecht. He returned the same night with serious news. The Boers had quitted their camp that afternoon, and, leaving a sufficient guard to look after the wagons, had ridden into the mountain. With them were six native servants, carrying rifles. They were now resting in some thick bush at the commencement of the first valley, about six miles away.

"That means," said Mr. Blakeney, "that they will attack us to-night or at early morning. Well, we shall have a sleepless night; but we'll be ready for them, anyway."

Night came; and after supper each man settled himself in his blanket by the post assigned to him, behind the breastwork of stones. Twenty yards beyond this extended the long and thick hedge of thorn bush which ran right up the edge of the cliff. Beyond that, the declivity that led up to their camp was bare for nearly two hundred yards. They had cut away the last patches of bush on this open glacis, over which their enemies would have to advance. They could only be outflanked by their foes breaking through the thorn fence on the side near the precipice and getting round that way. To guard against this contingency, Mr. Blakeney and Tom took positions which covered that corner. Guy came next. Next to him would be Poeskop; and on their right, again, Jan Kokerboom, September, Seleti, and Mangwalaan. These two last, being somewhat excitable Bechuanas, were warned against letting off their rifles too rapidly, and were enjoined to fire slowly and take careful aim. Jan Kokerboom, himself a cool and excellent shot, had the task of looking after these two and September the Zulu.

It seemed an interminably long night. There was no moon, but the stars burned overhead with a wonderful brilliancy. In their camp all was as quiet as the grave. A low fire burned. It was Mr. Blakeney's plan to let their assailants believe that they were all sleeping, quite unaware of any attack to be made against them. Poeskop, at his own special request, was abroad, away in front of their defences, creeping about in the darkness, listening intently for any sound that should herald the Boers' approach.

Hour after hour slipped by on leaden wings. To the watchers the tension was very great. It seemed as if, amid all the anxiety and strain of waiting, the night would never pass. After one o'clock Guy and Tom, in spite of the expected assault, found it very hard to keep awake. Mr. Blakeney let them sleep; and for an hour or two the lads enjoyed the sweetest slumber, so it seemed to them, that they had ever experienced. At three Mr. Blakeney awoke them. Pulling themselves together, they found themselves presently wide awake and wonderfully refreshed and heartened. Another hour went by, and still there was no break in the serene peace of the African night. In a little while Poeskop, who had been scouting all night, crept into the laager by a narrow loophole reserved for him next the mountain wall, and crawled along the line. He reached Guy.

"They come!" he whispered in Dutch. "Look out, baas!"

This message he repeated to Mr. Blakeney and Tom, ten and twenty yards farther on, and then returned to his post near Guy, where his spare rifle lay. Still no sign of their enemies. Would they never come? It seemed to Guy, to Tom, to all of them, as if for some reason the assault was not to be delivered. But the Boers knew their own plans, and had excellent reasons of their own for postponing their attack.

Now in the far east the paling sky tells that day is near at hand, and the light is perceptibly coming. A faint glow of colour shows in the heavens; the gray east is turning to a pale green.

Hark! What was that? The hearts of the men waiting and watching beat loudly within their breasts. Even to the boldest--and there was not a coward in the little line of defenders--the moments of suspense before the actual fighting begins are always trying. The sound of stealthy footsteps could be distinguished. Certainly some one was approaching from the front. Then suddenly, in the dim morning light, there rose from behind the thorn fence in front of them many forms, and a number of men began to pull down, in desperate haste and with frantic energy, the outer line of defence. If that object were attained, and the attackers obtained an entrance, their numbers would inevitably tell, and the defenders would be overwhelmed.

"Shoot, my lads!" cried Mr. Blakeney, his voice ringing clear and sharp on the still morning air. Instantly there followed the report of eight rifles. Four of the attackers fell, and two others were slightly hit--at twenty yards range there could be no missing; and yells of rage, mingled with groans and curses in vehement Dutch, arose from behind the thorns. But the Boers, surprised though they were, were by no means yet done with. Karl Engelbrecht, standing at the middle of one line of attack, called to his men to fire, and, taking rapid aim in front of him, let drive. Of his ten unwounded supporters nine followed his example, one native skulking with the wounded. The Boer volley was at once answered by the second discharge of the little English garrison, who, crouching behind their breastworks, had their assailants at great advantage. Again two of the attacking force fell, while another (Engelbrecht himself) was wounded.

The Boers and their natives had, by this time, more than enough of it. With one consent they broke and fled, nor stayed their career till they were out of sight. A hearty cheer rose from the defenders as they realized their victory.

So soon as the Boers ran, Mr. Blakeney called to his men to cease firing; and beyond the discharge of a couple of bullets, which the impulsive Mangwalaan and his next-door neighbour Seleti sent after them to hasten their flight, the retreating filibusters were not further molested. When he had convinced himself that the fight was really over and the victory won, Mr. Blakeney walked along his thin line of defence, and asked what injuries had been sustained.

Thanks to their excellent measures of defence, the casualties of his party had been surprisingly light. Mr. Blakeney himself had been hit in the fleshy part of the right shoulder; but beyond some bleeding, which Guy and Tom at once attended to, no great damage had been done. Seleti, the most excitable of the party, who had jumped up after the first volley and exposed himself to the Boer bullets, had sustained a nasty wound, which had pierced his left shoulder, and left him a cripple for weeks. Guy found himself with his hat off after the affray, and, picking it up, discovered that it was neatly punctured, within an inch of the top of his head, by two bullet-holes in front and rear. Tom had the lobe of his right ear grazed. Beyond these casualties, no other harm had been sustained by the gold-seekers.

Mr. Blakeney's flesh-wound having been washed and bound up, and Seleti's shattered shoulder similarly treated, the English party now pulled aside a corner of the thorn scherm and went down the line of their crippled opponents, whose groans and cries for assistance proclaimed that there was no further fight left in them. Three men lay dead. Among these was the Portuguese, Antonio Minho, with a bullet through his head. A big, burly Boer, identified by his wounded comrades as Hendrik Marais, lay also dead, shot through the heart; and a Damara wagon-driver had been also slain.

Of the five wounded men, three were Boers, two natives. Of these, one of the Dutchmen, his chest pierced by a .450 bullet, died within the hour; the remaining four had sustained wounds which, although more or less severe, seemed quite likely to yield to treatment. Collecting the rifles of these unfortunates, the defenders now carried the wounded men into their own camp, and, laying them down under the shade of the wagon, proceeded to dress their hurts. Then followed breakfast, which was welcome enough to all.

*Chapter XVIII.*

*THE LAST OF KARL ENGELBRECHT.*

At ten o'clock, shortly after they had again attended to the wounded men and given them some refreshment, Jan Kokerboom, who was patrolling up and down the line of defence, called out that a man was coming up the hill. Mr. Blakeney, Guy, Tom, and Poeskop at once ran forward, and, mounting the stone breastwork, looked down the ascent. Sure enough, a single figure, that of a Boer, was seen to be approaching. He carried a rifle, to which was tied a dirty white handkerchief. Keeping their rifles at the ready, the garrison waited until the man had walked to within fifty yards, when Mr. Blakeney called out to him to put down his firearm. The man obeyed, and continued to advance, still holding the handkerchief at arm's length. The defenders now quitted their shelter and advanced to meet him.

"What do you want?" asked Mr. Blakeney in Dutch, as the man, a big sturdy Boer, with a red beard, came up to them.

"I've come," answered the man, "to say that my friends and I are sorry we ever threw in our lot with Karl Engelbrecht, and we want to know who is dead and what has happened to the wounded."

"Well, in the first place," replied Mr. Blakeney, eyeing his man steadily, and speaking to him very coolly, "it's rather late in the day, isn't it, to come to us in this way, after all the mischief that has been done. Your blood is upon your own heads, of course; but I have a shrewd suspicion that if you had caught us napping, we should have had a pretty bad time of it. How many of us would have been alive now, do you think, if your ruffianly friend Engelbrecht had got into our camp?"

The man actually blushed a furious red; his eyes stared at the ground in front of him; he knew not what to say.

"I suppose," continued Mr. Blakeney, "that, now you have been beaten, you are sorry for yourselves. It's a dirty game, surely, isn't it, attacking men who have done you no sort of injury. I don't know whether there's any shame left among you and your fellows, but you ought to be ashamed of yourselves."

The man at last found voice. "Yes," he said, "we are ashamed of ourselves, and that is why I've come to see you. I was always against this scheme of Engelbrecht's, but I was over-persuaded. I don't mind raiding Kaffirs, but I always said that it was a mistake going against white men."

"Rather a poor distinction, isn't it?" queried Mr. Blakeney. "The fact is, you back-country Boers have got into the habit of thinking that, where you go, rifles, and rifles only, are the law and the prophets. Sooner or later--sooner, I hope and believe, than later--you and your folk in the Transvaal and elsewhere will have to be taught that the day of the tyranny of the rifle is past, and that you will have to obey laws and behave decently like civilized folk. For fifty years--since your people left Cape Colony and entered the Transvaal--you have practically obeyed only such laws as pleased you."

The Boer did not like the lecture a bit. He twisted his right heel in the soil, and glanced sullenly at the Englishman.

"However," went on Mr. Blakeney, in a less serious tone, "I don't want to pursue an unpleasant subject, and I'm not much of a predicant.[#] But before I show you your wounded men, I want to know what you and your people are going to do."

[#] Predikant, Boer Dutch for preacher or parson.

"We are going to leave Karl Engelbrecht and trek back by ourselves to Benguela," returned the Boer; "and I am deputed to say we are all sorry we ever interfered with you."

"Well," answered Mr. Blakeney, "that's better news. Now come and look at your dead and wounded."

First assisting to bury the dead men, whose names were taken down by Mr. Blakeney, the Boer was conducted to the camp, where he spoke with his wounded comrades. The upshot of his visit was that two of the more lightly wounded Dutchmen were carried away that afternoon on horses sent up for them, while the remaining two, whose injuries precluded their immediate removal, were left in the English camp. At the end of a week these men also were in a fit state to travel, and, being carried down the hill in a rude litter, were got to their own wagons.

Three days later the same Boer envoy, Roelof Vorster, who had first appeared with the flag of truce, came, accompanied by a friend, for the last time to the Englishmen's camp. With them marched half a dozen native servants carrying six fine tusks of ivory. These were deposited near Mr. Blakeney's wagon. The Boers' mission was this. They wished, on behalf of themselves and their fellows, again to express their sorrow that they had joined forces with Karl Engelbrecht, and they desired to thank the Englishmen from their hearts for the aid, nursing, and care bestowed upon their wounded men; and they tendered the six tusks of ivory as some small token of their gratitude. Mr. Blakeney thanked them, and accepted the present.

"Not that we want the ivory," he remarked; "but I believe you honestly mean what you say. Take my advice. Give up the companionship of such rascals as Karl Engelbrecht, and make up your minds to leave filibustering alone. It doesn't pay you in the long run. When do you trek, and what has become of Engelbrecht?"

"We trek to-morrow early," returned Vorster. "I believe Engelbrecht treks also to-morrow. But we have no traffic with him now. He is the cause of our losses, and we have nothing more to say to him. Now, Meneer Blakeney, we have come to say farewell. You are an honest man, and we shall none of us forget your kindness, and the kindness of the young meneers with you."

They had coffee together, said their good-byes, and the Boers quitted the camp. Next day, Poeskop, who had gone out to reconnoitre the Boer outspan place beyond the mountain, reported that all the wagons had departed, the Boers trekking west for Benguela, while Karl Engelbrecht's solitary wagon had gone northward by itself.

At last, then, the English party felt that their troubles and dangers were completely at an end. Their shadowers had vanished, defeated utterly. One of them, Antonio Minho, lay dead and buried above the Kloof of Gold; the other had taken himself off, his evil schemes wrecked, his plottings scattered to the winds. They breathed again, and were now all prepared to return to that absorbing quest on which they had travelled hither. Next morning the four diggers went down the ladder again, and settled themselves in the kloof for the last week of their gold quest. By that time Mr. Blakeney reckoned that their work would be accomplished, and that they would have accumulated gold to the value, roughly, of some L55,000. Over their camp fire, the evening before, they had been discussing these matters. Should they camp for a month longer, and trust to their good fortune bringing them yet further store of wealth? Although they had ransacked the more open deposits of the valley pretty thoroughly, they might look, with renewed exertion, to win probably another L20,000. And if they cared to spend more time, and embark in yet bigger operations, they might, by turning the course of the river, uncover still greater wealth. Such a task, however, even if they had the strength and the numbers to accomplish it, meant severe digging of many weeks' duration. Moreover, the rains were at hand, and in another month, probably, the pleasant stream, which now rippled so placidly through the kloof, would be a raging torrent, with which, until some months had elapsed, it would be impossible to deal.

"Well, uncle," said Guy, "for my part I shall have had enough of digging and gold-finding, after this next week's work. We have, as you say, already won, or in sight, some L55,000, which will be more than enough for the whole lot of us. If we want more we can come again some day, or perhaps get a concession from the Portuguese Government, peg out claims, and form a company."

"But," interrupted Mr. Blakeney, "I'm by no means certain that this kloof is in Portuguese territory at all. So far as I can discover, after much examination and cross-questioning of Poeskop, the Portuguese have never visited this piece of country at all, much less exercised any rights over it. I am inclined to think our gold valley lies in a kind of no-man's-land, and is not even owned or claimed by any sort of native chief. Sooner or later it may fall to the lot of England, which I heartily hope it may do.