Front matter (continued 5)

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 £3, 15s. per ounce, would figure out therefore at a total of £367. 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 £17 for wastage, Mr. Blakeney estimated their value at not less than £350.

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 £3, 15s. per ounce, then, "Poeskop's Pride" was worth £442 at the least. Adding this sum to the £350, the value of the smaller nuggets, a total of £792 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 £55,000. 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 £20,000. 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 £55,000, 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.

"There is one matter you've touched upon, Guy," continued his uncle, "which I think we ought to discuss here and now. Whose do you make out this gold to be that we have been digging out for these weeks past?"

"Why, the firm's," said Guy, with a laugh; "the long firm--you, Tom, and myself."

"No, that will hardly do, I think," answered Mr. Blakeney. "To you, most certainly, belongs the lion's share. If your father had lived he would have come here and made his fortune; and it is only right that you, to whom your father willed, as it were, this wonderful valley, should succeed him."

"My dear Uncle Charles," interrupted Guy eagerly, "please don't talk like that. What should I have done without you? You have fitted out the expedition, planned the whole thing, brought me here, shown me how to find the stuff--done everything, in fact. I know my father said something in his last letter about our going halves, but that is manifestly unfair to you, who have had the whole weight of this discovery on your shoulders. If you like to let me stand in to the extent of, say, one-third of the plunder, I shall be more than well content. Even a quarter, or less, would satisfy me well."

"My dear Guy," answered his uncle, "you are talking rank nonsense, and I can't listen to you. What I propose is this. You shall take two-thirds of the value of the gold, if and when we manage to get to Cape Town, or some other market. And, mind you, we haven't by any means marketed our stuff yet. Of the remaining one-third, I think Tom, for all his trouble, ought to have a share, say a quarter--or say £5,000--with which he can make a real good start in farming some day, and build himself a house. I think such a settlement ought to content us all."

"No, no, no, uncle!" broke in Guy. "I will never agree to any such absurd division. You have done everything for me, and practically carried me here and found the gold for me. Where on earth should I have been without you?"

After a good deal more discussion, Guy remained quite unconvinced by the quiet but weighty arguments of his uncle. Finally it was agreed between them that the arrangement ought to be as Guy's father had proposed, and that the gold should be divided equally between them. Then came the remuneration of the men. Poeskop, questioned as to what he would like to have as his reward for showing the way to the kloof, replied that he did not know--he would leave it to his masters. Perhaps enough money to buy a horse, a new rifle, and ten head of cattle would be about the mark. This, of course, his masters put aside as inadequate. Although the gold was of little use to him--in all these years he had never attempted to win or dispose of it--it was but fair that he should be well paid for his secret. He had expressed a wish to return to Bechuanaland with his new baases. It was arranged that the sum of £1,000 should be put at his disposal, so soon as the gold was realized. With this he could buy some land, stock it, and have enough over to purchase a wagon. As for the rest of the men, Mr. Blakeney and the boys agreed that a hundred pounds apiece, in addition to the wages paid to them during the expedition, would be handsome remuneration for their services.

For the next few days, then, the four diggers, having descended once more into the kloof, were working away industriously, picking, and digging, and washing. They had skimmed most of the cream from the rich treasure of the valley, and the gold they now won had to be sought deeper and required much more labour. Still it was there, and their operations unearthed some wonderfully rich nuggets, weighing pounds instead of ounces. They felt, one and all, absolutely at peace in their pursuit. They had defeated their enemies, slain and wounded some, and driven off the remainder, and were now free from the long anxiety which had pursued them during their journey from the coast. The shadowers had vanished, and now not a cloud appeared in the sky of their prosperity. So thought all of them; all, that is, except Poeskop, whose mind oftentimes ran on recent events. Somehow the Bushman had always regretted that he had not traced Karl Engelbrecht farther afield in his flight. He knew Karl well--too well; he knew his savage and vengeful nature; and he could somehow never quite venture to assure himself that the man and his evil plottings were for ever done with. This feeling grew upon him, and on the fifth evening of their sojourn in the kloof it had overmastered him to such an extent that he begged his young baas and Mr. Blakeney to let him climb the ladder and spend a day in scouting about the surrounding country.

"Why," said Guy, with a smile, as they sat at supper that evening, "what can you possibly want to go spying again for? Our troubles from that quarter are all at an end. Engelbrecht and his friends had such a dose of it that they will never want to tackle us again. You're getting fanciful, Poeskop!"

"Ja, Baas Guy," returned the Bushman, with a grin; "I am fanciful. I always have been since I lived naked in the veldt and dug for roots. And my fancy now is that I should like to climb the ladder to-night, and go beyond the camp and have a look round. I feel restless, shut up here, and I want a change."

"But you can't climb to-night, Poeskop?" argued Mr. Blakeney. "I don't want to stop your going. I daresay it will do you good to have a day off and prowl around. But you had better wait till morning."

"Nie, baas," persisted the little man, "I think I will go to-night. There will be a young moon coming up directly, and I see well enough. I could climb that ladder, mind you, baas, if the night were as dark as pitch."

So Poeskop had his way, and presently, taking his carbine on his back, went silently to the ladder, and climbed away into the dim heights above them, with steps so secret and so stealthy that the watchers below heard and saw absolutely nothing. The Bushman disappeared into the night, vanishing up the cliff face very much as a bat vanishes into the dark spaces in which it loves to make its flight.

And, in very sooth, Poeskop had reason for uneasiness. Karl Engelbrecht was not yet done with his revenge. After retiring beaten from the attack on the English camp, he had trekked out of the mountains, and outspanned with the remnant of his Boer allies some ten miles away. There, after mutual recriminations, the two parties split up, and the filibusters who had joined forces with him, disgusted with their losses and their ill-success, moved away for the coast. Engelbrecht himself, as had been observed by Poeskop, had trekked northward into unknown veldt. But the Boer, although he had betaken himself beyond the ken of the gold-seekers, had by no means abated one jot or tittle of the fierce anger and hatred that had for so long possessed him. In a few days he had recovered from the flesh wound sustained in the attack on the English camp. During these days of enforced quiet his mind, still consumed by an overpowering passion for revenge, turned over incessantly murderous plans against the men who had so lately defeated him. If, by some means, he could gain the gold valley and lie in ambush, he might surely, he thought to himself, with the aid of his henchman Quasip, a notably good shot, dispose of two of the most hated of his rivals without much difficulty. Poeskop and the man Blakeney should fall to their first two barrels, and they could surely manage the two lads thereafter. There were risks, it was true--risks which, in his calmer moments, he would have weighed in the balance many times before accepting; but in his present frame of mind the man saw red and nothing else. Revenge called him loudly back to the Gold Kloof; and go he must. Somehow or other he would find means of compassing the destruction of his foes.

Taking with him his Hottentot Quasip, and accompanied by a native after-rider mounted on a spare horse, Karl Engelbrecht then rode back for the mountains surrounding the Gold Kloof. He had with him a fortnight's supply of biltong and other necessaries, but he reckoned upon accomplishing his designs within a week. They approached the mountains by a narrow ravine some miles to the right of the main valley by which the gold-finders had found their way into the hills. By this means Engelbrecht hoped to escape any scouting observations made by the English party. From this ravine the after-rider, Klaas, was sent back with the three horses to Engelbrecht's outspan, two days distant, with minute instructions to return to the same place seven days thence.

Then, climbing the mountain, the Boer and his Hottentot set out to find the way to the Gold Kloof. It was a long and a difficult task, but, thanks to their instinct of locality, they made their way over the hills, and, passing under the vultures' peak, found themselves next day overlooking the Gold Kloof on the opposite side to that on which the rope-ladder hung. Several times during this day they reconnoitred most carefully for the gold-searchers, whom they could see at work far beneath them. They passed on to the head of the kloof, and marked very carefully the cliffs and edges of the ravine whence issued the stream that ran down the gold valley.

"Now," said Engelbrecht to his companion, after regarding the place from every point of view for a long hour, "supposing we get down into the kloof by the rope-ladder yonder, and supposing we settle these precious folk below, what are we to do if their servants in the camp above cut or pull up the ladder?"

"Ek wit nie, baas [I don't know, master]," replied the Hottentot. "We should be in a nasty place."

"Well, I'll tell you," answered the Boer. "We could build our way out of the kloof by light ladders. There are two difficult places down this krantz which we couldn't scale. The rest is climbable. If we are put to it, we will build ladders, set them against these places, and get out. It is to be done. The axes we have with us I brought for some such job. I can make a ladder as well as any man in Benguela or Mossamedes, and if we are shut up in the kloof yonder we'll just set to work and build ourselves out of it. Two ladders, one of forty feet at the base, another of thirty feet half-way up, will, I reckon, pass us over those dangerous places; the rest is climbable."

That afternoon the two men, making a wide circuit, got round the head of the ravine, and approached the Englishmen's camp in the rear. The camp, as we have seen, had at its back a shoulder of the mountain. Engelbrecht, in the evening, before sunset, reconnoitred this shoulder, and discovered that with care the descent could be made. There were many bushes, by the aid of which the steep declivity could be accomplished. The English party, as a matter of fact, had somewhat neglected this approach. They knew only of one avenue to their camp, that by which they themselves had made their way thither, and by which also their enemies had attacked them. And now all danger of any fresh assault seemed far remote.

That night Engelbrecht and his Hottentot slept among some bush on the mountain side, within three hundred yards of the English camp. They had well calculated the movements of the gold-seekers and their native servants guarding the camp, and had determined to hazard the descent by the rope-ladder at about two hours after sunrise next morning. By that time, they reckoned, the party down the kloof would have quitted their resting-place and gone off for the head of the valley, where their operations now lay. Three of the servants in the camp would probably be away--so Quasip, from his previous spying operations, reckoned it out--with the oxen and horses, grazing far down the hill. Jan Kokerboom would most likely be alone at the wagon. If they could avoid his scrutiny, as they hoped to be able to do, they could descend the ladder and conceal themselves without difficulty in the kloof below. In the afternoon, as the diggers returned to their sleeping-place, they could be easily ambuscaded. Some dangers there might be--dangers which had been pointed out to his master by Quasip; but in the mind of the Boer, thirsting as he was for revenge at any price, these were as naught compared with the chances of success. At dawn the pair of ruffians descended very softly from their place of concealment, and letting themselves down the steep declivity with the greatest care and caution, by means of bushes and stunted olive-wood trees, which lent them invaluable aid, safely accomplished their purpose. Now, seeking the centre of a clump of high bush close to the cliff edge, they lay within a hundred and fifty yards of the ladder, and about two hundred yards from the camp, from which they were still completely screened. Two hours went by. Surely by this time the coast must be nearly clear, and their attempt might be made? With extreme caution Engelbrecht raised himself from his hiding-place, and, peering through the bushes, looked down into the kloof. Far away, up near the head of the valley, he could discern two or three men, their figures dwarfed by the distance, at work. That was right enough. Now for the attempt on the ladder.

With beating hearts the two men crawled quietly from the bush in which they were ensconced, and crept, well under the lee of more bush, towards the ladder. Up to half an hour ago they had heard voices about the camp and the lowing of cattle. The voices had ceased, and the cattle had evidently been driven down hill to pasture; all was now quiet. If any one remained in camp it would be Jan Kokerboom, and presumably he would be asleep. Very slowly, very cautiously, the two men crawled on hands and knees towards the ladder. The journey was safely accomplished. They lay now by the ladder of rope and hide, seventy yards only from the camp, but concealed from it by some high bush and a little group of wild olive trees. Karl Engelbrecht now nodded to his henchman to begin the descent. Quasip little liked the job; but he was the servant of an iron-willed and ruthless master, and he knew he had to go through with it. Rising very cautiously, he gripped the upper part of the ladder and went over the side.

It was a breathless moment for both. The Hottentot, his face deeply puckered with anxiety, began the downward climb. Engelbrecht shuffled his huge form to the edge of the cliff and saw his man's descent. He watched him till the lower angle of the cliff concealed him from view. The movement of the ladder presently ceased. Quasip had reached the bottom. His own turn had now come. Mingled with some natural feeling of suspense was also a sense of elation. His man was down the cliff; half their difficulties were over. In ten minutes he himself would be safely at the foot, near to that great pile of gold--and then revenge and plunder. The blood of his hated enemies and a vast treasure would be his.

But Karl Engelbrecht, cleverly as he and his Hottentot had laid their plans, and made their approach to the ladder, had overlooked or never suspected one elemental fact in the situation. They were in complete ignorance that on the previous night Poeskop, their arch-enemy Poeskop, whom they now supposed to be far away up the kloof, digging for gold with his masters, had ascended the ladder. And Poeskop for the last five minutes had been attentively regarding Karl Engelbrecht. Something--he never afterwards could explain satisfactorily why or how it was--but something that morning had impelled him to remain in camp, mending his old, ragged pair of trousers, and to send Jan Kokerboom, who loved stalking and was not difficult to persuade, to shoot a head of game down the hill. While Poeskop sat silent and reflective, under the shade of the wagon, patching his old breeches, some faint sound, or vibration rather, from the direction of the edge of the cliff, caught his preternaturally sharp ears. He listened. Yes, he was certain now: there was a sound from the direction of the ladder. He knew that sound, but it puzzled him why he should hear it just then. None of his masters could be climbing upward!

Poeskop was instantly on the alert. Creeping, with the silence and adroitness of a serpent, in the direction of the cliff edge, he presently peeped through the bushes, and beheld his arch-enemy Karl Engelbrecht, lying prone on the lip of the precipice, evidently watching very intently some one on the ladder. For a moment the Bushman was uncertain what to do. Then it dawned upon him, from the movements of Engelbrecht, that the person beneath was descending and not climbing the ladder. He decided to wait for the Boer's next move, which, indeed, was not long in coming.

Engelbrecht softly rose, gripped the ladder fairly, and began to descend. His great frame disappeared over the cliff edge. Then a wonderful smile, a smile of triumphant hatred, swept over Poeskop's face. He knew now that at last his hated enemy was delivered into his hands. He waited till the big Boer was a third of the way down the precipice, and then, swiftly creeping to the edge, looked over. Karl Engelbrecht was going steadily down, hand under hand. He was not accustomed to a task like this; but he had nerves of steel and a good head, and he was getting used to the dizzy height and the sway of the ladder. Suddenly an exclamation from the cliff above him made him look up. What he saw struck, for the first time in his life, a freezing terror at his heart. He saw above him, leering at him with fiendish glee and malevolence, the face of Poeskop, the Bushman.

"So," cried Poeskop in Dutch, "I have you at last! At last, Karl Engelbrecht! I have waited a long time, but now I am even with you, edele heer [noble sir]," he added, with jeering sarcasm. "You won't like the fall, but you've got to face it, and you'll strike plaguy hard at the bottom. At last, Karl, the devil has thee! The devil has thee!"

Death, indeed, stared the Boer in the face. He knew he was doomed; he knew that nothing in this world would turn the fell purpose of the man above him. But, brute as he was, Engelbrecht was no coward, and, setting his teeth, he made one despairing attempt to snatch salvation. His rifle hung at his back. Clinging to the rope-ladder with one hand, he disengaged the weapon with marvellous dexterity, swinging as he was over that frightful abyss, and, pointing it upward, tried to align it on the Bushman. Next instant he pulled trigger, the bullet whizzed far upward into space, and the report of the rifle rattled with deafening reverberation around the cliffs.

Poeskop delayed no longer. The madness of revenge ran seething through his veins. Whipping out his long hunting knife from its sheath, he hacked with desperate energy at the tough hide of the ladder. One side went, the ladder drooped and collapsed, and the Boer hung helpless and awry by the frail support of the other side only.

"Die! die! die! you schelm!" gasped Poeskop, his voice shrill with passion, as he shore and hacked for the last three times at the raw hide. With the final frantic stroke the remaining strand went, and with it the whole ladder and its burden. From a height of three hundred feet Karl Engelbrecht fell to the bottom of the cliff. Thrice he turned over in mid-air; then, with a sickening thud, his huge frame struck the hard earth, within a few feet of his startled Hottentot. That terrific fall reduced the giant upon the instant to little more than a hideous pulp of broken bones, blood, and pounded flesh; and from the moment of the impact, the Boer neither breathed nor stirred again.

Chapter XIX.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

The report of Engelbrecht's rifle shot had at once roused the attention of the gold-diggers at the head of the kloof; and although the final catastrophe had overtaken the Boer before they had extricated themselves from some bush behind which they were working, they were all three instantly aware that something was happening in the neighbourhood of the upper camp.

"Come, lads," said Mr. Blakeney, "we must be off. I don't know what's up, but there's some mischief brewing, I'm certain."

At once they set off at a steady trot towards the rope-ladder. They had traversed some six hundred yards, and emerged from a small grove of thorn trees about three hundred yards from the ladder foot, when an exclamation from Guy suddenly brought them to a halt.

"Look!" he cried. "There's some one--Poeskop, I believe--at the top of the cliff; and, by Jove, the ladder's gone!"

Mr. Blakeney and Tom stared hard at the cliff top, and saw at once that Guy's assertion was right. Poeskop it was, gesticulating at the summit of the precipice, and the ladder had vanished.

"There's something very wrong here," exclaimed Mr. Blakeney. "Come on!"

They were not long in covering the last three hundred yards that separated them from the foot of the cliff, and there a strange and tragic scene awaited them.

Standing alone, by the confused heap of the fallen ladder, which itself partly covered the dead body of Karl Engelbrecht, was the Hottentot Quasip, who was evidently much too terrified by the appalling tragedy that had taken place to attempt any hostilities. The man was trembling with terror, and, as Mr. Blakeney approached him, threw down his rifle and awaited the Englishman's speech.

"What does all this mean?" asked Mr. Blakeney sternly, holding his rifle in readiness.

It was some moments before the Hottentot could pull himself sufficiently together to reply coherently. Then he spoke.

"My baas there," he said, pointing to the dead Boer, "was coming to attack you. He made me climb down first, and then started himself. Some one from your camp above must have seen him. The baas fired a shot as he hung on the ladder, and then the ladder was cut, and he fell to the bottom and was killed."

"A pretty story, indeed," was Mr. Blakeney's comment, as he moved a pace or two forward and picked up the man's rifle. "So you two meant, I suppose, to stalk and murder us while we were at our work.--And but for Poeskop's fancy to climb out last night," he added, turning aside to Guy and Tom, "they might very well have accomplished their purpose. Poeskop's restlessness was providential indeed. The little man's instincts are wonderful."

"Yes," said Guy, "he seems almost to smell danger when it's about."

"Well," went on Mr. Blakeney, gazing at the awful remains of the dead Boer, lying a mere huddle of broken humanity beneath the tangle of the ladder, "we shall have no more trouble from that quarter, which is a blessing. But we're in a very pretty mess. I suppose Poeskop had no alternative in cutting the ladder and hurling Engelbrecht to the bottom, but he has left us in a very awkward predicament. What's to be done, I wonder?"

"Hadn't we better secure this miserable Hottentot?" said Tom, glancing at Quasip.

"Yes, you're right, Tom," replied his father. "I don't suppose he'll attempt anything again, now his precious baas is done for; and he looks as if all the stuffing were knocked out of him. But we may as well make sure."

Tom went to their camping ground hard by, and brought back a couple of raw-hide riems. With these they fastened the wrists and ankles of the Hottentot, and placed him under the shade of an olive tree. The man submitted quietly enough. As they had surmised, all the fight had been frightened out of him.

"Now," said Mr. Blakeney, "we must see what we can do with Poeskop."

Coming out from under the cliff, they looked up and saw Poeskop's yellow face far above them, peering anxiously over the precipice. The Bushman put his hands to his mouth and shouted shrilly. It was some minutes before they could make out his words, so great a distance was between them. Then Tom suddenly said,--

"I have it. He asks: 'Is Engelbrecht dead?'"

Making a speaking trumpet of his hands, Mr. Blakeney roared out very slowly, in deep, stentorian tones, "Ja, Engelbrecht is dood!"

There was a fine echo up the cliff. It was quite clear that Poeskop comprehended the message. He rose to his feet, and clapped his hands with joy. Then, throwing himself down once more, he asked again in Dutch,--

"What shall I do, baas?"

They understood him, after several repetitions, and Mr. Blakeney again shouted up the cliff,--

"Get riems. Make a rope, and let down."

For some minutes it seemed that the Bushman could not comprehend this message. Then, after more repetitions, delivered very slowly, it dawned upon him, and he shouted down,--

"Yes! In three days."

After this message he sprang to his feet and disappeared.

"Well," said Mr. Blakeney, "we're in a curious position, and must look upon ourselves as prisoners for the present. With ordinary luck I think Poeskop and the other men will be able to relieve us. What Poeskop has bolted away for is quite clear. He knows he has somehow got to find three hundred and twenty feet of hide rope. Altogether I think they may have up there--the remnants of what we did not use for the ladder--eighty or a hundred feet. He and the other three men have got to find the rest. They'll, of course, go out, leaving one man in charge of the oxen and horses, and shoot game till they get enough raw hide for the purpose. Poeskop says three days; I believe it will be nearer a week before they can do the business. I don't think there will be any interruptions, but I'll ask the Hottentot what became of the other party of Boers."

Five minutes' cross-questioning of Quasip elicited the fact that Engelbrecht and his allies had quarrelled, after the repulse of their attack on the camp, and that the Boers had trekked for Benguela.

"That's all right," said Mr. Blakeney to the two lads. "Barring accidents, our men will perform their task, and put together a rope strong enough to haul up the ladder here. Now we'll have some food, and then settle to work again. We've got three or four days before us, and we may as well make the best of them, and add to our stock of gold. Luckily we've got a week's supply of flour, coffee, and other necessaries. We have plenty of meat, and can shoot more when we need it. We shall be all right, and must just go about our work quietly till the rope comes."

They turned away from the dread spectacle of the dead Boer, and rekindled their fire. A kettle being boiled, they made some coffee. Mr. Blakeney ate some lunch, but the two lads, beyond drinking some coffee and eating a morsel of bread apiece, had little stomach for the meal. The horror of the tragedy of Karl Engelbrecht had upset them.

"Pater," said Tom, "I can eat no lunch, and I don't think Guy has much appetite either. That sight over yonder has fairly sickened me."

"Well," said his father, "it is rather horrible, I grant. I became hardened to horrors of this kind in the Basuto War of 1879. At the storming of Morosi's Mountain in that year we witnessed many unpleasant incidents, which hardened one's stomach to scenes of this kind. This fall of Engelbrecht is, I admit, far worse than the state of affairs the morning after our fight the other day, when we had to look after the enemy's dead and wounded."

"Yes, uncle, far worse," added Guy. "I, for one, shall never forget the ending of Karl Engelbrecht. It's horrible!"

After lunch they went back to the scene of the tragedy. The Hottentot Quasip, on being questioned, volunteered to help them.

"Baas," he said, addressing Mr. Blakeney, "you think badly of me, and I daresay you have good cause. But I am not so bad as you think me. I was Engelbrecht's servant, and had to do his bidding. If I dared to disobey him I should have been flogged, and perhaps shot. Like your own man, Poeskop, I was afraid of him, and only wanted to get out of his service."

"Well, that may or may not be," said Mr. Blakeney coolly. "Anyhow, I'll give you a chance. I'll untie you, and if you work for us quietly and well during the daytime you shall have your liberty. At night you'll have to be tied up, until we feel we can trust you."

"Very well, baas," said the man. "That is good enough for me. I'll prove to you that I am willing to work for my skorf, and that I am not so bad as you may think me."

Untying the Hottentot, therefore, they set him to work with pick and spade to dig a grave for his dead master. They themselves, meanwhile, proceeded to disentangle the ladder from the confusion in which it had fallen. This was a work of some little time. Then they removed the battered corpse of Karl Engelbrecht--a terrible spectacle--and laid it in the grave dug by Quasip. This done, they proceeded up the valley, and spent the remainder of the day in their gold-mining operations. They took the Hottentot with them; it was evident that he was sincere in his attempt to please them. He plied pick and shovel, and worked away steadily till dusk, when they relinquished their labours and returned to their camping ground.

For the next three days they steadily pushed on with their mining work. On the whole they did much better than they had anticipated, coming upon a fresh and very rich find of gold, which lay a few feet below the surface in some alluvial ground at the head of the stream. Each night they added considerably to the big pile of treasure already accumulated near the ladder foot. That morning Poeskop had appeared at daybreak at the top of the cliff, and shouted down to them. It was difficult to gather clearly what he said, but they understood him to mean that in two more days he would be ready for them.

"That means five days' waiting instead of three," said Tom, as they returned to breakfast.

"Yes, it's a long wait," replied his father. "But I expect they may have had some trouble in shooting game and getting hide for the rope. However, a day or so extra down here won't hurt us."

"Not a bit," said Guy, who took the whole matter very good humouredly. "We shall be all the richer."

"Oh, that's all very well," retorted Tom, "but I want to get out of this place. I shan't feel happy till I'm on the top of the cliff yonder, and we've inspanned the oxen and are trekking for home. By the way, pater," he went on, "which route are we going home? By Mossamedes or Benguela?"

"Well, Tom," returned his father, "that's what I've been puzzling my head over for a long time past. If we go out by a Portuguese port we shall have to show our gold; there will be all sorts of inquiries; and very possibly the authorities may try and lay claim to the whole of our findings. Not only do I think this possible, but much more than probable. That would be a pretty ending to all our adventures, dangers, and hard work."

"Uncle," exclaimed Guy, "we'll never yield a red cent of this gold to any Portuguese in the world! These filibusters of Boers have had a shot for us and our treasure. It isn't likely that we shall cart our nuggets to Mossamedes, and calmly allow these Portuguese, who, as you have shown us, have misgoverned their country so shamefully for three or four hundred years, to rob us in that way. Besides, it's much more than doubtful whether we are in Portuguese territory here at all."

"Quite so, Guy," replied Mr. Blakeney. "I'm entirely with you. For several days past I have been turning the whole thing over in my mind. I am honestly certain, from Poeskop's information, that we have discovered and won this gold in neutral ground--in land belonging to no man. That being so, we're not going to allow the Portuguese authorities even a royalty on our find. To avoid any disturbance with them we shall have to make a long and troublesome trek right across country to Bechuanaland. This will take us several months. It's a nasty business. We shall have to go through feverish veldt, and the rains will be upon us. Still, it's the only thing to be done, and we shall have to do it. What do you lads say? Are you prepared for further difficulties?"

"Of course we are, pater," broke in Tom. "Anything is better than meekly handing over our hard-won gold to the Portuguese Government. Guy, what do you say?" he added, turning to his cousin.

"Why, I'm entirely with you, Tom," returned Guy. "I say trek south and east, by all means, for Bechuanaland."

"Carried nem. con.," said Tom cheerfully. "Pater, we'll travel by the overland route. What do you make out our course to be? I confess I'm rather vague. I suppose we'll have to pass Lake Ngami, cross the Kalahari thirst-land, and go down through Khama's Country and the Protectorate."

"That's just what we shall have to do, lads," said Mr. Blakeney. "Once at Lake Ngami, we shall manage very well, although the 'thirst' is a bad one after you leave the Lake River, before reaching Khama's chief town, Palachwe. But the main difficulties lie between here and Lake Ngami. We shall have to find our way down to the Okavango, cross that river somewhere--by no means a simple operation with a heavily-loaded wagon--and trek for the lake. I confess I don't like the look of the first part of the journey. It's almost unknown country, and bound to give us a lot of trouble."

On the fourth morning of their enforced confinement in the kloof, Jan Kokerboom appeared at the top of the cliff, showed the end of a raw-hide rope, which he dangled over the precipice, and made them understand that all would be ready next day. On the fifth day, therefore, the three adventurers awoke betimes with cheerful anticipations. They had finished their gold-digging; their heap of treasure was completed; and they now only looked forward to a speedy escape from the valley in which they had delved so long and so successfully. Quasip was, as usual, unbound, and allowed to wait on them at breakfast. Poeskop's face had not yet appeared over the top of the precipice, but they confidently looked forward to setting eyes on his yellow visage very shortly. They made an excellent meal of stewed guinea-fowl, which Guy had shot the evening before; and a whole tin of marmalade--a piece of reckless extravagance, Mr. Blakeney called it--was, in celebration of their last meal in the Gold Kloof, sacrificed for the occasion.

Half an hour after breakfast, cheers of applause greeted the appearance of Poeskop at the head of the cliff. It was quite clear he was in as high spirits as his masters beneath him. He waved his hand to them and shouted. The Bushman was joined by Jan Kokerboom, and then Mangwalaan and September peered over with grinning faces. Then all withdrew from the edge, and the tail end of the rope began to creep down the face of the precipice.

To the watchers below it seemed an unconscionable time before it reached the bottom; but at last it was within reach of their fingers. Then a hearty cheer from the lads informed Poeskop at the top that all was well. Next, the end of the rope was made fast to the ladder, and the business of hoisting up the ladder itself began. It was a long, and by no means an easy, operation. There were several sticks and stoppages, requiring care and manipulation on the part of the hoisters; but at length, at the end of a couple of hours, the task was completed, the ladder hoisted, and the upper end securely fastened. Then, with all the nimbleness of an ape, down came Poeskop. His story was a simple one. They had shot game in order to obtain hide and make the fresh rope, and the beasts of chase had not been so plentiful, or so easy to come by, as on the former occasion. Moreover, the absence of the three best shots in the party, Mr. Blakeney, Tom, and Guy, had made a good deal of difference. However, the task was accomplished, and communication once more restored.

That very afternoon began the work of carrying up the gold. This was a long and most tedious process. It was impossible, owing to the severity, and it may be added the risk, of the climb, to carry up more than a small load at a time. But all hands save one set willingly to work, and by degrees the business was done. Seleti, the humorist and butt of the camp, still raftered from his wound, and was not equal to the descent of the rope-ladder. He had never, in fact, attempted it; and the very real terror and distress which he once exhibited at the prospect of the downward climb, or indeed at any near approach to the edge of the cliff, had disarmed his master's anger, although it was not sufficient to deter the chaff and laughter of his fellow-servants.

However, Seleti was kept well occupied in cooking for the party, doing odd jobs, and looking after the oxen and horses. In two days the long and severe labour of bringing up the gold was over. They had worked from earliest dawn till the fading of the last gleam of daylight, and all were tired out by their exertions. None of them, they declared, ever wanted to see the bottom of the kloof again, or to climb that awful ladder. They had brought up the last of the stores and implements, and all were stiff and sore from their great strain. Most of them had raw and blistered hands from much handling of the ropes. Quasip, although viewed at first with much disfavour by the rest of the natives, proved himself so cheerful and so willing that gradually he wore down the enmity of all his captors, and was taken into some degree of favour.

Having transferred the heap of gold from the bottom to the top of the cliff, it was now put into strong new sacks, tied up, and sealed. The sacks and the rough sealing wax were the products of Tom's fertile imagination. He had insisted on their being bought at Cape Town. If, he urged, they were going to find gold, why not take appliances for securing the safety of the treasure? Many times during the expedition had Tom been chaffed for his pains; but the laugh was now on his side, and he did not forget to remind Guy and Mr. Blakeney of the fact. The wagon was carefully reloaded, the gold being placed at the bottom, with the remaining stores, which had now very considerably diminished, at the top. There was just room for Mr. Blakeney's kartel and no more, and the after-part of the interior of the wagon carried as much as it could hold. All things now being in order, the oxen were inspanned, and the long trek for home began.

They quitted the kloof and its neighbouring mountains with strangely mingled feelings. Joy and satisfaction were theirs, in that they had conquered all their obstacles, achieved their purpose, and gained a considerable fortune. The whole expedition had been full of romantic incident. They had passed through many adventures, and had escaped many perils. Upon the whole, fair as was the Gold Kloof and its vicinity, they were not sorry to set eyes upon it for the last time. Death and tragedy had had their part there; and somehow, as Guy said, and they all agreed, the kloof would, in the recollection of each one of them, always be associated with that last terrible episode in their Odyssey--the death of Karl Engelbrecht.

Once more, then, as the wagon rolled away down the mountain, the three white men and Poeskop crept to the edge of the precipice, and looked for the last time on the fair and lovely valley, which for them had proved indeed an El Dorado. Then, mounting their horses, they slowly followed the wagon.

It was a long trek before the wayfarers reached British Bechuanaland. Travelling south, and crossing various streams, they presently struck the Kuito River, and followed it down to its junction with the Okavango. Somewhat lower down they crossed the Okavango, after much difficulty, and travelled south-east until they reached Lake Ngami. During this part of their journey they underwent many adventures, and suffered at times much from fever. The rains fell, and they were delayed for weeks by the impassable state of the country. Crossing the Kalahari to Khama's Country, they recovered much of their health and spirits in the pure and dry air of this desert region. At Palachwe, where they arrived in rags, and with scarcely any remnant of their stores left to them, they were enabled to refit, and to procure all necessary provisions for their trek south through the Protectorate. Finally, five months after quitting the Gold Kloof, they reached Johannesburg, whither they had travelled direct, for the purpose of realizing their treasure. During all this long wandering, the Hottentot Quasip, who had begged to be allowed to travel with them, had served them well and faithfully, and proved himself a reliable man all round. Thenceforth, having purged himself of his unfortunate connection with the ruffian Engelbrecht, which he always declared had been his misfortune and not his fault, Mr. Blakeney took him into regular employment.

At Johannesburg the gold was safely and quietly disposed of. Mr. Blakeney had roughly estimated the value of the treasure, after making due deductions, at about £58,000. The gold turned out to be singularly free from impurities, and the price realized for it amounted to £62,000. After setting apart, therefore, Poeskop's £1,000, paying each of their men their wages and the sum of £100 by way of bonus, and a further bonus of £50 to Quasip, there remained for division between Guy Hardcastle and Mr. Blakeney the sum of rather more than £60,000, which, as all parties agreed, furnished a sufficiently handsome return for the risks, labours, and hardships of less than a year's adventure. From Mr. Blakeney's share had to be deducted, according to agreement, Tom's portion of £5,000.

At Bamborough Farm, whither they returned at once after disposing of their gold at Johannesburg, their reception was a memorable one. It was a joyful meeting, indeed, after their long absence--an absence accentuated by the fact that, during many months, Mrs. Blakeney and her children had had no communication of any kind from the trekkers. For this she had been to some extent prepared; yet, none the less, those long months of silence and of doubt had been very trying to her and her girls. Some happy weeks of reunion had passed before the wanderers had told the tale of their adventures in full, and completely satisfied the natural curiosity of their hearers.

Guy Hardcastle and Tom Blakeney took part in the Boer War, fighting in the same colonial contingent, and each retiring at the close of the great struggle with the rank of captain. Their adventures in that stirring campaign cannot, for lack of space, be related here.

Guy is now settled on a fine farm in British Bechuanaland, adjoining his uncle's ranch. Here he has built himself a roomy and most comfortable homestead, and, having induced his fair cousin, Ella Blakeney, to become his partner and his helpmate for life, has settled down to an existence for which he is admirably fitted. He and his wife mean, however, by no means to grow rusty in their Bechuanaland home. They pay an occasional visit to Cape Town or its marine suburbs, and during their honeymoon made a trip of some duration to the Old Country; this trip they intend to repeat at intervals.

Tom, who looked after their place for them during their absence, is a near neighbour of theirs, living, thus far, as a bachelor on a farm of his own within a few miles of their own homestead and of Bamborough. For the present he vows that his adventures are by no means ended, and that he has no intention of settling down to married life. Of these declarations, however, his sisters, who know Tom and his idiosyncrasies fairly well, are profoundly sceptical.

THE END.