ERIC DACRES:

Kaipara and Waitemata Echo, 7 August 1914, Page 7

ERIC DACRES:

A Romantic Story of Adventure during the Wlatabele War.

By William Murray Graydon, Author of 'Under the White Terror/ *Iv the Name of the Czar/

Etc.. Etc.

PART 5

It lay In a clearing surrounded by straggling bush and granite kop- , jes—a cluster of huts with a more pretentious little cabin in the foreground. This belonged to Sub-in- j spector Jenkin himself, and now it j was evidently the scene of riotous ; merriment. Light streamed through '■ .the: chinks of the timbers, and a! battling of glass and tinware mm- , gled with the uproar of shrill j voices. The huts themselves were dark, and not a person was in sight. The scout and his companions rode nearer, walking their steeds over the spongy and grassy'road. The hoofs made scarcely a sound. "Things look to be all right," said Eric. "I'm not so sure of that," Shurlock replied. "I'm glad we've not been heard yet. I can't make out what the tacket means. It sounds i as if the police were all drunk, and if that's the case Jenkin can't be with them." As he spoke the mule shied in sudden fright, and Eric and Phil, who were direGtdy behind, saw a dark object lying by the side of the path. It was a dead man. His face, dabbled with blood, was jpturned to the glow of the moon. "Good heavens !" exclaimed Shur:.ock, in a whisper, bending from his seat towards the body, "it's poor Jenkin ! He has been foully murdered ! Partners, there's somethingwrong here. Can it be possible that his own men" At that moment Eric's horse gave a loud whinny, and like a flash the situation was changed. There was a loud clamour, the door of the inspector's cabin flew open, and with fierce cries out swarmed a dozen black-faced fellows. Some of them were native police, wearing the regulation coats and hats, and the others were half-naked Matabeles in full war garb.

The frightful meaning of this strange thing was quickly tinderstood by Eric and Fhil, but the experienced scout was ovew more rapid to divine the truth. "By Heaven, here is treachery !" he shouted. "The police have joined the Kaffirs ! Back, partners— back for your lives !" It was more easily said than done. The horses and mute, terrified by the uproar, began to pranco and rear. The police and Matabeles were armed with rifles, assegais, and knob-berries. Seeing that they had only three foes to, contend with, they made a daring rush forward. "Ichaia amakiwa !" (Kill the white men) they yelled in chorus. Spears and knob-berries came whizzing, and a couple of bullets i sang by the ears of the imperilled j men. Eric had both hands full to manage his horse, but Phil and ; Shurlock opened an immediate fire to check the enemy. With .shrieks ! of pain two of the wretches went down. "Come on ; we'll be overpowered if we stay here," the scout cried, j Phil's voice rang out loudly and appealingly ; his horse, hit in the neck by a bullet, had just fallen and flung its rider to the ground. "Mount behind me—quick I" Shurlock yelled, as he emptied his revolver at the foe. Phil rose unsteadily, pulled himself on to the back of the mule, and clasped his arms around the scout. The raw-boned and excited animal gave one plunge, and tore madly in. the direction of the Buluwayo road with his double burden, and Eric was left alone, struggling with a restive horse. and at the mercy of ten bloodthirsty savages. His rifle was useless, for both hands were needed at the bridle. He felt that only a miracle could save him, and for a fleeting second he thought of Doris far away in London.

CHAPTER X. VOICES IN THE BUSH. That Eric had not already lost his life was due to the incessant jumping about of his horse, and also to the fact that the police and Matabele, being partly under the influence of some strong drink, could not shoot or throw straight. Now, seeing that the young Englishman was left in their power, they made a more determined effort to kill him. Some slipped along the road to cut off his retreat in the direction taken by Phil and the scout, and the rest closed in with hideous clamour. "Tchaia Amakiwa ! Tchaia Amakiwa !" they yelled, as they struck and aimed at horse and rider. A bullet grazed Eric's shoulder, and several assegais barely missed him. But he had not entirely abandoned hope, and with one hand he reversed his rifle and knocked down a Matabele who was about to spear him at close quarters. With the other he tugged hard at the bridle, trying to turn his steed round towards the Buluwayo road. At the same time he was shouting to the animal and digging his h«els against its flanks. But the horse was obstinate and terrified, and before it could be wrought under the least control a

; knob-berry intended for its rider 1 struck it smartly across the head. Maddened by pain it plunged forward instantly—galloped right into the swarming knob of police and Matabol c. Scarcely a minute had elapsed since the first attack and the involuntary flight of Phil and Shurlock, and what happened now Eric afterwards regarded as nothingshort of miraculous. On all sides : his foes were yelling, striking, and shooting, and he expected to die by a dozen wounds. But the horse's dash was swift, and several of the Kaffirs went down . under the heavy hoofs. .Eric blindly launched out with his rifle to right and left of him, and he felt the stock strike flesh and bone. I On with a rush ! He saw the 1 white pow^der smoke drifting in front, heard the screech of frenzied : voices, the crack of rifles and whizz of assegais. Then the worst was 1 over. He saw the cabin and the native huts skim by him, and with amazement and gratitude he realised that he was untouched by weapon or bullet.

On plunged the gallant steed, } while in the rear the baffled hut ! still-pursuing Kaffirs let drive with j spears and guns. Eric bent low in j the paddle, breathing a silent prayer for safety. He saw tlte end of the clearing looming close ahead, and at the moment he heeded not that he was riding' straight away from i his friends. He thought of life and ' of Doris. Crack ! crack ! crack ! The Kaffirs were firing on the run, and, as luck would have it, a bullet struck the horse. Eric knew that such was the case by the animal's convulsive start and quiver, by its shrill neigh of pain and fright. But there was hope yet, for the steed was clearly not hit 'in a vital part. It swerved a little to one side and dashed into the scrub that lay north of the clearing;. Eric stuck to his seat, and he felt like cheering as the moonlit scrub and granite kopjes whirled by him in a dizzy blur. The clamour of the enemy faded, until nothing disturbed the silence save the thud of hoofs in the grass, but the horse never slackened its speed. It bore on at a gallop for at least half a mile, and then suddenly stumbled in a hole. Eric was pitched head-first out of the saddle, and though the ground was soft he was badly stunned by the fall. He lay still for a minute or two, and when he pulled himself together and rose to his feet, he found that his steed had disappeared. He heard the faint sound of hoofs in the distance, but they died away quickly. "Here's a nice fix," he reflected, as he shook himself to make sure no bones were broken. "But it might be worse. I am alive and sound, and I have shaken off the Kaffirs. And what am I going to do now ? Heaven only knows how far that mule will carry Phil and the scout before tney can stop him. It's out of the question to think of finding them, and as they will bo certain I am dead, they won't venture back towards the police station. They will head for Buluj wayo, and I believe I can strike in I the same direction."

He searched for and found his rifle. One of his brace of revolvers was still at his waist, and he remembered with chagrin that it would have been the better weapon to use when he was attacked in the cloaring. The moon was getting low, and he knew that dawn could not be a matter of more than an hour or so —perhaps much les9. '

"I'll be off now," he decided. "As it is, I've wasted some valuable minutes. The Kaffirs may be creeping after me, and it's next to certain that they will prowl out in this direction to prevent me from, joining my friends. Let mo see : Buluwayo lies to the north-west. It will be safer to head north for the present. That's the way the horse took, and it's barely possible I shall run across him."

Eric listened a moment, but all was still. Then he shouldered his rifle and strode into ithe dreary bush. He was hungry and thirsty, bruised in half a dozen places, and alone and friendless in the heart of a hostile country. Moreover, Buluwayo was miles and miles distant, and the fact that the Chartered Company's native police had joined the Matabele rising added tenfold to the gravity of his situation. Butt he did not lose heart, though he knew that in all likelihood there was not a place of security for him this side of Buluwayo.

"I've been in tight corners before," he said to himself ; " and with pluck and caution I'll pull through this time."

He was more concerned for the immediate present than for the future. He felt that he was in clanger, and he recognised the necessity of finding a hiding-place before daylight. . By the fading glow of the moon he pushed on as rapidly as he could—he limped a little from the effects of his fall —and he stopped every now and then to look about him and to listen.

Thus he advanced for the better part of a mile, finding the bush growing more rugged and dillicult. The ground was uneven and the scrub thick ; patches of thorny grass and towering kopjes necessitated frequent detours. Presently, when he had stopped a moment, ac detected a sound that was too clear to be mistaken. It came from a point some yards straight ahead, and was the gentle roar of the swiftly-flowing river. " A river," he thought gladly ; "and a few strides will bring me

to it. On the other side I ought to be safer, and if there is no ford at hand, I'll trust to swimming. '

"No time t"b lose," he added, as through the' scrub he caught a glimmer of dawn on the horizon. " By Jove, my runaway horse ought to be somewhere about here"

His reflections came to a sudden end. Low voices fell on his ears, ' and he judged that the speakers ! were at no great distance to the j left. As he listened he seemed to hear his own name pronounced, and ' then all was quiet again. He was first amazed and next incredulous. |

"That fall shook me up a bit and gave me queer fancies," he said to himself, angrily. "It's not possible that I heard my name spoken, for the voices did not belong to Phil or the scout. But I'm sure a couple of persons were talking over yonder, though they are quiet enough now. And they were white men— perhaps fugitives in hiding from the Kaffirs. Shall I sing out to them, .Snap ! went a twig close behind Eric. He turned round like a flash —turned to see a stalwart Matabele rising out of the grass , and scrub only a dozen feet distant. He saw the Englishman, and an assegai was lifted high in one hand. Me uttered a screeching yell as he launched his arm forward.

Eric dodged ever so slightly, and with an ugly hiss the weapon darted past his ear. Up went his rifle, and with a quick aim he pulled trigger. Bang ! The Kaffir's deathcry rang on his lips ; he bounded in air and fell forward on his face.

Further back in the scrub two hoarse yells echoed on the air. More of the Matabele were coming. With devilish cunning they had tracked the Englishman from the station.

Eric hesitated briefly, his rifle still at his shoulder. He was in the mood for fighting, but prudence proved stronger. Lowering the wCapon, lie turned and dashed for the river. As he ran, he remembered tho voices he had heard, and he gav<# a warning shout. For ten yards he floundered amid loose stones and tangled grass, circled around granite rocks that barred the way, fearing every second to feel an assegai or a bullet in his back. Then he lost his footing on a slippery incline, fell, and rolled over and over into a thick and dark patch of scrub. This checked his speed, but no more. He felt himself on the verge of a precipice, shot out into empty air, and landed with a splash in the deep and swift water below,.

CHAPTER XT. PERILOUS FRIENDS, Eric went entirely under —down until his feet grazed the stony bottom and he could hold his breath no longer. He opened his mouth, drew in a quantity of water, and struggled desperately to the surface. He felt half-strangled, but he was in full possession of his senses.

ETe had let go his rifle, and as he drifted along he struck out hard with both arms. By the dim light of the coming dawn he saw on his left the precipitous and scrubby bank, a dozen feet high, from which he had fallen ; its base was no more than a yard or two from him. To the right, across the comparatively narrow channel of the river, lay a level and wooded country, with misty hills in the background.

Eric took these aspects in at a brief glance, and as quickly it flashed upon him that his pursuers must soon reach the spot from which he had tumbled. He noticed that the base of the near bank afforded a narrow footing, screened by. overhanging1 rocks and soil above, and this gave him an idea.

"If I gain yonder shore before the Kaflirs arrive," he said to himself, "they will think I am droWned. Otherwise they will riddle me with assegais. It's too far to try for the other bank —I'm too weak now."

How helpless he was he realised with the first stroke shoreward. The current was swift, and so cold that it numbed his limbs. The water he had swallowed added to his disadvantage, and the river was too deep for a footing. Indeed, he made no headway whatever, and now certain and speedy death by; drowning stared him in the face.

For a few horrible seconds he drifted on, struggling hard to keep his mouth and nostrils above the surface, and expecting the Kaffirs to ' appear on the bank. So short a time had passed that he was still close to where he had tumbled into the river.

Then ho actually did hoar a shout back in the bush, and at the same instant the current swung him round a jutting little point of land. Just below this he dimly saw a man—a white man—crouching at the mouth of what looked like a hole under the bank. The stranger beckoned with one hand.

Eric struggled desperately to reach the spot ; but though he gained a foot or so, he was swept past it. At this critical moment the man jumped up, seized a bit of driftwood as long as "his arm, and ran along- the fringe of the shore until he was a little ahead of Rric. Lie waded out into the river until the water came to his breast, and then readied Lhe slick as far as he could.

It was just long enough, and the young Englishman clutched at and caught the end of it. A brief but (loublfi.il struggle ensued. The current threatened to wasli both men away, but the stranger kept his precarious footing, and moved slowly backwards. Eric was drawn after him inch by inch, and at last he felt a rocky bottom under his feet, A moment later he was lying on the

shore, shivering and exhausted. The (iawn was well advanced now, and the grey light showod the rescuer to be an unmistakable Boer— a short, middle-aged man with a sandy beard and stolid and sullen features. | "How do you feel ?" he asked in good English. "I thoufX you ■ would be drowned." ! "I'll be right after a bit," Eric j replied, rising with an effort and shaking off the water. "I had a ' close shave of it, and no mistake. ,My good friend you saved my lire. I | shan't forget it" "Let us talk of that later on," j the Boer interrupted. "I heard shooting, and next 1 heard a splash. There are Kaffirs about —is it not so?" "Yes, there are," Eric whispered. "We must be very carei'ul." He hurriedly gave an outline of his adi ventures, and then added : "I don't hear a sound now ; it's pretty clear that the rascals think I am drowni cd." "They will hardly be so stupid," the Boer answered ; "they are as i cunning as the devil. But let us ; stand back and listen." ! They edged as far as possible under the overhanging bank, and they had ! barely done so when they heard a snapping of twigs and then gutj tural voices. The sound came from [ the locality of Eric"s fall, and it was evident that only two Kaffirs were talking. Presently they moved further off —the fading voices told that—and nothing could be heard but the murmur to the river. "Only tw!o of the murderous wretches," whispered Eric. "We're in luck—they've given me up for dead, and are returning to the station." "Perhaps," tho Boer ' assented, doubtfully.: "At least it will be safe for us to creep to my hidingplace, where I have a friend wait--1 ing. We also have been in peril from the Kaflirs."

"Ah, then it was you I heard talking," said Eric. "Ig your companion an Englishman ?" "Yes, and he is wounded," was the reply. "But, corfie !It is nearly daylight, and we must decide on some flan." "You are right," agreed Eric. " We can't hide long in this neighbourhood. By Jove, I'm sorry I lost my rifle." "You have no weapon ?"■ "Only a pistol damaged by water, my friend." "Then I will share with you," said the Buer. "Take this." He handed his companion one of a pair of revolvers that he had placed on the ground when lie entered the river. "It is loaded," lie added. "Thanks," whispered Eric. . "It's just what I want. Go on ; I'm ready." They turned up stream, along the narrow strip of path, hugging the inner side closely, and watching and listening for danger. The Boer silently led the way, and the Englishman followed at a staggering gait. A dozen paces brought them to the shelter—a black hole, five feet long by three feet high, at the foot of the rocky bank. They drew aside the bushes that partly overhung the mouth, then stooped and entered. Within, the hole grew somewhat larger from top to bottom, but it was of very shallow depth.

j The figure of a ' man was seen 1 lying against the further wall on a i heap of dried grass. At once he sat up, shading his eyes with one !hand. "By Jove, what a start you gave me !" he said, angrily. "I thought | the Kaffirs had finished you, and ; were coming" to put an end to me. ; Did you find out wftiat the row meant ? And who is with you, ' Mynhart ?" j "A friend," the Boer replied. " I dragged him from the river. He is an Englishman" "An Englishman !" the wounded man exclaimed quickly and eagerly. , "Does he belong to our party ?" "No ; he is a stranger. And he has narrowly escaped from the Kaffirs, like ourselves." During the brief conversation Eric ; had been standing as though in a . trance, his weakness and fatigue forgotten.. Where had he heard that I voice before ? He had . heard it in i the past ; he was sure of that. And yet the man with whom he associated it was thousands of miles away in England. As he listened , each additional word thrilled and j amazed him the more. With a sudden impulse, he stepped over to the stranger and knelt down j beside him. His own face was in ■ shadow, but that of the man was | made fairly distinct by the grey i light of dawn that penetrated the hole. Eric took one keen look, ! and doubt fled. "Fergus Ifaygarth !" he cried, hoarsely. "Good heavens, is it possible that you are here in Africa ?" i An oath nearly slipped from Hay- ' garth's lips, for it was indeed he. But as quickly he was master of himself.

! "Daeres, old fellow !" ho exclaimed gladly, giving a hand to Eric. "Do you know, I thought there was something- familiar about you when you came in with Wynhart. What a strange meeting this is ! I knew you had sailed for Africa with Phil Courtney, but I hardly expected the good fortune of running across you." " Then the meeting Is not as great a surprise to you as it is to me," said Eric. " Why, I can scarcely realise it yet. I thought you were far away in London." j "It is very simple," Haygarth replied. "I had intended returning to South Africa —Salisbury is my. home, you know —early in the spring; but I received an important letter

that changed my plans, and I sailed th" week after you and Courtney. I joined my old friend Jacobus Myn- ! hart in the Transvaal, and since then we have travelled up country ' pretty rapidly. That accounts for j my overtaking you." \ "Yes, Phil and I came by easy i stages," said Eric. In low tones they spoke of the rising, and then Eric, in reply to the other's questions, gave a brief account of his adventures prior and subsequent to his losing Phil and the scout. Meanwhile the Boer was on the lookout for danger at the mouth of the hole. Haygarth in turn told his narrative in a few words. It appeared that he and Mynhart had stopped on the previous evening at Dawson's store, four or five miles distant on the Salisbury road. They, knew nothing of the rising until they, were attacked at midnight by a large number of Kaffirs. Dawson and two other Englishmen were killed, but Haygarth and the Boer escaped by making a daring rush through the enemy. They were pursued for several miles, and at one point they, had to stop and fight. They shot two Kafiirs, but Haygarth was wounded in the thigh by an asse- ! gai. After that they gave tho rest lof their foes the slip, and Mynhart ! helped his friend to the river, the | shore of which they followed until they found the hole under the bank. "We've all had narrow shaves of it/-' Haygarth concluded, "and there may be plenty more of the same sort ahead. The next thing is to get across the river and hide in the bush. We'll stick together, old fellow, 'and try to reach Buluwayo. I've given up Salisbury for the present." "With all my heart," Eric assentcJ. "I suppose there's no chance of picking up Phil and Shurlock ?'-' "Not a bit ; they'll push on to Buluwayo." "But are you able to travel, Haygarth ?" "The limb is a bit stiff and sore," he replied, "but I can g-et along somehow. "It's not much of a Wound, and Mynhart has dressed it I neatly." | .lust then the Boer came forward. "It is time we were off and looking for a drift," he said ;, "it will be broad daylight. There are no signs of the Kaffirs, -but I heard a horse whinny down the stream"—— "A horse !" Eric interrupted. "It must be mine. I'll return in a moment." He slipped out of ' the hole and disappeared. ITaygarih turned on the Boer with a look of fury and a bitter oath. "Curse you for a fool and a blunderer !"he hissed. "So that is the man ?" Mynhart asked, calmly. "Yes, of course. Why the devil didn't you let him drown ?" "How was I to know who he was, Fergus ?'*■

'•That's true," Haygarth admitted, sullenly. "Do you know, Jacobus, I'm half-tempted to" He whispered a few words and pointed to the pistol in the Boer's belt. Mynhart shook his head. "It won't do," he muttered. "There may be Kaffirs about." "Then take this"—Haygarth tapped a knife at his side. "I'm no butcher," the other growled. " This Englishman is a decent fellow, and he is not in your way yet, is he ?" "He will be," Haygarth replied, with an oath ; "and when that time comes Well, you know our compact. Jacobus. I mean what I said.'' "Yes, I know I am in your power," the Boer answered, bitterly. "But be careful" "Hush !" warned Haygarth. "He is coming back." Footsteps grated on the path, and then Eric's form darkened the mouth of the hole. " We'll have a mount for you, Haygarth," ye said, excitedly. "It's my horse, sure enough. I caught a glimpse of him from the bend just below here. He's managed to scramble down the bank somehow* or other, and is nibbling the short grass along the water. I would have gone after him, but I thought it wiser to come back first and tell you." "Quite right, too, my dear fellow, Haygarth replied, in his most winning voice. "You might have been separated from us if any Kaffirs were about. We'll be off at once. Jacobus, lend me a hand" He paused abruptly, and all three heard a rattling noise that continued for a few seconds, and f then ended in a slight splash. They looked at one another in consternation and alarm. "What was that V L Haygarth asked hoarsely. "Kaffirs !" muttered the Boer. "I think I know what it means," Eric whispered. As he spoke ho darted to the mouth of the hole, pistol in hand, and peeped ouf. He saw what he Had expected to r.ee, and it was not a pleasant sight. Twenty feet up stream a rock jutted out a curve of the shore, and round this had just appeared a hideous Matabele warrior, armed with a rifle.

The discovery was mutual, for Eric's head was incautiously exposed, and the savage was on the alert. The latter threw his rifle to his shoulder, but Eric was too quick for him, and fired first. It was a good shot. With a cry of agony the Kaflir reeled, dropped his gun, and clutched at his bleeding breast,: then he fell sideways, and toppled with a splash into the river. Just at this instant a second Ma-

tabele exposed his head and shoulders from behind the rock, and caught a glimpse of both Eric and Wynhart. He did not give them a chance to shoot, but dodging out of sight, he beat a rapid retreat. He was heard scrambling up the bushy bank, and when he reached the top he gave two loud yells. Then silence fell.

(To be Continued.)