第 二十 章 · FOUND

us once more in our old

quarters at Loo; and, strange to say, but little the worse for our

terrible experience, except that my stubbly hair came out of the

treasure cave about three shades greyer than it went in, and that Good

never was quite the same after Foulata’s death, which seemed to move

him very greatly. I am bound to say, looking at the thing from the

point of view of an oldish man of the world, that I consider her

removal was a fortunate occurrence, since, otherwise, complications

would have been sure to ensue. The poor creature was no ordinary native

girl, but a person of great, I had almost said stately, beauty, and of

considerable refinement of mind. But no amount of beauty or refinement

could have made an entanglement between Good and herself a desirable

occurrence; for, as she herself put it, “Can the sun mate with the

darkness, or the white with the black?”

I need hardly state that we never again penetrated into Solomon’s

treasure chamber. After we had recovered from our fatigues, a process

which took us forty-eight hours, we descended into the great pit in the

hope of finding the hole by which we had crept out of the mountain, but

with no success. To begin with, rain had fallen, and obliterated our

spoor; and what is more, the sides of the vast pit were full of

ant-bear and other holes. It was impossible to say to which of these we

owed our salvation. Also, on the day before we started back to Loo, we

made a further examination of the wonders of the stalactite cave, and,

drawn by a kind of restless feeling, even penetrated once more into the

Chamber of the Dead. Passing beneath the spear of the White Death we

gazed, with sensations which it would be quite impossible for me to

describe, at the mass of rock that had shut us off from escape,

thinking the while of priceless treasures beyond, of the mysterious old

hag whose flattened fragments lay crushed beneath it, and of the fair

girl of whose tomb it was the portal. I say gazed at the “rock,” for,

examine as we could, we could find no traces of the join of the sliding

door; nor, indeed, could we hit upon the secret, now utterly lost, that

worked it, though we tried for an hour or more. It is certainly a

marvellous bit of mechanism, characteristic, in its massive and yet

inscrutable simplicity, of the age which produced it; and I doubt if

the world has such another to show.

At last we gave it up in disgust; though, if the mass had suddenly

risen before our eyes, I doubt if we should have screwed up courage to

step over Gagool’s mangled remains, and once more enter the treasure

chamber, even in the sure and certain hope of unlimited diamonds. And

yet I could have cried at the idea of leaving all that treasure, the

biggest treasure probably that in the world’s history has ever been

accumulated in one spot. But there was no help for it. Only dynamite

could force its way through five feet of solid rock.

So we left it. Perhaps, in some remote unborn century, a more fortunate

explorer may hit upon the “Open Sesame,” and flood the world with gems.

But, myself, I doubt it. Somehow, I seem to feel that the tens of

millions of pounds’ worth of jewels which lie in the three stone

coffers will never shine round the neck of an earthly beauty. They and

Foulata’s bones will keep cold company till the end of all things.

With a sigh of disappointment we made our way back, and next day

started for Loo. And yet it was really very ungrateful of us to be

disappointed; for, as the reader will remember, by a lucky thought, I

had taken the precaution to fill the wide pockets of my old shooting

coat and trousers with gems before we left our prison-house, also

Foulata’s basket, which held twice as many more, notwithstanding that

the water bottle had occupied some of its space. A good many of these

fell out in the course of our roll down the side of the pit, including

several of the big ones, which I had crammed in on the top in my coat

pockets. But, comparatively speaking, an enormous quantity still

remained, including ninety-three large stones ranging from over two

hundred to seventy carats in weight. My old shooting coat and the

basket still held sufficient treasure to make us all, if not

millionaires as the term is understood in America, at least exceedingly

wealthy men, and yet to keep enough stones each to make the three

finest sets of gems in Europe. So we had not done so badly.

On arriving at Loo we were most cordially received by Ignosi, whom we

found well, and busily engaged in consolidating his power, and

reorganising the regiments which had suffered most in the great

struggle with Twala.

He listened with intense interest to our wonderful story; but when we

told him of old Gagool’s frightful end he grew thoughtful.

“Come hither,” he called, to a very old Induna or councillor, who was

sitting with others in a circle round the king, but out of ear-shot.

The ancient man rose, approached, saluted, and seated himself.

“Thou art aged,” said Ignosi.

“Ay, my lord the king! Thy father’s father and I were born on the same

day.”

“Tell me, when thou wast little, didst thou know Gagaoola the witch

doctress?”

“Ay, my lord the king!”

“How was she then—young, like thee?”

“Not so, my lord the king! She was even as she is now and as she was in

the days of my great grandfather before me; old and dried, very ugly,

and full of wickedness.”

“She is no more; she is dead.”

“So, O king! then is an ancient curse taken from the land.”

“Go!”

“_Koom!_ I go, Black Puppy, who tore out the old dog’s throat. _Koom!_”

“Ye see, my brothers,” said Ignosi, “this was a strange woman, and I

rejoice that she is dead. She would have let you die in the dark place,

and mayhap afterwards she had found a way to slay me, as she found a

way to slay my father, and set up Twala, whom her black heart loved, in

his place. Now go on with the tale; surely there never was its like!”

After I had narrated all the story of our escape, as we had agreed

between ourselves that I should, I took the opportunity to address

Ignosi as to our departure from Kukuanaland.

“And now, Ignosi,” I said, “the time has come for us to bid thee

farewell, and start to see our own land once more. Behold, Ignosi, thou

camest with us a servant, and now we leave thee a mighty king. If thou

art grateful to us, remember to do even as thou didst promise: to rule

justly, to respect the law, and to put none to death without a cause.

So shalt thou prosper. To-morrow, at break of day, Ignosi, thou wilt

give us an escort who shall lead us across the mountains. Is it not so,

O king?”

Ignosi covered his face with his hands for a while before answering.

“My heart is sore,” he said at last; “your words split my heart in

twain. What have I done to you, Incubu, Macumazahn, and Bougwan, that

ye should leave me desolate? Ye who stood by me in rebellion and in

battle, will ye leave me in the day of peace and victory? What will

ye—wives? Choose from among the maidens! A place to live in? Behold,

the land is yours as far as ye can see. The white man’s houses? Ye

shall teach my people how to build them. Cattle for beef and milk?

Every married man shall bring you an ox or a cow. Wild game to hunt?

Does not the elephant walk through my forests, and the river-horse

sleep in the reeds? Would ye make war? My Impis wait your word. If

there is anything more which I can give, that will I give you.”

“Nay, Ignosi, we want none of these things,” I answered; “we would seek

our own place.”

“Now do I learn,” said Ignosi bitterly, and with flashing eyes, “that

ye love the bright stones more than me, your friend. Ye have the

stones; now ye would go to Natal and across the moving black water and

sell them, and be rich, as it is the desire of a white man’s heart to

be. Cursed for your sake be the white stones, and cursed he who seeks

them. Death shall it be to him who sets foot in the place of Death to

find them. I have spoken. White men, ye can go.”

I laid my hand upon his arm. “Ignosi,” I said, “tell us, when thou

didst wander in Zululand, and among the white people of Natal, did not

thine heart turn to the land thy mother told thee of, thy native place,

where thou didst see the light, and play when thou wast little, the

land where thy place was?”

“It was even so, Macumazahn.”

“In like manner, Ignosi, do our hearts turn to our land and to our own

place.”

Then came a silence. When Ignosi broke it, it was in a different voice.

“I do perceive that now as ever thy words are wise and full of reason,

Macumazahn; that which flies in the air loves not to run along the

ground; the white man loves not to live on the level of the black or to

house among his kraals. Well, ye must go, and leave my heart sore,

because ye will be as dead to me, since from where ye are no tidings

can come to me.

“But listen, and let all your brothers know my words. No other white

man shall cross the mountains, even if any man live to come so far. I

will see no traders with their guns and gin. My people shall fight with

the spear, and drink water, like their forefathers before them. I will

have no praying-men to put a fear of death into men’s hearts, to stir

them up against the law of the king, and make a path for the white folk

who follow to run on. If a white man comes to my gates I will send him

back; if a hundred come I will push them back; if armies come, I will

make war on them with all my strength, and they shall not prevail

against me. None shall ever seek for the shining stones: no, not an

army, for if they come I will send a regiment and fill up the pit, and

break down the white columns in the caves and choke them with rocks, so

that none can reach even to that door of which ye speak, and whereof

the way to move it is lost. But for you three, Incubu, Macumazahn, and

Bougwan, the path is always open; for, behold, ye are dearer to me than

aught that breathes.

“And ye would go. Infadoos, my uncle, and my Induna, shall take you by

the hand and guide you with a regiment. There is, as I have learned,

another way across the mountains that he shall show you. Farewell, my

brothers, brave white men. See me no more, for I have no heart to bear

it. Behold! I make a decree, and it shall be published from the

mountains to the mountains; your names, Incubu, Macumazahn, and

Bougwan, shall be “_hlonipa_” even as the names of dead kings, and he

who speaks them shall die.[12] So shall your memory be preserved in the

land for ever.

[12] This extraordinary and negative way of showing intense respect is

by no means unknown among African people, and the result is that if,

as is usual, the name in question has a significance, the meaning must

be expressed by an idiom or other word. In this way a memory is

preserved for generations, or until the new word utterly supplants the

old one.—A.Q.

“Go now, ere my eyes rain tears like a woman’s. At times as ye look

back down the path of life, or when ye are old and gather yourselves

together to crouch before the fire, because for you the sun has no more

heat, ye will think of how we stood shoulder to shoulder, in that great

battle which thy wise words planned, Macumazahn; of how thou wast the

point of the horn that galled Twala’s flank, Bougwan; whilst thou stood

in the ring of the Greys, Incubu, and men went down before thine axe

like corn before a sickle; ay, and of how thou didst break that wild

bull Twala’s strength, and bring his pride to dust. Fare ye well for

ever, Incubu, Macumazahn, and Bougwan, my lords and my friends.”

Ignosi rose and looked earnestly at us for a few seconds. Then he threw

the corner of his karross over his head, so as to cover his face from

us.

We went in silence.

Next day at dawn we left Loo, escorted by our old friend Infadoos, who

was heart-broken at our departure, and by the regiment of Buffaloes.

Early as was the hour, all the main street of the town was lined with

multitudes of people, who gave us the royal salute as we passed at the

head of the regiment, while the women blessed us for having rid the

land of Twala, throwing flowers before us as we went. It was really

very affecting, and not the sort of thing one is accustomed to meet

with from natives.

One ludicrous incident occurred, however, which I rather welcomed, as

it gave us something to laugh at.

Just before we reached the confines of the town, a pretty young girl,

with some lovely lilies in her hand, ran forward and presented them to

Good—somehow they all seemed to like Good; I think his eye-glass and

solitary whisker gave him a fictitious value—and then said that she had

a boon to ask.

“Speak on,” he answered.

“Let my lord show his servant his beautiful white legs, that his

servant may look upon them, and remember them all her days, and tell of

them to her children; his servant has travelled four days’ journey to

see them, for the fame of them has gone throughout the land.”

“I’ll be hanged if I do!” exclaimed Good excitedly.

“Come, come, my dear fellow,” said Sir Henry, “you can’t refuse to

oblige a lady.”

“I won’t,” replied Good obstinately; “it is positively indecent.”

However, in the end he consented to draw up his trousers to the knee,

amidst notes of rapturous admiration from all the women present,

especially the gratified young lady, and in this guise he had to walk

till we got clear of the town.

Good’s legs, I fear, will never be so greatly admired again. Of his

melting teeth, and even of his “transparent eye,” the Kukuanas wearied

more or less, but of his legs never.

As we travelled, Infadoos told us that there was another pass over the

mountains to the north of the one followed by Solomon’s Great Road, or

rather that there was a place where it was possible to climb down the

wall of cliff which separates Kukuanaland from the desert, and is

broken by the towering shapes of Sheba’s Breasts. It appeared, also,

that rather more than two years previously a party of Kukuana hunters

had descended this path into the desert in search of ostriches, whose

plumes are much prized among them for war head-dresses, and that in the

course of their hunt they had been led far from the mountains and were

much troubled by thirst. Seeing trees on the horizon, however, they

walked towards them, and discovered a large and fertile oasis some

miles in extent, and plentifully watered. It was by way of this oasis

that Infadoos suggested we should return, and the idea seemed to us a

good one, for it appeared that we should thus escape the rigours of the

mountain pass. Also some of the hunters were in attendance to guide us

to the oasis, from which, they stated, they could perceive other

fertile spots far away in the desert.[13]

[13] It often puzzled all of us to understand how it was possible that

Ignosi’s mother, bearing the child with her, should have survived the

dangers of her journey across the mountains and the desert, dangers

which so nearly proved fatal to ourselves. It has since occurred to

me, and I give the idea to the reader for what it is worth, that she

must have taken this second route, and wandered out like Hagar into

the wilderness. If she did so, there is no longer anything

inexplicable about the story, since, as Ignosi himself related, she

may well have been picked up by some ostrich hunters before she or the

child was exhausted, was led by them to the oasis, and thence by

stages to the fertile country, and so on by slow degrees southwards to

Zululand.—A.Q.

Travelling easily, on the night of the fourth day’s journey we found

ourselves once more on the crest of the mountains that separate

Kukuanaland from the desert, which rolled away in sandy billows at our

feet, and about twenty-five miles to the north of Sheba’s Breasts.

At dawn on the following day, we were led to the edge of a very

precipitous chasm, by which we were to descend the precipice, and gain

the plain two thousand and more feet below.

Here we bade farewell to that true friend and sturdy old warrior,

Infadoos, who solemnly wished all good upon us, and nearly wept with

grief. “Never, my lords,” he said, “shall mine old eyes see the like of

you again. Ah! the way that Incubu cut his men down in the battle! Ah!

for the sight of that stroke with which he swept off my brother Twala’s

head! It was beautiful—beautiful! I may never hope to see such another,

except perchance in happy dreams.”

We were very sorry to part from him; indeed, Good was so moved that he

gave him as a souvenir—what do you think?—an _eye-glass_; afterwards we

discovered that it was a spare one. Infadoos was delighted, foreseeing

that the possession of such an article would increase his prestige

enormously, and after several vain attempts he actually succeeded in

screwing it into his own eye. Anything more incongruous than the old

warrior looked with an eye-glass I never saw. Eye-glasses do not go

well with leopard-skin cloaks and black ostrich plumes.

Then, after seeing that our guides were well laden with water and

provisions, and having received a thundering farewell salute from the

Buffaloes, we wrung Infadoos by the hand, and began our downward climb.

A very arduous business it proved to be, but somehow that evening we

found ourselves at the bottom without accident.

“Do you know,” said Sir Henry that night, as we sat by our fire and

gazed up at the beetling cliffs above us, “I think that there are worse

places than Kukuanaland in the world, and that I have known unhappier

times than the last month or two, though I have never spent such queer

ones. Eh! you fellows?”

“I almost wish I were back,” said Good, with a sigh.

As for myself, I reflected that all’s well that ends well; but in the

course of a long life of shaves, I never had such shaves as those which

I had recently experienced. The thought of that battle makes me feel

cold all over, and as for our experience in the treasure chamber—!

Next morning we started on a toilsome trudge across the desert, having

with us a good supply of water carried by our five guides, and camped

that night in the open, marching again at dawn on the morrow.

By noon of the third day’s journey we could see the trees of the oasis

of which the guides spoke, and within an hour of sundown we were

walking once more upon grass and listening to the sound of running

water.