THE LIBRARY

OF
THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES



AT MOSETI'S BIDDING



A TALE OF THE GCALEKA WAR



BY

TELKIN KERR



ILLUSTRATED BY G. W, P1LKINGTON



PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR BY

HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.

52, LONG ACRE, LONDON, W.C,



GOZ



I DEDICATE THIS BOOK

TO
TWO GOOD AND TRUE WOMEN

MY WIFE AND MY SISTER

WITHOUT THEIR INVALUABLE AID AND ENCOURAGING

SYMPATHY IT WOULD NEVER HAVE REACHED

THE PRINTER'S HANDS



Whatever good there may be in these pages
is theirs, and the faults and shortcomings
and their name is legion are mine



1216751



PREFACE



I MAKE no apology for having had the temerity to
write and place this book before the public. The
effort may be a feeble one no doubt it will be considered
such by numbers of those who think it worthy of
criticism ; but for their fierce onslaughts I care nothing,
since my object is neither fame nor gain. I have but
one object in view, and that is to put into the hands
of boys and, indeed, also into the hands of their seniors
something of adventure, so dear to the hearts of men,
whether they be old or young, and yet free from all
impure suggestions. If those who read find pleasure
in these pages, then my object is achieved, for pure
pleasure is good for the body, good for the mind, and
necessarily good for the soul, and the logical deduction
which I shall be justified in making, if the book has
given some pleasure, is, that I have done some good,
and that is my object. If, however, the reader finds
no pleasure in what I have written, then I have, at
least, the satisfaction of knowing that I have done
no harm, for I have studiously endeavoured to avoid
anything that is base or in any way tainted with things,



viii PREFACE

words, or suggestions which are not in keeping with
that which is right and good.

I have more patience with the writer who calls a
spade by its proper name, and who, while telling his
or her story of vice, takes care to lay the blame on
the shoulders of the rightful character, than I have
with the writer who paints in ink a character whom
one must admire, then makes this selfsame character
do no end of wrong things, and yet tells the story
in so plausible a manner as to make the reader palliate
the faults, exonerate the sin, and clothe the person
who has done wrong with a still thicker cloak of
admiration. The sinner is put on a pedestal, and, na
matter how often he falls, the reader picks him up,
replaces him on his position of honour, and continues
the hero-worshipping until ihe Jim's is reached.

These are the books which do the harm ; these are
the snares and dangers which beset the unwary reader,
and which frequently have results so disastrous and
far-reaching that, did the writer but know it, he would,
if he possessed the smallest spark of manhood, throw
down his pen and cease his damnatory scribblings.

But enough of this. It is for you, my reader, to judge
my work, but, whatever your judgment may be, pray
believe me when I say that my intention was good,
even though the execution may have proved hopelessly
feeble.

THE AUTHOR.

SEA POINT, CAPE COLONY,
December, 1904.



CONTENTS



CHAPTER I

PAGE

ON THE ROAD I

CHAPTER II
THE THUNDERSTORM ON THE VELDT .... 6

CHAPTER III
ON THE BANKS OF THE MKLUTI .... IO

CHAPTER IV
THE END OF THE JOURNEY 15

CHAPTER V
TROUBLE BREWING 1 9

CHAPTER VI
THE NIGHT ALARM TOSI TO THE RESCUE ... 25



X CONTENTS

CHAPTER VII

PAGE

MORE FUGITIVES 30-

CHAPTER VIII

THE SILVER LINING OF THE CLOUD . . . .36

CHAPTER IX
IN THE SILENCE OF THE NIGHT A DASH FOR SAFETY. 41

CHAPTER X
IN ITSOBI . 49-

CHAPTER XI
CAPTURED . . .55

CHAPTER XII
TOSI AGAIN . . . ... . . .6l

CHAPTER XIII
A STRANGE AWAKENING 66

CHAPTER XIV
THE ABDUCTION . . . . . . . fl

CHAPTER XV
MOSETl'S MOUNTAIN KRAAL 75



CONTENTS XI



CHAPTER XVI

PAGE

MOSETl'S BIDDING 84



CHAPTER XVII
THE HILL OF DEATH SALMO 90

CHAPTER XVIII
SALMO'S CAVE t 98

CHAPTER XIX
THROUGH THE SECRET PASSAGE 103

CHAPTER XX

DOROTHY AND KAKANI A PRESENTIMENT SALMO AND

THE SENTRY Ill

CHAPTER XXI
IN MOSETl'S KRAAL Il8

CHAPTER XXII
SPIRITS OR MFENE? 124

CHAPTER XXIII
WHEN THE FULL MOON ROSE 131

CHAPTER XXIV
THE FOUR WHO RETURNED 139



xii CONTENTS

CHAPTER XXV

PAGE

THE LAST OF SALMO . . . . . . . 144

CHAPTER XXVI
RECAPTURE 148

CHAPTER XXVII

ON THE VERGE OF DEATH A NARROW ESCAPE DARK-
NESS AND LIGHT 154

CHAPTER XXVIII
CLOSING SCENES FAREWELL TO ITSOBI . . .158



AT MOSETPS BIDDING



CHAPTER I

ON THE ROAD

HUTS here, huts there, huts near, huts so far
away that in the distance you are almost
inclined to mistake them for ant-hills, only you know
they are huts. The whole country seems studded with
huts, some large, others small. Will they never cease ?
No. The cart jolts on along the road, and still there
seems to be no end to the huts. Sometimes in clusters,
sometimes scattered. But this is Kafirland, and the
heart of Kafirland, too ; so you don't expect to see
palaces, do you ? And even were it not Kafirland,
you would not like to see the rural simplicity spoiled
by the inartistic hand of civilised man. The country
is at its worst at present, for it is winter, and the rains
fall chiefly in summer, so that what is in summer a
rich grassy expanse with numerous undulations, is now
a parched and barren waste, guiltless of a single blade
of grass or greenery of any sort, save along the river
banks, where the mimosa bushes thrive all the year
round, or about the mission and trading stations.

The cart which we noticed just now contains only
one occupant besides the driver, a christianised native ;
christianised, because he has discarded the red ochre



2 At MOSETI'S BIDDING

and blanket of the raw native, and has donned the
throwaways of some benevolent missionary or trader.

The horses are not such as one would expect to
see in Rotten Row ; they are, on the other hand,
two very mean-looking animals, but they are never-
theless capable of doing work such as would speedily
kill their handsome brethren which so nobly carry
the aristocracy of England along the Row named
" Rotten."

Harold Morton, the passenger, was a young man
from the Colony, who, being anxious to see something
of life in other spheres, and having a little cash where-
with to gratify his wish, had thrown up a good
appointment in Cape Town in order to join an old
school chum in a Kafir trading-station, and now we
see him jogging along in the cart on the way to
Engwenza, his friend's station.

His journey had been a long and rather a dreary
one, for despite the fact that the scenes through which
he was passing were new to him, he was absolutely
without that sine qua non to comfort, companionship,
for his driver could speak very little English whereas
he could not speak a word of Kafir. The little in-
formation which he was able to elicit was gained by
much gesture on his part, which did not always bring
a comprehensible reply ; therefore, for the most part,
there was silence, and only when silence became un-
bearable did he attempt anything like a question.

" I say, Old Stick-in-the-mud, are we far from
Engwenza now?"

" I-kona," replied the driver, looking somewhat
perplexed. Then, after a moment's pause, when he
realised that the badly pronounced Engwenza was
meant for their destination, he asked, " Engwenza ? "

" Yes, you old duffer, Engwenza," and this time
Morton made a better hit at the pronunciation.
"Engwenza," he again repeated. "How far?"

" Auw ! Engwenza, so," replied the old fellow, as
the light dawned on him and he held up four fingers



ON THE ROAD 3

to indicate that four more hours in the bumping cart
must pass before they would reach the station.

" Hang it all," Morton said, half to himself, half
aloud. " It is five o'clock now, and if he says four
more hours, it means another seven, if, indeed, we are
there then ; these chaps have no idea of distance or
time."

But the old boy had lapsed again into the reverie
which always possessed him when not spoken to or
speaking, and Morton buried himself again in the
pages of " Martin Chuzzlewit," though his eyes already
felt sore with reading in the jolting vehicle.

Half an hour later they stopped to outspan, so that
the horses might have a roll and a bit of a feed ; and
while they are doing^this, and old Roro is busy mending
the harness a work which, by the way, he seemed to
be always engaged upon when halting let us take
a brief look at Harold Morton, as he strolls about
loosening his cramped limbs. Tall, straight as the
proverbial arrow, and of a decidedly athletic build,
he seems an ideal wing three-quarter in rugby, and
one can in imagination almost see him in flannels
on the cricket-field driving the ball to the boundary
with the ease of a first-rate batsman, or slashing into
his opponent's court at tennis with the dexterity of
one to the manner born. His face is the face of a
man who, while enjoying all the healthy pursuits and
pleasures of life, has given a wide berth to its evils.
Open, manly, with eyes which bespeak the man of
honest purpose, and by their size and dark brown
colour tempt one who looks on them for the first time
to look again, and ever after to find pleasure in them.
His mouth is well cut, and while his rather tightly
closed lips show decision, there is that unmistakable
look in them which speaks of gentleness. On the whole,
it is a singularly handsome face, bronzed by the sun
in many a match of cricket or other sport.

One wonders why such an one, whose every movement
proclaims him to be a man of the world, susceptible



4 AT MOSETI'S BIDDING

to all its attractions, undoubtedly a favourite with the
ladies, should seek to hide himself in Kafirland.

Well, let me tell you a secret. The truth is,
Harold Morton was badly in love, or thought he was,
with a pretty little lady whom he had met at a dance
near Cape Town ; but she did not return his affections
and became engaged to another, so our friend thought
to kill two birds with one stone by coming to Kafirland
viz. : to escape from the scenes of his unsuccessful
suit, and also, what was after all his chief reason, to
see something of a different kind of life to that which
he had been used to.

His friend, Ivor Risk, had lived in the Eastern
Province, where his father, a descendant of the 1820
settlers, had a farm. He had been sent to Cape Town
to be educated, and there he had met Harold Morton,
and the two became great friends. After leaving
college Risk had returned to the Eastern Province,
and was just about to begin practice as an attorney
in one of the largest towns there, when his health gave
way, and he was advised to give up all idea of office
work for a time ; so he hit upon the idea of taking
to Kafir trading for a year or two, more for the sake
of adventure than for what he would make out of it,
for his parents were well-to-do. His father not only
raised no objection to the scheme, but volunteered the
wherewithal to carry it into effect. So before very long
an owner of a small place was found who was willing
to dispose of his business, and Risk was installed in it

His knowledge of the language stood him in good
stead, and being a friendly sort of fellow he was soon
very popular with the natives. His health improved
wonderfully, and after six months' stay he had taken
so much to the life that he decided to remain for a
few years. But one thing tried him very much, and
that was the lack of companionship. He did not desire
to see Kafirland peopled f with whites from end to end,
but he did often wish for some one to speak to in his
own language.



ON THE ROAD 5

Often one of the neighbouring traders would ride over
on business and would stay the night, but when such
an one again left Risk would feel more miserable than
before ; so, when he received a letter from his old friend
Morton, telling him of his misfortune and his desire
to get away from where he was, he did not lose a
moment in writing to ask him to spend as long a time
as he liked with him. In his letter he half jokingly
asked if Morton would not like to join him in his
business as a partner, and was surprised and much
pleased when, by the return of post, he received a letter
from him accepting the offer and stating that he would
leave within a month's time. The preliminaries were
soon settled, and now Ivor Risk was waiting, with what
patience he could command, the arrival of his friend
and partner, for whom he had sent his cart to the
nearest railway station some days before.



CHAPTER II

THE THUNDERSTORM ON THE VELDT

THE cart is again on the way to Engwenza after
the brief halt where we last left it. It is driving
between some low-lying hills, and for a time no huts are
in sight, though now and again, as it rounds a corner,
it passes a solitary clump of huts standing near the
road. The little streams, which are every now and then
crossed, trickle feebly along the middle of the other-
wise dry beds. The sun has just set, and in the fading
light there is a weird look about the veldt. Now the
sound of a Kafir dog barking is heard ; then, after an
interval of silence, the voices of Kafirs, speaking in
some of the huts on the hills, are borne down on the
still evening ; then again silence, save for the sound
of the horses' hoofs on the hard road and the rumbling
and jolting of the cart.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a low rumbling
sound, and the old driver looked up, while an exclama-
tion escaped him. Thunder it was, unmistakably, and
as Morton looked back in the direction from whence
the sound seemed to proceed, he was astonished to
see that a thick black cloud had arisen, and even as
he looked there was a tremendous flash of lightning,
followed by a peal of thunder. The driver stopped for
a few minutes and pulled down the front cap of the
cart ; then proceeding, he urged the horses on by shout
and whip. But the horses were tired, after the long
day's journey, and gradually fell back into the old
pace.



THE THUNDERSTORM ON THE VELDT 7

Meanwhile the thunder grew louder and louder with
each peal, and the lightning flashed nearer and nearer,
while the heavy black clouds closed in above, until,
in what appeared to be a very few minutes, every star
was blotted out from view and the rain began to fall
in great drops. Then a blinding flash, an awful crash
of thunder, which seemed as if the very earth were being
torn asunder, and then the reservoirs of the heavens were
opened and the rain poured down in torrents. Morton
had often witnessed heavy downpours when in Cape
Town ; but nothing he had ever seen came up to this.
The horses, already terror-stricken, pulled hard at
the reins ; but Roro knew his work, and kept them
well in hand.

Down the rain still poured, and the flashes of light-
ning, which now became less frequent, were reflected all
round in the water. The road was for a time a
veritable stream, as was evident by the splashing made
by the horses' feet and the rush of the water off the
wheels. Then as suddenly as the rain commenced, so
suddenly it stopped, and Morton congratulated himself
that the storm was over ; but scarcely had the thought
passed through his mind when there came again the
low far-away rumbling of distant thunder, gradually
increasing in sound as it approached nearer and nearer ;
then a flash, and in less than ten minutes the storm
was as bad as nay, worse than before.

Another blinding flash followed by a peculiar sound
as of some heavy body passing through the air, with
an awful sound, something akin to whistling ; then a
crash as the electric fluid buried itself in the earth
not a hundred yards away, and then the most terrible
crash of thunder, which seemed to the imagination
as if all the cannonade of the earth had gone off,
together with the bursting up of hell itself.

The horses, now thoroughly maddened, reared and
plunged, while the cart rocked on its springs, threatening
to go over every minute ; then, with one supreme effort,
the frightened animals took the bits between their teeth,



8 AT MOSETl'S BIDDING

and despite the combined efforts of Morton and Roro
to keep them in check, they dashed along madly,
dragging the cart as it swayed from side to side.
Every moment Harold thought they would be over-
turned, but the animals knew the road and kept it.
A flash of lightning showed old Roro's face, blanched
and terror-stricken, for he realised that he no longer
was the controlling power, and he knew something
else which Harold was ignorant of. But he was soon
to be enlightened, for, above the noise of the falling
torrents, he heard a sound like the sound of heavy
waves on a rocky shore, only ten times louder. Nearer
and nearer they came to the sound, until all other
sounds were inaudible.

Suddenly the horses slackened their headlong pace,
and then came to an abrupt standstill as if. by mutual
agreement. Roro quickly jumped off and rushed to their
heads, and Harold followed him. Together they stood,
each holding an animal by its bridle, while the rain con-
tinued to pour and the terrible roaring sound seemed
right on them. The horses were quivering with terror, and
it took the men all their time and strength to keep them
quiet, for they now evinced a desire to turn, probably
with the idea of rushing back in the direction from
whence they had come, away from the terrible roaring.

Rain, rain, in buckets ; nay, almost in reservoirs.
Never in all his life had Harold felt so utterly dejected.
He had had a terrible experience following upon a
long and tedious journey, and now as he stood holding
the horse he felt almost inclined to cry like a child.
He was wet and hungry, with no prospect of getting to
Engwenza that night, for he knew that the sound he
heard was a river, now flooded by the rain, over which
it was impossible to pass until it had subsided. For
an hour the rain continued, then slowly it abated its
violence, and in a short time after it had stopped
completely.

" Wou ! " ejaculated Roro at last, as he wrung the
water off one sleeve and wiped the moisture from his



THE THUNDERSTORM ON THE VELDT 9

face with his arm. Then, without another word, he
proceeded to unharness the horses. This done, they
were hobbled and turned loose beside the road, and
the two men, after tying the disselboom to a bush
to prevent the cart from tipping, got in and made
themselves as comfortable as possible. To light a fire
was impossible, for everything had been so soaked by
the rain that nothing would burn ; so there was no
help for it but to sit in the cart and take consolation
from that sublime comforter, tobacco.

So they sat, Morton in his accustomed seat at the
back of the cart, and Roro in front. In a very short
time Roro was fast asleep, but Harold felt wet and
uncomfortable, and sleep would not visit him for some
hours ; but even to him the divine consoler came at
last.



CHAPTER III

ON THE BANKS OF THE MKLUTI

TVOR RISK had long closed his store for the day,
J[ and was now sitting in his. hut awaiting the
arrival of Morton. He was trying to interest himself
in his book, but for once that never- failing source of
pleasure failed him. Every now and again he would
lay it down on the table face downwards, and go to
the door of his hut and listen attentively for the sound
of the overdue cart ; but no sound could he hear,
save the steady rush of the water as the rain poured
down.

" It's impossible," he said he had got accustomed
to speaking his thoughts aloud "for them to come
on to-night, unless they crossed the Mkluti river before
the storm came on." Saying this he sat down again ;
but any one observing him could easily have seen that
he was far from being at ease.

" I do hope they outspanned on the other side of
the river, Roro would surely never think of crossing
to-night."

Again a pause. Then, suddenly, he sprang up.
" Hang it ! I can't sit still with this anxiety upon
me. What if they have met with an accident ! Struck
by the lightning, or perhaps even washed down the
Mkluti. They certainly would be, if they attempted
crossing."

Then, looking at his watch, he exclaimed, " A quarter
past ten ! " and, walking to the door, he looked out.



ON THE BANKS OF THE MKLUTI II

The rain had ceased falling, but the water was still
rushing madly over the ground.

"Well, I don't feel much inclined for the ride," he
said, looking out into the dark night, and then long-
ingly back into the plain but comfortable hut. " Still,
I must satisfy myself as far as possible that all is
well."

Going back, he put on a pair of thick boots and
his overcoat, and taking down his saddle and bridle
from the rack behind the door, he extinguished his
candle and went out to saddle his horse.

Risk kept four horses for use on the station, but
three of these were allowed to run at pleasure on the
veldt, except when wanted. One animal he always
kept in the stable, so that there might be no delay
when he required a horse urgently. A long two
hours' ride brought him to the banks of the Mkluti.
It was past one o'clock, and the sky was dark as
ink.

The river was full to its banks, and it roared along
with a sound like incessant thunder. To shout would
do no good, for what was the human voice compared
with the roar of nature.

Strain his eyes as he would, he could not see the
opposite bank, far less anything on it not even the
glimmer of a coal ; but then the night had been so
wet that he knew, that even if the cart were outspanned
on the bank, there could not be a dry stick to light
a fire with, nor a dry place to light it on, even if given
the necessary fuel.

There was only one of two things for Risk to do.
Either to return to Engwenza, or to spend the night
where he was until daylight broke. Which was it
to be?

After a few moments' consideration he decided
that, having come so far for a purpose, he would
not return until he had satisfied himself that the
cart was or was not on the opposite bank ; and as
darkness prevented him from ascertaining that now,



12 AT MOSETI'S BIDDING

he determined to wait for daylight. So, jumping off,
he left his horse standing, while he searched about
for a spot at least drier than the rest, where he might
lie.

It was so fearfully dark that he had to move slowly,
and feel before him with his hands to prevent being
scratched by the mimosa thorns. After half-an-hour's
search he came upon a little rising ground, and near
the top were, two large rocks, so placed as to have kept
a small piece of ground just below them comparatively
dry.

Then he walked back in the direction whence he had
come, counting his paces so as to be able to find the
place again. Having found his horse, he unsaddled it
and returned to the rocks, where he contrived by means
of his overcoat and saddle to make a tolerably com-
fortable bed, whereon he had scarcely lain before he
fell asleep.

Long before the sun had shown itself Ivor awoke.
His horse was standing a few yards away, lazily cropping
the dry blades of grass. Rising, he walked through the
bushes until he came to the riverside, and there, in
the faint morning light, he discerned the cart standing
close to the bank. The dark moving forms of the
horses could, in the dim light, be seen a little higher
up. The river was still flowing swiftly, but it had sunk
considerably since the previous night, and past experience
told him that in another few hours, unless the rain
came on again, there would be little left of the raging
torrent.

Gradually the sky brightened, and the first rays from
the coming sun showed the details of the scene.
In the cart Morton reclined, apparently fast asleep ;
while old Roro was moving about in that deliberate
way peculiar to Kafirs, now tying the harness with a
piece of riempje * where it seemed weak, then looking
at the wheels and the springs of the cart ; occasionally

* Riempje = a thin strip of leather,



ON THE BANKS OF THE MKLUTI 13

casting his eyes in the direction of the horses, to see
that they did not stray too far.

Putting his fingers to his lips, Risk gave a loud
whistle, which carried distinctly above the now much
subdued roar of the river, and immediately Roro looked
up ; then, seeing who it was, he raised his hand in
salutation after the manner of the Kafir.

Risk watched him go to the cart and shake Morton,
who sat up, looking for a moment bewildered ; but as
Roro pointed across to where Risk was standing, he
jumped out and waved his hat.

A few words of greeting were shouted across, but the
voices had to be raised very high, and it was trying ;