A Frontier Mystery. Mitford Bertram

song, drawing nearer and nearer.

      “I think we can’t do better than let them perform just in front here,” I went on. “The ground’s open, and the moon almost as bright as day.”

      This was agreed to enthusiastically, and soon the singing grew louder and louder, and the whole body in their picturesque gear, came marching up, beating time upon their shields with sticks and assegai hafts. They halted in half moon formation and one man stepping out from the rest, gave the sign for silence. Then having saluted us with much sibongo, he led off, in a sort of chant, loud and clear at first, then rising higher and higher. The others took it up at a given point in response, and although the song did not run to many notes, it was soon thundered aloud in a harmonious wave of sound. When it had attained its highest pitch, at a sign from the choragus it ceased – ceased with such suddenness as to impart an impression that was positively uneasy.

      “Dashed effective, by Jove!” pronounced the Major, breaking the spell.

      “Why, it is beautiful – positively beautiful,” declared Miss Sewin. “The harmony and the rhythmic waves of sound are perfect. Tell me, Mr Glanton, what was it all about?”

      “Oh, it was merely a song of welcome, improvised over yonder while they were scoffing my cows.”

      “Really? Do you mean to say it was all impromptu?”

      “Of course. That’s the way these people do things.”

      “Won’t they go over it again?”

      “Oh, there’s plenty more to come. Rather too soon for an encore yet.”

      While I spoke they were forming up again. This time they broke up into a hunting song. When it seemed to have gained its height, it suddenly ceased, and all darted away across the veldt till nearly out of sight in the moonlight.

      “What the deuce are they up to now?” said Falkner, filling his pipe.

      “You’ll see. Listen. Now they are returning with the game.”

      Again the voices broke forth, now returning as I had said, and swelling higher and higher, in a long recitative uttered by some dozen, and replied to in rolling chorus by the whole body.

      “They are recounting their exploits now – what game they have got, and how they got it,” I explained, as the singing ceased.

      “By Jove, are they?” cried Falkner. “Look here, Glanton, I’ve got an idea. How would it be to scare up a hunt to-morrow, and get a lot of these chaps to help? I’d like to see how they go to work in their own way. That would be worth seeing.”

      “Well, it might be managed. What d’you think, Major?”

      “A capital idea. But – hang it, we haven’t got our guns.”

      “Oh, as to that,” I said, “you could use mine. There’s a shot gun and a rifle, and a rifle and smooth-bore combined. That’ll arm all hands.”

      “Well done, Glanton. You’re a jewel of a chap!” cried Falkner, boisterously. “The very thing. But, I say. How about arranging it with them now. No time like the present, eh?”

      The idea appealed to me exceedingly, not for its own sake, I fear, but because it would afford an opportunity of detaining my guests – or shall we say one of them – yet longer, perhaps even another night, for it would be hard if I could not manage to prolong the hunt until too late for them to return. Really Falkner Sewin was not without his uses in the world.

      “I think it would be simply delightful!” interjected that “one of them.” “We will be able to see some of it too, won’t we, Mr Glanton?”

      “Why of course, Miss Sewin. I’ll send the boys up to some convenient spot with lunch and we’ll make a regular picnic of it.”

      The idea was received with enthusiasm. Only Mrs Sewin somewhat faintly objected that they had a long way to go to get home afterwards. But this I over-ruled by hoping they would not find my poor accommodation so very trying that the prospect of another night of it – if the worst came to the worst – should prove entirely out of the question.

      Just then a group of men detached themselves from the rest, and came over to us, to salute and ask how we liked the performance.

      “This is Wabisa, the next biggest chief under Tyingoza,” I said, introducing the foremost, a tall, dignified head-ringed man. “Now, Miss Sewin, here is a real chief. Tyingoza could not come to-night, but will to-morrow morning.”

      “I’m so glad,” she answered, looking at Wabisa with interest.

      I gave them some roll tobacco which I had ready for them, and told my boys to make them some coffee. The while I arranged for to-morrow’s bush-buck hunt. There was no difficulty about it at all, even as I had expected. I could have as many boys as I wanted.

      “They must hunt too, Wabisa,” I said. “The white amakosi want to see if the assegai is a better weapon than the gun.”

      “Ou! That they shall see,” laughed the chief.

      “Is there going to be any more dancing, Mr Glanton?” said the youngest girl.

      “Yes. The best part. They’re going to give us the war dance now,” and I suggested to Wabisa that it was getting late, and the white ladies might be growing tired.

      Of all native dances a war dance is the most catching, and this had not long started before even the old Major found himself beating time with his feet, while as for Falkner, it was all I could do to prevent him from rushing in among them to take his part. The chant now rose quickly to a ferocious roar, and as the dancers swayed and crouched, turning half round, then leaping erect, while going through the pantomime of striking an enemy, to the accompaniment of a strident death hiss, the whole scene was vivid and realistic enough to have rendered some people decidedly nervous. Then the thunderous stamping of six hundred feet, the beating of sticks on shields, and the shrilling rattle of assegai hafts – a sound not quite like any other I ever heard, and I’ve heard it often – add to this the rolling of fierce eyeballs, and the waving of tufted shields in the moonlight and you have a picture unrivalled for thrilling and at the same time exhilarating terror. A gasp as of involuntary relief went up from my guests as the thunder and racket ceased with a suddenness of silence that was almost appalling in contrast Miss Sewin was the first to speak.

      “It is perfectly magnificent,” she declared. “I for one don’t know how to thank you, Mr Glanton, for giving us such a splendid entertainment.”

      I was rarely pleased at this, and mumbled something – probably idiotic.

      “I suppose it isn’t much to you,” she went on. “You must have seen it often, and the real thing too.”

      “Well yes. I have, and done by more thousands than there are hundreds here. By the way, I’m giving them a little more beef for to-morrow morning so they’ll be in high trim and good humour for our hunt.”

      “Oh, I’m afraid you are going to a great deal of trouble on our account,” she said.

      “Isn’t it worth it – at least – I mean – er – it isn’t often one can afford anyone a new kind of pleasure in this worn-out world,” I added lamely. But I believe she read my original meaning for I could see a soft look come into the beautiful clear eyes in the moonlight, and there was a half smile curving her lips. We were talking a little apart from the others who had embarked on a voluble discussion of their own. And then it was voted time for bed, and the natives having dispersed, after a sonorously uttered farewell salute, the Major and Falkner and I had a final glass of grog, or so, and adjourned to our quarters in the store.

      Chapter Seven.

      Tyingoza’s Head-Ring

      There was no sign of life on the part of my guests, as I rolled out at early dawn and went down to the waterhole in the kloof for a splash. When I returned the Major and his nephew were sitting up on their blankets rubbing their eyes.

      “Any chance of a tub, Glanton?” said the latter.

      “There’s