第2章

"Ladies and gentlemen,"he said at last,with a shake of his grizzled head,"I am very sorry to disappoint you,but I cannot do it.It is this way.At the request of Sir Henry and Captain Good I have written down a true and plain account of King Solomon's Mines and how we found them,so you will soon be able to learn all about that wonderful adventure for yourselves;but until then I will say nothing about it,not from any wish to disappoint your curiosity,or to make myself important,but simply because the whole story partakes so much of the marvellous,that I am afraid to tell it in a piecemeal,hasty fashion,for fear I should be set down as one of those common fellows of whom there are so many in my profession,who are not ashamed to narrate things they have not seen,and even to tell wonderful stories about wild animals they have never killed.And I think that my companions in adventure,Sir Henry Curtis and Captain Good,will bear me out in what I say.""Yes,Quatermain,I think you are quite right,"said Sir Henry.

"Precisely the same considerations have forced Good and myself to hold our tongues.We did not wish to be bracketed with--well,with other famous travellers."There was a murmur of disappointment at these announcements.

"I believe you are all hoaxing us,"said the young lady next Mr.

Quatermain,rather sharply.

"Believe me,"answered the old hunter,with a quaint courtesy and a little bow of his grizzled head;"though I have lived all my life in the wilderness,and amongst savages,I have neither the heart,nor the want of manners,to wish to deceive one so lovely."Whereat the young lady,who was pretty,looked appeased.

"This is very dreadful,"I broke in."We ask for bread and you give us a stone,Mr.Quatermain.The least that you can do is to tell us the story of the tusks opposite and the buffalo horns underneath.We won't let you off with less.""I am but a poor story-teller,"put in the old hunter,"but if you will forgive my want of skill,I shall be happy to tell you,not the story of the tusks,for that is part of the history of our journey to King Solomon's Mines,but that of the buffalo horns beneath them,which is now ten years old.""Bravo,Quatermain!"said Sir Henry."We shall all be delighted.Fire away!Fill up your glass first."The little man did as he was bid,took a sip of claret,and began:--"About ten years ago I was hunting up in the far interior of Africa,at a place called Gatgarra,not a great way from the Chobe River.Ihad with me four native servants,namely,a driver and voorlooper,or leader,who were natives of Matabeleland,a Hottentot named Hans,who had once been the slave of a Transvaal Boer,and a Zulu hunter,who for five years had accompanied me upon my trips,and whose name was Mashune.Now near Gatgarra I found a fine piece of healthy,park-like country,where the grass was very good,considering the time of year;and here I made a little camp or head-quarter settlement,from whence I went expeditions on all sides in search of game,especially elephant.My luck,however,was bad;I got but little ivory.I was therefore very glad when some natives brought me news that a large herd of elephants were feeding in a valley about thirty miles away.At first I thought of trekking down to the valley,waggon and all,but gave up the idea on hearing that it was infested with the deadly 'tsetse'fly,which is certain death to all animals,except men,donkeys,and wild game.So I reluctantly determined to leave the waggon in the charge of the Matabele leader and driver,and to start on a trip into the thorn country,accompanied only by the Hottentot Hans,and Mashune.

"Accordingly on the following morning we started,and on the evening of the next day reached the spot where the elephants were reported to be.But here again we were met by ill luck.That the elephants had been there was evident enough,for their spoor was plentiful,and so were other traces of their presence in the shape of mimosa trees torn out of the ground,and placed topsy-turvy on their flat crowns,in order to enable the great beasts to feed on their sweet roots;but the elephants themselves were conspicuous by their absence.They had elected to move on.This being so,there was only one thing to do,and that was to move after them,which we did,and a pretty hunt they led us.For a fortnight or more we dodged about after those elephants,coming up with them on two occasions,and a splendid herd they were--only,however,to lose them again.At length we came up with them a third time,and I managed to shoot one bull,and then they started off again,where it was useless to try and follow them.After this I gave it up in disgust,and we made the best of our way back to the camp,not in the sweetest of tempers,carrying the tusks of the elephant Ihad shot.

"It was on the afternoon of the fifth day of our tramp that we reached the little koppie overlooking the spot where the waggon stood,and Iconfess that I climbed it with a pleasurable sense of home-coming,for his waggon is the hunter's home,as much as his house is that of the civilized person.I reached the top of the koppie,and looked in the direction where the friendly white tent of the waggon should be,but there was no waggon,only a black burnt plain stretching away as far as the eye could reach.I rubbed my eyes,looked again,and made out on the spot of the camp,not my waggon,but some charred beams of wood.Half wild with grief and anxiety,followed by Hans and Mashune,I ran at full speed down the slope of the koppie,and across the space of plain below to the spring of water,where my camp had been.I was soon there,only to find that my worst suspicions were confirmed.

"The waggon and all its contents,including my spare guns and ammunition,had been destroyed by a grass fire.